Three older ladies were discussing the travails of getting older.

One said, “Sometimes I catch myself with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand, in front of the refrigerator, and I can’t remember whether I was taking it out or putting it away.”

The second lady said, “Yes, sometimes I find myself on the landing of the stairs, and I can’t remember whether I was on my up, or on my way down.”

The third lady chimed in, “Well, I’m glad I don’t have those problems. Knock on wood.”

With that, she rapped her knuckles on the table, then said, “That must be the door. I’ll get it.”

Keep the Music Going

Three hooligans knocked on the door of a lonely old man, confident that they had easy prey in front of them: but they had no idea who was really behind that door and how this visit would end for them.

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I worked 80-hour weeks in a freezing apartment to buy my parents their dream farmhouse in cash. Returning unannounced 6 years later, I caught my frail father was sweeping the driveway and my mom was washing clothes under the brutal sun like indentured servants. On the porch, my sister-in-law and her mother sipped iced tea and sneered: “Watch it, old man! You’re getting dirt on my designer shoes.” They were living like queens on the money I sent for my parents’ medicine. My blood turned cold. Three minutes later, they begged me for putting an end to their pain…

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