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A Time Telling Task
When I was in third grade and all my classmates were becoming proficient at reading the clock, I was having problems. I couldn’t understand why fifteen minutes before or after the hour was referred to as quarter to or quarter after. Everyone knows a quarter is twenty-five. Therefore, quarter after twelve must be twelve twenty-five. Right? Well, it made a lot of sense to me!
About the time I finally got quarters sorted out in my mind, along came another time telling test – Clocks without numbers! Just lines where numbers once were. Twelve twenty-five then became “both hands are almost pointing straight down!”
Nowdays I’m content with telling time by the television set. If the news is on, it’s six o’clock. When “Happy Days” is about half over, it’s about quarter after seven. What time is it? “Oh it’s about twenty ‘til ‘Laverne and Shirley!”
Kids today must have the same type of problems. Ask a third grader what time it is. Chances are he’ll look at a digital watch and say something like:
“It’s three dot-dot two five.”
Come In Anytime…
An Old Friend
I have an old friend
That I always look forward to see.
Trouble is his visits
Aren’t often enough for me
My friend is from Ohio, Florida, California and Maine
My friend never falters
He comes despite snow, hail or rain.
Dressed in a thin brown coat
Though at times he may wear white
He visits every month or so
Then I’ll stay up with him all night.
He’ll tell me many stories
Of his deeds, and places he has been
Stories of fun filled fantasy
And old stories of his kin.
My friend isn’t a gypsy
A traveler or a bum
My friend is the AAPA bundle
I look forward to the day he comes.
Please Go Away…
An Old Foe
I am such an easy going sort that I can get along with just about anybody. Anybody except Old Man Winter!
He’s a mean, merciless old geezer who enjoys coaxing you out of a nice warm abode, only to then attempt to nip off your ears, nose and toes.
He’ll freeze you and bury you one day, and just when you think he’s going to give you a break, he does it all over again.
I could hear him laugh one day last December as he watched me try to get to work.
I got up at 5:30 and made a fresh pot of coffee. Then with half-closed eyes and a yawn, I peeked through the curtain. SURPRISE! Nothing out there but a blanket of white. About eight inches of white. I’d best forget about breakfast and start shoveling if I expect to get to work today.
Slowly I shoveled a narrow path along the sidewalk to the driveway. After I found the car I carved another path to the street just wide enough to accommodate an Oldsmobile.
“Ah, still time for that cup of coffee.” I went back in the house, poured the java, and nearly passed out on the couch. That’s when I heard two sounds that I’ve learned to dread. One was the sound of a snow plow pushing six feet of wet, heavy slush back into the driveway. The other was the sound of Old Man Winter laughing again.
Okay, so I’ll be late for work. I guzzled the coffee, and again cleared the driveway. A half hour later I’m fifteen minutes late, but ready to go. I got behind the wheel of “old reliable,” but instead of hearing the engine turn over and begin to purr, all I heard was that nasty laughter again.
The car won’t start, and no amount of coaxing or cussing will help.
I returned to the house in a huff where my wife cheerfully informed me that the boss called. No work today due to the snow.
Swell. I could have stayed in bed. Very funny, Winter. Very funny.
The Alexander Rag
Gary Woodie
Saint Francis, Wisconsin 53207