Futile musings of an old ghost
Ramblings
Footprints of a Witness.
Poetry, short stories and a smidgen of real-life drama
Living slowly, adventuring often ✨️
The Poems of Sam Bartle
Gabriela Marie Milton - Three Times #1 Amazon Bestselling Poet, Pushcart Nominee, Publisher
Where curiosity meets opportunity
The musings and ramblings of a young poet.
Read, Look, Listen
Poetry BLOG By Edge of Humanity Magazine
Funny Blogs With A Hint Of Personal Development
through the darkness there is light
binge thinking and other things in life
Nature's nuances in a nutshell
Rock & Metal Reviews That Hit Hard
Life is a story, waiting to be told
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Our thoughts define us, so let's focus on a few.
Jerry Brotherton 
So true! :-D
HUGS!!! :-)
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When I was a teenager I thought being called a kid was an insult…now it is a compliment.
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When well-seasoned men call me “kid”, I tell them to get their eyes checked! ;-) :-P
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I love the ones who say…You young people don’t know how well you have it. Back in my day…
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Yeah.
And sometimes the “good old days” weren’t always good. Ha. :-D
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Agreed.
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ahem….and some adults too! wishing you lots of joy and peace this holiday season Jerry.
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The older I get, the more I can appreciate being called a youngster. Have a very wonderful Christmas Gina and I am looking forward to spending many hours of 2018 absorbed in reading your brilliant words.
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I think I get younger each day Jerry as I learn new things and see life with a different perspective. likewise I enjoy your writing and most of all the thoughts that show me your heart for the truly important things in life. blessed Christmas and a wonderful New Year to you!
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My father calls me and my boyfriend kids.
I’m 27. He is 29.
I love it :)
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I am over 60 and a customer just called me ‘kiddo’. Thanks for stopping by. Have a Merry Christmas.
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You’ve just brought up a couple of memories for me. When my boys were still in school, teachers/other parents often mistook me for a student even though I was usually there volunteering. One morning, I was headed into the front of the high school building, and a teacher who was walking across the parking lot yelled, “Hey! You can’t go in those doors!” When I turned around, he realized he knew me and apologized. Another time, I was volunteering in the concession stand at a high school basketball game with three students. During a lull in purchases, the four of us were taking a break, and the mom of one of the girls showed up. She asked, “Where’s your help?” The girl pointed at me, and the mom actually said, “That’s not a parent, that’s just a kid.” I was slightly annoyed, but I’m sure I’d be thrilled if someone mistook me for a kid today.
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That’s too funny.
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