I’ve been thinking about the people who, early in my life, gave me the straight “bad” scoop about me.
To begin with, the individual who comes in dead last was Irene Duffy, my dear mother. She told me, and all her friends, I was the greatest thing since popcorn. Thanks, Mom.
Topping the early list of critics was Guy, my first boss, who told me I only shoveled snow at a barely passing rate when he was present. He said he had better things to do and relieved me of my duties.
Mr. Craven, a high school science teacher, told me I was fairly smart but very lazy. I earned a D.
An early girlfriend, Amy, let me know that no girl likes boys to breathe heavily in her ears. My brother had misinformed me again.
Franko, my grade school coach, told me football was a contact sport, so sprinting to the sidelines each play didn’t hack it.
Now I’m thinking, at my advancing years, friends and acquaintances may be giving me a pass just because they figure it’s too late for me to make major modifications. Everyone seems too kind, even when I know I have really screwed up.
Please be tough on me. I’m a fast learner. Proof? I haven’t breathed in a girl’s ear for over 65 years.
Falling in love