Visit To Elvis' Home Not Tax Deductable

 “When are you going to stop writing those articles?”

 I paused before answering and glanced discreetly toward the questioner’s face. I couldn’t tell if it was an innocent query or a sublime message screaming for me to get off the stage. Maybe this person had “found me out”. They realized this whole journalistic facade is a masquerade. Or perhaps it’s another one of those syntax rich analysts who perused my little blurbs searching for double negatives and dangling participles.

 I’ve never actually thought of my stories as writing. I just kinda think of something that happened and I retell it out loud. I have learned to jot the yarn down as I go ’cause the newspaper business doesn’t lend itself too well with verbal thoughts. If you read something that I said that comes out in print and makes absolutely no sense, rest assured that it was a great premise that simply got lost in the translation.

 “My wife retired,” It was a pretty weak answer but I still wasn’t sure if the question was friendly or if I was under fire, “and someone has got to earn a living for us.” That was about as directly indirect as I could be. And I was only half kidding. Cathy figured she’d been in the bread winning business long enough. She bailed. I figured we didn’t owe anyone an explanation over inner-house policy. And Cathy’s retiring is not open for debate. Shucks, I debated it for the whole year she was thinking about it to no avail!

 As a matter of fact, she retired over my vigorous protest. Grandchildren time was more important to her than money! She didn’t hear me when I pointed out how much more we could do for the kids if she kept working. She didn’t hear me when I pointed out that it might interrupt the lives of sons and daughter-in-laws if she moved in with the grandkids. She didn’t hear me when I pointed out that school teachers had spring break, fall break, Christmas and all summer to visit grandchildren. When you get right down to it, I might have come out better if I had just had her hearing tested……

 Our bank account naturally took a hit. But, guys, that ain’t the half of it! These grandkids had the audacity to be born “way up” in Georgia and the far reaches of North Tennessee. That’s a lot of gas money! And she naturally has to take them out to eat, which means a lot of “ravioli money” out of my pocket! And the zoo is just across town. And “Cars II” is in every theatre. And we have to have a Johnny Appleseed outfit. And Disney has a cruise now just for the Mickey Mouse Club watchers. And Halloween costumes have to be ordered.

 We didn’t spend that kind of money when Cathy was sequestered in a classroom teaching math and history. She brought money home instead of taking it out! The gross national product of Toccoa, Georgia, and Franklin, Tennessee, doubles every time Cathy visits! We get brochures and coupon offers in the mail from both cities. Chucky Cheese has a room reserved for her.

 She has piled up more mileage lately than the “Antique Road Show”. She’s on a first name basis with service station attendants in four states. AAA recently inducted her into their national car and driver Hall of Fame.

 I think the new freedom is affecting her brain. She just flew to Memphis to see our niece play soccer. Listen, we don’t even have a grandchild in that splendid city on the bluff! This retirement gig is definitely taking on some wings! I’ve got credit card charges from Graceland, Rendezvous Ribs, the Wolfchase Galleria, Beale Street tours and Sun Records’ gift shop. I’m paying for sight seeing I’m not seeing, tours I’m not on and meals I’m not eating. She’s springing for shrimp cocktails and steak tartar for the whole group while I’m existing on cheese and crackers, peanut butter sandwiches, diet Cokes and dirt cake. She left knowing I’m no Rachel Ray in the kitchen. I pointed that out rather vociferously but she didn’t hear me again.

 This retirement thing may be great…..if you are the retiree. It’s not so hot if you are the one left treading water. I’m trying to do the right thing here. I’ve been to the convenience stores to see if they could use an ex-math whiz as a lotto clerk. Maybe Cathy could turn her vast babysitting skills into some grocery money. She can do yard work….any kind of job will keep her off the road.

 So far the plan to put her back to work is not panning out. The more she hangs around the grandkids, the more she WANTS to hang around the grandkids! This thing about not going to work is growing on her. Her easy chair has become pretty easy to find! I was going to discuss it with her this morning but Avery burped—Cathy was ten miles north of Atlanta before I could get down to that part where I thought she was gone too much!

 The bottom line is I’ve got to keep writing. And please keep buying these newspapers. Buy some extras and pass them out to your friends! I’ll try to return the favor by dangling fewer participles. I’ll do you some great human interest stories. I’ll pen an expose or two. I’ll write about your ditsy aunt. I’ll finish that story where Leon rode the big horse into the prom.

 Thank you for your continuing support.

 Respectfully,

 Kes