Johnny Writes Letters

There is a business in a town called Greenville that uses a similar spelling of my last name.

Periodically I have had reason to drive by and every time I do I play around with buying a can of spray paint so that I can fix the name as there ought to be just one L in it.

Sometimes people have asked me if I am related to them but I don’t think there is one, especially since they don’t know the proper spelling of my name.

I haven’t any sense of whether they are good at what they do or if the business is successful nor any reason to try to find out.

Not long ago someone asked me about it and I said that prior to my current position I had something that tied in more closely with it but was still a world away.

They asked me what it was and I said it was called Johnny Writes Letters.

“Who do you write them to and for?”

I smiled and said “for June of course.”

They asked me how it worked out and I said pretty well because she kissed me first.

Apparently they considered that a non-answer and made a point to say the first part was a non-answer too.

When they pressed me on it I asked them if they were interested in learning how I engage with telemarketers and they said they didn’t have time.

That worked for me and I moved the conversation to what was important and as I prepared to leave they asked me again for an answer.

I smiled and wished them well.

Forty Years Later

The boys who asked When To Take Your Shot weren’t at the gym today but there was another group that looked like it was composed primarily of high school kids.

Two of the three bench presses were being used by groups of the youngsters and for a time I watched and waited for them to finish.

One got up and walked away but left his bag at the bench.

I asked him if he was done and he said no, “I have more sets.”

Since he had grabbed some free weights and started working with those I said I would work in with him on the bench.

“I have more sets to do.”

“You can’t be in two places at once. I’ll jump on while you play with these.”

I emphasized “play” but didn’t wait for an answer and finished two sets of my own on the bench before he finished what he was doing.

As I walked by it sounded like he said forty years later and I told him I have been working out in gyms for more than 40 years.

“It is gym etiquette and common courtesy to not try to monopolize equipment.”

I haven’t figured out yet why so many of these kids are unfamiliar with how things work. I have worked out all over the country and never run into this nonsense with this kind of regularity.

Was it the lock down? Are these kids just entitled?

I am not sure. This gym is in the same location as the gym I worked out at prior to the lock down.

That one didn’t survive Covid and so a new one came in. What I know is it wasn’t like this before.

Sometimes I wonder if it is me because I am far more serious about getting in and out than I was in the old days.

Could be a combination, not sure, but I try to lift during the slower hours so that I don’t run into this.

****

Overall the time at the gym is good and I see progress which makes it easier to get after it.

Sometimes I look at the younger Mr. Wilner and ask him if has any clue what he could do if he applied himself there.

He listens but he doesn’t hear me the way I want to be heard and that is ok. Because I want him to be able to do what I once did and he doesn’t have that same interest and that really is ok.

He doesn’t have to be me.

What I am really saying is I wish that I could get that piece back and use a twenty-something year-old body instead of a fifty something.

I know what the twenty something can do and like so many almost middle aged man like the idea of being able to go back and capitalize upon earned knowledge.

Can’t blame a guy for wanting a shot at the things that tug at his heart. The important part is to focus on what is possible and what isn’t.

Time Together

Found out one of my oldest friends is going to be in LA the same time I am. It was an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

His mom still lives in the same house he grew up in so I’ll get to say hello to her and to spend time in the old neighborhood.

I am tempted to ask if their garage still has bikes in it and suggest we ought to take them out.

That would really be like a trip back in time. We rode our bikes everywhere throughout the year but especially during the summer.

Countless miles away from any sort of parental oversight with no fear of crossing major streets to get where we wanted to go.

It was a different time, a different world.

Now we both live in different states so it is harder to get together. Can’t tell you when the last sleepover was, but we’ll take advantage of whatever time we get.

And there is no guarantee that we won’t start wrestling on the floor. The day in which we don’t because we can’t and not because we choose not to will be sad day indeed.

Time moves ever so quickly.