Getting a Clue

I readily acknowledge being clueless about a lot of things.

For example, when I sat down to write this column, I had no idea how it would turn out.

I was out of inspiration. Nothing occurred to me remotely worth writing about.

I usually write on Thursdays. But I went to bed the night before worried that I wouldn’t make the paper’s deadline. Then I spent more than an hour at the Spring Mills McDonalds late Thursday morning, still out of ideas while waiting for my son, whose high school marching band has already begun rehearsals.

However, after a while I just started stringing sentences together. I wrote the greater part of this column sitting beneath the restaurant’s flat screen TV. President Obama was on CNN at the time. He was making remarks about his health care law.

I carefully chose my perch, picking a space I thought would keep me out of the way of most patrons. But then the lunchtime rush hit and the restaurant filled up fast. At one point, a mother and her four young children crowded in close to me happily devouring their happy meals.

I probably should have gotten up to make room for others to sit. But I’m clueless, remember?

It’s a flaw.

I apparently have trouble reading subtle and not so subtle hints from others. Either that or, as in this case, I simply (selfishly?) choose to ignore them.

My wife might agree with that. She spent a long time training me to fold laundry.

Among the ploys she uses to get me to fold clean clothes without actually telling me to involves leaving them piled high in a basket in front of the chair where I sit watching TV.

I used to just scoot the basket out of the way, a fruitless balancing act not unlike trying to move a house of cards. It often ended with my wife arriving home from work to clean clothes strewn all over the floor, no longer freshly laundered.


These days, I make sure our clothes are folded by the time she strides through the door (I still draw the line at matching socks, though).

My cluelessness got me into a little trouble earlier this week when my wife posted a cell phone text on Facebook.

It was from our daughter:

kc text

Our daughter made that observation as we were leaving the mall. I had taken her there because she needed to get her BFF a birthday present.

We got in, she got what she needed, and we got out. I still don’t know what she was complaining about.

Clueless – except when it comes to my car.

Unfortunately, I’m all too aware of its flaws, and when its engine light comes on, I get nervous.

That’s because history has taught me that I’m in for major repairs, the latest being a new transmission nearly two months ago.

The engine light came on as I was taking my son home from marching band, so I dropped him off and headed straight for the dealer where I sat in front of another flat screen television with CNN on and wrote the rest of this column.

There’s nothing like waiting for your car at a dealership to motivate you to get a clue.


By the way, I had a chance to see the Apollo Theater’s production of the popular musical Annie this week. It’s being presented by the kids who are participating in the Apollo’s Youth Summer Theater Workshop. My daughter is in it. What more do you need to know?



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