Da Mo Po

Today I was thinking about the story where three little boys were arguing about what was the meanest animal in the jungle.  The first one says - "Da lion is da meanest animal in da jungle.  He got dis big head and big teeth and if he don't like you, CHOMP! you be done for."

"No No No" says the second boy.  "Da elephant is da meanest animal in da jungle.  If he don't like you he can just sit on you and, PHUTT! dere is nothing you can do.  It be da elephant dat is da meanest animal in the jungle".

"No No No No No" says the third boy.  "Da Mo Po is da meanest animal in da jungle".  The first and second boys say "Da what?"  "Da Mo Po" repeats the first boy.

"Tell us bout dis Mo Po"

"Well, he got dis great big head on one end and dis great big head on da other end and . . ."   "You say he got a great big head on both ends?" asks the first boy.  "Den how do he go to da bathroom?"

"He don't!   Dat whats makes him so mean!"

This was a good story to remember when our kids were young.   If someone got grumpy no one wanted to hear "Oh here comes da Mo Po".  But it now becomes more appropriate when one gets older and things don't work as well as they used to.

My mother used to say that "after fifty it's nothing but patch, patch, patch."  I don't think it's anywhere near that bad but try sitting around a bunch of relatives who are in their late 50's and into their 60's and the topics of conversations have sure changed.  You can thank me for not sharing any of the exciting details here.

I did have a 63 year old lady that came in for a road test today.  She gave up her driver's license seven years ago after she had back surgery and no longer had feeling in her feet.  However she recently had both knees replaced and this brought feeling once again to those feet.  Lynn was stuffed behind the driver's seat on this very mild January day and as we were driving through a residential area she pulls the car to the curb and rips off her sweat shirt, down to just a tee shirt.  "Oh that feels so much better!"  Thirteen years doing road tests and this has never happened before.   But I understand. 

Turns out that before she went on disability she was a traveling home visit nurse.  Lynn had a great story about one client.  The husband would leave for work and because his wife was not able to get up to open the house door the key to the house was kept in the dog house.  The resident of the dog house was Bruiser, a big Doberman Pincher.  Lynn needed to go into the dog house each visit to acquire the key.  Guess Lynn was lucky that is was only a Doberman and not a Mo Po.

Lynn and her husband now live in senior housing where she acts as the activities director.  "Such as?" I ask.  "Well next week we are having a pajama party in the third floor lounge.  All the women will come wearing pajamas, but linguine is not allowed.  We will do each other's hair and nails and act like we did when we were teenagers.  The men are also invited but they have to make sure that none of their junk is visible."

I was so sorry I asked.