Saying Goodbye To Loved Ones


Life runs by us at a terrible speed and rarely, if ever, slows down. But, when it does, it’s for death alone. Time stops, priorities no longer exist, you cease being what the world perceives you to be….and you become family once again. We spend our lives maneuvering through the rapids of aggravation, stress, loneliness and absurdities. We are wounded by love as well as rejuvenated by it. We trust and are betrayed one moment and then redeemed the next. Emotions too often drain the very essence of our souls….and still, we persevere. But, the greatest emotional anguish happens when we have to bare witness to the loss of our loved ones.

Sadly, many of you know the torment of loosing a precious child or watching our cherished parents bring their long lives to a peaceful close. Seeing our brothers or sisters go leaving us with the legacy of childhood memories. Clinging to a beloved spouse as they suffer and slowly decline from fragile health. So much heart rendering pain. We are told to accept these events as a way of life, as agonizing as they are.

Families have stood bedside and watched the demise of their loved ones for centuries. Searching in those final moments for those few words that need to be spoken. Words that must be said from the heart that will convey everything you have ever felt for them your entire life. But, sadly, that’s not possible. You sadly sit, holding that frail hand that once caressed you, helped you and guided you in life. Now, it’s too weak to respond. So, you lovingly watch and wait. Knowing that someday….it will be you.

Those we have once loved, we can never lose, as those treasured souls become part of us. I miss you Mom and Dad…….Charlie



     Why do we have pet names for the ones we love? Another level of endearment? Easier to remember than their real name, (large families)? Maybe it’s a method to show love to some and to humiliate others. When we’re young, pet names was a way of life. It was a way of protecting ‘Snuffy’ your pet rabbit, cause no one ever eats a pet, once you name it. Until I was twelve, I thought my own pet name was ‘dumass’ until mom took it away from me and gave it to dad.

     The obsession that young men have with pet names is bewildering. Every woman in his social life has a pet name, like ‘Sweet Cheeks‘, ‘Sugar Lips’ or ‘Honey Rump’. Then, during his lifetime, he will go through half a dozen pet names for his own genitalia. During his 20‘s, his apparatus may be addressed each morning with….“Good morning Love Python.” During his 40’s…..“Good morning Wonder Wand,” and finally during his 60’s….“That’s alright Goober, you just keep hibernating.”

     Pet names really stick to people too, and the most ridiculous are the most adhesive. Two guys I grew up with were called ‘Flipper’ (big feet) and ‘Snout‘, (big nose). These guys I’ve known for over 50 years, and I still address them by their ancient pet names, maybe cause I can no longer remember their real ones. One old friend, now incinerated, was called ‘Thud’, because he once drank too much of his dad’s Crown Royal and while we were paying cards in his attic, he passed out and his head hit the attic floor with….yep, a thud.

     We give our children pet names as a means of bonding and as a blackmailing tool once they reach their teens. Woofy, Weezer, Acorn and Fluff Butt were the pet names I decreed on my prodigy and to this day, they cringe when I use them in front of their kids and spouses. I’ve got too many grandkids to hang a name on, (12), so I mostly call them either Larry, Curly, Moe or Hillary.

     Now, my wife and I have had the same pet names for decades. When we first got married we tried out a number of possibilities. At first, she called me ‘Stallion’, but that soon morphed down to ‘Dumass’. At first, she was my ‘Tootles’, but that changed to ‘Yes Dear’ within the first year. Anyway, I have lovingly called her ‘Wifey’ and ‘Babes’ for many years now, and she has started calling me ‘Stallion’ once again…..seems she doesn’t want me to become depressed in my golden years.





      A very intriguing concept and fodder for a blog.  First off, I need to create a scenario in which all the femininity of this planet disappears. As I see it….one evening, during March, while there was a full moon, all the women of this planet had their heads spontaneously combust, leaving only neck stumps with expensive necklaces. All the married men (or most), freaked out and immediately contacted their lawyers or tried to contact their girlfriends without success. Most were worried they would be blamed for this event because of something stupid they may have said which pissed off their mates prior to combustion.

     FOX NEWS, with only three news anchors left, was reporting this catastrophe as an attempt by the Left to downsize the Tea Party and to eliminate moms. In time, the word spread throughout the world, that all females had been cerebrally imploded, leaving no one to clean up the mess. During the next six months, all house plants died, as well as gold fish and parakeets. Dogs formed into large hunting packs, preying on the weak and those using walkers. All the men, who had not starved to death, received instructions from FEMA on the operation and nomenclature of washing machines and stoves.

     After a year of debates, parades, boycotts and street rallies, all the states finally passed the Shepherd Act, making it legal for man and sheep to marry.  It was now unlawful for grocery stores to sell lamb chops. Several other changes took place during this time. Seats were removed from all toilets, reality shows were canceled, and all the musical theaters on Broadway were converted into Ultimate Fighting arenas. Cable had 80 channels of sports and all old world pornography was removed from the internet, as this was provoking a spike in suicides and mental breakdowns. Male teens were becoming mental zombies, as they had no one to blame for their ignorant behavior. Monasteries were now overflowing.

Three years later, domestic violence became an issue and soon grocery stores stated selling lamb chops again. Politics now made more sense, there were less alcoholics, less lawyers, less florist and most homes had industrial washers that could accommodate a month’s worth of dishes or clothes at one time.     

     After five years, two distinct groups of men made up society. The first were lumberjacks who never shaved or bathed and wore whatever mismatched colored clothes they wanted. The second group of men became stylish and seasonally fashionable even bringing the mini skirt back in vogue. Retail chains sprung up like Victor’s Secret, Fredrick’s Boot Boutique, and Frankies Jockline Waxing. Tupperware parties with power tool demonstrations were popular.

Twenty years after “WHE” (Women’s Heads Exploding), the world was finally at peace. Half the world’s population was now dead and men were now wearing and acting like, whatever. Teens, who had not been eaten, had all grown up and were now living in national parks like herds of Pronghorn sheep. The average player’s age for the Green Bay Packers was 50 and the game only lasted an hour. There’s no longer a congress, as most have died off or just wander the streets of Washington visiting sheep bordellos. Sad to say, in another fifty years, all that will be left of the world society will be talking sheeple.




No one wants to live in filth and disarray. Nor do we want to fear opening a closet because of what’s on the other side. We are neat and organized individuals….just call ahead before you come over to the house.

To better understand our nature, we must first realize from whence we came….caves. Yes, the earliest humans all schlepped around dirty, bone cluttered caves! We slept on dirt, make passionate Neanderthal love on dirt and most likely took a dump in the corner of the cave right next to where grandpa Og slept. We were dirty and loved it! Finally, we abandoned our caves and constructed our new dwellings out of….that’s right, dirt! Tree limbs, mud, moss and rhino dung. We hung chunks of woolly mammoth from the ceiling which attracted flies, slept on flea infested sloth furs, made Cro-Magnon love on those same flea beds and took our dumps in the corner next to grandpa Ogna’s fur bed. We had advanced. Millenniums passed and then we lived in properly constructed abodes of lumber, brick and plastered walls. We slept on bed bug infested beds, made love and scratched on stained feather mattresses, and took our dumps down the hall next to grandpa Ogden’s room.

Now….the 21st century has arrived and humanity has excelled in it’s quest for uniformity and the political correctness of being neat challenged. We are what we are and society forbids criticisms of those who are organizationally challenged! Dirty laundry no longer belongs solely in the laundry hamper, but tossed through out the house like a Marti Gras parade just passed through. The bathroom looks like a biker gang’s outhouse and the kitchen has remnants from five Thanksgivings ago. The bed was last made during the Bush administration and the garage looks like a reality show gone horribly bad. It’s in our nature.

Now, with all that said….I know many of you may well be extremely fastidious about your dwelling and pride yourself on it’s appearance. Bless you. To those of you who are now looking around at your surroundings, fear not, a state of slobversity, is never permanent. Being tardy on your cleaning schedule does not mean you’re lazy or over complacent. It simply means your mind has elevated beyond the mundane to a nirvanic level of ‘ out of sight, out of mind‘…..or…..‘your shite don’t stink’.

In summary, there are areas of my house, as well as my life, that tend to be in a continued flux of disarray and bedlam. I’m not perfect, I get behind on some things, but it never means I don’t care. If the house is in a mess, or the laundry is blocking the doorway, I don’t feel guilt….it’s Wifey’s job, anyway.


Neanderthal man WALL TO WALL TELEVISION LTD for andy.