I tried to buy a medical heating pad for Marsha and I couldn’t do it.

The first place I tried was Amazon, but they didn’t carry the product. I like Amazon and I’ll tell you why.

The site I found that had the pad asked for an alternative shipping address and wouldn’t let me add it or let me off that page. Why can’t I do it? Don’t they want my money? Why not make it possible to send them money?

Marsha, in the next room, boasts that she is able to order it with her iPad toy. She proceeds to do so. And then shouts that the total cost at checkout is $259. The price doubled while she was looking at it. You’d think she was buying airplane tickets.

So forget that.

I almost had it bought from another store for $159, but then she hollered that she found one for $118, so I got out of there.


This is why Jeff Bezos is rich. He has a website that enables deaf and half-blind old folks to get through it and send him money. I like Amazon because even I can follow the simple directions and see the big “Click here” buttons that enable me to send Jeff Bezos money. He doesn’t string me along and then, at the last page. eliminate all buttons that shut down the money-sending process. The man is no fool and a few dislike him for being different.

Now Marsha thinks she can buy what she’s looking for at Rite Aid next to the Dairy Queen on Park Street, so she’ll call them tomorrow. Good luck with that, for this is somewhat of an esoteric product.

Being forced to go into a local store to buy something is something few of us have a chance to do. I mentioned to my Facebook friend Dickie that I hardly ever bought anything in a store nowadays. And he said, “What’s this store thing? Is it some kind of website?”


With three months left of 2023, there are still over a dozen wives in Maine who will pack their bags and leave their husbands before 2024.

Their reasons for leaving range from physical cruelty and mental cruelty, to simple boredom and hoping to find greener grass in a new pasture.


As a man who lost one good wife, who was seeking something new and better, and as a man who was able to learn and keep a second wife for nigh onto 33 years, may I presume to offer some suggestions to the many men who might be taking their wives for granted?

This doesn’t pertain to you, but it might prolong the marriage of your son, friend or neighbor. Please tell me if there is anything you would add to the list, because I can only speak for myself and don’t pretend to know everything.

My wife, Marsha, is the best cook in the world. Not a meal or even a scrap of a meal appears but what she hears, “Nobody cooks better than you.”

Halfway through the meal, she hears my applause. From my years on stage before live audiences, in our happy home applause is the consummate compliment.

Every morning I notice how pretty my wife is. She uses no makeup or perfumes. Every morning she hears, “Thank you for being a pretty wife.”

Every morning I notice how neat and crisp and clean my wife dresses. She looks like a rich kid about to step on her huge yacht in Tenants Harbor. She knows how to dress so it looks casual and not contrived. Every day my wife hears, “Thank you for wearing my favorite purple sweater.” “It’s pink.”


But that’s all one. She knows where I’m coming from and that I mean what I say, even though I don’t know what I’m saying.

“I love the shoes you are wearing. They match your shirt.”

Then there’s, “Nobody cleans house better than you.” Anyone who has been here and noticed the rapid nervous movement of her eyes when they’ve tracked in a blade of grass on a wet day knows what I’m talking about here. Out comes the vacuum before the guest has had time to close the door on his or her way out.

In the interest of literary fairness, or whatever it is called, I must add one more item that might be the most important one of all.

My wife can no longer walk out to the car.

The humble Farmer can be heard Friday nights at 7 on WHPW (97.3 FM) and visited at:

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