The Hafwit’s Diary — 26

My grandson Banzai has a new name for me: “Pops.”

He used to call me “Umpy,” a name he gave me when he was a toddler, and he couldn’t pronounce “Grumpy.”

I come by my new name a week ago, in Vail, Colorado. Continue reading

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The Hafwit’s Diary — 25

I’m in town, on a rare trek away from the basement.

I visit familiar routes, and I meet several people I know as I stroll. Following a brief conversation, each person says the same thing as we part: “Hey, you’re looking good!”

At my age, this remark indicates I’m clearly teetering on The Precipice, soon to take The Big Dive.

What the commentator likely wants to say is: “Hey, you’re fatter, grayer, slower, and seem more addled than the last time I saw you. Perhaps we’ll meet again but, if not, rest in peace.” Continue reading

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The Hafwit’s Diary — 24

Note 1, for October 1, 2021: Terminate an elk.

Note 2, for October 1, 2021: Contact son in-law Jon, and ask him to terminate an elk. Offer to contribute $10 to help pay for a cow tag. Even though she might be a mom, and her death deprives an elklet or two of a proper upbringing, a cow elk provides better quality meat. It’s cruel, but that’s Nature for you, fang and claw, survival of the fittest, etc.

It’s not that I couldn’t dispatch a female forest-dwelling ungulate should a crisis require it, but I’m uncomfortable whenever I leave the house and the basement. Plus, I don’t own the appropriate footwear, and I dislike loud noises. If there’s no crisis, and I have an option, I exercise it. That’s Jon. Continue reading

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The Hafwit’s Diary — 23

I see him this morning. He’s at the far end of the canned vegetable aisle at the market, checking out the niblets.

He turns and moves out of sight. I lumber down the aisle as quickly as my bulk will permit, hoping to catch up.

When I get to the end of the aisle, he’s gone, nowhere to be seen.

I walk across the front of the store and check each aisle.

Can’t locate him.

Shifty, ghostlike.

Typical.

Right there, like that. Continue reading

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