There are handprints on the carpet again here in front of my big, black leather, poppa chair in my living room. I’m back to doing pushups again, which has me feeling pretty good. I told you I had a nasty knee replacement operation a little while ago, and it left me a little weak. Pushups and I go back a long way. I used to do them with my dad when I was a little kid. I always wanted to be like my dad. They made me into a pretty solid kid…which was good…growing up in Brooklyn. The other kids on the block called me “Dick the P.P.”. I’ll give you a politically correct translation…it means Dick the pushup…person. The actual meaning of the second “p” rhymes with Dick. Remember, this was Brooklyn…a long time ago.
In those days, a hooker was a hooker…not a “horizontally accessible libido provider. Guys had beer bellies, not “overly developed liquid grain storage organs.” And idiots were idiots, not “victims of rectal cranial inversions.” I hate that stuff. I don’t see anything demeaning about being a female person who acts. We used to call them actresses. Now they’re actors. Am I supposed to call my grand-daughters “grand-persons?”
Anyway, I was proud of my P.P. nick name, even though I couldn’t say it in front of my mother. In fact I used to sign my name, “Dick, P.P.” sometimes. Just like some guys put PhD, or M.D. after their names. Those initials kind of followed me into the radio business. While I was in college, I worked evenings at a little station in New Rochelle, and the show I did was called, “Platter Poppa.”
And now…I am Dick Summer, P.P. and the P.P stands for Puma Person. I am the proud president of the P.P.A. The Puma People of America. We are Louie-Louie Generation people who are determined to walk and pounce like pumas…again. Here’s the point: This knee replacement is a nasty operation…the details of which I will spare you because you don’t need nightmares. But just let me say you’re supposed to use a walker, or crutches, or a cane after it…which of course, I refuse to do.
I fully intend…in the very near future…to be ready to pounce like a puma when my Lady Wonder Wench wanders into the room wearing something she calls, “a little more comfortable.” If you’re not careful after an operation like that, the old rocking chair will get you. And that’s how you get old.
Old age sneaks up on you like a car’s windshield sneaks up on a bug. I’m not going there. Actually…my kids are now older than I feel like I should be. One way I’m going to maintain my membership in the Puma People of America is by avoiding hobble-hood. Which means…no more operations. If I develop a constant ringing in my ear, I’ll just get an un-listed ear. If my teeth turn yellow, I’ll just wear a brown shirt. If my other knee gives out, I’ll get a pogo stick.
Dick’s Details Quiz – All answers are in the current podcast.
1- What should we call the first four Pilgrims who jumped off the Mayflower ?
2- There are about 13,00 parts in a new car these days, except for _ _ _ _ _ _ s.
3- Why do salmon die with smiles on their faces ?
Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.
Everybody deals with getting older differently. There’s a story about that in the Night Connections personal audio CD. It’s called The Aging Wild Child. I’ll bet the smile on her face when she heard his key in the door was matched only by the smile on his face when he walked in.
The Aging Wild Child is from the Night Connections personal audio CD. If you like it you can just keep the podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just go back to the home page, and download it from the night Connections icon.
Those of us who are members of the Louie-Louie Generation have to adjust to different times. You can see it in bars. In our day, a woman would walk in, pull out a cigarette, and pretend she needed a match, and 6 guys would pounce on her with cigarette lighters. But times have changed. Now, smoking in a bar is looked on very much like picking your nose in a bar was in the our days. So we need a new ritual. My Lady Wonder Wench always lets me open the apple sauce jar for her. She could do it, but she knows it makes me feel like the pushup…person from long ago.
So how about a girl brings a jar of apple sauce with her to the bar. Then guys could start a conversation by asking if they could open it for her. Hmmm…I see you like apple sauce. I do too. Especially the lumpy kind. I am a member of the Puma People of America my dear. Would you like to drop in to my place to see my collection of handprints on the floor ?