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Good Morning Nanty Glo!
               Wednesday, September 18 2002 


When about 1967 I finally found my intended and took her to meet my parents, Mom couldn't wait to get me alone and ask, "But what happened to Kathy?" I had introduced Kathy to Mom when she was vacationing at the Christian Admiral the previous summer. I thought, and I guess Mom thought, too, that Kathy had a crush on me. But, I explained: "I couldn't take Kathy seriously. She loved to tease too much."

I don't think Mom understood. She loved to tease, too. I knew her too well to resent or misunderstand her teasing, but my daughter wasn't as fortunate. She's never forgotten an example of teasing she experienced from Mom, when she was a toddler, Mom pretended to be taking Chris' Humpty Dumpty ragdoll (her equivalent of a "blankey") and threatening to burn it in the backyard incinerator. Explain it as harmless kidding as much as I can, to this day three decades later, Chris can't understand how her grandmother could have been so mean.

I guess it's an etermal conundrum: Why can I appreciate Mom's teasing but couldn't stand Kathy's? Why couldn't my daughter "take a joke," in that instance? Some of my best friends have been people who love to kid: John Golias and Dick Millward, my adolescent bosom buddies, for starters. John's forte in latter years is making fun of my religion; being a convert to Eastern Orthodoxy is even worse than having been a Baptist, which is even worse than his neighbor's Lutheranism (he loves to let both me and the neighbor know). Of course I know John's primary motives are in and to the Catholic Church, and that mutual understanding of each other and our first commitments is the foundation of our lifelong bond. Both John and Dick make friends easily because they can make a joke to anyone and break the ice. I love the jokes, in their case, and much prefer their kind of company than most other kinds, but find it very difficult being so "outgoing" myself.

What have you experienced or thought about teasing? Why are some types of teasing acceptable and others not, or are the definitions of those limits entirely subjective?

—Webmaster Jon Kennedy

More senior personal ads

WINNING SMILE: Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser to share rare steaks, corn on the cob, and caramel candy. Fresh home cooked meals.

BEATLES OR STONES? I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights, and still like to play the air guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let's get together and listen to my boss collection of eight-track tapes.

MEMORIES: I can usually remember Monday through Thursday. If you can remember Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, let's put our two heads together.

MINT CONDITION: Male, 1932, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Isn't in running condition, but walks well "

—Sent by Judy Rose

Thought for today

A 92-year-old, petite well-poised and proud lady, fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coiffed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window.

"I love it." she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented a new puppy.

"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room. Just wait."

"That doesn't have anything to do with it," she replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn't depend on how the furniture is arranged; it's how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It's a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I'll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I've stored away, just for this time in my life."

—Sent by Mike Harrison

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