Remember When

Boy, I sure am feeling much safer.  For a few dollars each month I can now protect myself from identity loss.

Somebody wanting to be me... imagine that. 

According to the television commercials, somebody out there is just waiting to swipe my credit card and charge thousands of dollars to it. 

To tell the truth, with my credit score, that would be a real feat, if you get my drift.

You know, all this identification stuff is sorta hard to grasp.

A couple of weeks after Sears and Roebuck sent back Aunt Bessie’s check for  my J.C. Higgins Roadmaster, stuff was changing in a hurry.
One of ‘em was my opinion of President Roosevelt. I thought he had made a big mistake. I just couldn’t figure out how one bicycle could contribute so mightily to the war effort.
Mama was reading the morning paper about how tires, gasoline, sugar, electric ice boxes, Hershey Bars, and shoes, among other things would be in short supply for the home folks.

Bless Pete, I’m suffering from Osama bin Laden overload.

It’s kinda like having to unfasten your britches due to that last piece of pie you just had to have.

Right now, I’ve had my fill when it comes to reading, watching, hearing and talking about the demise of Osama bin Laden.

Now, the very first reports about him sure seemed like the kind of heroic story old veterans like me yearn for. 

The Twin Towers mastermind was finished off in a way that befit his own lifestyle (see Matthew 26:52). 

Here we go again. It’s been a whole week since Easter and the great-grands are still begging me to hide the eggs, one more time.
Fortunately, somebody invented plastic eggs. The mess of real chicken-produced eggs from the coop in the back yard that came to life thanks to Mama’s boiling and dyeing efforts are a thing of the past.
As a child, my enjoyment of the egg-hunting didn’t last this long.
Mama started the spring cleaning right after Easter.