By Martin H. Levinson

At the end of the day, the day is over. That’s the God’s honest truth. If you want a longer day get up at the crack of dawn. Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Some people strut their stuff, line their ducks up in a row, step into the sunshine, and have the time of their lives. Well gather ye rosebuds while ye may but the world is no one’s oyster. Life’s a long, hard slog and in the end we all have to pay the piper.

Other people go through existence with their backs against the wall, always at loose ends; thinking what doesn’t kill them makes them stronger. To these folks, life’s a bitch and then you marry one. Hey, I’m not going to bury my head in the sand and say life’s a bowl of cherries, but the show must go on, the game’s worth the candle; so eat, drink, and be merry.

But don’t sink your teeth into too much food—quit while you’re ahead. That’s the best way to keep oneself fit as a fiddle. While it’s okay to let yourself go now and again, if you eat like a horse and drink like a fish you can bet your bottom dollar you’ll be pushing up daisies sooner rather than later.

Speaking of flowers, I know a place where, come hell or high water, cheap blossoms are there for the asking. You can have them for a song. If you think I’m pulling your chain, call my bluff and take a gander at the joint.

To keep the ball rolling, I also know where clothes can be bought on the cheap. It’s as easy as pie to get to, even for people who can’t find their way out of a paper bag and are dumber than a box of rocks. And the service there is to die for. The employees don’t have a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. They go the extra mile for you.

Like every Tom, Dick, and Harry, I want to be served at warp speed when I go shopping. It drives me up a wall when I enter a store and the salesclerks are just chewing the fat with each other and taking up space. Hey, I’m busier than a ten-peckered dog in a hydrant factory. I don’t have time to screw around.

And lots of salespeople don’t know diddlysquat. It seems every time I ask a salesperson about a product they say, “It’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.” But I guess I should count my blessings. I could be told, “I’m busy right now, get back to you in a jiff” and then the person waiting on me takes a powder and afterwards I don’t see hide nor hare of them.

I yearn for the golden times of yesteryear, when sellers laid their cards on the table and you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail to be waited on. You know, the good old days, when all was right with the world. But that era has come and gone. Now it’s every man for himself, rob Peter to pay Paul, do whatever tickles your pickle.

I hope you don’t think I’m like a time bomb waiting to explode. I’m not. I can take it or leave it, ride the tide, go with the flow. But lately I’ve been up to my neck in alligators and that’s made it difficult for me to maintain an even keel. Still, my Momma didn’t raise no fool and I want to age gracefully, so I’m going to try to be cool and not lose my marbles. At the end of the day, that’s a far better philosophy than popping one’s cork and wearing oneself to a frazzle. You just got to keep your chin up and keep your wit’s about you because there is always light at the end of the tunnel.