Good Night, Sweet Prince

We are a people of rituals. Ask people who don’t like going to church and they might say it’s because of all those rituals, hogwash each one, and not at all relevant to our lives. Then have an outsider look at our own personal rituals and we’ll soon find that it’s a part of how we go through life.

My left sock first, then right; after that, my right shoe first, then left. Any reason? Nah; none that I know of. Just the way I do it, a personal ritual that started sometime.

Bedding down for the night: this is one that takes a little time and preparation. First I slide ‘neath the sheet, then I pull it up over my head and make it nice and tight. Then the next layer (a blanket right now), similarly over my head and tight, then the bedspread. And I lie there for a while like, well, like someone in a morgue I guess. When I get around to it, I turn the bedside lamp off, roll over face down and drift off to the lovely classical music from our public radio station.

It’s almost time for that ritual now. See you tomorrow.

Everybody has a story.
Sally Hurley Finley, a Connecticut resident, passed away this week. “She was an independent young lady and woman, always ahead of her time. As a young girl, she made the newspapers after punching a relative of the then Secretary of the State because the boy criticized her father who was then running for Governor.”