Hilda and my parents spin again in their graves

—Tuesday (June 16th), after completing my grocery-shopping at the Canandaigua Wegmans……
…..I returned to my doggy daycare kennel to retrieve my silly monster.
After getting him in my car with noisy histrionics — he’s lame…
…..another lady arrived to pick up her dog. That kennel is closed. But they daycare my dog, among others. They love my dog.
“I tell people I’m 28, but I'm actually 64,” she said.
If I’d thought of it I’da sung her the same Beatles song I sung to a lifeguard-friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming pool, where I do aquatic balance training.
She’s also 64. “Will you still need me? Will you still feed me? When I’m 64.”
My lifeguard friend doesn’t look 64. I'm sure she dyes her hair. If she didn’t it would be silver like my friend at the kennel.
I started backing out. That lady was watching. She was too far away to tell if our eyes met, but she was looking for a wave.
Do it! Things are much different since my wife died. Give her a wave, she’ll like it.
10 years ago I wouldna done that. I was DISGUSTING to Hilda Walton, and my parents. (Click the link if you don’t understand.)
SCUM to Hilda. “Rebellious” to my hyper-religious parents, because I couldn’t worship my holier-than-thou father.
(Hilda was my Sunday-school superintendent neighbor. I bet her husband was fooling around.)
Things are much different since my wife died. I gained so many pretty lady-friends, I’m much more confident talking to a lady. I wouldna done it before, but now I can.
I’m sure this makes all the zealots in my childhood mad as Hell. But I’m having fun.
Give her a wave, and she did love it. (She was hoping I would; a huge smile.)
G-head; make her happy! Nothing makes a woman happier than some dude noticing her.

• “G-head” is how my Down-Syndrome brother used to say “go-ahead.” He died at age-14 in 1968.