And tonight… one from the KronyTown Mailbag.

Dear Polly,

I am just curious.  I hope you don’t mind me asking this.   How old are you?

Ticking,
Lawrence, St. Petersburg, FL

Dear Time-Bomb Larry,

There is an old saying that goes… “You should never ask a woman her age.”  I am not sure who started this, but I think it is a bunch of bunk.  I mean, why not ask a woman her age?  Really?

Age is not something to be ashamed of.  No.  We should wear it like a badge.  A Red Badge of Courage, I’ll tell you.  I’ve said it before… but when people are young…. they want to be older.  And when they are wrinkled and creaky, like me, then tend to yearn for their more youthful days and ways.

Why I ask you. Why?  Shouldn’t the present be just the right time for each of us.  I mean, the fact of the matter is…. the present is the only time we really have.

The past is long gone.  And the future?  Well, the future is always the future.

Einstein… the amazing brainiac that he was… tried to teach us that “Time is Relative.”  So very true it is.  It is the same thing as “The Eye of the Beholder.”  It is all in PERCEPTION.

So, Larry (can I call you Larry…  I hope so… because that is how I roll)….  anyway, I do not mind at all that you asked me how old I am.

In fact, it brings up a funny story that occurred today.  I was out sweeping the walk in front of our home here in Downtown Charleston…. (one of the greatest cities in the world… which happened to be jam-packed with tourists in black knee-socks and Bermuda shorts today… but I digress ever-so-slightly).

A couple of women stopped me and asked… “Do you work here?”  Now…..What the heck?  Work where???  “Uhhhhhhh…. nooooo…. I live here.”

“You mean REAL people live here?”

Now… what the heck do they think this is…. Disneyworld?   And I am Cinderella in her peasant garb…. sweeping out the fireplace…. waiting for the little white mice and pumpkin to roll down Meeting Street?  Holy smackerels!

So I responded….”Well… what exactly do you mean by real?  I am 85% cardboard cutout, and the rest of me is sort of like Pinocchio. Pretty cool, huh?  Would you like me to sign your souvenir map?”  And then….. back to sweeping.

Larry, I don’t know why I told you that story.  I guess perhaps when they asked if I was real or not…. it reminded my of the whole E=mc2 thing with Einstein.

Oh… but since we are on it….  the tourist stories kept coming today.  So later in the afternoon, I was walking our three most awesome dogs.  This is about the fourth time…. at least … that this particular question has been asked of me.  Yes.  Once again, a small  group of folks wanted to know if I was the Dog Walker.  “Well yes. It appears that I am.  And now…. we are walking… walking the mile… walking the Green Mile.”  Holy, holy, smackerels.  Again.

It is not that any of this necessarily bothers me.  (Okay.  Well.  Maybe just a little.)  But, it is just that I’ve  visited an awful lot of cities, and I don’t recall ever asking a local if they were a real live person… or just some sort of prop.

But that is reflective of life, now that I think of it.  I’ve met people on this big ball of ours.  There are those that seem to be going through the motions like characters at the amusement park.  Sort of fake-ish.   They just sort of flit through each day, in their costumes, and make believe, and never really connect to anyone or anything.  I can think of a couple prime examples right away.

On the other hand, I know a big big bunch of people who are as real as the ground beneath my feet.  The salt of the earth.  The backbones.  The true blue.  And the honest-to-goodness. Dyed in the wool.  Good as gold.  And I like those folks a lot.

So much more than the Mickey Mouses and the Dumbos in life.  Those cardboard cutouts have a tendency to blow over quite easily. They eventually blow away completely.

But the others…. the solid ones….  as solid as solid can be.  They truly are the REAL people in my life.  No additives.  One hundred percent pure.  And right here in the present.  In fact, they are a BIG present…. to me.

Well Larry, I hope that answers your question… You see… I’m getting a little older, and I can’t remember what the crap you asked me.  Plus, it is getting late.  And….Time sure does fly when you are having fun…..

Best wishes,
Polly

“Don’t count every hour in the day, make every hour in the day count.”
-Old Adage