After 40 years as a computer programmer and game developer—and the passing of his wife of 47 years—Rick has retired and is now living in Ye Olde Folks Home, where he still tinkers with tech and likes to write these amusing and/or thoughtful tales about his storied life.

Life in Ye Olde Folks Home
The Perils of A Capella Singing
Bringing Coffee for Alice
“Turn Off the Lights!”
What to Say to the Grieving
While Waiting for the School Bus
An Unfortunate Misunderstanding
In Memoriam: Betty Lou Edwards-Vessel
A Little Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing
Who Would Jesus Stab?
The Eggshell Incident
First Chapel Service at Ye Olde Folks Home
A Yearly Ritual at Menards
“Mr. Loftus, the Town Hero”
The FCAL Project
Pepe Le Pew Finds New Lodgings
In Memoriam: Dale Lear
Bingo Bedlam at Ye Olde Folks Home
There’s a Shortage of Perfect Movies…
One Day at the DMV
A Visitor from Microsoft
“He Who Should Not Be Named”
Downton… Abbey?
This Home is a Liver-Free Zone
My 9/11 Rememberances
My Yearly Pumpkin Spice Rant
Done In By Baker’s Square
My Eulogy for Alice
“Dear Rikki…”
A Clean, Well-lighted Place for Books
Memories of my First Computer
A Little Excitement at the Staff Meeting
The Tale of Mrs. Butler
Sun, Sand, and a Margarita
“Thou Shalt Not Steal”
Troubleshooting at Ye Olde Folks Home
Stories of my Mother
I’ve Heard Angels Sing
Elevator Mishap at the Eye Clinic
One Day at Fair, Isaac
Saturday Morning Cartoons
A Sprig of Parsley
Fun With Recruitment Ads
Leave Her to Heaven
“Squirrel!”
Bring me Dave Bringle!
Beware! The Oldsters Are Coming!
Life Among the Progressives
A Family Ritual While Watching Masterpiece
The Unforgettable General Oppy
“Don’t Even THINK About Parking Here”
A Dubious Plan Gone Awry
The Singing Christmas Tree!
One Day in the Hospital Lab
The Legend of the Broken Timer
Nelson’s Fruit Stand
This One Time in Glee Club…
Star Trek References for the Win
Family Psalm, Stuck in Lodi
Vacation in Branson
Clyde and Ruth Revisited
COVID Policies During my Wife’s Fatal Illness
I Guess I’m the Shadow IT Department Now
The Tale of Clyde and Ruth
My Garden of Gethsemane Story
We Might Get a Virus!

Beware! The Oldsters Are Coming!

The bus that whisks us away to Anyplace But Here.

Recently at Ye Olde Folk’s Home we had a planning meeting for upcoming excursions that was well-attended. Everyone had strongly-held opinions as to where to go next in the coming weeks.

The most popular destinations, other than the casinos, would be the various restaurants in the region. All the residents eagerly look forward to those trips.

The staff of the restaurants we visit, unfortunately, do not universally return our affections.

I’ll admit we’re a challenging bunch. We come in a huge bus that slowly discharges all our people in two batches: first the ambulatory residents and then, one by one, the walker and wheelchair-using people as they slowly come off the lift.

Some restaurants deal with this tsunami of walkers and wheelchairs with deft and practiced ease; others are nonplussed and at wit’s end trying to figure out where to put them all.

And some of our residents confuse easily, further slowing down the ordering process.

In our defense, I will say that unless we are unhappy with our treatment, we tip quite generously.

The staff at one recent eatery was annoyed at our insistence that our non-ambulatory people be allowed to pay via credit card at our table rather than while standing at the counter up front. “That’s gonna waste 10 whole minutes,” our waiter whined.

Another time one person mistook a passing diner for a waitress and fruitlessly held a glass aloft for a refill. “Oh, Miss? Miss?” she called out, to no avail.

The next time she called out slightly louder, to our waitress this time, who hissed in an irritated tone, “I think the whole restaurant heard you.”

Despite this, there are establishments that treat us like visiting royalty, and as you can imagine, we return there again and again. Today we went to Giuseppe’s Italian Ristorante, one such eatery, for the third time.

Word of mouth from everyone who went the prior two times was overwhelmingly positive, so we had 14 people this time out, even with the -12F weather.

I confess I don’t know the name of the owner there, but I absolutely love the guy. He barely speaks English but runs the place with a dignified pride that I find endearing.

“Is the Alfredo sauce made here?” one of us asked.

The owner beamed at her. “Yes. I make it,” he proclaimed with obvious self-satisfaction.

That does it. It’s the shrimp with Alfredo sauce for me! And it was delicious.