A few days back, I was searching for some postage stamps when I came across some recent mailings. There amongst the many advertising envelopes was a rather neat framed certificate declaring that GERRY ROUSTIO was a Honorary Boys' Town Citizen for the year 2017. There was also a membership card proclaiming her decade membership. This June, we will be married 57-years; I didn't know she was a Boys' Town citizen.
As I continued my postage-stamp hunt, I noticed that (wife) Gerry is also good friends with March of Dimes, St. Jude, American Heart Association, an Alzheimer's 'walk-group,' American Cancer Society, a Veterans Organization and the Sheriff's Association. I know this because there are dozens of return address label sheets with Gerry Roustio's name. There's nary one sheet with 'Mel Roustio.'
I mean, Really? You'd think when she sends a donation to the American Diabetes Association, she'd think, "Umm, do I know someone who has diabetes?" Yes, Gerry...your husband...I got a name...get me some return address labels.
Later in the day, perched on my 'ponder-swing,' I gave greater thought to my obvious 'Identity Crisis.' I used to get all kinds of mail years ago. I recall getting frequent inquiries about plans for a 'free' weekend vacation resort stay in Branson, Missouri. Today, I get frequent mail from a local funeral home wanting to plan a different trip.
I do appreciate my grown children and some grandkids who telephone frequently. The only person who telephones more than the kids is some gal named 'Rachael' who wishes to do something with my credit card...I think she wants to 'use' it. Most tele-marketing callers ask for 'Gerry.' When they hear my voice, they say, 'Hi, Jerry.' I quickly say, "Jerry and his wife are out-of-town, I'm House sitting."
(Touch)
I Got a Name
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