Age is a Communist

With a twinkle in his eye and a broom in his hand, Jerry leaned in and imparted to me words I may never forget.

“You know, Mary, you only need two things to run a Vacation Bible School: the Bible and water balloons.”

When I think about this last week a number of mental images come to mind. Most of them involve the sound of herding cats through prickly pear cactuses or re-written scenes from a Poe novel where helpless Americans are bricked into a wall using cotton balls, glue and paper-mache butterflies. Something about that age difference really put a barrier between our attempts at international relations long about two o’clock every day. I just don’t have as much energy as I used to. Even sweeping up the hallway with Jerry in the aftermath of the last day I could feel places in my back decaying with the swiftness of a wheel chair rolling down a hill in San Francisco without brakes.

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