ALL ABOARD | Old Yeller: No, not the movie, just little old me

No matter what day you read this, if my today is any indication, tomorrow will be a lot better.

I yelled at people today.

I usually only yell at myself.

Maybe it is because Mom looked so good in yellow that I am attracted to the first syllable of her favorite color.

Yelling in our house was just another way of saying

“I love you, but please get out of my space.”

Today I yelled at a nursing home office manager, a personal care coordinator and a Direct TV customer rep.

Funny thing is, I’m not a Direct TV customer.

I was just trying to help a friend with an erroneous billing before I lost it and began yelling at some kid on the other end of my rage.

My blood pressure today would have made the Good Cheer fundraising thermometer look like a Red Adair Fire Festival. If you have never heard of Red, he’s Double Double’s brother.

Speaking of brothers, and sisters, a very pleasant Armed Forces Day to you and yours.

I learned a lot more in the Marine Corps about yelling than I learned at home.

More than I ever thought possible.

More than when my dad yelled at me for using a seven-letter gerund in front of his name in a letter that my mom was going to mail for me on their way to Mississippi before she opened the letter and saw the seven-letter gerund.

I learned way much more in the Marine Corps about yelling than when my sister Linda yelled at me for accidentally stepping on our family parakeet, Calvin.

In the Marine Corps, we were yelled at any time of the day or night, but mostly when you least expected it.

Yelling is tougher at 3:15 in the morning when you have nothing on but oversized boxer shorts and a Parris Island, South Carolina sweaty T-shirt.

I was reminded of my boot camp days just yesterday when my head was attacked by a chatty barber.

Next time I won’t close my eyes.

Now my hair is so short that the wind can’t blow it.

Now my hair is too short to have a shadow.

Before I got my haircut, I looked old enough to be called “Sir.”

Now I look like I’m nine and on my way to recess.

Maybe that’s why I am yelling at social workers.

I have not had any recess in way too long.

All I have done lately is work, so I can complain about not having the time to do anything but make money. What a fix.

My attitude is tanking while I should be thanking.

Didn’t Burl Ives sing that?

Speaking of tunes, a decade of thanks to Ginny and Jerry Jones and their team for last night’s, sold-out, 10th Annual Whidbey Island Jazz Fest.

How glorious to enjoy excellent jazz with all our island middle school and high school jazz bands.

Of course, no band teacher has ever yelled, right?

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