We’ve all heard of the “tales” of the Grim Reaper. I do not fear “him.” I’m ready but I’m not eager. I’m a very lucky man. I just turned 83 and I’m as happy as can be.
I want to talk now about the “Grand Trimmer.” He’s the one I have dealt with my whole life long. It started with my circumcision, then one of three tonsillectomies, then my appendectomy.
The Grand Trimmer was still after me: meningitis, kidney stone, hernia, shingles (lasting more than two years,) seizure, stroke, scoliosis, a ruptured disk and a couple I forgot.
Two weeks before our marriage, since Arlene and I both had children from previous marriages, we decided that I, as the gentleman, should have a vasectomy.
Oh what a tender honeymoon! Add to these “catastrophes” a couple of “corporate failures”…and you can see I’ve been the guest of the Grand Trimmer quite a few times.
But not all of the visits of the Grand Trimmer are unwelcome.
Let me put it this way:
A surgeon’s knife cuts to heal
A gardener’s clipper cuts to grow
A butcher’s cleaver cuts to feed
A barber’s razor cuts to enhance
A lover’s rejection cuts to free
A sculptor’s chisel cuts to reveal
A farmer’s plow cuts to multiply
A carpenter’s saw cuts to build
An employer’s cuts to open other doors
A friend’s insight cuts to help
A psychiatrist’s analysis cuts to improve…
Maybe before I go, I’ll undergo a lobotomy. Then I’ll forget who I hate. But I don’t want to forget Arlene, my true love.
My beloved has played a large role in trimming my wings but I’d before not go there.
Dick Huser, Lincoln