“Yer lucky!”

“Yer lucky,” my counselor says. “I get many retired heavy-hitters bored-to-death.” Judge-Judy, Facebook, Dr. Oz, Facebook, Oprah, Facebook, Dr. Phil, Facebook......ad infinitum.
“I don’t have that,” I say. “My problem is every morning when I siddown to eat my breakfast-cereal, I grab my pencil, engage legal-pad, and words start spilling out.”
I never can get my muse to shaddup.  It’s always churning. Blogs get half-written in my head driving or walking my dog.
I worry about running out of craziness — I call it “blog-material.” What will it be today? Cellphone jollies, automobiles (I’m a car-guy), online acrimony, Facebook fulminatin’, GPS madness (“What you been smokin’ girl?”), technical hairballs, and of course trains (I’m a railfan).
Keying in stuff has occasionally gone past midnight.
It began driving bus. I started doing a voluntary newsletter for my bus-union. I did it in Word®.
It had immense powah. For once the union’s viewpoints were getting to the politicos who funded the bus-service. Transit was a gumint endeavor.
That newsletter became a vehicle for my writing. I’d crank bus-stories on the back of blank time-sheets and tiny transfer-slips.
.....At end-of-line layovers, killing time before returning. My stories came driving bus.
My newsletter became successful because I had no time to edit. My wife used to say “Leave it alone! It’s great as is. Edit and you ruin it.”
Politicians loved it; a pleasant read.
Even Transit management loved it; it explained what it was like to drive bus. Granny in her Buick, the NASCAR wannabees, and most-of-all our clientele.
We bus-drivers had an unspoken rule: DON’T GET SHOT!
That was back in the ‘90s before my stroke, which ended my bus-driving.
It also ended my newsletter, but not my writing.
What a joy it was to return from hospital and find I could still sling words.
I lost my ability to play piano (nine years of classical piano-training; Clementi arpeggios through tears), and I could no longer sing. —But I could still write.
Computer keyboarding is a bit sloppy — poor motor control is a stroke detriment. I rely on spellcheck to find my mistypes.
After stroke rehab, I began as an unpaid intern at Messenger newspaper in nearby Canandaigua. That was because of enjoying that bus-union newsletter; no bus-driving for this kid!
“If I were to write anything at all for this newspaper,” I said one day; “it’s that presidents don’t wear hats.”
Instead of reminding me I had a stroke: “So write it!” they suggested. They published it in their newspaper.
So began my weekly column, which they kept publishing for months until I got the flag-police upset.
My brother in northern DE set up a family website, and I started flying stuff on that.
I also began e-mailing much of that family-site stuff to a fellow Messenger employee. She began keeping it in a computer-folder.
One day she told me I should be blogging.
Ergo, this BlogSpot blog.
Eleven years so far; 2,249 entries‚ this makes 2,250.
No TV for me. No one understands. How can anyone be bored by Dr. Phil?
Lawn goes unmowed, a huge stash of cardboard awaits chopping up for recycling, unopened mail piles up (I immediately open bills, which I recognize), only rarely do I get my bed made.
I’d rather sling words.

• I see a “counselor” because my beloved wife of 44+ years died — April 17, 2012.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (“Transit”) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs.
• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered. Just tiny detriments; I can pass for never having had a stroke.
• Over 11 years ago I retired from the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper. Best job I ever had — I worked there almost 10 years (over 11 if you count my time as a post-stroke unpaid intern. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 14 miles away.)
• RE: “got the flag-police upset.....” —I returned home one afternoon and found -a) my dog hung up on the chainlink-fence, and -b) my flag on the ground after its holder pulled out. I took care of the dog first; (so reported = end of column).