It Strikes Me Funny: "Why, when I was a boy..."

After a great supper at my son's house tonight, I volunteered to do dishes. (Don't let my wife know. As a general rule, I pretend to fall sleep after supper when at home, and wake up at 6:29, just before Coronation St. begins).

While scraping leftover lasagna out of a pan, the large spoon I was using bent almost double around my hand.


["Cheap spoon! What's this world coming to?": photo by GH]

I didn't want to complain. I might get sent home early, I thought. So I straightened the spoon and tried scraping from a different angle. Again it bent almost double.

Good grief. You don't get good cutlery these days.

Why, when I was a boy, one good sturdy soup spoon was all the cutlery I needed at scout camp. I cooked and ate every meal, scraped every dish and fought every battle with it. When Ron Manicom tried to steal my eggs I chased him into the woods and pinned him against a fence with nothing more than an angry look and my dirty spoon.

You know, looking at the bent spoon in my hand, I think my fighting days are over.

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