Never too old to learn
You are never too old to learn. After nine decades, I’ve discovered that those 100% scores I got on tests, homework assignments and quizzes were not something to be celebrated. Instead, I should have felt shame. Little did I know I was a racist. One hundred percent did not mean I got everything right; it meant I was 100% white privileged.
After thinking about it, I’ve decided there are some people that have way too much time on their hands. They must go through every newspaper, publication, even dictionary to find words that have brand new meanings in today’s world. I say to them, “Get a job.” There are a whole lot of problems out there, and being 100% correct is not one of them.
There is way too much time left before the 2024 election. My theory is that the greatest percentage of voters have already made up their minds on who they plan to vote for. I could be wrong, as I often am, but couldn’t we put a mandatory start and stop on the campaign?
Time does fly. If my calculations are right, graduation is just about seven weeks away. There are 44 seniors who will be receiving diplomas. Bigger class than usual. And we have yet to have our first track meet. Activities seem to jam up come April and May.
A little rain and snow stopped a lot of youngsters from enjoying the usual endless game of searching for Easter eggs in the backyard. Somehow, it’s a lot more fun than searching for them in the house.
My thoughts on Easter Sunday went back to Dayton, the first year Joni and the kids moved there and we went over for the first egg hunt. Hagen was 4 years old, but he wanted his turn at hiding the eggs. We “finders” went in the house, and Hagen took a bucket full of eggs and headed out the back door. Seems like he came back in no time, telling us the eggs were all hidden.
We all trooped out back and we looked; we looked again, and again. All over the backyard. Everywhere he could have possibly hidden them. We finally congregated around the back porch. He told us we were warm, and warmer. Then hot. We couldn’t find a single egg.
We finally admitted defeat. Hagen went over, took a shovel to where there had been a deep hole, carefully removed a layer of dirt, and there were all two or three dozen eggs. If he hadn’t shown us where they were, or if his four-year-old mind had forgotten, those eggs would probably still be there today.
He got the prize for being the best “hider.”
And speaking of eggs, did anyone else find it a little unsettling that in the Easter egg decorating contest at the capitol, any decorations with a Christian theme were not allowed?
Let’s all pray for good weather this weekend when area thinclads will converge in Greybull for a track meet. I would like 60 degree temps and no wind, please. But I am not 100% sure that will happen.