The Nomad Newscaster

Sunday breakfast was coming to a close.  The ‘newsertainment’ was winding down on the national channels so Mom switched to a local, non-affiliate station where the two weekend anchors were happily discussing a vacant lot in which dead carcasses of animals were being dumped.  Dog bones, cat bones, horse bones and even goat bones.  Great breakfast fare!

Mom stared at the TV, happily chewing the last bite of her ham, chive, and cheese scrambled eggs and commented, “I’ve never seen that woman before.”

“What woman?”  I asked.  “Do you mean the news anchor?”

“Yes, her.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her doing the news before.”

“She’s on every weekend.  Has been since we’ve lived here,” Bill piped in as he cleared empty plates from the table.

“Oh, well, I never watch this channel,” Mom said, stuffing the last of her toast into her mouth.

“Then how do you think you would have seen her?” he asked.

“I don’t know.  Somewhere else maybe,” she rationalized.

“Do you mean like another channel?”  I asked, taking her empty plate from the table.  “Or maybe the grocery store?”

“No, she’s never been on another channel.  And I haven’t been in a grocery store in years,” she said, wading up her napkin and placing it on her vacant place mat.

“Then where do you think you saw her?” I asked.

“I don’t know, just somewhere else.”

“Well that makes no sense at all,” I replied.

“It is what it is,” she stated, rising regally from her chair and toddling away behind her walker.

“And that,” Bill proclaimed from the kitchen sink, “is that.”


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