Lonny Cain

I talk to Mom and Dad now and then. Their photo. That’s not unusual, right?

This happens every year. Every Christmas season. And I cannot shake it.

“Keep the home fires burning.” I borrow those words from the British song of the same name composed during World War I.

Max Planck supports a theory that consciousness does not depend on our brain to exist and could move on when the brain stops. Perhaps to another brain. Another life.

Life is a countdown. To you know what. Sure, we all know this, but then we cross some kind of threshold. We reach a certain age and find ourselves measuring time. Counting down the numbers of years we might have left. At least I do.

My “Blue Book” is open and saddens my day, on this Nov. 18.

... what I really want to tell you about is the little French lady with the cast iron frying pan.

I was standing there because there was a D-Day, June 6, 1944, when all around me was bloody chaos.

The trip involved 21 days of travel: three plane flights, two train trips, one touring bus, one mini-touring bus and many various and some colorful Uber drivers.

As promised … more from the PaperWork mailbag.

This column that pops out of my mental toaster each week is always about connecting. Me to you. You to me.

I like to compare marriage to an intricate tango.

A reader of this column … who reacts. He lands in my email box a lot with fun facts, observations, and he set me straight recently about ideas.

Ernest Andrus is already planning his next birthday in 11 months.

I was 17 years old. Writing my epitaph.And now ... a few decades later ... I’m reading what I wrote and I stand by it. No changes.

Coffee. Couch. Scroll my cellphone. Next day: repeat.

As a storyteller and lover of stories, I offer words of warning.

I’ve been thinking about my parents. Not the parents I knew, but the mom and dad I did not know.

Twilight Zone, Season 3, Episode 21: “Kick the Can.” ... The episode had a lot to say about aging, which I clearly understood better this time.

And so begins my tale of fear and anxiety and borderline panic. A tale of suspense that many of us have endured – and lived to tell about it.

I have thousands of friends. In my basement. They huddle and mingle within hundreds of books that line the shelves that I lovingly put together myself for their comfort — and my joy.

I have pride. And I have shame. That’s the yin and the yang of life. The ups and the downs.

Ever have one of those moments, when something hits the pause button?

I’m planning a dinner party. And you’re all invited.

Another Pickles comic strip hit home, as comic strips can do so well. (Kudos to artist Brian Crane) I was forced to reflect on how I process obits.

I think it was on one of those ventures to get him untangled that I started thinking about the leash and how it’s part of our lives.

July 1, 1948, was a Thursday. My day of birth.

I’m studying my baby photo at age 3 months. I see a similarity with my current hairdo. If you look real close you can see a fine covering of hair. Just not a lot of it.

I used to think this majestic Oak tree would be here long after I have gone. But now I wonder.

“A penny for your thoughts." People still say that, right?

Paperwork: The keyword for smoking in my generation was “cool.” Tough guys in the movies showed how cool it could be. And my dad made it cool. I couldn’t wait until I could be cool.

My dad began drawing when he was a kid. He had the gift. That’s what I called it.

A flash of reddish fur caught my eye. A squirrel.

“No pain. No gain." I’ve mumbled that little mantra more than once ...

“Age 30 frightens me.” ... It’s my candid answer to the question: “What is the perfect age?”

The cover story begins: “Operating out of every corner of the globe, criminals are bombarding older Americans with emails phone calls, tests and letters, all trying to steal as much of our money as possible."

Musings ... or as my dad used to say, “The ramblings of poor lost souls” .... on this Monday, April 15, 2024.

Paperwork: Psychologist Elizabeth Loftus is an expert on memory, and she scares me.

Paperwork: After the truck drove away, I walked back through the empty rooms. Aunt Ene’s home was now a house. Her little world was gone.

https://shawmedia.arcpublishing.com/composer/edit/RQFCMQ76VFHTREXMDMIJ4DIZN4/

Paperwork: Sometimes the best part of your day is when you write about it. Turn it into a story you tell yourself ... and others, if you want.

Paperwork: I’ve learned something important over the last several days.

Paperwork: ... the first thing they say is, “Are you OK?”No-no-no-no. No, they are not OK.

Paperwork: “Raise some heck!” I repeated, smiling at the thought. I told him I’d write that down for a future column. And so it begins ... me raising some heck.

Paperwork: It’s interesting how we change as the sun sets. We adjust. Nightfall is something we must deal with and prepare for.

Paperwork: The Facebook message was simply one word ... and a song. ...The one word was “mood."

It helps to have bad friends. Well, it helped me.

A memory overwhelmed me the other day. When I smelled it.

Ya gotta love the cheerleaders. I think I began to understand this when I was watching the end of a televised marathon – a grueling race that got me thinking about crossing finish lines.

Cain: Don’t think big if you want to change your life. Think small.