STRANGE PRIORITIES

     I paid a visit to a friend, an old lady who recently turned 95 years old.  She said to me, "Connie, I never thought I would end up like this."  She lives in a nursing home.  I'm Connie Palmer and I have know Miss Lydia since I was a little girl.  She and her husband never had children and since I found out she was in a facility, I make it my business to check on her.

     When she first went to the nursing home, it was clean, comfortable and full of seemingly caring and competent people.  I later learned that new management took over.  They began to cut corners on patient care.  They laid off aides and nurses and removed some of the management staff.  In other words, they made big changes for the worse.

     The makeup of the aide staff seemed to change every week.  The low morale meant that they constantly argued among themselves, often in the halls where the patients could hear.  The food was inedible.  There were shortages of gowns and towels, and medical equipment was so inadequate that patients who needed special help waited for hours.

     On that particular day, I found Miss Lydia in her room crying softly as she sat in her wheel chair.  By this time, she had grown feeble and requirement assistance for most of her needs.  The next day, I made new arrangements for Miss Lydia.

     I know you're asking what this has got to do with me, the reader.  Just this:  the cost-cutting decisions of that facility were made on a profit basis.  I directed my anger from the aides to administrators and government regulators.  The aides were expected to give basic care--duties that were often distasteful to them and demeaning to the patients--for paltry pay.  No wonder staff turn-over  was mind boggling.

     We say we respect our elders, just as we give lip service to the preciousness of our children.  Yet, workers who care for both children and the elderly are sadly underpaid.

     I enjoy a good burger as much as the next person, but if i were going to fight for anyone's pay to be raised, it wouldn't be for fast food workers, but for those workers who take care of our most precious resources, our children and the elderly.  Let's get our priorities straight.

WE'RE GOING ON A STAKEOUT

     As sure as my name is Fanny Mae Collier I know that one of these days my daughter-in-law, Hattie, is going to get herself in a mess she can't get out of.

     One reason it's bound to happen is those nutty friends of hers, Bea Bell and Connie Palmer.  Now, Connie ain't so bad, but if you've been following our adventures in the books, Grandmothers, Incorporated, Saving Sin City, and Something's Wrong with Miss Zelda you know that Bea's got the crazy notion that she's a detective.  The lunatic imagines she sees a crime in anything that's just a little off-kilter.  Bea even went and got a private investigator's license.

     The point is Hattie thinks she has to prove that she's just as good a detective as Bea.  private detective--ha!  If you ask me, two things neither one of them know about is privacy or detecting.   

When Hattie decided to take on a "case" for a friend, I had no intention of getting involved but, you guessed it, the fool drags me in it.

     The scandalous affair that Hattie discovers will either establish her as a bona fide detective or blow up in her face.  To see how it all works out, come to our play, Stakeout.  Directed by Deborah Asante, Stakeout will be coming to the annual Indy Fringe Theater Festival in August, 2014.

     This is Fanny Collier and I'll see you at the Fringe.

THE PASTOR’S ASS REVISITED

This is Connie Palmer.  You may have read articles by my friend, Hattie, who has made her opinions known several times.  Hattie has quite a problem worrying about how she is being judged by others.  I’ve tried to tell her over and over again that the best way to live life is to be satisfied with who she is.  “Hattie,” I said, “worrying about what others think will be the death of you.”  Then, I ran across an old story that illustrated my point perfectly.  I don’t know who originally wrote it but its good advice for a lot of us.

THE PASTOR’S ASS

The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won.  The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again and it won again.

The local paper read:  PASTOR’S ASS OUT FRONT.

The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.

The next day, the local paper headline read:  BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR’S ASS.

This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get rid of the donkey.  The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent.

The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day:  NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN.

The bishop fainted.  He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10.

The next day the paper read:  NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.

This was too much for the bishop, so ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild.

The next day the headlines read:   NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE.

The bishop was buried the next day.

The moral of the story is...being concerned about public opinion can bring you much grief and misery... and even shorten your life.  So be yourself and enjoy life...Stop worrying about everyone else’s ass and you’ll be a lot happier and live longer!

Muse on that, Hattie.