Memoirs of a Geezer!
Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth
to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!
This Episode: Adventures in the "Dining Car"... (Act One!)
A StagePlay (sort of...)!
Scene: A Dining Room Table Somewhere in the Midwest
Date and Time: A Sunday Christians call Easter... 11:00AM
(Nine individuals are seated at table, parents, two grown daughters and a son-io-law. They're enjoying a brunch consisting of eggs, griddlecakes, sausages, fruit, coffee and
various juices, whipped topping and sugary additives to encourage the grandchildren to eat their griddlecakes and sausages... The four kids / grandchildren, two each belonging to the two daughters, exit to play gleefully offstage, out of earshot, in the grandparents' suite!)
Baba (the grandmother): "Children, we had some unpleasant news from our investment account manager this past Tuesday. We're almost out of money."
Elder Daughter: "Ohmygosh! Are you serious? What does that mean? You're broke, penniless? Darn near on the streets?! Is the guy a thief?!!"
Baba: "No. But, we definitely have to cut back on our spending, and we'll finally have to raise our upstairs tenant's rent." I hate doing it, and I'm so afraid she'll become hurt and angry! And, we have to find jobs, Dad
and me... part-time jobs! (I wonder if there are any of those six-figure, part-time CEO jobs available! Where'd I put those darn 'want-ads...'?)"
Papa (the grandfather): "Sadly, that's the grim reality; we have to raise her rent, and as you know, we've only done so in small increments over the years. But now we have to bring her rent up to what we know is fair market value. What the hell, maybe we could just rob some liquor stores!... Lotsa people are doing it!"
Baba: We went around the neighborhood asking people what their renters typically pay. I was surprised how much they get for flats comparable to ours, and with no garage or parking space."
Younger Daughter: "Holy shit! I'm so sorry!"
Son-in-Law (elder daughter's husband): "Damn! That stinks. I'm really sorry... Hey! Maybe
you could sell weed!"
Younger Daughter: "Or cannabis brownies and cakes. Cops come around? You tell 'em you didn't know it was in there... you bought a mix!"
Elder Daughter: "Yeah! From a guy who came to the door selling stuff, raising money for his church... the 'Temple of the Holy Daze.' You'll make big money! Do it!"
Papa (standing up on his chair): "I'm practicing getting high... for when we're in the Weed Trade."
Baba: "Sit down, you idiot! At our age, it's really hard to find part-time work. I've been looking, filling out applications like crazy! People don't want to hire people of our age. You'd think there's ageism going on in this country!?!"
Younger Daughter: "Mom... you make a funny joke?!! It's rampant, pervasive. (A beat...) Why just the other day my friend and I knocked down an old geezer, snatched his wallet and gold retirement watch... Kidding, of course... I'm just making a little joke!"
Elder Daughter: Just because you're a geezer, they treat you like vermin!! It's not right! I'm calling AARP and demanding immediate action!!
Papa: "The country is obsessed with youth. The little jerks! People don't give a damn about us old baboons. And, hey, how come young people get to spend so much money on stuff, like those pre-destroyed jeans? Holes in the knees, no knees, rips and tears up and down the legs. Where the hell do they get the money to buy that stuff. I mean, it's nuts! Pre-destroyed blue jeans for eighty bucks! SweetieHeart, toss me one of those sausages. (Puts it in his mouth like a cigar!) Anybody got a light?"
Elder Daughter: "Think you could rob banks? Dad could put on a ski mask and talk like Groucho Marx."
Papa: "The only gun we have around here is a squirt gun; it's broken and it's orange."
Baba: "Yesterday, I called the Department of Aging. They don't even have a financial advisor. Only a credit
counselor! I mean, there must be hundreds, thousands of people like us who've lost their jobs, their income through no fault of their own. Their only crime is being old and unemployable, disposable! Where the heck are the advocates for the elderly, for people like us? "
Younger Daughter: "They've all become investment brokers.... Commercial bankers, maybe!"
Son-in-Law: "Assholes! Damned unconscionable jerk heads!!... Are there any more of those cream-filled chocolate eggs? (An aside: Papa, I want you to know, we would never let you go hungry, or homeless. I just want you and Baba not to have to worry, about anything!... You may be geezers, but you're our geezers! Just wanted you to know. Go back to doing the dishes.")
Papa: (An aside: You're a sweet and wonderful guy, Son-In-Law. Thank you! I mean that from the heart! Could you let me have $50.00 until my relief check comes in?!)
Son-inLaw: Relief check??!
Elder Daughter: "Think you could get into one of those private taxi services? 'Goober,' or something like that? 'Slobber Chews'? 'Elevator Wheels'? Hey! You could maybe walk dogs, or take in washing! Mending! Betcha there are lotsa thing you two old ladies could do! (She always called both her aging parents 'old ladies.') Maybe write a book, or even a stage play about the trials and travails of penurious 'Old Lady-hood'?!"
Papa: "Wait a minute! Wasn't our orange-colored POTUS supposed to give us each $60,000 a year? Where's our 60-thou??!! I'm calling the Treasury!... Maybe it was lost in the mails!"
Next time: Act Two! The Geezers Consider a Paper Route... and Other Options!!
A StagePlay (sort of...)!
Scene: A Dining Room Table Somewhere in the Midwest
Date and Time: A Sunday Christians call Easter... 11:00AM
(Nine individuals are seated at table, parents, two grown daughters and a son-io-law. They're enjoying a brunch consisting of eggs, griddlecakes, sausages, fruit, coffee and
 |
| Apparently everyone left to use the bathroom! That's Uncle Fisbert on the wall. He was the Tenth Earl of Something! |
Baba (the grandmother): "Children, we had some unpleasant news from our investment account manager this past Tuesday. We're almost out of money."
Elder Daughter: "Ohmygosh! Are you serious? What does that mean? You're broke, penniless? Darn near on the streets?! Is the guy a thief?!!"
Baba: "No. But, we definitely have to cut back on our spending, and we'll finally have to raise our upstairs tenant's rent." I hate doing it, and I'm so afraid she'll become hurt and angry! And, we have to find jobs, Dad
 |
| Where'd the money go??!! Didn't we used to have some money, somewhere in, like, a bank or something??!! Uh... Where's that retirement account??! |
Papa (the grandfather): "Sadly, that's the grim reality; we have to raise her rent, and as you know, we've only done so in small increments over the years. But now we have to bring her rent up to what we know is fair market value. What the hell, maybe we could just rob some liquor stores!... Lotsa people are doing it!"
Baba: We went around the neighborhood asking people what their renters typically pay. I was surprised how much they get for flats comparable to ours, and with no garage or parking space."
Younger Daughter: "Holy shit! I'm so sorry!"
Son-in-Law (elder daughter's husband): "Damn! That stinks. I'm really sorry... Hey! Maybe
Younger Daughter: "Or cannabis brownies and cakes. Cops come around? You tell 'em you didn't know it was in there... you bought a mix!"
Elder Daughter: "Yeah! From a guy who came to the door selling stuff, raising money for his church... the 'Temple of the Holy Daze.' You'll make big money! Do it!"
Papa (standing up on his chair): "I'm practicing getting high... for when we're in the Weed Trade."
Baba: "Sit down, you idiot! At our age, it's really hard to find part-time work. I've been looking, filling out applications like crazy! People don't want to hire people of our age. You'd think there's ageism going on in this country!?!"
Younger Daughter: "Mom... you make a funny joke?!! It's rampant, pervasive. (A beat...) Why just the other day my friend and I knocked down an old geezer, snatched his wallet and gold retirement watch... Kidding, of course... I'm just making a little joke!"
Elder Daughter: Just because you're a geezer, they treat you like vermin!! It's not right! I'm calling AARP and demanding immediate action!!
Papa: "The country is obsessed with youth. The little jerks! People don't give a damn about us old baboons. And, hey, how come young people get to spend so much money on stuff, like those pre-destroyed jeans? Holes in the knees, no knees, rips and tears up and down the legs. Where the hell do they get the money to buy that stuff. I mean, it's nuts! Pre-destroyed blue jeans for eighty bucks! SweetieHeart, toss me one of those sausages. (Puts it in his mouth like a cigar!) Anybody got a light?"
Elder Daughter: "Think you could rob banks? Dad could put on a ski mask and talk like Groucho Marx."
 |
| Hey! I'm supposed to be driving! Are we in England?? Are we driving a Mini Scooper??! |
Papa: "The only gun we have around here is a squirt gun; it's broken and it's orange."
Baba: "Yesterday, I called the Department of Aging. They don't even have a financial advisor. Only a credit
counselor! I mean, there must be hundreds, thousands of people like us who've lost their jobs, their income through no fault of their own. Their only crime is being old and unemployable, disposable! Where the heck are the advocates for the elderly, for people like us? "
Younger Daughter: "They've all become investment brokers.... Commercial bankers, maybe!"
Son-in-Law: "Assholes! Damned unconscionable jerk heads!!... Are there any more of those cream-filled chocolate eggs? (An aside: Papa, I want you to know, we would never let you go hungry, or homeless. I just want you and Baba not to have to worry, about anything!... You may be geezers, but you're our geezers! Just wanted you to know. Go back to doing the dishes.")
Son-inLaw: Relief check??!
Elder Daughter: "Think you could get into one of those private taxi services? 'Goober,' or something like that? 'Slobber Chews'? 'Elevator Wheels'? Hey! You could maybe walk dogs, or take in washing! Mending! Betcha there are lotsa thing you two old ladies could do! (She always called both her aging parents 'old ladies.') Maybe write a book, or even a stage play about the trials and travails of penurious 'Old Lady-hood'?!"
Papa: "Wait a minute! Wasn't our orange-colored POTUS supposed to give us each $60,000 a year? Where's our 60-thou??!! I'm calling the Treasury!... Maybe it was lost in the mails!"
Next time: Act Two! The Geezers Consider a Paper Route... and Other Options!!
Humbly Submitted, 04-24-18 -- Joel K.
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