My live-in companion, Zelda, she of the Siamese persuasion, brought two small feathered playmates into our home last week. Chickadees, they were. I’m reasonably sure she was not working toward a chicken dinner; she merely wanted to play.
The first visitor, who was so young it could not yet fly, was discovered when I spotted Zelda trying to crawl into a space underneath our sofa, a space much too small for her to navigate. The other guest was discovered two days later, fluttering between a curtain and a kitchen window.
I was able to rescue both without the loss of enough feathers to cause any permanent damage. I carried the first one outside and released it on the other side of our back fence. The other — or perhaps it was the same one, just grown up a bit — flew away as soon as I carried him, or her, out onto our porch.
Truly, I cannot believe Zelda was looking for a meal. She merely wanted to play, but the birds were not aware of this. Birds do not understand the concept of play, and are reluctant to join in the fun.
Zelda appeared disturbed and mystified when they didn’t return the attention and affection which she offered to them. Pity. They missed an opportunity to acquire a lifetime of opportunities to tell their children and grandchildren about their afternoon spent as a guest of Zelda, who’s only thought was to bring some excitement into their otherwise drab and dreary lives.
Who, in your opinion, is the most beautiful first lady in our country’s history? I’ve only seen pictures of Dolly Madison, so I’m putting my money on Michelle Obama. Notice I said “beautiful,” not “pretty.” There’s a vast difference between pretty and beautiful. Jackie Kennedy was pretty, Michelle, especially when she is amused, is beautiful. She has that elusive quality of ‘impishness” which makes her so attractive to this registered, card-carrying girl-watcher. Jackie was just too cool and aloof for my taste.
Most aging people actively and vocally resist change in any form, and I place myself in that category, but I have a confession to make. I just don’t think the comic strip “Dennis the Menace” is funny anymore. Neither is “Beetle Bailey,” and “Blondie,” a two-joke comic strip, is only a short step behind.
May I once more touch on the topic of presidential candidates? I was appalled in the last presidential election by the attempt of each of the major candidates to try to appear as if they were “just one of the guys” by taking off their necktie and opening their shirt’s collar button. How utterly phony!
These were men who have worn a tie every day of their lives since puberty, but who tossed their cravat aside simply because some campaign “expert” told them that it made him appear more “folksy.”
And now that disappointing list includes even the last person you would expect to see join it, Donald Trump. As of the past weekend, I had seen Mr. Trump unfettered by any gaudy strips of silk around his neck on at least two occasions.
This man, who has heretofore proudly displayed his personal wealth and class, has now joined the list of those who will grovel and deny their heritage for a vote. Years ago this was described as “baby kissing.” Mr. Trump recently gave the impression that the babes he kisses are a bit more mature.
That’s enough. See you next week.
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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
