The 8 and ½ by 11….

Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head;
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup;
And looking up, I noticed I was late.

But I wasn’t. Actually, I’ve taken the day off the get my driver’s license renewed (It’s expired.. she would chuckle due to the fact she exclaimed “you NEED someone”… as in reminders, do this, do that… eh, mebbe… if all that involves heavy petting and smooching, then yeah, I needs somebody!)

Found my coat and grabbed my hat,
Made the bus in seconds flat;
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke;
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream . . .

Fairly new Missouri law… “Gotta have your Birth Certificate.” Darnit. The Health Dept moved, what now? That’s where you’re sposedta get it…. At Mickey D’s.. dude I usedta coach kid’s soccer with. Thankfully, drew me a map.

Pulled in… “thank you for not smoking.. this is a smoke free property.”.. One more puff, put it out. Wondered whereinthehell those that worked there that smoked went? By 3pm, were they completely insane?

“Hi, I’m old. Born long ago. I know it was St. Louis, but don’t remember the hospital. I remember it was a female physician.. well, they told me that, I didn’t actually remember. Do you have onea those Morse Code thingys to get my birth certificate?”

“Fitteen dollars please.”… and please fill out this 8 and ½ by 11. The left side.

I read the news today, oh boy . . .
About a lucky man who made the grade;
And though the news was rather sad,
Well, I just had to laugh—
I saw the photograph . . .

The left side was to obtain your birth certificate. The right side was to obtain a certified death certificate. Life, all right there on an 8 and ½ by 11.

How have you filled up that 8 and 1/2? By 11? Wow. Sweat, toil, broken bones, stitches, cold, flu, surgery, new eyeballs…

Meals, miles, drinks, clothes, dorms, fraternity houses, tents, campers, apartments, homes, motels, hotels…

Smiles, tears of joy, tears of sorrow, hugs, kisses, spats, loneliness, surrounded, engulfed, free, pinned in…

Teri, Nona, Debbie, Perijo, Kate…. VICTOR STOP. You’re not gonna do that areya? Eh, Ok. Will stop.

Ballgames, coaching, teaching, selling, shopping, shipping, loading, unloading, calling, fielding calls, things go right, sometimes you can only lead horse to water.

Kids, diapers, baby beds, Tonka toys, Skeltor, HeMan, Bart and Homer… PTA, Cub scouts, soccer, baseball, basketball… A fun section of the 8 and ½ by 11.

“Sir?... Here’s your Birth Certificate, you’re good to go.”… but go where? What now between the left sidea the 8 and ½ by 11 – until I get to the right side?

Bizarre… I’d never stopped to think… “Mother 31, Father 30.” From there… what was on their page? Love, happiness.. stuggle.. good times.. good moods… lotta neat stuff…

He blew his mind out in a car;
He didn't notice that the lights had changed.
A crowd of people stood and stared;
They'd seen his face before;
Nobody was really sure
If he was from the House of Lords.

The dreaded right side. Paper this morning. Some in their 80’s.. 70’s… a 50… two 40’s.. and infant… a teen.. ya just never know.

It’s our canvas. Our 8 and ½ by 11. Again, another damn reminder life is fleeting.

Might you enjoy your page of paper. Write in indelible ink if you wanna… or with a #2 lead with an eraser.. Put on there whatever ya wanna.. Tis cool to occasionally drop a tear on it.. Me, mine’s dog-eared… can’t helps it.. I “need someone”!...

I love stopping to think about life… insteada crawling into bed for the 10 oclock news and think to myself “the hell just happened today.” May your days be memory filled. May you write a book on that page. Hell, fold it up and make a paper airplane if ya wanna. Fun. Let’s have fun.

I read the news today, oh boy;
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire;
And though the holes were rather small,
They had to count them all.
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
I'd love to turn you on . . .

Happy day, love Victurd.