Thanks for the Memories (Part 1)

Every year about this time I look back at the previous 12 months and express appreciation for the people, places and things that have made their way into my weekly columns.  So, thanks to:

My old roommate from college who called me after 55 years. He reminded me we hadn’t spoken in 55 years. I told him it was 57, if you count the two years we lived together.

My wife’s mother, Margaret gave an original copy of the The Joy of Cooking to Mary Ellen to read. Not to cook anything, just to read.  In the poultry and game chapter, here is a summary of their advice: “Draw out the entrails, cut the neck close to the body, remove the windpipe end then chop off the feet.” As you can tell, this book was also a big hit with serial killers.

My physical therapist, who helped me through rehab. For several months I was encouraged to do Kegels. There is a specialist for that at Community Hospital, but she was out one day, so I asked a question of another therapist who was not trained in the procedure.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wolfsie, that’s a little over my head.”

“Then you are doing it wrong,” I told her.

The folks at the Sleep Center at Community Hospital where I participated in a sleep study. They had lots of questions:

 “Does your wife say you snore?”

“She has no idea because she sleeps in another room…maybe because I snore.”

“Mr. Wolfsie, then how do you know you snore?”

“I get a lot of complaints from the neighbors.”

My wife, who wanted to try a new Chinese restaurant, found one online and ordered the food. I called back because I wanted to know how long it would take to get there. “Where do you live?” I was asked.  I told him the northside of Indianapolis.

“Oh, about six hours. Sir, you are calling a Chinese restaurant in Canton, Ohio.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I love Cantonese food.”

My wife, Mary Ellen, one more time. She is reluctant to let me go shopping alone because of all the crapola I bring home. When I do bring it home, I hide it, like the dozen Twinkies I hid under my pillow.

“Promise me, no more junk food,” she said.

I wasn’t sure I could make that promise. I told her I’d sleep on it.

The researcher at Ohio State who found that the average couple kisses about 25,000 times in a typical marriage. I was concerned we were not keeping up with the Joneses, who are newlyweds down the street. I came home the other night and told Mary Ellen how beautiful she was, how good dinner was, and how hot she looked in her jeans.  I was hoping that kissing up counted.

My brother-in-law Tom, who gave me an Apple Watch for Christmas last year. I called him in Oregon and admitted I was overwhelmed by how complicated it was to operate.  “Come on, Dick. You just think you are out of your league. Relax. Don’t be nervous. And don’t be intimidated like so many others have.”

“Tom, that is exactly the same advice you gave me when I married your sister.

I’m not done. More next week.

Dick Wolfsie spent his career sharing his humor, stories and video essays on television, radio and in newspapers. His columns appear weekly in The Paper of Montgomery County. E-mail Dick at [email protected]