This will be another Jim’s Jottings probably not worth remembering. In fact I can’t think of any memorable ones I’ve written since starting them in 1955.
1 was born in 1926, soon after the beginning of THE GREAT depression. I remember my father telling me several times before he died in 1984, at age 93, ‘I’d never try to live through another one!?
My dad had a steady job during those years, so I can’t even imagine what filled his mind.
However, I almost daily refer to those days as the reason why I’m so cheap. I have a 2,700 square foot., two-story home, live alone, and it has no space to save something new.
A depression memory is great if you like saving things. I’ve got a few hundred baby food jars filled with screws, washers, tacks and nails.
I’ve got an equal number of pint, quart and two quart jars. Some are still filled with mother’s cooking. Waste not, want not! Eh?
About 10 years ago my brother-in-law, Ronald Smith started buying me ‘clowns? at garage sales. Grandson Trevor counted them recently. I have 15, beautiful porcelains, and 34 clothed clowns. My stair steps runneth over.
But I’m keeping all my clowns.
Speaking of clowns, a bunch of clowns were rushing through the forest. You could tell which one was Ronald McDonald . . . He had the sesame seed buns.
I have a computer, but the only thing it does for me is serve as a typewriter.
I asked a computer literate person in our office to show me how to log into my memory bank. I got nothing.
I asked someone to google it for me. They found nothing. Maybe Google is a noun and should be capitalized.
A long-long-long time weekly newspaper friend, Dick Milliman, suggested I forget Google and go back to a New World Encyclopedia. He writes more and deeper stuff than I do, in his Almanack column, and it works for him.
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At the end of 2014 someone on the tube reported the greatest lies of the year. I haven’t heard any great truths of the year.
I did hear president Obama’s comment at the beginning of a pre-vacation speech: ‘Today I’m going to be honest with you.? Huh?
I’ve watched so many commercials about a woman’s wants and needs. I’ve concluded I have OAB, Over Active Bladder. I’m pleading aloud out my front door for help. I’m too shy to ask one of my doctors.