Good NightAuthor: Dick Summer
26 Feb 2017

Good Night

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Sometimes it's hard to get to sleep.You just can't seem to say goodnight to yourself. Booze helps sometimes...or pills. But that's a big step down a bad street. "Good Night" puts a smile on your face, tells you a bedtime story, helps you chuck the day's problems, gives you a verbal back rub, and tucks you in for a safe, sound, sleep. Dick Summer's voice puts a strong and friendly arm around your shoulder. You hear him on television commercials all day. But when it's getting late, and you want to "take the day and shove it," but you can't seem to say good night to yourself... Dick's Podcast is a quiet place to rest your head...a safe place to hide a hurting heart...a gentle place to fall. It's a comfortable way to tell yourself, "Good Night."

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    Barbara's February Flower

    Once upon a time, many, many years ago, I was cutting down a pine tree in my most manly way, and my ax split off a small chunk of wood that had a smaller plug inside. You know how a hot dog looks in a bun? That's kind of what it looked like. It was... unusual. And it smelled wonderful...it was pine. So I gave it to my Lady Wonder Wench. She still has it on her dresser all these years later. She keeps treasures like that...shells from various beaches we've visited on vacations we've enjoyed...a very old shirt of mine that she used to wear at night when I was away on business...A Christmas poem I wrote for her, many Christmases ago...a ring I made out of the top of an old snap top soda can. They're like 3D selfies of the times of our lives. I'm pretty sure I found something to add to her collection yesterday. The smart guys in the white lab coats call it an Eranthis Hyemalis. But I just call it Barbara's February Flower because Barbara is my Lady's name. Barbara's February Flower is a tiny bright yellow flower...about the size of a dandelion. And I found it growing next to our driveway yesterday. In order for you to understand why I think she'll find a way to keep it, you need to know that I'm recording this podcast near the end of February...in Pennsylvania. As in it's so cold you could freeze an egg on the sidewalk. And please...no more snow. You say, "Hello" but nobody hears you because the words freeze and fall down on the sidewalk.

  • Posted on 26 Feb 2017

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    Hair On Fire

    It seems to me that everybody's hair is on fire these days. People are scared. When opportunity knocks these days, by the time you look through the peephole, put your shot gun away, tie up your Doberman and slide back the dead lock to open your door, opportunity is long gone. Politics have been going from bad to worse every year, and this year they got there. There's an explanation for that right there in the word politics. Poli means many. And tics are small, blood sucking parasites. That's called using the right word for identifying the problem. The two most common elements in the universe these days are hydrogen and stupidity. Life these days is especially tough for guys. You swim the deepest river for her, you climb the highest mountain for her, you cross the widest desert for her, and she keeps complaining you're never home. And how come at Walmart they always have someone demonstrating stuff in the house wares department, but never in the lingerie department. That's just not fair. And what is double virgin olive oil? I remember one of the girls in high school...Jeanie... made that claim, but it wasn't until our first kiss that I understood it. She closed her eyes, and I closed mine...and we missed.

  • Posted on 19 Feb 2017

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    Pass Your Passion

    I've been sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair watching a ball game. One of the things I like best about watching sports is the passion involved. It starts with the National Anthem just before the game begins. I sometimes sing along with the Star Spangled Banner. I do the best I can with the high notes. That gives me a freebie connection with the people who paid to get into the ballpark. I like that connection. It feels like we are passing the passion for the game back and forth. When I sing about the bombs bursting in air, I can almost smell the hot dogs with mustard and 'kraut and taste the cold beer. Sometimes the military sends a flight of jets over head. That gives me a chill. Pride will do that to a guy. Pride and passion. I'm a pilot and I know how hard it is to fly tight formation like that. The wing man is sometimes only literally inches away from the lead's tailfeathers…and they're doing a zillion MPH. That takes skill and courage. And passion.

  • Posted on 12 Feb 2017

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    How Come

    The "Backache Monster" sank his claws into my spine yesterday, so I've been sitting here in my big, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room counting the few moving parts I seem to have left...on the fingers of one hand. I had a TV dance party show in what seems like a few eons ago. I used to do the Watusi, the Mashed Potatoes, and the Loco Motion with the kids. I didn't do the Twist because of my bad knees. How come they don't have dances like that anymore? How come? How come they don't have TV Dance party shows anymore? Come to think of it, maybe they do, and our kids just won't tell us about them. Speaking about "How Comes," How Come the alarm only goes off when it's on? And how come the sun on the Raisin Bran box is wearing sun glasses? And how come you have to walk to the back of the drug store to pick up your prescription, but the cigarettes are right up front? And where does the white go when the snow melts?

  • Posted on 05 Feb 2017

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    Hanging On To Some Stuff

    Some things can go away. Some things we've got to keep. So as I am sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room I thought I'd tell you about a phone call from our granddaughter Cassie. Cassie was talking about politics, and how some politicians just go on and on and on about the same ideas. I said "Yeah, like a broken record." Cassie said, "What do you mean, Poppa?" I rememberd her age, took a deep breath, and said something like "It means there's a scratch in the record, and it's so bad that the record keeps repeating." Cass said, "Oh. Like a corrupted MP3 file." Drawing on my great command of the language, I said..."Mmmm yeah." But it got me to thinking about stuff you don't hear any more. Stuff that's gone. Because sometimes it just...disappears and we don't notice when it was disappearing. The click of the channel changer on the TV...not the remote...the knob on the TV. The ka-ching of an old time cash register. A typewriter key hitting paper. The click-whirr of a rotating phone dial. The clang of a bell in a pay phone. Chalk scraping across a blackboard. The rustle of corduroy pants. The grinding sound of a pencil sharpener. The perk-perk of a coffee percolator. I've been making instant coffee for a long time. All that stuff is gone. And we didn't notice when it left.

  • Posted on 29 Jan 2017

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