Monthly Archives: July 2015

The swinging 60’s

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Before I crossed that threshold – 60 years – I thought I’d be dead by then. In fact I remember as a teenager wondering if I’d ever reach the ‘ripe old age’ of forty. Now, here I am just a few years short of completing the end of yet another decade and I find that life, people and the world at large are still fascinating. One learns something new all the time; it’s so true that I cease to think of it as a cliché.

Then my mind wanders to the semantics of the differences or similarities between a cliché and a truism and I look in the mirror and say ‘focus, woman, focus’. The reality of the additional years land a sharp whack to my solar plexus and dictionary.com comes handily to my assistance. Even so, the topic I wish to write about is life after sixty. Believe me friends, it happens.

Check out the wonderful worldwide uncle or aunty Google and there are stories about people making new beginnings at fifty, sixty, seventy and even older. There’s a tale of a lady who was a chemist who turned to stand-up comedy at 74. Another is a woman who turned to modelling – catwalk no less – in her eighties. Other news items hand out advice on what to do in order to enjoy your ‘sunset’ years.

Whether it’s a conscious decision or something that circumstances or age force upon you, it seems, that come 60, a number of folk out there are doing new and different things. Some of us feel that we’re not needed by the kids quite as much as before. Let’s learn a new language. Others continue to work at their jobs while enjoying their sports. Yet others decide to get back onto that hobbyhorse and start rocking it.

Like my friend David. He’s taken his singing and music to another level. David was always that great party guest who could be relied upon to bring along his guitar and really get a party going. Foot stamping sing-alongs would ensue well into the night.

As often happens to many a hobby that becomes a passion, once it’s offered to the world at large, it can really strike a chord when it finds an audience. And, as anyone who gives in to a passion knows, when you connect with a complete stranger across a crowded room…it’s magic.

Well done David! I’m a fan.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLhGmE4ESkrdi0p4CaAjrTEy7VKTmGSKB-

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLhGmE4ESkrdjscfxIgvOAyRW36kXrqM23

and if you want to find out more about him you can click the link below

http://www.troubador.ca/Welcome.html

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The Sandwich Thief

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Yesterday I read a post on Facebook (someone else’s post) that I then placed on my FB page here: https://www.facebook.com/RohiniSunderamAuthor

The post is an amusing account of two colleagues and a spat they have over a turkey & rye sandwich. I mentioned that it reminded me of some of the poems in Corpoetry, like The Water Cooler. One friend said she’d like to see what I’d make of that situation in a poem.

And so, here it is!

‘Twas in an office, I heard tell

Of a prankster ne’er do well

He stole, it seems, a colleague’s lunch

And the outcome was a bunch

Of laughs for folk like me and you

But from the posts, it seems ‘twas true

And this is how it went:

 

“Oh sandwich thief, I know you keep

Stealing my sandwiches, why oh why?

The latest one’s turkey on rye.

Grow up you thief, you sandwich thief!”

 

The thief replied, “dear Turkey ’n’ Rye

I have it here, I do not lie,

Ten bucks is all that it will take

To get it back upon a plate.”

 

The victim lashed back with a threat:

“Return my sandwich, thief, or else!

To HR I shall take my ‘plaint

And then let’s see how you will faint!”

 

The Sandwich Thief, did threaten back

“Alas, my dear, alas, alack!

For every hour that you delay

Bite by bite, I’ll eat it away.”

 

Threats then turned to psycho chat

“Why oh why are you doing this?”

The sandwich ‘napper, not remiss

“Tick-Tock” he sent a photo back.

 

But in an office, as we know

Don’t push your luck for it can go

As in this case, to HR’s top

And HR weighed in with a ‘Stop!

 

“Cease! Desist! Return the food

And we’ll not take this any further”

But sandwich ‘napper he’s a boob

Demands a pizza, silly joker.

 

Next he adds an insult in

Threatens not to eat but chew

And then in little mouthfuls spew

The sandwich in a bin!

 

“You’re the worst” our Victim sighs

“I’m not” Our Sandwich Thief replies

And in eloquent prose outlines

The corporation’s ills and its demise.

 

Now, thanks to IT and what not

HR tracked down the wicked sot

“Francis!” they name and shame the chap

“Come and see us, now ASAP!”

 

Now Sandwich Thief, he ain’t so bold

(In fact it almost makes one sicken)

“Please don’t fire me,” he folds!

The turkey made him chicken.