I was walking through the park earlier today and passed what I believe to be a condominium for senior citizens. It’s definitely a condo, but whether it’s strictly for seniors remains to be seen.
I believe it’s for seniors because it’s so well kept, it’s in a beautiful area, and let’s face it, I passed it as I was walking through a very quiet park. The building also has a gated entrance and it looks like it would have a very nice security guard and doorman.
Anyways, as I passed I heard some music through one of the ground floor apartments and it reminded me of movie flashbacks. You know the old war movies, or movies featuring war veterans? There is always a flashback showing a time when everyone was happy and dancing to some old-school radio with only one station, which is very similar to the days when grandpa used to take out some of his old records and reminisce.
Well during this jaunt through the park, listening to the music famous long before my existence, I started to think about someone I believe is still listening to the good ol’ classics of the 20s. My good pal Mr. Whissel.
Mr. Whissel often talks about his days enjoying retirement. He likes to read, relax, and probably listen to the music mentioned above. Of course, his lovely wife is not retired so if she happens to reading this, well Mr. Whissel boasts only of his reading once all of his chores are completed.
Then I started thinking of Mrs. Whissel. I’ve never had the opportunity of meeting the lovely lady, however I’ve got mad respect for the woman. It takes an admirable patience to keep up with that crazy Mr. Whissel. He’s got a wit and an over-the-top sense of humour that reminds me of my own husband, and if you ask him he’ll admit that the humour has been known to get him into trouble a time or two. All harmless of course.
So here I am picturing poor Mrs. Whissel coming home from a long, hard day at work anticipating a clean house and dinner on the table. As she approaches the door she hears this fine music and smiles. She can only imagine all the hard work her faithful hubby has put into his day as well.
Little does SHE know that ol’ Mr. Whissel embodies the stereotypical tattooed street punk. However, instead of badgering people on the streets, he keeps to the Internet, and picks on all the younger generations. He gives us all a good run for our money, and he’s as harmless as his humour.
So cheers to you Mr. Whissel! Thanks for being a dear friend. Buy your wife a nice bottle of wine (you know she needs it), and enjoy the long way to Tipperary.
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