Why is it?

“I could tell you were a live-wire,” said the girl behind the counter at the infamous Foy Avenue Sunoco just north of Williamsport, PA. I was on my way to south Jersey to celebrate Thanksgiving with my cousins.
“As I recall you need a key to let me use the rest-room,” I said.
As she lead me toward the rest-room I said “You also need to let me in, which means I gotta hold it until I get there.”
Finished, I picked up two Tasty-Kake creme-filled cupcake packages with buttercream icing.
“Oh, the best ones,” she exclaimed. “I wanna go home with you.”
“Actually, I’m not goin’ home. I’m driving to south Jersey for a family Thanksgiving gig. This is fuel. I still have a long way to go.”
“I could tell you were a live-wire,” she said.
“Why is everyone telling me that?” I asked. ”You weren’t the first.
I visited my cardiologist the other day. ‘I see here a note on yer chart alerting me yer a live one.’
A while ago the orthopedist who replaced my knee told me to behave.
‘Wait a minute,’ I commented. ‘I come here for doctorly advice, and get my mother.
Next will be my father telling me to “straighten up and fly right.”
Then you’ll be my 12th-grade Social Studies teacher saying “Reform-School for you, baby!’
SHORT STORY,” I said.
“My wife died five years ago. She really liked me; I’m still somewhat devastated. But I’ve learned to ‘Let ‘er rip!’ In other words just say it, intending to ‘make ‘em laugh.’
For 44+ years I’ve pretty much kept to myself, afraid to say anything to anyone. Afraid I’d offend people; convinced I was of-the-Devil.
Since my wife died I’ve discerned that ain’t necessarily so.
I called Zappos out in Las Vegas about three weeks ago — sneakers I ordered were too small. I needed a return-authorization.
I noted in passing the sneakers were made in Vietnam. “We were at war with them guys years ago. I didn’t hafta participate because I was ‘4-F’ = I’m still here = I ain’t dead.”
“What’s ‘4-F?’” the service-rep asked.
“You sure you wanna hear all this?” I asked. “It has nothing to do with a shoe-return.”
“But it’s interesting,” she said. “Ya learn all kinna things in this service-rep job.”
So on-and-on it went — at least an hour. “4-F,” the military draft, etc. Things someone 30-40 never experienced.
“Again,” I said; “ what does any of this hafta do with a shoe-return?”
“It’s interesting,” she repeated.
All because I happened to mention the sneakers were manufactured in Vietnam.
Just say it! Some are offended, but many aren’t.

• The Sunoco near Foy Avenue is my second bathroom stop on long auto-drives south of my home. It’s not actually on Foy Avenue, but I use the “Foy Avenue” expressway exit.
• My wife died of cancer April 17th, 2012.