Do y’all remember back in the days when someone said, “You’ve got mail” and actually handed you an envelope? I recall running out to the mailbox as a kid to see if my Boy’s Life magazine or my secret decoder ring had arrived. (I wonder what happened to my ring.) Back then, people wrote letters on paper and mailed them to their friends and family. At Christmas time, our mailbox would be filled with cards and letters.
Nowadays, folks keep in touch through social media. They tweet, twitter, post and poke each other via the internet. With a click of a mouse, they can send a short message to their friends that older folks like me can’t decipher. Sometimes they don’t even use words but some silly cartoon figure like a smiley face. Are they too lazy or just illiterate and can’t write out a simple sentence? The thing that really chaps my hide is when someone replies to your text with the letter K. How much more time and energy would it take to stick an O in front of that K?
I rarely find letters or postcards in my mailbox. No, not that icon on my desktop; I’m talking about that dented metal box up at the road. I do find bills and political propaganda occasionally, but recently I have been receiving mail from some other folks, and lots of it. For some unknown reason, I keep getting mail from audiologists and hearing aid supply companies. Why in tarnation do these folks think I need my hearing checked and get me fitted for hearing aids?
Okay (kids, you see how I spelled out the whole word?), I am a bit long in the tooth. My hair might be a bit grayer than it was 10 years ago, and I have to put on reading glasses just to work my TV remote, but I’m not officially an old geezer. I am still very active, mainly due to a skilled surgeon. I can still fit in a pair of Wranglers, and they aren’t pulled up to my nipples. My mind is still pretty sharp, and I can often remember why I’m standing in front of the refrigerator.
Is there a certain age that men start to go deaf? If so, how did these hearing aid companies find out that I have reached that stage? A few years ago, I went to an ENT to have her do something about a bad case of vertigo. She insisted on performing a hearing test on me. I figured what the heck? It might be kinda fun. I think she might’ve informed me that I do indeed have a hearing deficit but I’m not sure. I couldn’t hear her very well.
But, why does every hearing aid company in America think I need their product stuck in each ear? I can hear just fine, thank you. And … hold on a sec. My wife just yelled at me to check out some rash. Be right back.
Oops, my bad. Ma asked me to take out the trash. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yes, my hearing. Dude, I can go on a walk in the woods and hear a squirrel poot 100 feet away, but sitting in front of my TV watching football, I can’t hear my wife telling me her friends will be here in 10 minutes and I had better put some pants on. I might have suffered hearing loss from being struck by cast-iron cookware over the past few football seasons, but I can still hear Troy and Joe Buck just fine.
For the record, I don’t need hearing aids, dagnabbit! I don’t care what I think I heard some folks say. My hearing is fine, and … Hold on… What’s that, Ma? My winner is Betty? Huh? Oh, my dinner is ready. Sorry, folks, I’d better go. Ma got herself a new frying pan for Christmas.
Listening to Clint Younts might make you deaf. Luckily the cows on his ranch just look at him and keep chewing their cud. They wonder why he keeps yelling at them.
