August 20th, 2019

Reiss’ Pieces


Today is the last day that I will be spending with my grandson McKinley on Cape Cod this summer, and I found out that today is also the last day that I am able to write a column. So I suppose I should let you know that this summer, I have been unable to write my columns myself. I have been unable to put my poor, arthritic fingers onto the keys of my laptop computer. After several tries, I realized it just wasn’t going to work. For more than 40 years I have never really missed a week. I was worried about what I was going to do. And I have to tell you about my miracle.

Yes, I actually had a miracle. McKinley, who is now 19 years old, volunteered to help me with my typing this summer. Who would have thought that anyone with giant hands and huge, sausage fingers, could type at the speed of light. Mac not only volunteered to type my columns, he helped brainstorm ideas to write about, too.

Today, as we were coming home from dropping my daughter Adrian and granddaughter Katie-Mei at the bus stop, we were discussing whether he had enough time to help me type my very last column for the summer. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when he told me of course he had time, but I was a little surprised when he asked me what my column would be about this week, and I actually had no idea. And I have to tell you how hard we laughed when I said that I’d always wanted to go see a tree farm right around the corner from the cottage.

“Bingo!” he said, “That’s what you should write about. How you always wanted to go to the tree farm.” So I will. I always wanted to go to that tree farm. And my best friend Birgit, who was also in the car said, “Oh lord don’t talk about the tree farm, you know if you actually go there, you’ll see a tree you just have to have, and McKinley will end up having to drag some tree back to the cottage to plant.”

And that friends, is the entire story about the tree farm. Needless to say, we didn’t go, and even though McKinley has sworn that he will take me before the end of the summer, who knows if that’s true or not. Seeing as how it’s his last day, and even though I have a few more weeks down here without him, I probably won’t end up going. Keep in mind, I have never gone in the past 75 years, there’s no reason to assume I’ll go now … although I would like to.

I guess I need to admit that with McKinley and his magic fingers gone, I won’t be able to write another column until I get home. My laptop computer has eency-veency keys and I have old, arthritic fingers that cannot find the correct keys, no matter how hard I try. When I get home I will be thrilled to be able to type again on my plain old keyboard. Hopefully, I will have all kinds of new ideas by then. And won’t be depending on my super-terrific grandson to type like a wiz as I sit in a chair and dictate at warp speed.

So, with that, I say goodbye to Cape Cod and hello to Vermont and all you supportive Vermonters.

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