Eskewpades

  BUBBLES AND BITS WITH GRANDPA GOOFUS I love riding my bicycle and I adore playing with my cats, Shilalie and Shmeekie. So, shoot me already. Both activities bring out the kid inside of me. Makes me feel 70 again and all that rot. Unsurprisingly, my children think I’m beyond foolish, hinting that Poppy must be entering his second childhood.  That’s ridiculous. I’m still in my first. We moved to a retirement housing complex recently. While observing “Poppy’s reckless passion for biking,” my new neighbors smile patronizingly when they notice me pumping along with my hands off the handle bars. (I’m such a showoff). I imagine they’re thinking that the old boy is out to recapture his youth. Poppycock. The old boy is in his prime, baby.  Until lately, the only thing the neighbors have known about Poppy is that he’s quite the biker. They know nothing about my very favorite childhood passion. Cats.   Now I’ve decided I should probably tell them about my felines. Here’s why: Shilalie and Shmee

SOMETIMES A WORD OR TWO SAYS IT ALL.   BY STEVE ESKEW  PUBLISHED BY ERMA BOMBECK WRITERS' WORKSHOP WEBSITE I recently returned to my hometown of Grand Island Nebraska. In due time, I headed for a nightclub on the edge of town that has been in business for over 50 years, affectionately known as the Snake Pit. Back in my youth, when running water was a novelty, I worked after-school busing tables in that joint. The owner and I have been pen pals all these years.  During intense introspection that only a narcissist could appreciate, I came to realize that the Snake Pit housed many personalities that I’ve conceived both consciously and subconsciously as models for many of the characters in my writings. One guy in particular. Positioned like a wine cellar down under a 4-story country hotel, the Snake Pit has actually changed very little in 50 years. Still clean. Still fun. The proprietor and my longtime pen pal is a gal named Myrtle. She’s 86 now and she remi