“Mike, before you go, I have something to talk to you about.”

The dining room, the kitchen and bath, they were all done, and I had but a few tools to collect when Noland stopped me.

“Loretta, you go in the kitchen or play in traffic, whatever you want.”

I didn’t know what was coming, but I sat down in the stuffed chair next to Noland’s, where I have often listened to his life stories.

“Mike, you know those commercial on televison, the ones for that product like Viagra. I think it starts with a “C.”

“Cialis.”

“What?”

“Cialis,” I yelled back.

“Yeah, that’s it. They have this pretty blond woman and…”

I nodded as if I had seen it.

“They say it gets you up for four hours. What are you going to do with an erection for that long? Admire it?”

“You mean what do you do for the remaining three hours and fifty-five minutes?”

“The only thing I can think of is call the rescue squad.”

“You know, Noland, they give that to men in nursing homes.”

Noland remembers jokes – an art I think, since I can remember maybe three that I’ve heard in my life, and one of those involves, perhaps appropriately, a moron with an alarm clock. But Noland doesn’t have a computer, so I played this one with a straight face.

“What for?” he replied with a concerned look.

“So they don’t roll out of bed.”

This one, Robby’s math notes for the year, is worth viewing at full size.