THE VACATION FROM HELL ( A CHRISTMAS POEM)

The Wolfsies have returned from a Christmas cruise where high seas and bad weather made our journey less than enjoyable. So, in the spirit of Clement Clarke Moore's classic poem spiced with a little Dr. Seuss, I hope you enjoy my memory of the trip. 

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the boat

People were restless so here's what I wrote

We had decided this Christmas to forego a gift

And instead spend the money to all go adrift 

The Wolfsies were nestled all snug in our beds

While visions of port calls danced in our heads 

Mary Ellen in her nightgown and I in my tee

Were ready for bed and looked out at sea

When out on the deck there arose such a racquet

I ran to our closet and grabbed a life jacket

Then to the port hole to look out on the ocean

That made me seasick...all due to the motion

When what to my listening ears should I hear

But an officer's voice and the message was clear:

The sea was too choppy, or so said the captain

Disembarking the ship was not gonna happen

Then he whistled and shouted and called them by name

No Honduras, no Cozumel and then, no Belize

I let out a curse word

My wife said, "Oh, geez."

With no ports to dock in, the message was clear

They couldn't stock up on food I held dear:

No knockwurst, no blintzes, no lox, and no brisket

The heck with the waves, I thought they should risk it. 

Then in a twinkling an announcement to all

Confirming again there'd be no ports of call

But the captain assured all on the cruise

There would be lots on board to entertain and amuse

Now Johnsons, now Goldbergs, now Reynolds, now Grays

There's shuffleboard, ping pong and a jukebox that plays

The casino is open, just think about that

Or learn to fold towels in the shape of cat

The people on board could not have been madder

And then out on the deck I heard such a clatter

When what to my wandering eyes should appear

But the head chef himself in his holiday gear

He was dressed all in white like a man from the navy

And his clothes were stained with chocolate and gravy

He had a broad face and a little round belly

And he passed out some pastries and small jars of jelly

Then a wink of his eye and a nod of his head

And now I was sure that I would be fed

He spoke not a word but went right to his station 

Creating his dishes from every known nation 

He pinched thumb to forefinger and said, “magnifique!” 

What a soup he created: I think it was leek.

Then he made a new sauce and a great crème brûlée

Then back to the kitchen to prepare for the next day.

I heard him exclaim as he went out of sight:

Merry Christmas to all and enjoy every bite!

Grumpy New Man

My wife told me the other day that my New Year’s resolution for 2016 should be to stop being so negative and grouchy. But my humor columns are dependent on those very qualities.  I’ve made a career out of people mistaking my crankiness for wittiness.

I once complained to the manager at Kroger that their entrance and exit doors were on the wrong sides. “I’ll never shop here again,” I told him. “I don’t know if I’m coming or going.” But did he call me grumpy? No, he burst out laughing—and told me I should use that line in my next column.

A few years ago I protested to a couple of Girl Scouts who came to the door selling cookies that their product was too high in fat and that eating S’mores would shoot my lipids through the roof. Their mothers called and thanked me, saying this was a good health lesson for nine-year-olds. These women must not have known I bought six boxes.

This past spring, I complained to some of my neighbors about their unkempt lawns.  I fussed at others who were putting their garbage out at the curb two days before trash pick-up, and I put my foot down about kids making a ruckus shooting hoops in their driveways on Sunday mornings when I was trying to sleep.  Instead of being annoyed, they made me president of the homeowners association. Maybe the problem is that I don’t have the right “old codger” look. I’m going to stop dying my hair and start hoisting my pants up to my ribcage.

I’m optimistic about 2016. I’ve already put together my top 10 list of stuff that makes me grumpy.

I don’t want the clerk to keep asking me if I have a Speedy Rewards Card. I don’t.

I don’t want to buy something in a bag that says tear here. It doesn’t.

I don’t want tech guys telling me it’s as easy as plugging it in. It’s not.

I don’t my wife telling me I can learn to load the dishwasher correctly. I can’t.

I don’t want my son telling me I should look at YouTube cat videos.  I shouldn’t.

I don’t want people asking me if I’m the guy who does the weather. I’m not.

I don’t want people asking me if my dog, Barney, is still alive. He’s not.

I don’t want some telemarketer calling to ask if I would like to try a generic Lipitor made overseas. I wouldn’t.

I don’t want people telling me they read my column in the Indianapolis Star. They can’t.

I don’t want my wife asking me when I’m driving if I know where I’m going. I don’t.

And finally, number 10, just to show you that I don’t end everything on a negative note…

I don’t want someone on the phone asking if I mind holding. I DO!

YEAR IN REVIEW

THANKS FOR THE LAUGHS

Every December I look back at all the people who deserve thanks for helping me find a little humor in everyday life…

Thanks to the young man who came to our door and convinced me to switch my cable provider.  He asked how long it usually took me to get on the Internet.  “Well, I start in the kitchen, getting a beverage. Then, with this pesky knee of mine, it takes me quite a while to get down the stairs to the computer. By the time I find my glasses, we’re looking at eight to ten minutes.” 

Thanks to my plumber, Rex, and my computer geek, Kevin, both of whom charge 100 dollars just for walking in the door. Rex usually brings a plunger and is gone in five minutes. And Kevin, a couple of times, just plugged my printer back into the outlet. As my mother used to say, “They sure have your number.” They do.  But I’m glad I have theirs, too.

To Bruce at Butler Hyundai who sold me a new car that has a steering wheel with 12 buttons on it, more than a corset from the Elizabethan era, and probably just as difficult for an inexperienced guy like me to manage. There are also four buttons on the rearview mirror, including a garage door opener, which Bruce told me I would have to sync with my old garage door opener. Or was it my laptop? No, maybe it was my smart phone. No matter.  When he said sync, I knew I was sunk.

To my wife, who points at everything. “Look at the sky,” she’ll say and point—like I don’t know where the sky is. And when she wants me to turn right, out comes that finger. On a recent trip, she asked, “Don’t you want me to point out things of interest?”  “Yes,” I told her, “but I don’t want you to actually point at them.”

To all my friends at my 50^th high school reunion, where I learned many things. Here are two. First, if you wear the wrong name tag, most people won’t know the difference for at least an hour.  And second, even though the guys I hung out with in 1965 didn’t take drugs, now we all do.  

To our friends from church who organized a bocce ball tournament. We didn’t know the rules, so I bought a book online called The Joy of Bocce. I already owned The Joy of Cooking and The Joy of Sex, although both of them were put in storage before we started to remodel our kitchen.

Thanks to Mary Ellen, again, who upon checking our email confirmation for our hotel in Washington, DC, last spring, casually mentioned that we weren’t as close to the downtown area as she had wanted. “How far are we?” I asked.  “About 2,300 miles,” she said. I had booked a hotel in Seattle, Washington, by mistake.

And finally, to the authors of my favorite publication of 2015, iPads for Seniors for Dummies, a book the publishers say is for people with no experience with tablets. Wait, seniors take several tablets every morning. The introduction says that with your new iPad you can “have fun, explore the online world, and look at naughty videos.”  It doesn’t really say that, but they could use something to get my generation into the Apple Store.