If I ruled the world …

If I ruled the world cell phones would shut themselves off when moving faster than an experienced bicyclist can ride on a flat, straight highway. It’s ludicrous that someone can maim and kill me or, worse, my wife, kids and grandkids, just so they can text “OMG!” to their BFF. We don’t need the feds sticking their nose into cell phones, you screech? All that tells me is you are not among the growing subset called, “People Who Have Lost a Loved One to the Selfish Insanity of Texting While Driving.”

If I ruled the world no oldies station DJ would be permitted to play a vintage tune without telling us the artist or band. He or she would be free to do it before the song or after, but one of the other would be mandatory upon penalty of attack by a crazed old man who cannot, for the life of him, remember who in the he-double toothpicks recorded “A Whiter Shade of Pale.” Arrgghhhh!

If I ruled the world the price for serious and continued abuse of any child would be life in prison without any chance … zip, zero, zilch … of parole and I mean forever. At certain ages applying a little palm-inflicted heat to the backside would actually be encouraged from time to time, but only as needed and never anything more severe.

If I ruled the world there would be no liver spots on the forearms of old folks. Sagging eyelids on senior citizens (look close at me sometime) wouldn’t exist either.

If I ruled the world wiener dogs would be a barkless species.

If I ruled the world grass would grow lush and green and immaculate … then stay that way in perpetuity.

If I ruled the world all men’s slacks size 40 and up would include a cleverly hidden strip of elastic on the port and starboard sides. All of them. Without fail.

If I ruled the world people would sleep even longer and more soundly in old age than they did in their youth, which is, of course, exactly the opposite of how sleep works now.

If I ruled the world a slack-jawed kid standing behind a cash register with his cap on backwards would never call me “Bud.” And he would NEVER utter the words, “No problem.”, when I thank him right after he didn’t thank me.

If I ruled the world this quote would be funnier (it’s not) than it is true (which, sadly, it is) … “Let me sum it up for ya: We got some people who work for a living, and we got some people who vote for a living.”Hank Williams, Jr.

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The pins are out so I’m OK now

Forty-five days of discomfort have ended at last.

Good Wife Norma got the pins out of her right foot so, finally, I’ve gained some relief from my household chores this past month and a half.

For those of you who have missed earlier installments, GWN had three different surgeries involving two pins down the middle of bones and out through the skin. Oh, almost forgot, they also sawed the foot bone behind her little toe in half before realigning the bone and pinning it in place.

She was off work all of those 45 days during which time I had little choice but to fetch coffee and meals, take care of dishes, vacuuming and laundry, see to the nutritional needs and gastrointestinal maintenance of the wiener dog posse, run errands and so forth.

I believe we can all agree it’s amazing I made it through.

But make it through I did and, oh my, it’s good to have my life back again.

What about GWN?

What’s to know? She sat in her recliner covered in tube dogs for 45 days. How tough can that be?

I, on the other hand, was put upon over and over and over again. It was relentless. It was grueling.

(Are you buying this? Yeah, that’s what I thought.)

Full disclosure: GWN was a model patient who asked little of her amateur caregiver than a few duties he probably should have been doing all along anyway.

That said it remains true … just sayin’ … that she did, in fact, have eight perfectly serviceable toes with no pins sticking through the skin available the whole time.

All of that is moot at this point because she’s back to work seeing dozens of patients at the Specialty Clinic.

Heck, maybe one of them is you. If so please, please, please do not leave this column where she could see it.

If she does I’ll be the next one with stitches in my skin and pins in my bones.

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Husker women beat Southern University in hoops

Here are a few keepers from the NU women’s victory over Southern University on Sunday, Nov. 24. The center of the crowd photo has Norma and Bernie Marshall with a grandson apiece. They were close enough to clearly hear the Southern coach…in fact it was a bit too close and clear when she lit into a player. Colorful language.

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Clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop …

Everyone in the media old enough to remember Nov. 22, 1963 is chiming in on the 50th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

Why not me, too?

Young Steve Moseley was 14 the day it was announced in school our president had been shot in Dallas. I wish I could tell you the depth and breadth of my emotions at the instant I heard the news, but truth is I simply can’t remember.

I know my classmates and I were collectively stunned and I definitely remember many of the girls weeping openly.

What I recall in more detail than that first shocking announcement is what followed on our black and white television over the next week.

Our school days were largely given over to following this living history lesson that was playing out before our very eyes.

I remember Lyndon Johnson being sworn in while airborne, Jackie Kennedy at his side. It’s a certainty people my age have not forgotten her vivid pink outfit and that flashy pink, pillbox hat.

What color could have run more contrary to what took place that day?

Jack Ruby’s arm extending and Lee Harvey Oswald’s grimace as the bullet struck is branded in memory, along with all those stone-faced detectives, FBI and Secret Service types with guns drawn. They seemed to be everywhere.

The Zapruder film took ‘horror movie’ to a place even Alfred Hitchcock could never approach. It was incomprehensible to see Jackie crawling out onto the trunk of the convertible, eventually to learn she was trying to retrieve a piece of the president’s head that had been blown there by Oswald’s bullet.

We didn’t know if our society would survive intact or not. It did. We didn’t know if America would ever fully recover. It didn’t.

Two images remain with me far and above any others from the assassination; one a sight, the other a sound.

The sight is John John, JFK and Jackie’s son. The memory of this tiny boy standing on the edge of the street, saluting his father’s passing casket as his mother stands beside him, the black veil of mourning draped over her face, is burned into my brain forever.

The sound that accompanies that indelible vision of John John that resides in my head is the rhythmic clip, clop, clip, clop of the horses slowly pulling the carriage that bore the body of our fallen president.

Watching the procession on TV was mesmerizing.

Some 300,000 people lining the route from the funeral to where President Kennedy was to lie in state with not so much as a cough heard from anyone.

In my memory lives a silence so thick you could almost touch it right through the old Philco TV. A silence broken only by the hollow, haunting clack, clack, clack of horseshoes against the street with a subdued drum beat for accompaniment.

I wish to God we’d never had to see it.

I hope to God we never forget it.

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Husker men spank South Carolina State in hoops

This is my first look at the Husker men in the new Pinnacle Bank Arena. Still trying to dial in the light there. Here is a gallery from tonight’s game.

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Huskers whip Michigan in Big 10 volleyball

I tried a few severe crops with this gallery. Might work. Might not. I decline to apologize for all the shots of Kelsey Robinson. No. 23 is one-woman highlight factory.

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