Hey Everybody How Are You Doing?

Does humankind ask how are you doing enough with sincerity? Nope. Just pause; How are you doing. Don’t Answer, ask it. Around here there was some dumpy feelings going on. So I keyed up the old thing that lets you talk with others anywhere around our world. We called them phones now they are called Cells. And I asked “How are you doing”. To each call the response was “How are you doing”.

No one believed them when Spock and the captain used the “them” to call up from planet Upside Down. When the landing party got lost. And check it out; some of those planets gave them diseases that they had no cure for. But by next week they were on another planet and this time there were dinosaurs.

Me, I used mine to cure the blues. My youngest daughter still claims they are the blews. Here are some blues for you baby. I done got orders not to boogie woogie.

On to my blues – we will deal with that phone deal later. I turned on some real blues. And I slipped on (sans socks) my 40 year old dancing shoes – only resoled once. (I call it resouled) I was going to polish them but they already were spit shined and hung up dry so I just boogied. My young son came into my office and asked me “Dad do you have drums?” And I ‘splaned to that child that it was just my feet on the floor. “Oh I know dad you are ‘taken the cure’”. Get back here boy you are insolent and mal-behaved. And off he ran to tell mom and giggle away.

Well I am here to tell you that that did not cure my blues. Shucks alrighty it made me happy but the danged blues hung over me like horrible rain cloud on sad sack. So I took off my shoes and went to my bedroom. And somehow out of the closet were two pointy things. I did not put them there so I yelled at my fine lady, just what they was a doing in plain sight. She simply said that that was where they belonged for now, “unless someone got up and put them on.”

Hmmph. I laid down in the bed and stared at them pointy things. And then my pillow got real hard. My hip hurt and I had some dark thoughts. Oh, this old boy here put his feet on the ground, lit a cigarette, to a swallow from his whiskey*. And near crawled to them old pointy cowboy boots.

Not so good as they are hard to put on. Armadillo. I call one Tony and the other Lama. I plugged in boot scoot boogie and danged near put a boot through a wall. Don’t you worry my peoples. My wife doesn’t really dance, except like square dancing. Which I love, the Tennessee Waltz. But this is swing and line dancing on steroids. I am not breaking a sweat I am pouring. I make real cowboys weep and bar cowboys line up to have me teach their gals how to do it. The key to line dancing is to leave the ground, the key to cowboy ballet is to never leave the ground.

Do not worry this old boy is still in the blues. And it is getting down right nastier than a political debate. Time to pull off those old boots and go back to bed. Strangest thing happens on the way. In my socks I slip and slide on the hardwood floor. Oh deary that calls for some sock hopping. If my young wife got that it would throw me for a loop and then some. So I dance in the hall way and let them slide back and forth and imagine and imagine and then some imagine.

Headed back to bed, the blues are not cured. For some ungodly reason the Bee Gees start blowing into my brain. I got no platform shoes. Funny but uptown funk is pulling on me but I know it is the Disco scene. John Travolta, I will take your lady with my ball room globe slide city. Just to take you out I will do some swing dancing stuff. Ok I have those double knit pants somewhere. I even still have a white belt.

Hasn’t helped a bit. Then it is off out to the living room hard floor. Socks required and my son’s eyes get wide as I pump out the moon walk. Ain’t no big thing just about 10 hours of learning sometime in the last century? How about some of that mumbo robot dancing stuff.

Not quite over the blues yet. But not eying going to that bed yet again. What am I missing? Uh oh! Put your hand in the hand of somebody. That gospel just put a hurt on me. So I went to “Oh Happy Days”. I started feeling the love baby and that bed just kind of dissipated like a puffy cloud on a good dry hot day.

I went outside and trimmed my roses to my whistling to Amazing Grace. Got to hot, returned to my office and took a blow on my clarinet. Quickly I stopped and looked all around and then hollered at my young son man. “Where did they go, they were right here?” I kind of filled my boy full of weird early. He just looked at me and said that I chased them away by singing, whistling, dancing and playing. How did he know it was the blues/blews I was looking for?

Back to the phone. I don’t get it. Call me at 858-736-4432 (USA) And I will ask you how you are doing and shut up and really listen. Wow! Asking is better than saying. It will make you lose them blues – oh by the way I did find them, hiding in the closet with my hiking boots and basketball skids. They were getting good and kicked around. I called a sister, I called a brother, I called two best friends and they were all having minor issues but not a one had the blues or had danced in days. My sister said she had sang in the shower and she should be a 70 year old rock starlet.

Do me a solid here. Tell me how you are doing. I penned off to letters yesterday, yes some of us still use a pen and snail mail. I started both off with “How are you?” Do you realize that I will get responses in the mail about how they are doing? So cool.

I have to go now it is time for my son’s spoons lesson. Yes that is real, it is a cool sound that can go with anything and chase those old blews away!

How is your best friend doing today?

Of course that brought me to Old Man River and he just keeps rolling along. I have it bad? The river just keeps rolling along with or without me. Which took us straight back to Amen by Portier.

Now all of this takes us to “How are you doing”. A good question we should ask those around us. That phone/cell deal and now face time. I don’t do face time except for a little with my children. We took out the handwritten letter and now we are taking out saying things with words rather than pictures. Something well written or spoken is worth 10,000 pictures I say.

*Not really the cigarette and whiskey. But 40 years ago yes.