They’re here; they’re everywhere. We’ve all had the sheer enjoyment of working either with them or for them. Some of us are even unfortunate enough to have them as family members.

Eight years is a long time to wait for anything, but soon the wait will finally be over. Halloween has once again fallen on a Friday night.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and with one look at our bank account and stock portfolio statements, it seems like yours truly and company are sure enough at the bottom of this economic downturn.

It was once said by someone much smarter than me, “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make any noise?”

The Wife and I diverted from our normal Tuesday night television routine to watch the Presidential debate. Boy, was that a big mistake!

I’ve been called many things over the years, but until last weekend I’ve never been called a DINK. A doofus – yes. A DINK – no. And who placed this new label I now wear with pride on me?? It was none other than The Wife.

A real-estate agent came by our house the other day and gave us a free assessment as to its value. With the ever-changing housing market, we thought it was a good idea. Okay, I thought it would be a good idea. The Wife was getting irritated at her husband for bringing a critical stranger in the house during nap time.

When I was growing up, my dad told me more times than I could count, “Life’s just too short to worry about the little stuff. You only need to worry about big stuff.”

It came in the mail one day as if by magic. I didn’t request it, didn’t fill out any forms, nor did anyone call conducting a phone survey during dinner. I just opened the mailbox, and there it was. In a red, white and blue envelope was a welcome letter congratulating me for making it to my golden years – and a shiny new AARP card with my name embossed on the front.

Today started like any other day. I got up, walked the dog for an hour, ate breakfast, and kissed The Wife goodbye as she went off to work. It was my day off so I spent some time in the basement, did a little yard work and around noon came inside for lunch. I cut on the news just in time for the special report and immediately lost my appetite. It seems that the entire state of Georgia is at war with the Russians.

Just before I do something stupid, I hear a little voice in my head warning me about the impending danger. Some call the voice a conscience. Others call it the voice of reason. And still others call it a voice from above. Me? I just call the voice in my head Fred.

The generation gap is something I’ve heard about all of my life, but never really believed in. The other day was when I realized that not only does the gap exist, but just how far that gap has widened for me.

It seems to me that life is about knowing the right answers, knowing when to speak them and knowing when to keep your big fat mouth shut. I first became aware of this at the tender age of 6. That is when us boys, lined up in front of Dad, were being interrogated as to how Mom’s crystal vase got smashed, the one they got in Europe during their honeymoon.

Marriage is a conversation, and ours has been a wonderful dialogue for the last nine years. Today we celebrated our anniversary in the house that we built together.

Goofy Steve seemed so sure of himself. He stood alone in the middle of the street, nose to nose with Down the Street Bully Brad. Though he faced insurmountable odds of surviving the next few minutes, he didn’t waver from his conviction. Bully Brad had gone too far: he had teased his little sister, and it was time to put a stop to it.

I can testify that we in the South consume lots of strange things. Dad used to say that we eat every part of the pig except the squeak. Ears, tails, feet and snouts — it seems we have strong stomachs. Did I mention we eat those, too?

After talking with my dad last weekend, it seems I had several misconceptions about him while I was growing up.

We had a large family: four boys, one girl, two dogs, and a green parakeet that ate hushpuppies off Dad’s head. The first misconception was the reason we had a garden every year. I thought it was for additional food to feed the family. Come to find out, this was not the reason Dad spent so much time in the backyard.

As far back as I can remember, Dad told me if I live a good and righteous life, God would never give me a task I could not handle. Never would I be faced with a decision I could not make.

The lights flashed on at Candi’s house. They were eyes peering into the darkness of the outside world. Yellow spilled out onto the front lawn and illuminated the green grass and a thick grove of trees, but that wasn’t all. Among the shadows of the pines, seven wide-eyed teenagers stood frozen like deer caught in headlights – and I was one of them.

The evidence was clear, and it covered our hands and faces. There was no denying it, but we still tried. What else could we do? My three brothers and I had just devoured all of Mom’s imported chocolate and gotten caught red-handed. Or should I say chocolate-handed?

Some rather stupid stuff has been done over the years. Trust me, I know. I was there doing it.

It’s amazing that I’ve made it this long without some serious injury. Like the time Big Brother James encouraged me to throw a rock at a hornet’s nest in the old dead oak tree up at the lake. That’s how Mom found out I was allergic to bee stings and how I learned that the head of an 8-year-old could swell up to the size of a basketball if stung by a bazillion angry hornets.

The fact the deck had been both swept off and stained a deep redwood didn’t startle The Wife. The fact that for two nights the back door stood closed but unlocked did.

Like most kids, we had to do a lot of listening while we were growing up. Some of us did it better than others. Mom used to say we needed to listen twice as much as we talked.

WARNING: this story is very timely, but it’s far from being funny. Funny will return next week; serious is here this week.

For two people who think so much alike, sometimes The Wife and I don’t always define things the same way. Last weekend was a good example.

Dad wouldn’t allow any animals to live in our house when we were growing up. He didn’t want anything else to feed or clean up after.

There once was a time when a lie was a lie. That time is no longer. When I was a boy, somehow the line between truth and outright lies has been blurred. Seemingly, nowhere is that line less defined than in the political arena of today. Caution: you have entered the world of misspeak.

Lately I’ve been told that I live in my own little world. That the way I view stuff is totally different than the way most people do.

We were cold, hungry, and miserable. When the night closed in, fat rain drops pounded us mercilessly, as if to punish us for the worry we were undoubtedly causing our parents. The wind howled like a stricken soul as we clung to our perch. We hung on so the wind and rain would not sweep us away as we chased any thoughts of sleep from our minds, knowing if we slept, we’d surely fall and die.

There are many things you can do to insure a happy marriage. Throwing out chocolate a week after Valentine’s Day because everyone in the house is supposed to be on a diet ain’t one of them.