Perhaps it’s my age, because the older I get the less likely I am to ignore, well, stupid things. As a former teacher I know I’m not supposed to use the “s” word, but I just can’t help myself. For example…

I read an article recently that suggested it’s time for shoppers to tip retail workers. You read that right. Those who lead us to a dressing room or go look for an extra-large pair of pants—even though I’m certain the large pair I just tried on must surely have been mismarked—are now expecting tips. Just like the fast-food folks whose efforts on our behalf primarily include handing that bag of burgers across the counter. Now don’t get me wrong, as a former waitress and bartender, I have no problem tipping service workers who don’t get a paycheck that reflects minimum wage, but it’s my understanding that retail workers get a mandated hourly salary, so why are we being asked to tip them?

And, how about the people who think it’s just peachy to call an older woman, “Young lady”? Is there any way that form of address is not demeaning? I spent 40 years as an amateur sports official and I’ve been referred to in a whole bunch of disagreeable ways, so I’m not the least bit thin skinned. Still, when you call me, “Young lady,” I want to smack you in the head with my slippers.

I also have a bone to pick with parents who are absolutely unwilling to let their children fail. Mom, Dad, you are doing your kids a disservice when you march up to the coach and demand that your kid be a starter or complain about why your little sweetie pie did not get the lead in the school musical. Just stop! Your children are supposed to fail and then learn from the experience. If you smooth every bump in their road to maturity, they will fall to pieces the first time life throws them a curveball. So step back and let them find their own way.

Then there are men. Don’t get me wrong. I love men, but they do the silliest things sometimes. Need proof? Have you watched a football game on TV lately? Why must I see grownups strip to the waist in freezing weather while they root for their favorite team? And why is it always the guys no one wants to see with their shirts off? Note that if a bunch of Chippendales decided to go half-Monte at a game, I probably would enjoy the scenery, but it is never, ever the guys with the mantastic muscles and amazing abs that are gyrating in the stands. I wonder why?

Now let’s talk about spitting. I have spent much of my life in the sports world and have witnessed more than my fair share of expectorating. Psychologists say spitting is a form of aggression, so I guess it might be applicable in the battlefields of the sports world. And don’t you think it’s amazing how athletes seem to know exactly when they’re on camera and manage to hock a perfectly-timed loogie for all the viewers to see? As for the average dude who feels the need to spit on the street when there are no muggers around to scare off, spitting is just dumb. You need spit. It helps you chew and swallow your food, kickstarts digestion, and protects your teeth. Saliva contains proteins and other substances that keep your mouth and body healthy. Mother Nature was thinking of you when she invented spit, so savor it and quit leaving that little puddle of goo on the street for me to step in.

Finally—and I know you think I’m picking on guys, but gosh they make it so easy—let’s talk hats. Whenever I see men who feel the need to wear a hat all day/every day, I and every other person alive knows they’re probably hiding a bald spot. You’re not fooling anyone, so why do it? We live in a world where bald is cool, so why not rock that dome? As for you younger guys who feel a ballcap is always cool, it’s not unless you’re, well, at a ballgame or keeping warm in cold weather or out hunting big game. And, sure, pop on your cap when you’re just tooling around with the boys, but there are times when that green John Deere just doesn’t cut it. I can’t help but think of the kid I saw the other night in a really nice restaurant who was clearly trying to impress his date. Lovely setting, great food, two pretty glasses bearing red wine, and him peeking out from under a cheesy mesh ballcap. Was there a subsequent date? Talk among yourselves.

Phew! I feel better now. A little whining is therapeutic, don’t you think? That said…what bothers you?

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Release Date: June 6, 2024

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