Garret Mathews
Prostate Removal. Real Life – and a Bit of Humor!
In the summer of 2016, Mathews learned that his PSA (an enzyme produced by the prostate) was dangerously high. The best course of action, the family concluded, was a radical prostatectomy to remove the organ as well as surrounding lymph nodes. This was done in the (very) early morning hours of Nov. 1 at a hospital in Carmel. The 67-year-old Mathews...Read More
What If…We Actually DID Something?
A “personal opinion?” You bet. And…one to be proud of! Garret Mathews lived in Southern West Virginia from 1972 until 1987 where he wrote feature stories and, later, columns for the Bluefield Daily Telegraph. The newspaper’s circulation area includes McDowell County, one of the poorest counties in Appalachia. Before mine mechaniz...Read More
Garbage – Literally Speaking!
As a former summer replacement garbageman who once worked four consecutive days without throwing up, I must protest the automatic thingie used these days to hoist rubbish containers. If a modern-day garbage process-server comes across a receptacle that is too heavy, or too smelly, or too laden with dead rodents, he can affix it to a device on the b...Read More
And, Your Assignment Is…..
Your assignment today is to make a list of the absolute worst sports clichés. Here are a few bromides to get you started: “We’re in the business of winning games.” “It’s crunch time in our season and you gotta dance with what brung ya.” “(Insert name of phenom) is the real deal. I can tell you that.” “(Insert name of phenom) is the one you want in ...Read More
The Single Most Feared Experience from Our High-School Years: The Rope!
I spoke to a high school class the other day. Later, some students took me on a tour of the building that ended in the gymnasium. After several minutes of looking around the hardwood, I gave up. “OK, where is it?” I asked. The kids asked me to be more specific. “Just the bane of my existence when I was in PE, that’s all,” I replied. “The thing I fe...Read More
Several Jobs I Absolutely Don’t Want
There are several jobs I absolutely don’t want. Hemorrhoid doctor. Dentist. Roto-Rooter man. Undertaker. Elephant shoveler. After listening to ESPN Radio on a long car trip. I added a new one to the list. The sports person who has to ask star athletes about their groin injuries. It goes something like this: Reporter: “Gee, Barry, I couldn’t help bu...Read More
Flingin’ the ‘Ole Shot Put
I don’t know what you did last night, but I had a track and field tournament. Well, field. I have a 16-pound shot put that I fling to keep fit, and in hope one of the neighbors will call the cops to report Paul Bunyan is loose. My only competition was a second-grader up the street whose heave could be measured in inches, and a squirrel that chose n...Read More
In Defense: My Embattled (Male) Gender
I rise today to speak in defense of my embattled gender. From Boston to Berlin, we hear the same outcry from females of the species: “Why do you idiots park your carcasses in front of TV for hours at a time to watch brutes in red uniforms commit felonious assault against brutes in blue uniforms?” Put in simpler terms, ladies, you want to know wh...Read More
I’m Your Guy!
News item: At some corporations, young urban professionals too busy with careers and stock portfolios to follow sports have hired consultants to brief them on the subject so they can make good impressions on clients who follow bats and balls. Dear yuppies, Look no more. I’m your guy. I know crackback blocks, the low block and how to put on a jock w...Read More
Don’t Hyphenate ME…
Memo to family: Do not hyphenate me. I’m talking tombstone here. You have permission to take advantage of the early-bird special and buy the slab of rock. You do not have permission to carve in the year of my birth and leave the rest blank. There’s enough pressure in my life. I don’t want to take a stroll in the graveyard and see “Mathews” on the s...Read More
The 900 Number – Taking the Plunge
The classified advertisement says I can dial a 900 number and talk with a coed, a housewife or an older woman. My choice. Just $2.99 per minute. I call. “Do you have a voice preference?” a nice-sounding woman asks. Housewife, I answer, trying to sound assertive. “Please hold.” Thirty seconds of awful music. Then my housewife comes on the line. “Hi,...Read More
Half Soldier
“Hey, Garret, who’s your buddy in the front seat? Doesn’t look human.” He’s not. He’s a silhouette target for the military. Stands about three feet, six inches. Name is Half Soldier. “Looks all shot up.” He is. That’s what happens when troops fire at you. “Odd choice of a traveling companion, wouldn’t you say?” Not at all. Some people go ...Read More
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