Nancy Pelosi was almost Mary T’s aunt. It makes me shudder. My soon to be betrothed shared this story the other day and needless to say it chilled my spine. It’s an opposite reaction to what Chris Matthews gets when he hears the President speak and Matthews tingle is a bit lower. Mary T shared the story this week and we weren’t even at a campsite beside a fire surrounded by darkness and the sounds of wild animals.

It seems Joe Doyle fancied Nancy. This was many, many years ago in “Ballmore City”. From what I hear about Madame Speaker’s teenage years the local pronunciation is a good fit. Joe dated Nancy a while and then he suddenly entered a seminary. Father Joe is still toiling for God to this day in New Orleans’ 9^th Ward. Now to be truthful, Ms. Pelosi didn’t drive him to his vocation. Baltimore was a divided city 50 years ago and he was so appalled by what he witnessed and what he sometimes didn’t object to that he one day made a pledge to the Lord. The younger Nancy D’Alesandro made a pledge to another kingdom. They are both still serving their masters.

Mary T has convinced me to consider buying a house. A couple of weeks ago my pal Kenn asked why we would need this house if Mary T already has the place she bought when she moved from “Ballmore”. You can always rent one of the two when you make this a more permanent union. I’ve suspected we would rent what I buy because the Redhead says she doesn’t want to leave a decade of gardening and landscaping. So today we looked at a 3 story townhouse and during the tour she suggested the place would be perfect for a dog. Yet I don’t own a dog. She does.

It’s a lovely house and for a guy who doesn’t really want to leave his Millsboro zip code it’s a short walk from the post office, The Country Kitchen diner and a great place for a morning walk or bike ride. Lower slower Delaware, once you leave the beach, is one of the last places in America where you can still feel as if you’ve stepped into an episode of Andy Griffith. No other piece of pop culture ever represented quite so well our yearning for all that has been lost this last half century. And I can still go to see the Phillies, Orioles and Nationals play for a matinee and be home for dinner.

The thought of finally taking out a mortgage is stressful but at the age of 47 years maybe it’s time to consider planting some roots. As I mentioned the other day, Mary T says the Peace of God has settled upon me. It doesn’t mean God has opened the candy store doors for me but perhaps finally opened my eyes just a little more.

You know, I’ve known the last few years I’m playing out the days I was given. My folks died in their early to middle 60s. There are only a handful of reasons to live to ripe old ages of 80 or 90. If your eyesight holds out you can finish a few books you planned to get through. You can keep hoping the Bills will win the Super Bowl next year. You believe the Fountain of Youth will be discovered and turn your old wrinkled bones into the smooth skin of a 17 year old, which may come with acne and social awkwardness.

In the meantime you can live whatever life you’ve got left as an example for those you love. Oh, and there is room for a big screen TV in the townhouse. Go Bills!

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