I can't remember how old I am, either

Doris Tipton
Grandmother

Good heavens, all of you people. The last 24 hours have shown the picky nature of the human race.

Don't tell me you've never forgotten anything before. I know many of you have forgotten where your keys are, or what you had for breakfast, or your daughter's name at Thanksgiving dinner.

So I want you all to lay off that nice, young Dominican boy who says he didn't know how old he was.

You baseball fans are riding his behind like he's some sort of murderer or something!

Good golly, cut the young man some slack. Personally, I have no idea how old I am. And so I have total empathy for Miguel, or Juan, or whatever his name is.

Besides, he was only saying he's 31 when he's 33. That's nothing! That's a fart in the wind for an old biddy like me.

Each day -- as I drag my creaky ass out of my bed and grab my walker so I can spend the next 10 hours shuffling around this goddamn forsaken "retirement home" what's-her-name put me in after my dear Russell died, as I just bide my time until I die, at which point my children can forever be rid of their guilt-riddled obligation to visit me each Sunday afternoon so they can stay on my good side and collect their inheritance, which I imagine what's-her-name's husband will probably blow on some uptown whore -- I forget how old I am.

People tell me different things. I've heard I was born as early as 1902, the year the very first movie theater in the United States opened. That would make me 106 years old, depending on when my birthday is, which I think is sometime in the late spring, possibly May. But then again, maybe my birthday is in August. Sometimes it seems awful humid around my birthday because my hip flares up to the size of a musk melon.

Then again, I was recently told I was born in 1927, the year of the great Mississippi flood, which would only make me 81 years old.

See? I have no idea how old I am. And none of you baseball fans are futzing around and being concerned about my age So why waste your time with Pedro, or Rafael, or whatever his name is?

Age is just a number, children. Don't let it run your life, because you are only as old as you feel. And today, I feel 174 years old. So leave me the hell alone.

You're hardly nothing but skin and bones!

Doris Tipton
Grandmother

I tell you, I was flipping around the television channels the other night and I happened upon a basketball game! Oh, I hadn’t seen one in so long, so I decided to just sit there in my chair and take a gander.

Now, I must tell you that I really do enjoy competitive sport, and basketball is one of my favorites. As a young girl, I used to really like my physical education class, when I always received high marks because I was so good at putting the ball in that apple basket on the wall! I really enjoyed the physical aspects of basketball. Also, Wilt Chamberlain once plowed me like a three-furrow in the soft Georgia soil. Fond memories.

So, some of those fond memories washed over me as I watched the two teams gallivant about on the hardwood. As the game progressed, I became drawn to the young star of the Sonics (what’s a Sonic?), Kevin Durant. He has a very soft shooting touch, and he’s very tall!

He also looks like he needs a good, big meal. The boy appears to be rail-thin, and I’m concerned that’s he not getting enough to eat.

Kevin! Do you hear me? You need to be well-fed, and finish everything on your plate, every night. If you don’t get enough protein, your internal organs will wither up and eventually leave your body in the form of excrement. I remember back during the beet drought of 1929, Henry Elmer Waddles, a classmate of mine, didn’t get enough protein and he died right there in the schoolhouse while we learned about the evils of little black children, such as yourself.

According to your biography, you are 6-foot-9 and weigh 225 pounds. When was the last time you had gravy? Lots of hearty meat with gravy will be a cure for what ails you. How would your mother feel if she saw you and you were that skinny? She’d be beside herself!

If you want, we can go to the Village Inn down in Wabash and get a good meal there. We'll go there on Tuesday for dinner, around 4:30. Don’t trouble yourself with anything; I’ll pay for it. They have a great chicken-fried steak dinner that comes with mashed potatoes, a biscuit and vegetables. When was the last time you had vegetables, Kevin? You need to eat vegetables or your eyes will just turn into sponges and you won’t be able to see anything. You need to see if you want to play basketball!

So would you please eat a meal sometime, honey? I’m worried about you running around and playing with the other boys on an empty stomach. That’s not healthy! Next time I see you on the television, I want you to look healthier.

Do you want some pie with your country fried steak? They can even put cheese on your pie here. Doesn’t that sound good? Eat up, Kevin!