Good Night

Everybody is entitled to a fantasy, right? Here's one of my favorites.

I had to kill the mouse! He had my Lady trapped on her dresser. Poor little thing. (The mouse I mean.)"Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even..." Yeah. THAT MOUSE.

It sometimes seems like China purposely sends us stuff to assemble that just doesn't want to fit together. Is it so they can video a "Reality" show from their satellites?

Why won't women ever play major league baseball? The answer is right here in this podcast, along with a little touch of magic at a ball park.

Once upon a time, many, many years ago, I was cutting down a pine tree in my most manly way, and my ax split off a small chunk of wood that had a smaller plug inside. You know how a hot dog looks in a bun? That's kind of what it looked like. It was... unusual. And it smelled wonderful...it was pine. So I gave it to my Lady Wonder Wench. She still has it on her dresser all these years later. She keeps treasures like that...shells from various beaches we've visited on vacations we've enjoyed...a very old shirt of mine that she used to wear at night when I was away on business...A Christmas poem I wrote for her, many Christmases ago...a ring I made out of the top of an old snap top soda can. They're like 3D selfies of the times of our lives. I'm pretty sure I found something to add to her collection yesterday. The smart guys in the white lab coats call it an Eranthis Hyemalis. But I just call it Barbara's February Flower because Barbara is my Lady's name. Barbara's February Flower is a tiny bright yellow flo

It seems to me that everybody's hair is on fire these days. People are scared. When opportunity knocks these days, by the time you look through the peephole, put your shot gun away, tie up your Doberman and slide back the dead lock to open your door, opportunity is long gone. Politics have been going from bad to worse every year, and this year they got there. There's an explanation for that right there in the word politics. Poli means many. And tics are small, blood sucking parasites. That's called using the right word for identifying the problem. The two most common elements in the universe these days are hydrogen and stupidity. Life these days is especially tough for guys. You swim the deepest river for her, you climb the highest mountain for her, you cross the widest desert for her, and she keeps complaining you're never home. And how come at Walmart they always have someone demonstrating stuff in the house wares department, but never in the lingerie department. That's just not fair. And what is double

I've been sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair watching a ball game. One of the things I like best about watching sports is the passion involved. It starts with the National Anthem just before the game begins. I sometimes sing along with the Star Spangled Banner. I do the best I can with the high notes. That gives me a freebie connection with the people who paid to get into the ballpark. I like that connection. It feels like we are passing the passion for the game back and forth. When I sing about the bombs bursting in air, I can almost smell the hot dogs with mustard and 'kraut and taste the cold beer. Sometimes the military sends a flight of jets over head. That gives me a chill. Pride will do that to a guy. Pride and passion. I'm a pilot and I know how hard it is to fly tight formation like that. The wing man is sometimes only literally inches away from the lead's tailfeathers…and they're doing a zillion MPH. That takes skill and courage. And passion.

The "Backache Monster" sank his claws into my spine yesterday, so I've been sitting here in my big, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room counting the few moving parts I seem to have left...on the fingers of one hand. I had a TV dance party show in what seems like a few eons ago. I used to do the Watusi, the Mashed Potatoes, and the Loco Motion with the kids. I didn't do the Twist because of my bad knees. How come they don't have dances like that anymore? How come? How come they don't have TV Dance party shows anymore? Come to think of it, maybe they do, and our kids just won't tell us about them. Speaking about "How Comes," How Come the alarm only goes off when it's on? And how come the sun on the Raisin Bran box is wearing sun glasses? And how come you have to walk to the back of the drug store to pick up your prescription, but the cigarettes are right up front? And where does the white go when the snow melts?

Some things can go away. Some things we've got to keep. So as I am sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room I thought I'd tell you about a phone call from our granddaughter Cassie. Cassie was talking about politics, and how some politicians just go on and on and on about the same ideas. I said "Yeah, like a broken record." Cassie said, "What do you mean, Poppa?" I rememberd her age, took a deep breath, and said something like "It means there's a scratch in the record, and it's so bad that the record keeps repeating." Cass said, "Oh. Like a corrupted MP3 file." Drawing on my great command of the language, I said..."Mmmm yeah." But it got me to thinking about stuff you don't hear any more. Stuff that's gone. Because sometimes it just...disappears and we don't notice when it was disappearing. The click of the channel changer on the TV...not the remote...the knob on the TV. The ka-ching of an old time cash register. A typewriter key hitting paper. The click-whirr

I am sitting here in my big, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room quietly overcoming my toxic masculinity. Seriously. Duke University and Ithaca College are just two of a whole sclunge of institutions of higher learning that are proving that some ideas are so silly, that only intellectuals with Phds will believe them. They are running courses and workshops devoted to curbing what they call Toxic Masculinity. They haven't the slightest idea of what they're talking about. They obviously don't understand the simple but classic effects of testosterone. They don't understand that testosterone makes a guy has to make believe he never needs any help. Directions are help. That's why he never reads them. A guy has to believe he can fix anything. Maybe not this instant, but...soon. He must never go to a therapist or a doctor unless he can be clinically proven that he has been dead for at least a year. "No sense going to a hospital, dear. I don't seem to be in a coma right now." Dumb right? Yes. But tox

I have been sitting here in my big, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room doing these podcasts for quite a while now. Quite a time for me isn't the same as it is for archeologists. My Lady Wonder Wench is interested in archeology, which is good for me, because I am hoping she will get more interested in me as I get older. As Big Louie, the Head Guy of our Louie Louie Generation always says, "Grow old, not dim. If you have any moving parts left, for heaven sake, MOVE EM!" I realized in the fifth grade, that men and women have different moving parts. When Summer vacation came around in the fourth grade, all the boys and girls were pretty much the same. But in September, and fifth grade started, the girls came back a foot taller, and they had...moving parts. It was like they went to Summer bosom and giggles camp. And the fact that they were a foot taller meant that our eyes were cruelly positioned at bosom level...and we weren't ready for it. Some of us are still not ready for it.

Time to take five and figure out the great "Whys" in life in this podcast. That means different things for different people. For example: A famous astronomer is trying to figure out why something called "Dark Matter" makes up most of the universe. She claims that although it makes up most of the universe, we can't see it feel it or taste it...but it's definitely there...and without it, all the planets would go whizzing off in different directions. So why can't we see it, feel it or taste it? My "Whys" are a little less...cosmic. I wonder for example why, if there is a Mayo Clinic, why isn't there a Mustard Clinic. And although it is true that beauty is skin deep, why would you want a beautiful liver? And if a woman farts, why she is embarrassed? Guys aren't embarrassed by a fart. Farts to a guy are an endless source of entertainment, male bonding, and self expression. And on the subject of "Whys," how come when a woman uses the word "Fine," it is time for a guy to just shut up, because the conversation is

This is about first times. The first things that will happen in 2017. The first times in your life...first kiss, first job, first...all that good stuff. And...Happy New Year.

Finally...I'm sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room...recuperating. When I was a kid, I used to hate when Christmas night came around, because that meant it was 365 days till the next Christmas. "Don't cry because something is over, smile because that something happened" is a lesson that takes a while to sink in. I love Christmas, but it can whack you. I start looking for Christmas presents around Labor Day, because one of the things I like best about Christmas is finding gifts that are different, and personal, and happy. I do the Santa-ing for the guys on our list, & my Lady Wonder Wench takes care of the ladies. I usually get the guys toys...because that's what I like. Christmas is a kid's birthday. Kids like toys. I let my little kid out to play at Christmas. Little kids understand Christmas much better than grownups do. I'll prove that to you in this podcast.

It's Christmas Past Again is the title of this podcast. It's about a lot of things that define Christmas for me and for my Lady. Rock hard and super sticky grammar school green and red Christmas candy, a portable radio that shaped my life, Mom's home-made apple dumplings, pictures from a long time ago, decorations for the tree including a tall, skinny Santa that reminds us of her dad, and a finely crafted Christmas ball from my German Grandfathers's tree...and remembering him singing Stille Nacht, thinking about maybe going home...one more time. It's about how the Salvation Army saved Christmas for my Lady one year, a long time ago, and about a Christmas flight that can't ever happen again. And...tears. Christmas is also about tears. This podcast is a personal treasure. I thought I'd wrap it up, and give it to you. Merry Christmas.

There's a one sentence Christmas Story that knocked me down in today's podcast. It may have the same effect on you. If it does, when you get up, please toddle over to your computer or smart phone and send your favorite Christmas story to dick@dicksummer.com It will be treated with love and respect. This podcast is about lots of people's favorite Christmas stories, a big Christmas Eve bonfire, and 1,000 people standing close enough together to keep each other warm, standing in a snow storm, singing Silent Night.

No matter how often have you've heard, "The First Noel" you've never heard it quite like this. My son David is both a computer genius and a professional musician. You can't buy this recording in any store, but you can enjoy it here as often as you like.

I am sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly black leather poppa chair in my living room, and I want to thank you for sending your Christmas/Hanakah/Solstice/Quanza memories. I'm not sure when this one from Proud Podcast Participant Bill came in, but hey...It works. In fact, by the time we get to the end of it, you may notice your egg nog squirting out of your nose. What better way to celebrate Christmas?

The word "Hark" gets high marks for getting attention. The Herald Angels always said, "Hark" and look at all the attention they get at this time of year. This podcast explains how you can use the word Hark to get attention too. Always a good idea to get attention. Santa is watching.

I'm sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room, getting an early start on Santa stuff...looking over some of the notes you wrote to me about Christmas. I read them all, and run some of them in the podcasts and blogs. Then I pack them away for the next year. Some of them make me wonder what happened to the people who sent them. Christmas is so full of memories. Some people call memories baggage. I guess you can say that memories are baggage, but only if you remember how helpless you felt the last time an airline lost your suitcases. Christmas is good music, good food, and if you're lucky good, happy people around you. But maybe you're not lucky this year. Even if your Christmas memories hurt, it's coming. Maybe it will help if you remember what Big Louie, the head guy of the Louie Louie Generation always says, "You might as well let a smile be your umbrella, because you're going to get soaked anyway." Come on...send me your Christmas, Hannakuh, Solstice, or Kw