The older I get, the more reminiscent I become … and I think that is the normal process of memory when we pile it up behind us. This is the nineteenth year of my writing a series of weekly columns, articles and travelogues for the Mineral Wells Index. I have observed the changing complex of reporting, beginning with my old original typewriter and continuing through the electric typewriter, the word processor and, now, I have worn out three or four computers. Since the latest one is nearly eight years old, I can see ahead to being forced to advance to a new one, an iPod or even becoming a “texter” on a little bitty hand-held thingy.

I have thought over the problem before me and I think I might just finish this year and call it quits! Then I think … what would I do with my time left? How would I fill my need to continue to express my opinions (remember my column entitled, “In My Opinion”?) and rid me of my frustrations with family, friends, politics and prices?

As a trial run, I decided to re-run some of my earliest columns. This one is my February 23, 1994, offering. Interestingly, I find that it’s not too different in theme and questions than one I wrote just a bit ago. Let me know what you think.

Here it is:

“This week my mind exploded like a seed pod and everything spilled out in an ugly pile. As I raked my thoughts into an orderly arrangement, some disjointed ideas made themselves noticeable. The problem is, there is likely a second page for each of them, but I have never located them, hence the short shrift I have given to each. There may be full columns of some, or all, of them later, after I have sifted through the debris.

“I’ve been thinking lately that I may have too much time on my hands. I have been compelled to comment on some of our current social ills without proposing any solutions. I am only into the questions, and not the answers, at this point.

“One news report stirred my compulsion this week. In Houston, ‘an admitted thief caught last year when a 200 pound pig grabbed hold of his leg’, according to a report in the Fort Worth Star Telegram and ‘was sentenced to a ten-year term in the state penitentiary on charges of burglary, car theft, drug possession’ and invading the privacy of a pig.”

The story relates that the offender was trying to evade the police when he ran into the back yard pig sty where the animal grabbed him while his mate oinked 911. If I were pressed to comment on the moral of such a story, I would simply say, “Don’t take a walk in a pigpen.” However, I don’t know if every pig would be so inhospitable. Perhaps we have a renegade pig here. Do they destroy vicious pigs, and if so do we plan a luau? So many questions, so few answers. Please Bare with me, unless you feel that would be too revealing.

Please don’t think that I have a nudity obsession, but with Easter approaching, I am feeling sorry for those of the naked persuasion who might want a new spring outfit. Would that include shoes, hat and bag? And surely, a problem of where to pin the corsage is a serious and possible a painful decision.

An additional problem, recently I was misled by the word “Euthanasia”. I supported the cause for several years, until I understood that it had nothing to do with a program for the benefit of young people in China!

There is more, my mind was younger, more fertilized by innocence, wonderment, humor and stupidity in those days. What else would inspire a nineteen-year-plus odyssey of silliness into the print world? Can you see another year of this?

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