I miss road maps. They were like fitted sheets for the car — wonderful to keep things in place, but nearly impossible to refold. Sometimes it was easiest on your blood pressure to crumple them into a ball and cram them into the glove box, which is your closet or junk drawer on wheels. We ...

I didn’t notice my wife sneaking into the living room. I fumbled for the remote. Too late. I was caught on the wrong channel. “Again?” She shook her head and tut-tutted. “That stuff isn’t real, you know.” “It was just a peek,” I whined. Terry glared at the screen. Two sweaty ...

For the 27th time in almost as many days, I strode out of the living room, turned down the hallway and smacked right into a bookshelf. “Yeow!” I shook my arm. “I’m bleeding again. My arm is beginning to look like Swiss cheese — the black-and-blue variety.” My sympathetic wife ...

I pout when my wife treats me like I’m a 6-year-old boy. She stops me every morning when I head for the door. “That shirt’s wrinkled. How did it get so wrinkled?” I shrugged. “I dunno. I didn’t touch it after I ‘hung it up’ on the floor a couple days ago.” Terry fixes me ...

A meme shows a guy looking puzzled as he hikes through the woods. The copy states: “The older I get, the more I regret all the people I’ve lost over the years. Maybe being a trail guide wasn’t such a great idea after all.” While silly, the meme hit me funny — not in a “ha-ha” ...

I wanted to drive the tractor so badly, I could taste it. “Please,” I begged Dad from the barely cushioned seat of our old Allis-Chalmers. “Dale says his dad has let him drive tractor since he was 7. Jeff plows fields. Roy said he plants the corn. I’m the ONLY 9-year-old farm kid ...