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Dear Friend: Just a line to say I’m living…
That I’m not among the dead,

Though I’m getting more forgetful
And mixed up in the head.

I got used to my arthritis,
To my dentures I’m resigned,

I can manage my bifocals,
But Lord… how I miss my mind!!!

Sometimes I can’t remember
When I stand at the foot of the stairs.

If I must go up for something…
Or if I’ve just come down from there,

I stand before the fridge at times,
My poor mind filled with doubt,

Have I come to put food away,
Or come to take some out?

There are times when it is dark out,
And with my nightcap on my head,

I don’t know if I’m retiring…
Or just getting out of bed.

So if it’s my turn to write you,
There’s no need for getting sore,

I may think that I have written
And don’t want to be a bore.

I do know that I miss you
And wish that you were near.

And now it’s nearly mail time
So I must say goodbye, my dear.

Now I’m standing beside the mail box
With a face so red,

Instead of mailing you my letter …
I have opened it instead!!!

The elderly Italian man went to his parish priest and asked if the priest would hear his confession.
“Of course, my son,” said the priest.
“Well, Father, at the beginning of World War Two, a beautiful woman knocked on my door and asked me to hide her from the Germans. I hid her in my attic, and they never found her.”
“That’s a wonderful thing, my son, and nothing that you need to confess,” said the priest.
“It’s worse, Father. I was weak, and told her that she had to pay for rent of the attic by giving me a little lovin’ now and then,” continued the old man.
“Well, it was a very difficult time, and you took a large risk – you would have suffered terribly at their hands if the Germans had found you hiding her. I know that God, in his wisdom and mercy, will balance the good and the evil, and judge you kindly,” said the priest.
“Thanks, Father,” said the old man. “That’s a load off of my mind. Can I ask another question?”
“Of course, my son,” said the priest.
The old man asked, “Do I have to tell her that the war is over?”

A older woman down south goes into the local newspaper office to see that the obituary for her recently deceased husband is properly written. (She had always been known for her accuracy to details, second only to her famous sense of thrift.) Only his beloved pickup truck remained to remind her of his presence.
The obit editor informs her that the fee for the obituary is 50 cents a word. She pauses, reflects and then says, “Well then, let it read, ‘Billy Bob died.”
Although amused at the woman’s cleverness, the editor says, “Sorry ma’am there is a 7 word minimum on all obituaries.”
This causes her to become only a little flustered, so she thinks things over for a few seconds. “In that case,” she says, “let it read, ‘Billy Bob died, 1983 Pickup for sale.’”

Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we’re kids?
If you’re less than 10 years old, you’re so excited about aging that you think in fractions. How old are you?. “I’m four and a half. You’re never 36 and a half. You’re four and a half going on five!
That’s the key. You get into your teens, now they can’t hold you back. You jump to the next number. How old are you? “I’m gonna be 16.” You could be 12, but you’re gonna be 16.
And then the greatest day of your life happens, you become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony: You BECOME 21! YES!
But then you turn 30. Ooohhh what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk. He TURNED, we had to throw him out. There’s no fun now.
What’s wrong? What changed? You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you’re PUSHING 40. Stay over there, it’s all slipping away!
You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, you’re PUSHING 40, you REACH 50 And your dreams are gone.
Then you MAKE IT to 60. You didn’t think you’d make it! So you BECOME 21, you TURN 30, you’re PUSHING 40, you REACH 50, you MAKE IT to 60. Then you build up so much speed you HIT 70!
After that, it’s a day by day thing. After that, you HIT Wednesday.
You get into your 80′s, you HIT lunch. My grandmother won’t even buy green bananas. It’s an investment you know, and maybe a bad one.
And it doesn’t end there. Into the 90′s you start going backwards.
I was JUST 92.
Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again: “I’m 100 and a half!”

A hip young man goes out and buys the best car available: a 1997 Ferrari GTO. It is also most expensive car in the world, and it costs him $500,000.
He takes it out for a spin and stops for a red light. An old man on a moped (both looking about 90 years old) pulls up next to him. The old man looks over at the sleek, shiny car and asks, “What kind of car ya’ got there, sonny?”
The young man replies, “A 1997 Ferrari GTO, it cost half a million dollars!”
“That’s a lot of money” says the old man. “Why does it cost so much?”
“Because this car can do up to 320 miles an hour!” states the young man proudly.
The moped driver asks, “Mind if I take a look inside?”
“No problem,” replies the owner.
So the old man pokes his head in the window and looks around. Then, sitting back on his moped, the old man says, “That’s a pretty nice car, all right!”
Just then the light changes so the guy decides to show the old man just what his car can do. He floors it, and within 30 seconds the speedometer reads 320 mph.
Suddenly, he notices a dot in his rear view mirror. It seems to be getting closer! He slows down to see what it could be and suddenly, whhoooossshhh! Something whips by him, going much faster!
“What on earth could be going faster than my Ferrari?!” the young man asks himself.
Then, ahead of him, he sees a dot coming toward him. Whoooooosh! It goes by again, heading the opposite direction! And it looked like the old man on the moped!
“Couldn’t be!” thinks the guy. “How could a moped outrun a Ferrari?!”
But again, he sees a dot in his rear view mirror! Whooooosh and KablaMMM! It plows into the back of his car, demolishing the rear end. The young man jumps out, and it IS the old man!!!
He runs up to the mangled old man and says, “Omigod! Is there anything I can do for you?”
The old man whispers in a raspy breath, “Unhook…my suspenders…from your side-view mirror…”



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