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Burton Cole column

Old? Nope, we’re classics

I’ve just completed another orbit around the sun and I’m getting well practiced at it. I’ve passed “go” more than 5 ½ dozen times so far. I did not get to collect $200, but on one of my previous trips I earned a Medicare card. It’s not quite the same as a get-out-of-jail-free card, but at my age, there’s not much call for one of those. These days, I’m more likely to drop off for a nap than raise a ruckus. But I am NOT getting old. Oh, no. I’m becoming a classic. By definition, “old” refers to the age. “‘Classic’ implies that it’s not just old, but also ...

Pondering the imponderables and other conundrums of life

Why is it that no matter where I stood in the kitchen, that I was without fail right in front of the drawer Terry needed to open? Is that what marriage is about? I’ve been wondering about that and other great conundrums of life. Why? Because all that is required to be in a philosophical mood is to lounge in an easy chair and think. The thinking part is optional. It’s a wonderful activity needing no more physical exertion than the occasional stroll to the kitchen for more chocolate chip cookies. You, too, can ponder the great mysteries of life. Grab some cookies and a pillow. ...

Speaking the well-known language of Dadisms?

When it was time to go, Uncle Ron waved and said, “See you in the funny papers.” Or if I told Uncle Tom, “See you later,” he’d reply, “Not if I see you first.” But if he did see me first, he’d call out, “Here comes trouble.” If we dropped in at a neighbor’s farm, instead of hello, Dad would greet the guy with, “Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” The standard reply was, “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” As a boy, I stepped closer to dad. If the neighbor had a cat that was big enough to drag Dad anywhere, a little kid didn’t stand a chance. We ...

Touch screens and apostrophes are a few of my crankiest things

I have another birthday coming up in a couple of weeks and I’m feeling cranky. Old-man cranky. I’m-out-of-chocolate cranky. I’ve earned the right to be old-man cranky. I was born, after all, not just way back in the 1900s, but the 1950s at that. That means the nose hairs and ear hairs are growing faster and thicker than the thinning strands on my head. It means a good 50% of my social life is hanging out with people whose first name is “Doctor.” It means when I stand up, it sounds like the whole percussion section kicked into high gear with all the clicks, clacks, snaps, ...

Sorry, I can only remember useless things

In all of my adult life, not once has any employer, relative or stranger asked, “Hey, what’s the 31st element on the periodic table?” They do want to know why I missed the meeting, lost my password or forgot to put on pants, but never has anyone cared about the periodic table or any of the then-106 elements cluttering up the thing. And yet, back in my school days in the 1970s, our chemistry teacher tested us on our memorization of the elements on that table. (There are now 118 elements blocked in on the periodic table. Apparently, a dozen elements lay forgotten in a corner. ...

A shed door and an apple tree a day keeps the multiverse away

That little fort in the apple tree took us kids on many adventures across the known — and unknown — galaxy. It wasn’t much of a fort, really. But then, it wasn’t much of an apple tree, either. With the help of Gordy, the big kid who lived across the road, we lugged a door that had fallen off one of the outbuildings on our farm, and wedged it into fingerlike limbs of the little apple tree. The door became a floor not quite three feet off the ground. It wasn’t a very scary climb that way. Our fort had no windows on account of us never getting around to building walls. We ...