When is a newsletter not a newsletter
When it's full colour and 36 pages long
Approximately 8 years ago
Began designing what was then
An 4 page black and white newsletter
It has since grown into this schmaltzy
Quarterly full colour community publication
I've always taken great pride
In every venture I became involved with
Now in my years since retirement
This exciting project has my fingers back in the pie
It has given me “raison d'être”
Translated... “a reason for being”
My only regret is that it's quarterly
And not monthly which I would much prefer
It is so very important to remain active
Any way we can in our retirement years
© Jack Ellison 2014
Woke up this morning, looked at the clock
Bleary eyed, thought it read 5:23
Way too early... turned over and went back to sleep
Woke up again which seemed like 10 minutes later
The clock read 7:42
Thought for a moment in my stupor
Holy crap! Gotta get up!
Hey wait a minute... I'm retired
No one's waiting for me to solve any problems
To create a market plan for a new product
My big easy chair awaits... SWEET
© Jack Ellison 2014
Hard to believe I'm slowing down
Never thought this day would ever come
Merrily cruising along
Oblivious to all the small changes
Suddenly I'm forgetting things
Or how to do something
That I've been doing by rote
For too many years to count... I'm scared!
My mind goes wild thinking
Of what the future has in store for me!
When I was younger
The thought rarely occurred to me
Almost as if that final day
Was forever away... then WHAM!
It hit me like a ton of bricks
Started wondering, will it be tomorrow
Next week... next month
Don't usually dwell on it
But can no longer ignore it
Sadly, no one escapes
Even the most mighty and powerful
Will finally succumb
CRAP! POOP! And all that stuff!
© Jack Ellison 2014
“Birth day” is the actual day one exits from the womb, (thereafter, “birthday”, is but a colloquialism for the anniversary of that birth). Well … today is mine. I’m finally old enough to drive … (times 4.56!). Now, I’m old enough to vote … (times 3.476!). One of my sons, too, this month, will become a half-century old … which makes me realize: I’m older’n dirt!
It is truly amazing: Once you reach this age, it really, truly is incomprehensible that so many years have passed since taking that first breath – because our minds don’t allow us to think we’re “aged”! Our thoughts tell us we can still lift that couch … or a 100 lb. sack of seed … or a box of twenty books. But … the actual attempt proves our minds still have their roots in the concrete of yesteryear, while our bodies are entrenched in the reality of … today, (that’s easily confirmed by a quick glance in a mirror!) Contrary to popular belief … we are NOT as “young as we feel” … and to defy reality by allowing our minds to trump our body’s limitations, when it comes to physical exertion, is courting a hospital stay – or worse.
For those of us whose physical attributes have waned, we have great difficulty in accepting the fact that we now are relegated to the task of “watching”, not “doing”. That’s the final hurdle we, of necessity, must overcome before we can truly accept … aging. Our children, whom we used to tell and guide in what they could/should do, and when … have now matured. We’ve taught them as best we could, and it is now their turn to drive the carriage – and, if we’re lucky, and don’t try to “boss” them, we may be asked to become passengers.
There comes a time when our day in the sun becomes a rocking chair in the twilight. We need to prepare ourselves to recognize that change of circumstance and situation.
It’ll be difficult for some of us … because WE’VE always been the one “in charge”. If we are to survive with our dignity intact and retain relationships with those we love … we have to find a way to hand over the reins – and MEAN it – to the next generation which we ourselves have spawned.
Our remaining decisions will be: Whether or not to re-bait that fishing hook … or what channel to watch … any decision more meaningful will need to be made by … our kids.
Ways to avoid running out of money
During your retirement years
Do not drink anything but tap water
Do not eat regular store bought food
Eat leaves and grass and stuff
Flavoured with the juice
Of a squeezed acorn leaf
Food as you know it today is strictly taboo
However, occasionally you can have
Somebody's left over fries
But only once in a six month period
And keep it to a quantity of two fries
We also recommend you occasionally
Go to a restaurant and sit down in a booth
However, don't order right away, look around
When you notice a family of six leaving
And there's still food on their plates
Calmly walk over, sit down
And start eating their left overs
When your waitress comes back
To your original table
Look the other way and keep eating
Keep uttering words like “this is yummy”!
Or, “holy crap, this stuff is amazing”
This is just some friendly advice
To other seniors to hopefully avoid
Running out of money during retirement
© Jack Ellison 2014
You must go,yes!
Go against slumber,
When even early birds ignore worms,
But the falling thorns purnish gurus
As the roaming anti-mother blanket kills faint gurulings.
Here we march marshals,
Along grumbling swift paces,we shall!
Walking-yarn appetises expectations,
Since many paths leads to the road.
Diverging to coverge,we must!
As swarming of the apocalyptic plague of the book,
Brushing along all along that belongs,
Into the shipping tower,we all plunge.
Now blinking sea-eyes of a naked mind,
All beholding spoons for a bloodless war.
Its too late to retrieve and hot to hold.
An often dreaded monster you face,
Must in "Government call" retire.
Yes! warm to hum,
like a soldier into war,
triumphant but not victorious.
When asked why? we say,
this is the ROAD TO FSLT.
There was this science teacher at my high school. One of those idiots who had to kiss his boss’ ass to get ahead. One of those insecure fools who would be far more suitable working in a lab with a microscope up his nose so far his eyes might begin to bulge out, or maybe even at Walmart.
Anyplace other than a school, subjecting poor kids to his nonsense.
So, the incompetent butt kisser somehow won Teacher of the Year. What a joke! The students got together, held a makeshift summit and devised a plan, one that would make school history.
Since Billy’s mom worked as a janitor, she had one of those “good” keys. He yanked it from her one night when she slept soundly thanks to the Ambien Katie stole from her mom’s medicine cabinet. It's a good thing Katie’s mama never watched the PSAs.
The night of the award ceremony, everyone got into position, and nodded to each other. Mr. Idiot Science Teacher approached the podium to accept his award. The administration clapped with cheesy smiles plastered on their idiot faces.
Then, down poured the eggs, “Carrie style." Nearly 1,500 of them, courtesy of Jared’s grandpa’s farm.
A week later, we learned Mr. Idiot Science teacher retired. He was twenty seven.
Yesterday I stopped by Walmart to pick up some milk and eggs. Standing behind the register...the retired science teacher. As I walked away, I glanced down at the carton, thankful he didn’t work in the hunting department.