A Crotchety Old Jew…
If you’ve made it this far, you already realize that I’m a Jew living in the South.
Now, this isn’t without it’s hazards, and at times, it certainly isn’t without it’s humor.
I’ve traveled the world, and seen more than my share. In fact, I’ve seen enough to know that the best things in life are;
- (A) A warm bed to sleep in, preferably with your wife.
- (B) A comfortable couch, just in case your wife is “cranky…”
- (C) The crack-of-dawn smiles my baby son gives me, to tell me it’s time for him to get up, and begin his day terrorizing us, and…
- (D) Any day you wake up, without hardship that you can’t overcome by dusk…
Here’s some vital statistics, for those bean-counters among you;
I’m 50ish, going on a hundred.
I have my fair share of scars, but I lack the tattoos and identifying marks (piercings) that would identify me as an “obvious outsider” or a Gentile.
I suspect that my parents named me “Al” so people would mistake me for a “bald” version of Albert Einstein as I got older. And, they do… until the moment I open up my mouth! My hairline is racing to the back of my neck, as we speak. It’s been like that since the Seventies, but it wasn’t drug induced, or especially traumatic.
I can still get into the same pants I wore in High School. Unfortunately, I can’t fasten them, or put anything in the pockets, but “basic coverage,” like “possession,” is 9/10ths of the law, the way I see it.
I’ve been rich, and I’ve been poor. Lemme tell you, poor sucks!
And, I’ll define the rest of my character to you, over the next several hundred posts, wrought at the end of a forehead, dripping in blood sweated profusely…