According to Ed

Ed, my neighbor next door, has his angry side like we all do. Recently, Ed’s been steamed up and ready to explode. Usually, Ed has a long fuse and can take a good amount of irritation before he blows up in anger, but not the last few weeks. Ruby claims almost anything can have Ed bristling and barking in a temper. Of course, Ed did not see it that way and said Ruby was just imagining a grumpiness that wasn’t there. That lead to a challenge that Ed could not go five days in a row without blowing up in anger.

The five days were full of reasons for Ed to get angry. The part to fix his tractor finally arrived along with a bill that had Ed slamming the door of the Quonset, since he couldn’t call the company and yell at them in anger. Ruby claimed slamming the door was an explosion of anger, but Ed explained he was just getting bursts of fresh air, because the cost of the tractor part was so high he could not breathe.

Ed, my neighbor next door, was a bachelor last week, as Ruby, his wife, was in Edmonton for some appointments and family matters. The rainy, dull weather forced Ed to work on his machinery out at his farm. Ed takes Ruby’s cell phone to the farm in case he needs to make a call for some reason. Too bad Ruby hadn’t taken it to Edmonton with her, because Ed set it on the bench in the Quonset while he was working on his troublesome tractor and Rex, his dog, took an interest in it.

Ed spotted his dog with the cell phone in its mouth. Ed gave a yell and dropped his wrench and took off after the dog. The dog thought it was a game and raced around inside the building and out the open door. Around the Quonset the dog went abounding – up for a game of “catch me if you can.” Ed ran after the dog in desperation, yelling at the dog in the most unflattering manner. After three times around the shed, Ed had to stop to catch his breath and that is when the dog came and dropped the cell phone in a mud puddle near Ed’s feet. Ed, reacting in sheer panic, rushed to get it out the water and accidently stepped on the phone.

Ed, my neighbor next door, has been having the worst kind of tractor trouble out at his farm. The engine won’t start and the payments won’t stop. Ed tends to fix and service his own machinery as much as possible. The thought of needing to pay to get his tractor healthy again has Ed clutching his wallet under his pillow each night in troubled sleep. Ed has the right and freedom to service his own tractor himself to save money, but he is also has the right and freedom to pay someone else to do it if he cannot keep it running.

Ed also has the right and freedom to sleep with his wallet under his pillow. He says he knows where his money is at all times, as he is either sitting on his wallet in his back pocket or sleeping on it. He has his wallet covered night or day. Ed’s wallet is important to him because the money in it is his own.

Ed, my neighbor next door, was a little late catching up on the news that the age for obtaining Old Age Security is changing from 65 to 67. Ed was on a countdown of eight years to 65 when he would start to get the Old Age Pension. All of a sudden, Ed heard that his countdown was going to ten years instead of eight. Ed is concerned that he not only has to wait longer, but the next thing he figures is that the pension will be much less when he does get it. I told Ed not to worry, as in ten years or so there will be so many of us old guys and gals that the politicians will be forced to be nice to get our votes.

When Baby Boomers were working and paying taxes, they weren’t seen as a drain on society; but as they begin to retire in larger numbers, they would seem to be seen as too plentiful and threatening pension funds. Strange, how the government never saw this big group coming, in all these years of Old Age Pension management.

Ed, my neighbor next door, insisted he was doing me a favor yesterday. When Ed heard I was heading off to Saskatoon to pick up our seven-year-old granddaughter, he volunteered to come for the ride. I knew it was going to be a long day when I hit my forehead on the trunk lid while loading the car. On a four-hour drive to Saskatoon by myself, I bring several of my favorite music CDs and look forward to some good music and a leisurely talk to God in prayer. This is always in contrast to my trip home with my granddaughter who doesn’t believe in any silence in a four-hour drive.

It seemed like Ed was the one with a week off school, as he was really cranked up on our drive to the city. Unless Ed and I get into an argument, conversation between us is not an issue because Ed is never short of words. Even if we stop to get a coffee, Ed winds up talking to 98 % of the people in the truck stop. Ed is one of those people who believes if he talks everyone will be thrilled and delighted to listen to him. On a scale of one to ten, Ed is a ten out of ten for nonstop talking. Ruby, Ed’s wife, has commented that Ed’s talking can cause headaches.

Ed, my neighbor next door, received an Easter greeting he greatly resented this year. His relatives from Edmonton spent Easter here in Melville with him and Ruby. A nephew let slip that Ed sure had become a lot balder and that crows’ feet were growing all around the corners of his eyes. Of course, Ed argued that he had as much hair as ever and no more wrinkles than the last time they saw each other.

Boy was Ed disgusted with me when I agreed with his nephew’s observation! I went way too far when I suggested he look in a mirror with his ball cap off. “A mirror doesn’t lie,” I thoughtlessly blurted out. It was one of those times I should have bitten my tongue rather than let it flap around in the wind of my inconsiderate words.

Sometimes, the simplest question sets Ed, my neighbor next door, off on an intense ramble. This happened when I asked him if he saw the movie “Hunger Games.” Ed told me that he didn’t need to see any fool movie, because he lives “Hunger Games!”

“Unless a farmer plays the game of chance each season, people will go hungry! Farmers take all the risks in the game of farming,” Ed lectured me. He concluded with the questions, “Why would anyone go to a movie named, ‘Hunger Games?’ Is it like that ‘Biggest Loser’ program on television?”

“It is a good story about love and sacrifice, innocence and intimidation, the victory of good over evil. You’d like it Ed, because the government is hated and seen as evil and vindictive,” I answered.

Ed, my neighbor next door, claims it wasn’t his fault. A nasty virus has picked on him while he has been minding his own business and leaving everyone else alone.

“Those viruses are sneaky. You never see them coming. One minute you’re fine and the next you are feeling like the cow kicked you in the head. Then it gets worse, because there is an elephant sitting on your chest and you cough so deep and hard that your liver is shaking hands with your tonsils. You need sympathy, but most try to keep clear of you and the few who do come close are coughing and whining worse than you,” I told Ed.

Ed, my neighbor next door, recently joked, “What do call a farmer who lives in town?” Without waiting for my reply he answered, “A town house commuter.” Ed is a farmer who lives in town and drives out to his farm. Ed and Ruby’s farm house became worn out about ten years ago. It was either open heart surgery on the old house or build a new one. With retirement a growing spot on their horizon, they decided to build their new home in town instead of in the farm yard.

Town life has its perks for Ed, who now doesn’t need to drive into town to have coffee at the café with his buddies. It is not all positive for Ed. The downside is being a next-door-neighbor to me, a retired clergyman. Ed feels pastor types should be kept at a healthy distance – like the next province rather than the next yard.

Ed, my neighbor next door, was filling up his car’s gas tank when I stopped for gas yesterday. Naturally, I had to share with him the good news that our seventh grandchild was born into our family on Saturday. Ed sees having a baby as too costly these days. Nothing sets Ed off more than the thought of needing to spend money. He estimated a person would need the wages of seven jobs to pay for diapers, formula and baby food these days. Ed also likes to relate why he doesn’t like babies.

According to Ed, little babies manipulate whole households with their smiles and cries, terrorize with their dirty diapers, never sleep when everyone else is sleeping, and spit up second hand milk onto any innocent person who is holding them. Babies are as unpredictable as a mule – one minute they are fine and the next one they are crying so loud the Lord up in heaven can hear them. You can’t train them. They outmaneuver you every day, seven days a week. By the time they are about a year old, they run the house like an absolute dictator.