And There Comes A Time In Your

Since Her Retirement From Teaching Miss Beryl's Health Had In Many Respects Greatly Improved, Despite Her Advancing Years. An Eighth-grade Classroom Was An Excellent Place To Snag Whatever Was In The Air In The Way Of Illness. Also Depression, Which, Miss Beryl Believed, In Conjunction With Guilt, Opened The Door To Illness. Miss Beryl Didn't Know Any Teachers Who Weren't Habitually Guilty And Depressed-guilty They Hadn't Accomplished More With Their Students, Depressed That Very Little More Was Possible.

One Of The Nice Things About Our Marriage, At Least To My Way Of Thinking, Is That My Wife And I No Longer Have To Argue Every Thing Through. We Each Know What The Other Will Say, And So The Saying Becomes An Unnecessary Formality. No Doubt Some Marriage Counselor Would Explain To Us That Our Problem Is A Failure To Communicate, But To My Way Of Thinking We've Worked Long And Hard To Achieve This Silence, Lily's And Mine, So Fraught With Mutual Understanding.

Who But An English Professor Would Threaten To Kill A Duck A Day And Hold Up A Goose As An Example?

I Just Have This Feeling That If It Weren't For The Gloversville Free Library That I Probably Would Not Be A Writer.

At The Risk Of Appearing Disingenuous, I Don't Really Think Of Myself As 'writing Humor.' I'm Simply Reporting On The World I Observe, Which Is Frequently Hilarious.