Do Overs

Drooling, for some, has a meaning of an abundance of desire. For me, it’s an overabundance of fluid leaking from the mouth. As a boy with monster adenoids, I could drench a pillow quickly during a night of deep sleep. That slightly improved during adolescence, but it remained. I can recall the old Norwegian farmers in Little Norway tavern having a beer and having skol-stained drool creating a brown line on both sides of their mouths. This intrigued me as they made no attempt to wipe it away. Maybe it was the beer, or their mothers taught them nicely not to use their sleeves. I fly-fished with an older gentleman, and he would have a constant white streak on both sides of his mouth. I could never figure out what the white came from until I opened his glove compartment one day and found a million bottles of Tums. I fell asleep in my tree stand one opening morning and woke up drenched and with the fear of being on the Local Radio newscast “Local hunter drowned in his tree stand.” Now I just turned 66, and I sometimes have Niagara Falls for the mouth. Oh well, it could be a badge of honor, or I could start at 66 years old listening to my mother’s voice, ” Fred, keep that hanky handy. It might save your life someday or keep you from floating away.”