Another Keeper!

 I'm beginning to realize that Uncle Ken must be just full of this stuff.  How does he do it?  

People have been telling me all my life that I should write but, as Uncle Ken said, writing in those days was a more laborious process than it is today.  My father had a clackety clack typewriter, but I never learned to type with all my fingers, and I could manually write with a pen about as fast as I could type on one of those things.  It wasn't until decades later, when my daughter gave me her old laptop, that I found I could two finger type on a modern keyboard about as fast as I could think of what I wanted to write next.  I never thought much about selling anything, I just wanted to share my wit and wisdom with people who seemed to need it.  The trouble is the people who need it most don't have the patience to read anything longer than a Tweet, so there you go.  

A long time ago, a barmaid who had been overhearing my legerdemain for months offered me a bit of advice. She had studied psychology in college, but said that her experience tending bar had taught her more about human nature than she ever learned in school.  She told me that I was one of those people who needed to talk to maintain my sanity.  "Now you could talk to a psychiatrist for 50 bucks an hour (I told you it was a long time ago.), you could talk to me for the price of a beer, or you could sit on a log in the swamp and talk to your dogs, or even yourself, for free and it would provide the same benefit."  Funny she should say that because people had been telling all my life that I talk too much, and now this one tells me I need to talk even more.  Since then, I have discovered that posting on the internet seems to fulfill my need to talk so well that I can't remember the last time somebody told me that I talk too much in real life.