Introduction

I never thought I would get to eighty two. When I was young I thought that if I lived to be fifty years old I would be an old man and very lucky. Just before Joe died I visited him with Charley Spratt at the sanitarium where he was living and when he spoke of dying I said we would not be far behind. Well, Charley did go in a year or so, but it is now over ten years later and here I am trying to learn to use this old typewriter. A few days ago, Judy bought one of the new electronic typewriters that do everything but wash the dishes, so I have appropriated this old one.
Claire, Judy and I are here living at the Perkiomen Valley Retirement Community where we came just about a year ago from our old home on Gravers Road in Plymouth Township where we had lived for over forty years. When I started using this machine, at first I wrote about the big dog jumping over the lazy cat and the fact that now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party. But I soon got tired of that and decided to write about what I know most. Myself.