A Little Bit Crazy?

Every now and then we all do things that some disinterested observer might categorize as Crazy. (I say "we all" because I'm not condemning merely myself--but all of you! A common form of self-protection.)

In early January this year, for example, I decided I was going to send to my family--wife Joyce, son Steve, daughter-in-law Melissa, grandson Logan, grandson Carson--a daily text with a little doggerel I'd written based on the word-of-the-day that appeared that day on the 365 New-Words-a-Year (page-a-day) tear-off calendar that I'd given our son and his family for Christmas (Joyce and I each have one, as well--hers upstairs, mine down).

Pretty soon I established the routine ...

• Early each morning, downstairs to do some chores (unload the dishwasher, etc.), I would tear off the previous day's word and look at the new one.
• I would let it bounce around my head as I prepared to walk over to the coffee shop.
• Before I went, I wrote a rough draft.
• At the coffee shop I would do some light editing (if necessary--and it almost always was), then text it to everyone.

My routine also involved some "rules" that I never violated.

• I would never look ahead on the calendar; I always did the doggerel the morning of.
• Okay ... never is a bit strong because, you see, on the weekend the page shows two words--Sat. and Sunday. So, on the weekend I got a little break, and I'd write two and earn thereby a day off. (Though I wouldn't text the Sunday word until Sunday.)
• Throughout the year I assembled a notebook--with dividers labeled by month--and in that notebook I would Scotch tape two calendar pages alongside the doggerel for that day.

I had some problems a few days--not with writing that doggerel (that stuff flows out of me like ... well, never mind) but with illness. But I continued with the project, all year.

Here are a couple of samples of the "quality" of the verse:

January 14

The ginger cookie wished that he

Could turn into a ginger man.

He asked his parents, GINGERLY,

If this, indeed, was nature’s plan.

“Well, some of us are men,” said Dad.

“And some are women,” added Mom.

“And it,” she added, “would be sad

If you were eaten by some Tom

Or Susan or by someone who

Did not leave time for you to grow

Into a man. I’d cry boo-hoo.

But that, I’m sure, you surely know!”

But he grew up—became a man.

And no one ate him, first or last.

For he could run—and so he ran—

And folks can’t eat what runs too fast!

August 7

Did you CONNIVE to steal the ring?

The one that powers everything?

The one that you have known since birth

Can change the course of Middle-Earth?

Oh, Gollum, you are such a creep—

Your slippery ways cause loss of sleep!

But we’ve found you a special room

Within the bowels of old Mt. Doom!

I had not told our son and his family that I was assembling this notebook, and on Christmas Eve, when they were here for food and frolic and presents, I waited until the last gift had been opened and told Steve to look under the couch. Where he found the notebook. (See pic above--and one at the bottom of this post.)

And thus Steve, et al. had yet more confirmation that the Old Man is, well, you know ...

Oh, because I wanted to give them all the words on Christmas Eve, I worked ahead, writing all the doggerel for December 25-31. But I asked them not to look ahead in the book; I'd be texting each day as usual.

And one final question: Will I do this again in 2020?

As I sit here, I'm not sure.

But ... I did give them a 2020 calendar ...