You write about science for 30 years
and what do you get?

A chance to freelance
for the Washington Post (70+ times)
and other newspapers and magazines
on Burning Issues
like the right way to eat corn on the cob,
finding happiness on the prune juice trail,
and questing for the perfect
crummy but good restaurant.

Newest Burning Issues

Put the Old Woman Down

Sometimes The Load Gets Grouchy

Maybe if Rita weren’t a dedicated children’s librarian, we would never have discovered our second rule of marriage. And maybe if she didn’t love reading so much, I would never have found the courage to offer to help carry her books when we were green college strangers.

We are still green and learning and getting acquainted, which is why in 50 years of being together we have only worked out two sure rules of engagement.

You remember Rule #1. The story about Rita’s gossipy born-again toe nail painter who talked to God a lot? The one who asked God’s advice about what to do with her niece the unwed mother who was expecting yet again?

Remember what God told her? “Shirley, it’s really none of your business.”

So whenever one of us starts ranting about the doings of someone whose doings we really have no vote in, then the other quietly says, “Well, you know what God would say.” Then we smile and shake our heads together and agree: whatever the problem is, it really is none of our business.

But sometimes it is hard to let go, especially when it feels like the problem really is our business and we have the personal bruises to prove it.

Which is why Rita turned to children’s author Jon Muth (“Zen Shorts”) to give us our Rule No. 2, The Old Woman Rule.

For More on the Old Woman Rule, Do That Click Thing Here.

Playing the Goofy Factor

Goofy Brings Grandpaw and Grandson Closer. Really.

“We have a problem here,” Elijah said. The note of concern in his four-year-old voice made me laugh, made me cry. Maybe this time I had gone too far. Maybe he really thought his Grandpaw was hopelessly goofy.

To goof or not to goof, that is the question for every grandparent, or at least for we who take our duties of grandfatherly teasing, teaching and goofing seriously. Who better to bring adulterated silliness to grandchildren than grandfathers?

But there is the constant worry of going too far. The worry of becoming permanently classified as downright weird.

What if grandchildren keep track of our goofiness? What if grandchildren have the same scary power as our grade school teachers to put comments into our permanent records?

What if Elijah has already written down, “Paw can tie his shoes now, but still can’t be trusted on an elevator.”

Because four-year-old Elijah does not allow me on an elevator by myself.

For More on the Dangers and Rewards of Grandfatherly Goofiness, Do That Click Thing Here.

Finally, The Bra Talk

Support My Bra Story! Imagine Your Favorite Bra Picture Here!

One of those special mother-son moments. After 70 years, Mom and I finally had the bra talk.

Mom is 90 and the arthritis in her hands has gotten so bad she has stopped baking apple pies. She can’t peel apples herself anymore, and refuses to bake pies with apples peeled by strangers. This is well-placed pride, since her apple pies were famous and often used to bribe work crews. Her pies put gravel in her driveway and a private street light in her yard.

This morning, Mom said her hands were so bad that she had trouble putting on her bra. “It got all twisted up. I just may start going bra-less.”

In the nearly 70 years I have known this proud woman, she has never once threatened to go bra-less. In fact, I don’t think she ever said the word “bra” out loud to me before, let alone discussed the difficulties of putting one on.

I suggested that what might have been even more useful to me, at least in my earlier lustier years, was an explanation of how to take one off. All those traumatic fumbling moments of my youth that might have been avoided by a little mother-son bra instruction.

Mom ignored me. Lust was not encouraged, even after 50 years of fumbling hindsight.