Dear Mister Ed

I aint too sure whats goin’ on, but fer some reason the past few weeks I been startin’ to feel a fair bit older than what I useta.

Now dont you be waggin’ yer finger and tellin’ me thats how it goes and all of us is gettin’ on, not jest me.

I know all that, Mister Smarty Pants Edditer. I mite of fell off the turnip truck but it was’nt last nite.

What I’m sayin’ is it seems like all on a sudden the clock has commensed to spinnin’ round faster than before.

Then one day you wake up and say, my golly, I think I jest got old.

Let me give you a fer instants. Last Wednsday I was down to the bottom of the garden, tryin’ to get ahead of some weeds that are doin’ jest fine, thank you very much.

I must of been on my knees about as long as yer average Mass if you happen to be inclined that way.

But that aint the point. The point is when it come time to qwit it took me near twice as long to stand up as the time I spent down there in the first place.

Seems like even the parts that was’nt hurtin’ was’nt workin’.

Come time fer supper I was feelin’ so done in I took a nother glass of wine than normal. I figgered if I cant age gracefull, maybe I can marrinate.

After supper I set down to read the new catalog from Princes Electrick and it was all I cud to make out the words. Then I figgered it out. My arms is gettin’ shorter.

I dass’nt say a word about this to the others hereabouts, seein’ as how I’m more’n ten years to the good of Unkle Walt and six years on the sunny side of his blushin’ bride Eva.

Asides that, whats the point of tryin’ to strike up a confab when all they seem to do is mumble at me?

Thats somethink else I noticed of late. The older you get, the more folks around you to start to mumble.

Last time I sayed anythink about it, Eva sayed maybe I otta go get checked out. Maybe I’m gettin’ a mite bit hard of hearin’.

Leastwise I think that’s what she sayed. She was kinda mumblin’ at the time.

It did’nt help much when Maisy sayed “He aint hard of hearin’, he’s hard of lissenin’. He dont have trubble hearin’ me say theres grub on the table.”

I will admit, she mite have a point there.

Anyways Darrol, theres a reason I’m tellin’ you all this and this is it.

Yer wee paper means a lot to me. It lets me keep up on what all them fine Youcon artsy folks is doin’ and who makes the best beer and what the stars is gettin’ up to.

But if its all the same to you, cud you kindly print the words a tad bit bigger?

Yer pal,

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