Wannaskan Almanac

Earlier this week, I thought I might write my post about memory, and then forgot why - I wish I were kidding. Today, though, I noticed the Almanac’s latest banner quotation, and I saw Faulkner’s compelling words from Light in August: Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing, even wonders. Oh, good, I thought, I knew there was a reason. ​ Wednesday, I’ll turn 79, and increasingly, my short-term memory fails me. I’ll go to do something, but my mind’s eye gets blocked by. . . what? Scientists point to natural shifts like brain shrinkage, cellular changes, and vascular decline. They suggest I’m probably okay and that it’s normal to take longer to absorb new information. That I shouldn’t worry too much when I misplace things. I wish I could remember this reassurance when I’m groping around for my phone. ​ There are some things, though, I remember clearly. Just this morning, my brother sent my siblings and me a picture of an indelible spo...

  The Palmville Globe Volume 2 Number 16 Man Tames Cowlick Joe McDonnell, and a resident of Palmville Twp, Minnesota, recently discovered a new grooming trick. "I've had an unruly cowlick since youth," McDonnell tells the press. "My solution was to put a wet towel on my head for ten minutes before going out in public. My wife said this gave me helmet hair. She said I should use conditioner which I tried off and on over the years without results. Just the other day I read the label and it said leave the conditioner in my hair 'as desired' before rinsing. I tried not rinsing the cowlick area at all. Next morning my wife said, 'What did you do to your hair? It looks perfect!' I told her I had read the instructions." McDonnell reports he now leaves a spray bottle of water and a bottle of conditioner in the bathroom closest to the front door for use before going out. "I just have to remember to look in the mirror first," he says. Man Arrives...

Hello and welcome to a  sunny Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is May 16th. I hope you remembered to pay your property taxes. I almost didn't. A Love Letter to My Friend Dear Friend, Tomorrow we go to the forest to spread your ashes and I know it will be then - in that moment - that my body, heart, and soul will align with the impermeable fact that you are gone. I haven't cried since your death. And for this, I'm sorry. Swept up in the chaos of busy swirling in my own family hive, your passing simply hasn't felt real. I've pushed it down the to-do list of items to be done, processed - felt. But today. Today, I cry for you. Today, I sit and breathe into the space that is your absence. And I feel so, so sad. I took a walk this morning, passing through trees and around a lake. The air smells of promise - that sweetness only nature can produce. The early morning is light and bright. A bit cool. I think about you and how to best honor you. Today. Tomorrow. T...

    Cheers!     May 15 is International Pun Day. Puns are the black sheep of the humor family because they're so baaaad. Which reminds of the lamb that lay down on a plaque because it needed some bas relief. Here are my puns written since the last International Pun  Day. Some have already appeared in Word Wednesday in the Wannaskan Almanac . While most mothers have children because they enjoy it, Pro Jenny gets paid for it. What vehicle do jousting knights use? The Chevy Impaler Who’s the prettiest girl in the underworld? Brigitte Bardo How do linguists find relief? By moving their vowels. What might you think yourself if you’ve never been run over? Autoimmune  What occurs when a joke flops?  It enters The Hall of Lame, posthumorously Who's the best singer on Easter Island? Rapper Nui  What animal hangs around the rink? Puck-game wolf Where do Irish sailors go for relief? Port O’Paddy  Who’s best at filling a cab? A taxidermist  How doe...

Da Hole Trute an' Nothin' But Da Trute So Hep Me Gud."    “Looks like you got yourself some skunks diggin’ ‘ere, Ula,” Sven said, spying the many divot-like holes off the corner of Ula’s porch near the basswood tree.      “No Sven, you’re mistaken, den. Dose 'oles are made by Tamiasciurus 'udsonicus, da red squirrel as da locals call dem,” Ula replied authoritatively seeing as he’s Palmville Township’s official squirrel trapper. “Not skunks.”      "Uh, I beg to differ Ula. I vas over to da 2nd Palmville Pub da udder day an’ Festus dere showed me vat skunk ‘oles look like--an’ make no mistake, dey look yust like dis,“ Sven said, peering up at Ula on the porch.“Look at all dese! You’ve got a ton of dem! Must be a whole family of skunks ‘ereabouts, an’ probably livin’ right ‘ere under your porch.”      “You look more intelligent den you actually are Sven,” Ula snorted. “Even Festus Marvinson vud agree vit me dat dese are m...