Today is the birthday of Hank Williams in 1923. He only recorded 66 songs under his own name in the short time between his emergence at age 25 and his death at 29. Thirty seven of those recordings became hits. That’s 56% – a hit-to-miss radio that I suppose will never be equalled. It amazes me that I can sit here in 2011 and at my leisure call up Hank Williams to perform one song on video while he is heard singing another. I doubt that Hank could have imagined such a result when he stood in the studio and looked into the glassy eye of that TV camera.
The Hank story is one of the saddest among the endless volumes of tragedy that fill music’s dark library of biographies. Near the end he was drugged, in pain and unreliable – missing show dates and losing his gig with the Grand Ol’ Opry, singing in beer halls in Texas and Louisiana.
Hank Williams had a great talent. He made the Lovesick Blues famous, though it’s one of the few songs he did that he didn’t write. If he had managed to hold things together, he could have had a much longer career but probably not the same legendary profile.
It’s odd how well we remember the ones who crash and burn.
Live long and stay obscure. Die young and be remembered. Your choice?
I’m too old to die young.
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ditto
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Rise and Shine Baboons!
I pick both! It’s not either/or its both/and. I’m off to an art gathering today. More tomorrow.
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yeah, Holly! i’ve been obscure all these years – no reason to change now. Never burned brightly but probably will never burn out either.
happy Saturday, All
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Oh, I had a choice. When was that? Why didn’t someone tell me? Oh, dear.
I think the gods chose for me to die young in obscurity and simply forgot to tell me.
Shall we meet at Ivy’s tea shop?
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I choose to record one truly mediocre song a year for the next twenty years, with the possibility of an extension on that contract if I’m still having fun.
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bravo
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Well, my baboon pals have already said it all for me. Too old to die young at this point but even if I weren’t, what fun would dying young have been!
I’ll check in later… I have to go to the office for a bit this morning. Sigh.
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Well, I’m guessing that since I didn’t die young, I’ve missed my opportunity for fame. I shall continue to muddle on in obscurity.
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it is so odd, i was young just a second and a half ago and then in spite of my brain waking up to the same little chatter in my ear ad the tub ad the radio and the way my brain kicks off same as always the realities of old arrived. i was going through a drawer the other day and ran across a collection of expired drivers liscences and passports wher it was a fast dforward through tie in 4 year chunks. back when i had bifg hair back when i had the pony tail back when ther was the beginning of a touch of gray in my beard then today no hair gray beard bu the buzzing in my head when i wake up hasn’t changed. it is only when i stand to get out of my chair or run up a ladder that i notice the body aint what it used to be, i love the live hard angle but as you get older it is harder to live hard . one beer kicked my butt last night. i drove up to help my mom move and got the truck loaded and sat down to dinner about 9 and one beer put me in the easy chair to do the crash and burn until the coffer and load up to head for the minneapolis unload . the first of three weekends if all goes according to plan. i love playing hard but i want to do it forever i hope that is possible for at least a while longer. been a busy week thanks for all the smiles as i check in with the best of intentions to contribute to little avail. i willl be back as i am able.
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Wow, tim, you’re moving your mom here too? I hear you – haven’t had a glass of wine in 3 days because I know I’d fall asleep.
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I moved my parents 35 years ago. Not an easy job and often thankless.
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In this case, she’s so appreciative I’d like to muzzle her.
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That was unkind. I’m tired. Goodnight.
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Cut yourself a little slack, Barb. I’m sure your mother understands.
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When I have 1o hours to type it, I will tell what it was like moving my parents. But I had a UHaul that would only do 45 mph. So I wondered from Duluth to Brookings SD by all the paved backroads I could find. The drive is one of my bright memories.
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Oh dear, guess I’m glad I had the experience I just had, which will no doubt show up in a guest blog sometime.
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Well, even if I could go back to the beginning and choose, I’d choose long and obscure. I wouldn’t want to have missed anything, even the hard stuff. Memories are interesting things, where you can go back and sort of relive the fullest moments you’ve had. Now I’m rambling — Have a good weekend, Babooners.
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I can’t really think of Hank’s early demise as anything but a deplorable loss. You don’t have to die young to be remembered. Dylan is still doing important work at 70, and think of all the songs he would never have written had he died at 29. (I have Not Dark Yet on iTunes as I write this.)
For myself, I’ve always held that time is the greatest luxury, and I would choose to have as much of it as possible, even purchased with the indignities of illness and aging, without hesitation.
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It goes without saying that no one ever offered me a recording contract, and I wouldn’t have looked good in a Nudie suit, anyway.
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This is evoking childhood memories, pre-TV memories, in other words radio memories.
During the day in the house Mon-Fri my mother listened to Arthur Godfrey, Art Linkletter, “Ma Perkins,” “Helen Trent” (“The show that asks the question . . .”), what else?
But otherwise it was country music. Maybe that’s why I mostly dislike it. But the Faron Young song used to haunt me when I was about 12 or 13. I would wonder about the existential question in the song and how I would answer it, which led to an existential moment or two:
I wanna live fast, love hard, die young
And leave a beautiful memory.
I wanna live fast, love hard, die young
And leave a beautiful memory
Don’t want slow walkin’ or sad singin’
Let ’em have a jubilee
I wanna leave a lot of happy women
A-thinkin’ pretty thoughts of me
I wanna live fast, love hard, die young
And leave a beautiful memory.
I got a hot-rod car and a cowboy suit
And I really do get around
I got a little black book and the gals look cute
And I know the name of ev’ry spot in town
I wanna find ’em, fool ’em, leave ’em
An’ let ’em do the same to me
I wanna live fast, love hard, die young
And leave a beautiful memory
I wanna live fast, love hard, die young
And leave a beautiful memory
I’m a wampus cat let me grab my hat
And baby come aiong with me
We’re gonna do some fancy steppin’
We’re really goin’ on a spree
I wanna live fast, love hard, die young
And leave a beautiful memory
Now you may not approve of the things I do
But it really don’t bother me
But don’t ever think you can tie me down
I’m gonna stay footloose and fancy free
So jump back, make tracks, move out
An’ let the pretty gals at me
I wanna live fast, love hard, die young
And leave a beautiful memory.
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My research indicates that that song was written by Joe Allison, and he lived to be 77.
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Old and obscure for me. Think how tiring it would be to be old and not obscure.
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When Mozart was my age he’d been dead for a verrrry loooong time
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Definitely obscure, and though I am too old to die young, I want to die young enough that I’m not sitting in a wheelchair drooling and wearing adult diapers and don’t know my own kids or anything (although there are some people “close” to me I would prefer to forget…could I possibly have selective memory loss and forget the people that annoy the snot out of me and remember the people I actually like?)
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Like!
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I know what you mean, but I’m not sure I agree completely. It’s easy for the young and able-bodied to imagine that there are no pleasures left for the old and infirm. Think of Pete Townshend writing the line “Hope I die before I get old” at age twenty. When you’re that age you have an active lifestyle and your sense of self is very tied to that, and you think that life would be worthless if you were in a wheelchair. But we know that people who have their mobility taken away do go deeper and find a sense of self somewhere beyond that, and who’s to say someone who’s drooling could not have a rich interior life? Maybe they’ve spotted a spider’s web with dew on it that is catching the light and gleaming brilliantly and that’s the thing that makes life worth living in that moment.
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Well said and quite true, Linda.
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Agreed, as long as I’m not in a lot of pain, or a big burden to anyone.
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Well, I’m too old to die young too and I’m definitely obscure, so I guess I’ll go with what I have and be happy!
I’m having some trouble catching up lately. I have a month’s worth of homeowner projects that need to be completed soon, if not last week! The freeze got some of my plants, so I need to get going on the ones that made it. Yesterday was busy from sun-up to sundown – meetings in New Ulm and a friend’s retirement party in Mankato. I didn’t even read e-mail yesterday. So, I’ll just go about all my obscure stuff because it gives me great joy and a sense of accomplishment. It’s a muddled life but its mine and obscurity is good! I’ll be back here regularly when things slow down a little.
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Like Krista, I’ve been tied up lately too. (Carlos had nothing to do with that, Beth-Ann!)
Doing some cleaning today. The cat threw up on my lightest carpet and something in the garage smells mildewy. Fun times!
I used to say I wanted to live to 100 then die in my sleep, but that was before I ever knew anybody that old so I don’t say that anymore. But if do end up an old lady I want what Dale said one time on the LGMS and that is to have the flattest stomach in the retirement community. I’d also like to not have a mustache.
The blog helped me stretch this week. I was able to come out of the closet about screwing up song lyrics and I met a libertarian. Thanks Kids!
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I wonder what a baboon retirement community would be like?
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Lots of really good music.
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Interesting bookshelves too.
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Lots of coffee stains from snorting.
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Goat pictures on the walls.
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not just pictures – goats in the barn out back. milking is hand therapy for your arthritis.
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I get the corner room, down at the end of the hall, away from the nurse’s station. Steve is the resident dirty old man. tim sits in the middle of everyone’s way mumbling in lower case. TGITH always wears several hats at once while voicing-over whatever he sees. Jim is out in the garden pulling flowers and leaving the weeds. Ben drives a power scooter up and down the hall thinking he is plowing while looking for burned-out light bulbs.
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I plan on keeping gin in what should be my water bottle and dancing to the music in my head – just to warn y’all. 🙂
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smile clyde. thanks
i think this is the baboon retirement c. its just that a couple of us arent quite ready to retire yet. then there are the lucky onesommunity
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This sounds like so much fun, I wonder if we could really pull off something like this. tim?
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heck ya
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Don’t forget a really huge library with lots and lots of big comfy stuffy chairs!
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Lots of edgy radio, no one who votes for MB, computer “how-to” classes, and a great big room for art/construction/winter gardening/projecty kind of things. But the room has to have sofas for naps.
Our children are encouraged to come visit, playroom for grandchildren, but no meddling from the younger generation.
I’m in by the way.
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so where do we start – tim, you’re usually the go to man for getting something launched…
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Yeah, get that on the calendar.
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Certainly when we have a book group, no one is required to either read or discuss the chosen book. However, if someone wants to mention or discuss it that is fine. However, no one else has to respond with anything that makes sense.
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we need 3 physical locations to choose form then we whittle it down. brownstone or single level with a basement? st paul , minneapolis or rural possibly outstart on a hobby farm with room for animals and planting?
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Need a neighborhood that would tolerate the goats; if they are okay with the goats they would likely have a higher tolerance for us as well.
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Ice cream and cajeta. And I want to hear archived Morning Shows and The DC Show and PHC to my heart’s content. And Summer Shandy, Creamy Dark and all those other fine brews too numerous to name. And all manner of exercise for the body, mind and spirit. And I’m only going to the one where the rest of you booners go.
I’m listening to Garrison and he has a character named Carlos on his News from Lake Wobegon!
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Could you get him for copyright infringement?
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Okay, goats in the barn, baboon pictures on the walls, then.
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Hi Linda! I saw your everything’s coming up roses post – it’s phenomenal! I’ve got your CD ready to mail. Look for it midweek.
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Looking forward to it. DitchLilies backatcha shortly!
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and as we get older and more confused, goats wondering the halls and baboons terrorizing the village.
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but terrorizing in kind of an old baboon hippy kinda way
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In the media room “Last of the Summer Wine” complete episodes on a continuous loop.
Farmer’s Market in the parking lot.
Wine- and beer-making in the basement.
Assertiveness classes every Thursday taught by Dale.
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first thursday of the month is a card game with a turntable and all our favorite lps for play
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On Wednesdays we go shopping and have buttered scones for tea.
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tuesday is double coupon day i believe
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No Calorie-Counting or Weight Watchers allowed in Bab-Halla.
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only healthy chocolate exists in our world
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The Rhonda Help Room, staffed by the social worker
Nora Batty Beauty Parlor
Compo Simonet Clothing Boutique
Tom Keith Hobby Room
The Jim Ed Pool
Carlos Conjugal Visits Room, fully appointed and apointmented by Donna
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Oh Clyde – you crazy bastard!
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In on the conversation late – spent the day battling an Ikea bed for Daughter. It’s up. She’s sleeping in it – and she’s happy. (It claimed to be “reversible”…and it is, in every direction except the one i wanted, so after putting it about 2/3 together, I had to back track and take a lot of it apart and then rebuild…)
Long life in obscurity – I’m okay with that. My grandmother lived to be almost 96, died in her sleep. My dad died at the age of 85 after a brief bout of pneumonia which thankfully ended his decline into dementia before he forgot who his loved ones were. And here’s the thing – neither of them were famous. Neither of them did the sort of standout stuff that gets noticed by the broader world. But both filled a church at their respective memorial services. Walking down the aisle of a Bethlehem Lutheran (which has a good sized sanctuary), listening to hundreds of my dad’s friends, family, and people whose lives he had touched sing the Hallelujah Chorus at the end of the service, all I could think is, “we should all lead such rich lives and touch this many people – think how much better the world would be if we would do the small things that lead to a celebration like this.” I’m good with obscurity – it worked for my grandma, it worked for my dad. They made the world better in small ways, and that’s enough.
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Amen!
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Well said, Anna.
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how many times to think about the choices we have made vs the ones we could make. the choice of living a life where there is a challange vs one where there is not iving a life with gusto and asking for forgivness rather than the life of safty and awaiting permission seem to feel like th choices today. live hard or long. hank was an early version of a media star who had more than he could handle. we see it all the time today but in 1950 it was unusual. i feel sorry for atheletes who find success out of school and live in the glory of the memories years later. i feel sorry for beautiful women who find life difficult because they can’t get past their looks to the important things of life. i feel sorr for the poor dumb bastards who are so oblivious they don’t evern know they are poor dumb bastards and i feel soory for all of us sorry souls who get ramroded by the powers that be for their own reasons of selfish me me meisticism. i am so happy to have the opportunity to sing the song of my choice and to be able to choose my path every day and follow my dreams. ithmakes all things possible even though the odds reamin as long today as they were yesterday. i can shake the dice one more time and do my best to come up with a life that makes me happy. its not long or short it is quality every minute of every day that i strive for.
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Amen, again!
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you folks are are so danged cool. i read comments again this morning – what a day-lifter!
thanks.
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yeah but we wouldn’t be nearly as cool without you and the goats
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This whole retirement community thing sounds great! Where is it, what’s the cost. Of course, power scooter races would need to be part of the deal.
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Oops, I forgot:
Rise and Shine Baboons!
(the only acceptable morning statement to awaken baboons in a baboon retirement community)
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It’s important to note that Lovesick Blues was recorded in 1928 by Emmett MIller, the last of the blackface minstrel singers. His mysterious legacy is the topic of much discussion among country music historians, and his music goes sadly ignored and unheard, perhaps due to it’s very un-PC “Amos and Andy” flavor. Miller was an influence to the likes of Williams, Tommy Duncan, Jimmie Rodgers in the early era, and to Merle Haggard, Lefty Frizzell and Bob Dylan and Leon Redbone in recent decades. HIs works are collected on Columbia/Legacy #66999 “The Minstrel Man from Georgia”. A very strange, but still informative bio “Where Dead Voices Gather” by Nick Tosches paints the only extensive portrait of Miller’s enigmatic life, but gets hopelessly lost in Tosches’ own life, and becomes a missed opportunity to be a scholarly study of the life of this ethereal character.
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welcome jay
you are awarded cliffy of the day
i will checlk out the collection when i can find a download location. i love : youre the cream in my coffee, shes funny that way, i ain’t got nobody who knew emmit miller was the guy. thanks. i find myself rediscovering these old jewels all the time. remember the john sebastion tarzana kid album with wild wood rose sporting life wild about my lovin, dixie chicken. in 1973 when i first heard it i didn;t know these were classics but they got me started for that matter so did the stones. their whole early carreer was digging up delta blues. what a cool mission. oh the discussions we will have at baboon hall. lets get started scouting locations for the home. i think we can put this together fairly easily. if we do it buy state regulations will be another matter. why dont we do it like a baboon slumber party instread of animal house we can do baboon house. toga parties for new incoming residents. i am begining to see it clearly……
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I was just thinking about Tarzana Kid – one of the bands at Rock Bend did a cover of Stories We Could Tell. Fish Frye, I think it was.
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Hi Jay, and welcome. Now we’re not only friends on Facebook.
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Hey everybody–
You are all very fun. Thanks for making me part of the TB Retirement community.
Welcome Jay.
Pete Townshend / The Who sang ‘Hope I die before I get old’ and now he’s old.
My folks moved from the farm into town 21 years ago, and then into a Senior Complex about 3 years ago and they love it. Although preparing to move to the Senior place almost divorced them. Mom was ready to go, Dad wasn’t so sure and the cleaning of the house and garage sales just about did them in. Dad just had his 86th birthday.
Father-in-law died about three years ago and we cleaned out their house (Can you say 30 yard dumpster??) and moved Mother-in-law up here to be near us. It was nice to have her close the last few years. She had a tough life; nothing came easy and she wasn’t able to follow many of her dreams. Moving up here may have been the only one.
The last three days I have been dealing with Homecoming festivities at the college. My usual job of smoke and lights for the football game. And a lighting control board that was far enough outside my comfort range that I was able to use the ‘Scare yourself a little bit every day’ methodology.
A drive back to Maple Grove tomorrow to return stuff.
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was that your smoke lights scene on facebook?
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Ben, can you make sure we have lights but not smoke at the End of the Trail Rest Home?
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Consider it done.
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I am definitely going to want better lighting in retirement. Nice, even, bright light.
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Can I at least offer colored backlight? White is boring….
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I’m not saying no colors – I just want to be able to see everything… 🙂
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Great name, Beth-Ann.
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i was going to comment on the wonderful choice for the community too. well chosen
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We could also design a semi-longitudinal study of the impact of companionship, intellectual stimulation, and music on the retention of cognitive capacity in a baboon community. I could do all sorts of baseline cognitive testing, with retesting at subsequent intervals, and compare our cognitive capacity with that of a matched control group from some other retirement community. I just love giving tests!
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Oh, Renee calm down your Woodcock-Johnson.
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Ha ha! Wait until you have to draw the Rey-Osterrieth Complex Figure and compete in the Grooved Pegboard relays with goat milkers!
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Hey. I’m an old cow milker, old as in once upon a time AND advanced in years. But I do have ataxia and I am a rather simple figure.
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i love it when you guys talk dirty
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but I hate taking tests…you might have a problem with some of the characters in this retirement community. they might not fit into the little boxes of your test.
(said in a lighthearted but somewhat serious tone of voice)
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It’s a sound idea, but finding a matched control group of baboons might prove problematic.
Did the iPod dry out?
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The ipod is history, I am sad to say. Regarding the control group,I imagine we could find matches in less congenial communities of people who chose to live where they do because of the exclusiveness of the facility rather than from a sense of fun and camaraderie.
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Maybe if we use real baboons as the control group, our cognitive glitches and poor typing won’t reflect that badly upon us as a group
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I think that is a wonderful idea!
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i dont think donna appreciates your talking bout the glitches in her realationship with carlos, and i wish youd leave my typing out of the conversation too.
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oh never mind donna it says conative not conjugal. i just thought they were getting a little personal
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“What hump?”
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i was thinking about what would have been the impact on the world if i had done the crash and burn at age 29 and you know what? it wouldnt have been a pimple on a a babys butt. i thought about the impact i would have if i die 6 years from today and realize i had better get to work if i want anyone to remember me fondly at all. outside this wonderful group of misfits i am pretty invisable with a few notable exceptions but it does remind me of the alfred nobel who read his obituary in the paper and the only note refered to his involveemnt with dynamite. it him to create the noble peace prize and that is what his name is tied to today. let today serve as notice for me to do my best to make a mark in the world that i will be proud to look back on. thanks dale.
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The Existential Dilemma or J-P Sartre 101: my death will completely change the world and at the same time my death will mean nothing at all.
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if i could do a smidgen of what sartre did i would be elated
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