To The Herald-Whig:
I'm a nonagenarian now, and most of the pleasures I enjoyed when I was young have long fled to that nebulous region in the sky that is often called limbo.
However, one of the pleasures that still remains is a penchant for writing letters to the editor, which The Herald-Whig is often kind enough to publish.
Nowadays, due to the infirmities of old age, I seldom attend church services regularly anymore. Of course, I still say my prayers at night when I go to bed, just to remain in the good graces of the Almighty, I suppose.
But maybe there is yet another compelling reason for my nightly supplications, and it is probably because I can never quite forget an inerrant old nursery rhyme I used to love as a child. I discovered this lively little rhyme as a young boy in a set of books we had in the library of my childhood home in Mobile, Ala. This engrossing set was called "The Book of Knowledge," and that old nursery rhyme I found in one of those volumes went something like this: "Once there was an old man who wouldn't say his prayers. Grab him by the left leg and throw him down the stairs."
Good Lord, at the awesome age of 90 plus, obviously a steep ascent in years, I certainly wouldn't want to break a leg or two!