Dear Mr. Fartso

Dear Mr. Fartso,

I am writing you today because you called yesterday when I was walking the dog. At one point, we discussed the ubiquitous need to smile WIDE when life is rather crappy - and for a little bit of the journey, we were able to smile on a whole team of wide-grinned optimists as we trekked across razor blades and raw sewage on a sojourn of hope. We took our pain and made our teeth beautiful.

And I'm thinking of you and the lemons that come from growing older, from the forks in the human road of meaning, and from the quirky intellect it takes to make sense of the senseless every step of the way. I used to teach my students that aging doesn't ease the crap. It just gives you new tools for contending with the crap.

Last night, I ate an apple dessert (a follow up to yesterday's post of Johny Appleseed). I cored five apples and sprinkled them with cinnamon and brown sugar. I baked them for 20 minutes, then covered them with a box of spice cake and sprinkled the top with butter (half a stick...maybe a whole one - who cares?). I baked it for another twenty to thirty minutes. It's became a crunch. I now eat it over vanilla icecream.

Mr. Fartso, I command you to do the same. When life is lame, remember it's a game. Eat a dessert. It will assist the need for a wide smile later in life when you don't feel like being so politically correct.

Bryan

PS: For those of you who don't know Mr. Fartso, it doesn't matter. He knows who he is and how to soak the morrow from this posting. Mr. Fartso is any of us who are asked to tap dance during a funeral. It's not right, but it's the way the business sector works. Mr. Fartso composes music with piano. I try to compose with words. Both make wallowing in the compost more harmonious. If you want to sing out, sing out, strums Cat Stevens. This is a note to sing out on Tuesday.