Equal Time for the Big-Boned

Jerry is a good friend of mine. He is also overweight, or maybe just “big-boned”.

Jerry was a member of the Florida Highway Patrol and in his youth served his state by covering Florida’s Turnpike. One incident that he tells is great. He was near the northern end and he saw a trucker in trouble, so he stops to see if he could help. The trucker addressed him as “Jerry”, even though he was not close enough to read his name tag. This made him curious, and then the driver said that he had been talking with another patrolman down near Fort Lauderdale and was told that “up the pike” there was a “dumb and ugly” patrolman, and his name was Jerry.

He feeds his grandchildren ice cream cones every afternoon at the Wooden Nickel in Chattahoochee. I drink sugar free Starbucks, look at the Krispy Kreme donuts without a twinge of remorse or desire, as he downs a triple dip of Edy’s Cookies and Cream, probably using the excuse that the kids need training in such things.

Jerry is a regular reader of my column although he has not yet registered as a “Follower”. I believe that his grandchildren could show him how to do this, but they are probably holding out until the old man is no longer good for snacks.

Jerry and I are members of the American Legion Post 241 Honors Detail, and we enjoy the camaraderie while we wait at cemeteries for the casket to show. We have heard each other’s “sea and air” stories so much we have numbered them in order to save time in the telling. We have one hundred twelve on the list, and my favorite that he tells is Number 37, with Number 62 running a close second. Of mine, which have to do with oceans and ships, he claims that Number 12 has edged out Number 1, which, of course, is about Noah’s Ark and a couple of the animals, and a keg. It is truly hilarious. I don’t advise anyone else to call out a number and expect laughs, however. Some folks can tell a joke; some can’t.

Lately, though, as Jerry increases in girth, he has taken to sending me E mails, purporting to be from various experts in exercising and/or dieting. I truly think that he is jealous, but will not own up to it because I am Navy and our pilots can land a screaming jet on a very short carrier, while their Air Force flyers usually require a runway that reaches from one state into another. I have tried to take him under my wing, although it would be difficult to imagine a wing big enough for this purpose, and I have urged him to, at the very least, begin to walk on a regular basis.

Today I received another E mail from him. It caught my eye immediately because it was titled “Getting Older and Walking”, and is bordered with ads for “aerobic flooring” which purports to be the “newest evolution in Group Exercise fitness”.

The title of the article was even more eye-catching:”The Importance of Walking“. I immediately was attracted, because I know what the author went through just to do the title. He had to upsize the print. Then he italicized it, and underlined it and ended up with it in teal blue. Sid Riley, our Managing Editor, would have to have help on something as technically complicated as this.

I was ready for the gospel, which, according to authorities, means “Good News”!

And then I read the first paragraph and I knew that I had not converted Jerry. He will go on eating Cookies and Cream at the Wooden Nickel, and making excuses. Here is what he sent:

Walking can add minutes to your life. This enables you at 85 years old to spend an additional 5 months in a nursing home at $7,000 per month.

Aha! He has a fixation on nursing homes, and he feeds his grandchildren ice cream every day! He knows the truth: grandchildren will select our nursing homes!.

Then he borders on the humorous, at least as close to the border of humorous as Jerry will ever get:

My grandpa started walking five miles a day when he was 60. Now he’s 97 years old and we don’t know where he is.

That is a little funny, until you recall that Jerry is from Altha, and you had better not laugh at anything about Altha if you are not a citizen of that town. “You ain’t from around here, are you?” had its origins there, and if you are asked that, you had better start looking for the door.

Next he reveals his true nature:

I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.

Just last week I announced that my morning walks are up to five miles instead of three miles, and only lightning keeps me from accomplishing this. So I annoy him? Wait until I go into training for my next 5K!

I am rather surprised at the next one:

The only reason I would take up walking is so that I could hear heavy breathing again.

Two thirds of our numbered stories have to do with sex, and to hear him tell it his stamina in this field has not diminished since high school. I believe that he slipped up and told the truth in this quote. I will spring this on him when next we are gathered at a graveside to render honors to one of our fallen heroes. He would not dare to deny anything in such a setting.

Jerry sent a lot more of these “jokes” over to me, but I do not worry about them. He can enjoy his Cookies and Cream, and I will sip my low-fat Starbucks, and we will, by common consent, add eight or ten more “sea and air” tales to our list, properly numbered.

Believe me; we really know how to tell them!