Saturday, March 23, 2019. 8:09 A.M.
The March wind is blowing
The buds are beginning to swell
Soon the leaves will be turning green
And on my mind is Sonya Jeanne.
Dear Sandy, I’d rather spell your name Sandra . . . if you will forgive me. It sounds more respectable. More like addressing a lady.
I went out walking today for 27 minutes in the sunshine. Near the end of the walk, stopped at the corner store and bought a gallon of 2% milk. Thanked the cashier and she gave me a beautiful smile. Must have said thank you to her at least 3 times. She asked me if I wanted the milk in a bag and I thought about that question and said yes because it was cold outside and the milk was cold. She put it in two bags for me. Walking home I thought of her. She was the best part of my walk today. She’s probably 40 years younger than me so I guess she’ll always be my beautiful cashier with a lovely smile and the kindness to be helpful.
Signed, “Marky Maypo”
Do you know marky maypo, Sonya?
He’s a cartoon character from the commercial for Maypo cereal in the late 1950s and early ‘60s when you were very young. You can see the commercials on You Tube if you’re curious.
My Uncle Milton used to call me marky maypo and marco polo and marky pokey when i was very young. He and his family lived on the second floor of my grandmother’s triple-decker on Sweet Avenue in the 1950s and early 60s when you were very young. We lived on the third floor. My uncle was my mother’s older brother. marky was Uncle Milton’s nephew. I understand you must already know that, but thought it might be funny to say something dumb like that. I know you think I’m dumb. I don’t mind being dumb any more than an actor minds portraying a “dumb” character. I remember Forest Gump’s name, but couldn’t remember Tom Hanks name for a while. It finally came back to me just as I’m writing this to you.
“Marky Maypo” writes a blog, Sonya. The address is: https://marksimaginings.com. Actually, the blog isn’t by marky maypo. I don’t want to fool you, Sonya. It might happen unintentionally though. I wear so many masks, you know. Writer. Fool. Lonely Boy. Think I’ll go to You Tube now and listen to “Hey There Lonely Girl”. Maybe “Lonely Girl” will jump right out of the PC monitor and put her arms around “Lonely Boy” and give him a big kiss.
What an imagination that blogger boy has. He imagines being in love with a lady. He gives a drink of water to an insect on the window in his apartment. He walks in the cemetery alone. He dreams as he’s waking up. He meets a lady at a park bench. He’s an acorn who doesn’t want to become an oak tree. He’s a little sprout near a park bench who becomes a dandelion who loves to listen to music and wants to be held by someone. He’s a client of a social worker who . . . well, you’d have to read it. And he was a patient of a psychiatrist and he wrote a letter to her and she didn’t want to give him another appointment. And he wrote about his memories of Lake Hiawatha. And he puts a lot of songs from You Tube into his writings. And maybe there’s something in his writing about a secret name: “uutchcumbowow.” What a weirdo. Like The Beatles’ “The Fool on the Hill.”
It’s exactly midnight. I better go to bed soon so I don’t turn into a frog.
There’s something about a frog, no, a toad, in Carole King’s “Tapestry” song. And a frog in Neil Diamond’s “I am . . . I said.”
Isn’t it sad, Sonya, that you don’t write to me anymore? “You Don’t Bring me Flowers . . . You Don’t Sing me Love Songs.” -Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond.
“Hello Again” – Neil Diamond.