I may need help. These voices are driving me a little wacko.
Last night, as I was attempting to sleep, I caught my dear mother, Irene, softly whispering in my ear, “Donnie, you can do better than this. Much better.” She left before I had a chance to ask, “Do what better, Mom?”
And Vern, my father, who’s not so gentle, is shaking his index finger at me and telling me to man up (like he was some kind of tough guy!).
Before I totally nod off, Rueben, my old boss in the 1970s, is letting me have it too: “Kuhl, I expect more from you. Get with it or get out.”
I wake up and think, “Thank goodness, now I can return to my carefree, confident self.”
I’m on my exercise bike, pushing to my limit. I close my eyes, only to see the Lennon Sisters of Lawrence Welk fame singing and swaying to the hit “Don, Don, You Can Do Better Than That.”
Is there some sort of grading system in retirement that nobody told me about?
Keep pedaling, Don