Halloween 2008, a half-foot of snow on the ground melts under a terrifically warm, sunny, 55-degree cloudless blue sky. Kids will sweat in their costumes as they parade through town, it's that warm. The mothers of the kids will squeal with delight, they'll dub this day a most beautiful Indian Summer Halloween. But shouldn't it be dubbed a most beautiful Native American Summer Halloween?
Up next for some of the mamas will be the day after Thanksgiving, waiting in an early morning line (I welcome those of you from New York to use, "on" when referring to the line and the wait), busting and elbowing past less fit mamas, finding better bargains, on already bargain goods, at bargain stores. What a bargain. And they call this day, Black Friday. How could you not be, in this day and age, calling it, African American Friday?
While I'm thinking about political correctness, I want now, in case I get busy in the upcoming months and forget, to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. And let's all us Vermonters pray it's an old fashioned Caucasian one.
Ta hang with politically correctness. What I wish I could do, is live my life just plain old, correct.
I mess up on so many things that to list them would put me ten thousand words beyond my appointed five hundred.
But here now, watching my cat stay within sun lit patches on the floor, gleefully cleaning every nook of any cranny on her little body, I realize to emulate her life would be making a strong first step in trying to live correct.
Why can't I be, more like my cat,
she lies in the sun, to wash this or that,
I don't bend like she does, there'd be places I'd miss,
but don't worry I'm clean, on the places you'd kiss,
She's smart too my kitty, she don't overeat,
she stays thin and wiry, and light on her feet,
The two lines above, they rhyme well because,
I used the word feet, where I should of used paws,
She's not met a stranger, she's friendly to others,
I'd be much more like her, if I had my druthers,
When you pet her she's happy, she proves it with purrs,
but if a dog's close around, she'll protect what is hers,
She's perceptive and bright, and knows before me,
when the grandfather clock, is about to strike three,
She'll roll on the ground, or jump and free fall,
just to make herself happy, for no reason at all,
Her heart never beats, much more than it should
She has things in perspective, I wish that I could,
So see folks my kitty, cute Scarlet she's grand,
She lives her life well, let's give her a hand,
But before we do that, let's look at her eating,
A cluster fly that, she just gave a good beating.
Rusty DeWees tours Vermont and Northern New York with his act "The Logger." His column appears weekly. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Listen for The Logger, Rusty DeWees, Thursdays at 7:40 on the Big Station, 98.9 WOKO or visit his website at www.thelogger.com