You know, you goof off five minutes around here and someone will try to take over your job! Last week I didn’t send a column to the paper (did my three readers notice?). I faithfully send one every week attempting to entertain, edify (or annoy) folks. I figure I have to, otherwise there’d be a large blank space on top of page four each Saturday?

Next thing I knew, my space contained a “guest commentary” from our local state senator! Deflated my ego quicker than a balloon at a (losers) political rally. My feelings were only hurt for a few minutes.

 I’ve met the honorable Senator Baker and it’s fine with me she filled my space (this once!) After all, any number of less qualified folks might’ve cajoled the editors into printing their scribbles. Not only that, while using my space Senator Baker performed a useful public service. Informing us about the new “open records” law that will soon take effect.

 It’s about time we finally got a new open records law passed (over 50 years!). During that time self-important, small-time bureaucrats took charge (small minded, not short in height or narrow of girth). While running Our government offices they’d grown to believe they actually owned “Our” public records? It’d gotten to the point where hardly a peek was granted to ordinary citizens. We had to pass a law (!) just to get those snotty little bureaucrats to pay attention.

 Until recently it took deep pocket newspapers (with philadelphia lawyers) dragging bureaucrats to the courthouse door (kickin’ an’ sqealin’ all the way) to pry open Our “public records”!

 I’m not sure just how important all this really is to you and me? I mean, we don’t run down to the courthouse (statehouse, county or township offices) every week to look something up? But it’s nice to know we have a shiny new law reminding Everyone we have that right!

 Plus! You’ll no longer be charged big money for copies to take home for leisurerly perusal. That used to occasionally be quoted in dollars per page? Meanwhile, they coulda simply let ya borrow ‘em, and you coulda made copies at the post office for 25 cents a page. ($900. toilet, anyone?).

 All that wasn’t what I meant to write about this week.

 I wanted to let my readers know I’m still here! I missed writing my column last week because I put my back out (moving a stupid bag of rock salt). Generally when I “slip a disc” I take an extra Tylenol, visit my chiropractor and go back to living. Anyway, I’ve been laid up, but contrary to rumor, not “laid out”! (for the youngsters amongst ya, they do that after you quit breathin’). One thing for sure! Next time I wrassle a bag of rock salt, I plan to arm myself with a back-brace and a bowie knife!

Folks with bad backs know they “go out” without warning. Usually for a day or two? Mine decided to hold an extended party. An initial visit to the chiropractor helped. Then maybe I slept wrong? For the next nine days I laid in bed. The pain prevented even changing positions!

 Just getting to the bathroom was an amusing (spelled: e-x-c-r-u-c-i-a-t-i-n-g!) excercise. Cussin’, moanin’, sweatin’ while gimpin’ about grabbin’ hold of anything just to stay upright. If you’d seen me, the whole show mighta brought tears to yer eyes laughin’? It did mine (but I wasn’t laughing).

 You unfortunate folks out there with bad backs all got them somewhere. But can you recall just where? I remember exactly where (and when) I got so lucky.

 Early morning, March 12,1969, playing paratrooper for my Uncle Sam. Doing it so long I’d grown cocky thinking I was pretty good at it. But that morning my parachute didn’t work just right? Confidently I yanked the release opening my “reserve” parachute (to help out the entangled main chute). Instead of helping, it got into a ruckus with the main chute!

 While they tussled (rapidly collapsing) the reserve chute grabbed my legs. Executing a sneaky wrestling move, it yanked both my feet up over my head! Try as I might, it out-wrassled me all the way to the ground.

 The three of us landed (at about 80mph). Both my feet still entwined up over my head! Using your butt to land on is no way to end a parachute jump! So I never did it again. To this day, that little dust-up still “throws my back out”.

 I don’t know about you..., I think what we really need is a law against bad backs!

Cal Teeple, founder of the tiny Observational Cogitation Consortium may often be found three stools down from you. He may be ignored, accosted or contacted at: twinews@wayneindependent.com.