by TEJ | May 24, 2025 | Lifestyles humor, Parenting and Family humor
Notice how the wife meticulously measures just the right amount of detergent. Meanwhile, the husband pours half a bottle of bleach directly onto the laundry, thereby bypassing the bleach drawer. That’s just smart efficiency, if you ask any husband.
If you’ve been married for more than six weeks, sooner or later you’ll face one of the most contentious challenges a couple must confront: deciding on the proper way to do laundry. While both men and women technically possess the physical capability to perform this task, their approaches are as different as fine chardonnay and gas station nachos. As a result, these differences can turn into heated battles.
To help you navigate these tumultuous waters, I have compiled a step-by-step comparison of how women and men approach the sacred art of laundering clothes. Check your gender to be sure you know which approach you should follow.
Step 1: Sorting the Laundry
Women’s Approach:
- Once a week, gather all the dirty clothes from the various hampers in the house, including the one in the bathroom, the one in the bedroom, and the mystery pile your husband swears he “was totally going to get to.â€
- Separate whites from colors, ensuring that no rogue red socks infiltrate the pristine whites and turn them an angry pink.
- Further separate delicates, towels, jeans, and workout clothes into their own separate piles because apparently, different fabrics have different temperature and washing requirements.
- Check all pockets for money, gum, rogue tissues, and – if you have young kids – LEGOs.
- Stare in horror at what your husband has wadded up into a jumbled mass the size of a small moose and thrown into the hamper. Debate whether it can be salvaged or should just be set on fire, to prevent a potentially dangerous toxic waste dump from engulfing your house.Â
Men’s Approach:
- Once every four months, grab everything from the hamper and the floor (same thing, really) and stuff it all into the washing machine until it is so full you can barely close the door. Remember, if it’s not overflowing, there’s room for more.
- Consider checking pockets but then get distracted by a hilarious Bud Lite commercial on TV and forget.
Step 2: Selecting the Wash SettingsÂ
Women’s Approach:
- Carefully consult the care labels on each garment.
- Select the appropriate water temperature and cycle: cold for delicates, warm for colors, hot for whites, and, for unknown fabrics, Google it just to be safe.
- Add just the right amount of detergent, fabric softener, and maybe even a color-safe bleach booster.
- Adjust the settings accordingly so nothing shrinks, bleeds, or turns into something a miniature poodle could comfortably squeeze into.Â
Men’s Approach:
- Turn the dial to whatever setting the machine is already on. It was fine last time, right?
- Dump in a generous amount of detergent – more soap means cleaner clothes, obviously. If the water starts foaming like your two-year-old’s bubble bath, you probably have the right amount.
- Hit the start button.
- Check back two days later when you suddenly remember you never took the clothes out of the washing machine.
Step 3: Transferring Clothes to the DryerÂ
Women’s Approach:
- Carefully pull out each item, one by one, and inspect for stains. If a stain remains, rewash immediately by hand to prevent the stain from becoming permanent.
- Separate delicate items that should never see the inside of a dryer and lay them out flat or hang them to dry.
- Set the dryer to the appropriate heat level: low for delicates, medium for everyday wear, and high for towels and sheets.
- Add a dryer sheet because fresh-smelling clothes are one of the little joys of living in a civil society.Â
Men’s Approach:
- Shovel the entire load into the dryer like you’re shoveling coal into the firebox of an 1830s steam engine train bound for the Dakota Territories.
- Forget about delicates. Men don’t wear delicates, so you can ignore this issue.
- Turn the heat to “High†because heat equals dry, and dry equals done.
- Close the door and return to watching the game.
- If you discover that your wife’s sweat pants have drastically shrunk to something a toddler could wear, secretly throw it in the trash and tell her you never saw it. “Are you sure you didn’t misplace it, honey?â€
 Step 4: Folding and Putting Away
When the laundry is done, notice how the wife neatly folds every item and puts similar items together, like these towels. The husband, on the other hand, uses the time-tested “entropy†system, in which all the clothes are shoved into a giant pile – to be sorted out later. Much later.
Women’s Approach:
- Remove clothes immediately to prevent wrinkles.
- Fold each item neatly, ensuring shirts are stacked, socks are paired, and towels are folded to fit the closet in their proper spot.
- Hang up dress shirts, blouses, and anything that even hints at needing a hanger.
- Put everything away in its designated spot, where it belongs. Your work is done.Â
Men’s Approach:
- Remember the clothes you put in the dryer last week and put the game on pause.
- Grab the entire pile and dump it onto the nearest available flat surface, the kitchen floor.
- Start to fold a couple shirts, then remember how boring this is. Decide to shove the entire mass into the floor of the closet. There! Job finished!
Final Step: Review Your WorkÂ
Women’s Approach:
- Take note of what went wrong and adjust for next time.
- Reflect on how grateful your husband will be when he sees all his clothes so neatly folded and stored in their proper repositories. Yes, he’s lucky to have you as his wife.
- Try not to get triggered by the fact that in reality your husband is oblivious to all your hard work and asks if you could get him another beer.Â
Men’s Approach:
- Act slightly indignant when your wife screams that her favorite cashmere sweater has shrunk four sizes.
- Calmly de-escalate the situation by saying, “Is it possible you’ve put on a little weight recently?â€
- Say nothing as your wife gives you a daggers glare that could frighten a terrorist.
- Hide your smile as your wife angrily announces you’re permanently banned from doing laundry ever again. Congratulations. Mission accomplished.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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by TEJ | May 10, 2025 | Other Attempts at Humor, Parenting and Family humor
This is Pam. For years Pam has been carrying a grudge against her sister Meg because Meg got the entire $200K of their father’s inheritance. All Pam got was Barkley the dog. Barkley pees on the carpet every day and destroyed her sofa. Okay, Pam, I’d be angry, too.
I’ve rarely been one to hold a grudge. It takes a lot to get me triggered, and even then, I usually move past whatever momentary feelings of irritation I’m experiencing within minutes or, worst case, a couple of hours – unless it’s ANYTHING that my annoying neighbor Bert Higgins says or does, in which case, I will never let it go. What can I say, I just don’t like the guy.
Other than with my neighbor Bert, I never saw the point to letting personal resentments fester. Research shows that holding onto anger and bitterness is bad for your emotional and physical well-being – much like the feeling of rage that consumes many readers after having been subjected to my latest humor article: “Damn it, Jones! That’s ten minutes of my life I’ll NEVER get back!†is the usual complaint I receive.
Nelson Mandela once wrote, “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.†On a related note, for months I resented my first college girlfriend for making out with a friend of mine. Six months later, she still hadn’t died. So yeah, turns out Nelson was right.
I come from a hearty stock of grudge holders. One of my brothers who will not be named (okay, you twisted my arm – his name is Ted) would not speak to me for over a year because six months after he had asked me for a three-month loan, I had the temerity to ask him to pay me back the $500 I had lent him. My egregious offense was asking to be paid back at all. Thankfully, my brother explained his understandable outrage at my insensitive treatment: “Family members should never expect to be paid back.†That was over forty years ago. He still harbors hard feelings. I’m confident in time, he’ll forgive me and reimburse me. Do you think it’s too late to ask him to include interest? Nah, that probably wouldn’t end well. Forget I even mentioned it.
Everybody holds onto grudges. Even famous people. For example, did you know that John Adams, America’s second president, was a close friend of Thomas Jefferson, our third president – until 1801? That’s the year that Jefferson defeated Adams for the presidency. Adams never forgave Jefferson (his VP when Adams was president) for running against him. They soon became bitter enemies, refusing to settle their differences for more than twenty years. It wasn’t until very late in life that they finally made amends. Personally, I’m not so sure they forgave each other so much as dementia may have set in, and they each thought they’d made a new friend.
Thomas Jefferson (L) and John Adams famously fell out of favor with each other and became bitter enemies. Jefferson was envious of Adams’ great wealth. Adams resented Jefferson for his lush, full head of hair and his hot mistress Sally Hemings.
Many famous people throughout history refused to let go of longstanding grudges: Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, Van Gogh and Gauguin, Thomas Edison and Nicola Tesla, Joan Crawford and Bette Davis, Paul McCartney and Yoko Ono, Donald Trump and… well, just about everybody who’s ever worked for him.
The above list includes several extremely intelligent, talented people… and Donald Trump. In each case, they chose to keep the fires of grievance burning for years. At least Hamilton and Burr eventually found a way to abruptly resolve their feud – if you consider pistols at dawn an effective way to end a dispute.
Have you ever noticed how for some people, it’s easier to offer criticism than a compliment? Similarly, some of us would actually choose to stay angry and resentful rather than forgive the other person. Why is this? Here’s my theory: Sincere forgiveness can require a lot of effort. Worse, it just might require us to accept that we played a part in creating this rift. And why should we waste our time on self-reflection about our own shortcomings when it’s far less work to place all the blame on my annoying neighbor, Bert Higgins?
Besides, if we forgive the other person, that lets them off the hook. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Charlie Jamison forget about the fact that he ran over my pet guinea pig Bubbles with his Schwinn bicycle back in 5th grade. He still has never apologized for murdering my best friend.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that holding onto a long-simmering resentment offers several useful benefits. First, you’ll no longer need to worry about getting them a birthday present or sending a Christmas card. You won’t have to invite them over for Thanksgiving. And you can relax as you watch the football game knowing they’ll never interrupt the game with a pesky phone call to vent to you about their disappointing teenage son Norman.
If you expand your network of people towards whom you could harbor resentment, just think of how much spare time it will open up in your weekly schedule. Of course, it works in reverse as well. If there is someone in your life you find slightly unpleasant to be around, you might consider insulting them about their appearance or parenting skills. That way, they’ll start to resent you and, if you’re lucky, refuse to acknowledge your existence. Mission accomplished.
Why do people carry grudges? Well, in this case, it’s because Maria was named the prom queen, while her identical twin sister Evelyn lost out. So unfair. And Maria even had the nerve to wear the same dress as Evelyn. What a bitch.
So, I’ve changed my mind. Instead of letting go of past resentments, I’m going to start to embrace them. You hear that, Coach Steck? Perhaps you’ve forgotten about the time you demoted me to second string on our high school football team after I had one bad game back in 1973. Well, I haven’t forgotten, Coach. I’m coming to even the score with you – assuming that at the age of 104 you’re still alive, you son of a b*tch.
And Larry Elmendorf, don’t think I’ve forgotten that in 5th grade you once called me “Thunder Thighs Jones†because you thought I had fat thighs back then. Vengeance will be mine, by which I mean I will post a snarky comment about your recent weight gain on your Facebook page.
Tonight I’m supposed to make dinner, but I’m feeling lazy. I’d rather just have some leftover pizza and watch the game. I think I’ll get out of cooking by pretending to carry a grudge against my wife for nagging me repeatedly that I still haven’t mowed the lawn. Yeah, that should do the trick. And I’ll forgive her the next day, when it’s her turn to cook.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
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by TEJ | May 1, 2025 | All Blog Posts, Parenting and Family humor
Little Yong Li, around age 1. Little did she know what challenges her life would have in store for her.
She was found on a busy street corner in a city of over four million people. She was only a few days old – abandoned, lost, completely unknown. No identification on her to indicate whose family she belonged to. An orphan, a tiny baby whose first meaningful life experience was to be abandoned by her parents for no other reason than the misfortune of having been born a girl. Such was the fate of hundreds of thousands of baby girls in China between 1979 and 2015.
The orphanage where she was taken, thankfully, was a good one. The staff gave her the name Yong Li, which meant “Forever Beautiful.†Despite her tumultuous beginning, in less than five months, little Yong Li would be matched to a childless couple in America and headed to her new forever home in the States.
Yong Li overcame her traumatic origin and would eventually thrive. But like many young Chinese adoptees in English-speaking countries, she had serious speech challenges, struggling to pronounce many sounds that she’d never heard during her brief time in China – sounds like the letters R, S, and T. For several years as a young child, her parents had her take speech therapy classes.
Nervous about entering Kindergarten, she overcame her anxieties and in time settled into school life. A relatively shy child, Yong Li learned to play chess at a young age. Some of her favorite times were the quiet moments she would play chess with her dad. Over her first 12 years, she became even more introverted. She didn’t have many friends. But she discovered the joy of the wizarding world of Harry Potter and would spend hours upon hours reading one Harry Potter book after the next.
As she reached her early teen years, she became a bit of a tomboy and excelled at sports, especially soccer. She was a fierce competitor, playing defense. Always the shortest girl on every soccer team, Yong Li was also her team’s fiercest competitor. It did not matter the size or physicality of her opponent. If they had the ball, it wasn’t going to be theirs for long.
Yong Li doing what she loved more than anything as a teenager: soccer. She was not very big, but wow, could she play the game with passion.
Soccer became her passion. Unfortunately, Yong Li’s fearless, overly aggressive style of play came at a steep price. She suffered a series of minor concussions playing the sport she loved. One time she and an opposing player collided heads when they both went to head the ball. Concussions, her parents would learn, tend to be cumulative, meaning the effects of multiple concussions over time are more severe and long-lasting than the effects of a single concussion, thus leading to a build-up of cognitive damage and persistent symptoms.
Finally, a soccer collision in the spring of her junior year of high school was so severe that Yong Li was forced to take a medical withdrawal from school for the rest of the school year. This would be the last soccer game she would ever play. It crushed her spirit. On top of that, she had to attend full-time summer school to retake her spring semester in order to graduate on time. Doctors told her she could never play any contact sport ever again. The risk to her long-term mental and physical health was just too great.
Despite the upsetting setback, Yong Li would go on to university. But in the spring of her sophomore year, she slipped and banged her head on a wall pipe in her dorm. The brain injury was so serious that for the second time in three years, she was forced to take a medical withdrawal from school. Somehow, thanks to her stubborn determination, Yong Li overcame this latest misfortune and completed her nursing school education, graduating Magna Cum Laude.
Yong Li began her career as a cardiology nurse. After a few years, she decided to pursue a DNP (Doctor of Nursing Practice) program to become a Nurse Practitioner. While going to grad school part-time and working full-time, one day she was working with a difficult patient who was in such an agitated mental state she had to be strapped to her hospital bed. When the patient asked if she could use the bathroom, Yong Li cautiously removed the straps and helped her up out of the bed. Then in a flash, the patient, completely unprovoked, angrily landed a severe blow directly on Yong Li’s temple with her fist. Yong Li fell hard, smashing her head forcefully into the hard linoleum floor. She briefly lost consciousness.
Yong Li on her graduation day from Nursing School.
This time, her traumatic brain injury was so extensive that Yong Li could barely speak or even open her eyes for days. When she tried to talk, her words came out so slurred she sounded like she was drunk. She could not concentrate at all. She couldn’t conduct even a short conversation because it hurt her brain too much.
She had to undergo intensive therapy of all types – cognitive, speech, balance, psychological, and more – for almost three years. Her cognitive impairment was initially so profound that doctors were doubtful she would ever be able to work in the healthcare field again, let alone become a nurse practitioner. She had to face the stark reality that she might be forced into a future of part-time low-paying jobs because the concept of her working a full eight-hour shift was unthinkable, according to the doctors.
But Yong Li never gave up. She spent just under three years in intensive physical therapy, going to multiple medical appointments most weeks, slowly, painfully regaining her ability to concentrate, communicate, and handle stress. During this grueling period, she was unable to work for almost three years and had to withdraw completely from her graduate program. She came close to losing all her academic credits because so much time had passed.
Eventually, incredibly, she returned to work, albeit only part-time for the first year. But slowly, over time, she was able to increase her hours and return to full-time work. Today she is back working as a full-time nurse and once again pursuing her dreams of becoming a DNP.
After almost three years of watching Yong Li struggle to regain her cognitive function, Yong Li’s doctor told her dad that he was amazed at her progress. “She’s a real fighter.,†he said. “Most people in her situation just give up. It’s too hard, too overwhelming, and too emotionally draining, to keep going. The progress is just so slow, it becomes demoralizing. But she never gave up. She is one tough young woman.â€
Yes, she is. Yong Li never gave up. She has always been a fighter. It’s one of the many things that her father always admired about her. And I should know. I’m her dad.Â
Me with my amazing, resilient young daughter, Yong Li.
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by TEJ | Mar 14, 2025 | Fun and Leisure Humor, Parenting and Family humor
One of the many unexpected aspects of being married to my lovely wife is the frequent opportunities to demonstrate my patience, by which I mean WAITING… and WAITING… and WAITING. But the reasons I have to wait are not what you think.
A common complaint of many husbands is having to wait for their wives. Waiting as she picks out an outfit; waiting for her to finish putting on makeup; waiting in the store for her to pick out the perfect lamp for the living room. Waiting at the hospital while she takes forever to deliver their baby.
You will never hear me make any such complaints about my wife – although there was that one time when I got a flat tire. It took her forever to jack up the car and put on the spare. I got so bored waiting for her to finish. A guy can only play Solitaire on their phone so many times before it gets repetitive.
The truth is, in most aspects of our wonderful life together, my wife rarely makes me wait. She can be very decisive. What I’m not quite as fond of is the way my dear wife takes FOREVER whenever we are visiting an interesting place, particularly one that has a lot of incredible scenery or fascinating history. Once there, if we see ANYTHING REMOTELY WORTH TAKING A PHOTO OF, well, that’s when the problems begin. Did I mention my wife is an artist? She does oil paintings of landscapes – mountains, flowers, birds, seashores, and interesting architecture. She is very accomplished and well known for her artwork.
Because of her passion for her art, whenever we take a hike to check out, say a pristine lake or some lovely beach or a historic castle or a cathedral or a heron sitting on a log, my wife has an uncontrollable impulse to take several photographs. Let me clarify. When I say, “take several photographs,†I don’t mean three or four photos of the very same thing. That’s what a normal person might do. My wife is not normal. No, she’ll take three or four DOZEN photos of the very same thing. Why does she obsess over getting the perfect shot? She claims it’s so she can make oil paintings from her photos.
Recently we took a stroll along a beach near our home. She loved the way the sunlight reflected off the waves as they lapped along the shore. I’ll admit it was a lovely, tranquil maritime setting. That’s why I took two photos… and my wife took 125. She kept on clicking over and over. Thirty years ago, when people used film to take pictures, my wife knew that each snap of the camera’s shutter cost money to develop. So, she was conservative in her click-count.
Thanks to the age of digital cameras, she can now take a myriad of shots, and they’re all free. Whoever invented the digital camera, that person has seriously threatened our marriage and my sanity. That’s because my wife sees nothing wrong with spending hours photographing every possible nuance of a babbling brook, while I sit around waiting for her to run out of steam. She never does. She’s the Energizer Bunny of taking pictures.
My wife is a gifted artist. She paints landscapes in oil of the natural beauty near where we live. Just one problem. She is forever in search of the PERFECT SHOT!
One time we were on vacation in Rome when we decided to explore the famous Coliseum. Big mistake. My wife stopped every ten feet to take fifteen to twenty photos of the very same building from a slightly different angle, apparently in pursuit of a Pulitzer-Prize-winning photograph. If you’re curious as to which of the 800+ photos she took of this ancient Roman ruin she ultimately used to paint from, the correct answer would be none of them. She decided not to do a painting – probably because she was sure she would have better luck clicking hundreds of photos of the canals of Venice or a row of Vespa scooters in Milan.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my wife. And her landscape paintings are truly amazing. But I have seen glaciers crawl forward in less time than it takes for her to finish taking photos of, say, a crawling glacier. I’ve learned to accept this peculiar quirk about my wife. Whenever I’m forced to wait around while she clicks away in search of the perfect closeup of a tulip, I try to make productive use of my spare time by getting caught up on my latest Stephen King  novel… or chopping down tree branches and erecting a lean-to, to take a nap. She’s going to be a while.
Our house is filled with dozens of her original paintings – on just about every wall of every room, I pretty much live in an art gallery. Before long we will run out of wall space for her art. Maybe then she’ll dial back on the need to take hundreds of photos of every waterfall she sees.
Who am I kidding? She’s not going to change. But I have discovered a way to give her a taste of her own medicine. In the evening, when we sit down to watch a movie together, I deliberately take an annoyingly long time to decide on a film. I’ll check out the trailers of ten different movies, until in exasperation she whines, “FOR GOD’S SAKE, JUST PICK ONE!â€Â
It drives her crazy. Let’s just say we’re even.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
#marriage #challengesofmarriedlife #husbandsandwives #waitingformywife #naturephotography
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by TEJ | Aug 31, 2024 | Parenting and Family humor
One of my favorite photos of my sister Betsy, with one of the many dogs she rescued and loved deeply.
My closest friend is my wife Michele. We’ve been married for 37 years. She is my rock, my partner, a patient and involved mother to our two daughters, and someone who has put up with my lame, sophomoric humor far longer than anyone should have to endure. Everybody tells her she must be a saint to still be married to me (either that or a masochist).
But for most of my life, my second best friend has been my sister, Betsy. She was born three years after me. Tragically, in 2021, amid a mounting toll of increasingly unrelenting physical and mental health challenges, she finally lost her battle fighting lifelong depression. She died of suicide.
A day does not go by that I don’t think about my sister. But with each passing month, my deep grief has slowly made room for happier memories of the many wonderful adventures (and misadventures) we had together. I once wrote a serious piece called Twelve Teachers, in which I shared my observations about twelve people who have most powerfully impacted my life for the better. Betsy was at the top of that list.
We were the two youngest of five children. As a result, we spent more time together than with our three elder siblings. Betsy became the historian of my childhood, years later remembering minute details about things and people about which I had long since forgotten.
I have always been a bit risk averse. That was never Betsy’s constraint. She never minded making a complete fool of herself if it would bring laughter to someone else. She relished pushing the envelope to try new things.
One time, the two of us, along with a friend, went to an amusement park. Betsy saw that they had a bungee jump attraction. You wear a harness and are then hoisted up by a cable until you are dangling some 200 feet above the ground before being jettisoned into the open air below.. You’ have to be insane to attempt this – or be Betsy. She did it, while my friend and I looked on in near terror, and she kept laughing riotously as she bounced up and down.
Betsy and me (yes, that’s me with a beard) after our almost disastrous misadventure skydiving. It was all Betsy’s idea.
When we were both at Ohio State (me for graduate school and Betsy for undergraduate), she begged me unrelentingly to join her in taking a one-day skydiving course. I will never forget the churning emotions I felt as I watched my younger sister voluntarily jump out of a plane at 5,000 feet – only to do the same myself moments later. That was Betsy – always pushing herself – and me – beyond our comfort zones just to have a new story to tell.
When we were both in our twenties, Betsy persuaded me to join her backpacking through Europe. We hopped on trains, sometimes without a clear plan for where our next destination would be. Over two months, we explored France, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Ireland, and more. It is because of Betsy that to this day, I have a love of traveling the world.
Betsy continued to travel on her own or with friends in the decades to follow. Like me, she had her own Grumpy teddy bear that she would take with her. We would compete for who could take our Grumpy to more exotic destinations, me taking a photo of my Grumpy in China, Betsy matching me with a photo of her Grumpy atop Machu Picchu. This went on for decades.
Betsy after her appearance on NBC’s TODAY SHOW, With Katie Couric and Betsy’s twins, Kevin and Tyler.
Betsy had twins in 1990, and nine years later, on their 9th birthday on 9-9-99, she found a way to get on NBC’s The Today Show because of it. It involved a mishap caused by my overly aggressive driving (no one was hurt). Only Betsy could find a way to get on national TV for having twins. But she did. If you’re curious as to the backstory, you can read my article here.
Betsy found joy and laughter in everyday life – baking cookies for new neighbors, babysitting a neighbor’s dog for them if they were out of town. She had a contagious laugh that is impossible to describe. But when she broke out in hysterical laughter – sometimes when she had made a deeply embarrassing mistake – it was impossible not to join her for the ride and get caught up in her exuberant fit of laughter.
More than anyone I ever knew, Betsy could find ways to create joyful chaos and silliness in the most unexpected situations. One time, we were at a water park, at the top of one of the water slides. Just as the park employee told Betsy it was safe for her to push off, Betsy looked back at me and shouted to me – loud enough for the employee to hear – “Tim, I have to tell you something. I want to break up†– right before she disappeared down the chute. The employee no doubt must have been mortified by someone “breaking up†in this seemingly cruel, insensitive manner. But that was Betsy’s wacky sense of humor.
July 2016: One of my happiest days ever with Betsy: a perfect sunny day on a ferry boat ride to Friday Harbor, San Juan Islands.
If you want to understand where I learned how to be juvenile, silly, and completely willing to embarrass myself in front of others, now you know the source: Betsy. One of the reasons I love to make people laugh is because of how effortlessly my sister demonstrated this talent throughout her life. Even when she was struggling with bouts of depression or anxiety, she could still find the humor in an otherwise difficult situation and make me laugh uncontrollably.
Betsy was also a teacher – one who deeply loved her students. For several years she taught English as a foreign language to adult immigrants. She went to extraordinary lengths to find creative ways to make her classes fun and engaging. This should not come as any surprise, but many of her students became long-term friends with her as a result, with many routinely inviting Betsy into their homes for meals.
Through her example, Betsy made me want to be a more caring, selfless person. Despite living a very modest life, always on the financial precipice, she was one of the most generous people I ever knew. She always thought about the needs of the people around her before herself. It was just how she was wired. In early 2021, less than two months before my sister’s passing, I came up with the idea of trying to get 100 people from all over the country to send our mom 100 birthday cards to celebrate her 100th birthday. My part was the easy part. Promote the idea on Facebook and in emails. But all the cards were mailed to Betsy to sort through and organize.
Betsy received over 400 birthday cards for our mom. She opened up every card and assembled several dozen posters displaying the overwhelming outpouring of kindness to our mom. But the incredible part was when I later learned that Betsy had taken the time to send most of these people a personal, handwritten thank-you letter for sending our mom a card. She wrote hundreds of thank you letters – most of them to complete strangers. Who does such a thing? My sister, that’s who.
My all-time favorite photo of me with Betsy, with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. Nobody could make me laugh like she could. Nobody.
Betsy taught me the importance of expressing appreciation for the people who help us along the way. Nobody I’ve ever known had more friends than my sister. The only things she loved as much as the people in her life were her many cats and dogs she rescued over the years.
I learned so many life lessons from my sister: the importance of having close friendships, showing gratitude, giving to others without expecting anything in return, and finding laughter and joy in the most mundane or unexpected situations.
I am far from perfect. I have many flaws. Just ask my kids or anyone who knows me well. But I know this for a certainty: I am a better person because of the powerful formative role my sister Betsy played in shaping the man I am today. And I will always be grateful to her for that gift.
Sis, you will forever be in my heart.
[Note: If you, a loved one, or a friend is struggling with depression, anxiety, or other form of mental illness, a wonderful resource – and one our family has personally worked with – is NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness. – TEJ ]
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by TEJ | Jun 4, 2024 | Parenting and Family humor, Political humor
In the Garden of Eden, everything was going great until Eve tempted Adam to disobey God and eat the apple. That’s when all Hell broke out. The moral of the story: It’s all the girl’s fault – at least that’s what I got out of the story. Maybe I’m wrong.
I discovered there are some extremely helpful life lessons found in the Bible. For example, the story of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden. When the serpent tempted Eve to eat the forbidden fruit, she selfishly convinced Adam to do the same, even though this was strictly against God’s direct order not to eat the apple. When Adam caved to her unrelenting nagging, God banished both of them into the wilderness and destroyed the Tree of Knowledge. I think the takeaway lesson from this story is clear: Adam may have screwed up, but technically, it was really mostly Eve’s fault. Like 90%.
Just as Adam blamed Eve for his ill-advised decision, there have been a spate of recent news stories about other men throwing their wives under the proverbial bus, blaming them for the husband’s own bad behavior. New Jersey Senator Robert Menendez was indicted for a bribery scheme involving hundreds of thousands of dollars in gifts and cash. When the Feds caught him red-handed with the loot, including actual bars of gold bullion, the Senator manned up and took the fall. I’m just kidding. He denied everything and blamed his wife for the entire scandal, claiming she kept him in the dark about her scheme.
Then there’s Samuel Alito. This nice man is a justice on the U.S. Supreme Court, holding one of our nation’s most trusted positions of power. It was recently reported that for several days in the immediate aftermath of the January 6th storming of the U.S. Capitol, he flew an American flag upside down in his front yard. The upside down flag is widely known to symbolize support by people sympathetic to the “Stop the Steal†election-denying cause.
When confronted by journalists as to why a Supreme Court Justice would prominently display such an obvious symbol of political protest at his residence only days before Biden was sworn in, Alito did the noble thing: He blamed his wife. He claimed he had nothing to do with it and that his wife had put up the flag due to a spat she was embroiled in with an anti-Trump neighbor. Well played, Sammy. Well played.
Left: NJ Senator Robert Menendez; Right: Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito. What do these men have in common: Both their wives hate them, since they both blamed them for their own bad behavior.
The obvious takeaway for husbands is that it’s perfectly acceptable to blame your wife when you get caught doing something reckless or morally egregious. For too many years, we husbands have been held accountable by our wives simply for making boneheaded, impulsive, and poorly thought-out decisions which we hoped our wives would never find out about. It’s time we held our ground and shifted the blame for our many failings squarely where it belongs: with our wives.
Let me explain how this works. Say you’ve been jonesing for a 20-foot power boat for years, but your wife keeps pointing out that “we can’t afford it.†This despite the fact that you’ve never once complained about all the times she’s gotten her hair done at that fancy salon.
My advice, following in the footsteps of inspirational men like Menendez and Alito, is to ignore her protestations. Go out and buy that boat anyway. You deserve it. And if she ever finds out (which is possible since it’s hard to hide a 20-foot boat in your garage), just blame your impulse purchase on your wife.
Point out that when she said, “You really shouldn’t buy that boat,†you thought she meant, “Oh, my, you really shouldn’t, my darling†the way southern women in the movies often blush and say things like that when what they really mean is “Oh, my, Thank you, darling. How did you know? I just love it. Of course, I will have sex with you tonight.†Explain how you bought it for HER, not even thinking about yourself, and how you plan to name her boat “Beautiful Gal†in her honor. And how the dealer doesn’t accept returns after the sale.
But be careful about trying this technique if you’re thinking about buying those top-of-the-line titanium Calloway golf clubs without her permission. She might not be convinced you bought them for her, given the last time she played golf was 1994 – and all the holes came with castles, clown faces, and pirate ships.
Let’s say you just put half of your retirement nest egg into some convoluted cryptocurrency scheme your buddy Artie told you was sure to quadruple your investment in five months. Say it tanks, becoming totally worthless. Remember, it’s not your fault. It’s HER fault. After all, your wife was the one who once said, “Gosh, I wish we’d invested in Google back when it first went public.†So, clearly she was giving you her tacit permission to try to load up on the next unicorn buying opportunity.
Is it your fault that it turned out that your $200,000 investment in BUBBA BUCKS crypto turned out to be pyramid scheme run by an ex-con named Bubba who had recently served ten years for defrauding people by selling them non-existent condos on the moon? Okay, technically, yeah, it IS your fault. But that’s beside the point. Your wife planted the idea in your brain with that Google comment. So, she’s at least half to blame.
See this poor husband? He’s grossly overweight from eating junk food and never exercising. But it’s not his fault. Blame his wife for serving him his favorite foods and letting him lie on the couch and watch football for hours on end without ever complaining.
Imagine you arrive home at 2am, after playing poker with your buddies – instead of 10pm like you promised your wife – and your wife notices the car’s front bumper has been badly smashed in. Once again, it’s not your fault that you forgot to press the garage door remote, and as a result drove straight into the closed garage door. It could have happened to anyone who was as drunk as you were.
This is clearly your wife’s fault. She should have called you to remind you when the clock struck 10pm to come home NOW! But she didn’t. She deliberately let you keep playing poker and doing tequila shots. So, why should you be blamed simply for failing to notice the garage door was shut when you rammed your Ford F-150 pickup truck into it at 32 mph?
In any healthy marriage, the wife needs to accept at least 50% of the blame for your mistakes. If she really loves you, she’ll agree to take more like 75%. Remember, guys. We’re just men. We’re designed to fuck up. It’s in our caveman DNA. If your wife couldn’t figure that out by the time she agreed to marry you, if you ask me, that’s on her.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.Â
Subscribe to my View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my latest book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’m Open to Suggestions).
