Been through the desert on a squirrel with no name …

You’re welcome.

Yep, that America song has been going through my head all day (and yes, I know it’s “horse”).

Why, you might ask (why you’d ask, I dunno)? Because of this.

See my peanut? I don't ... but I got one!

See my peanut? I don’t … but I got one!


As I mentioned before, my Grandma used to crochet little animals (and clowns too … shudder), but this little squirrel never got any eyes. Don’t know why, especially since I found at least two full packages of googly eyes when I was helping Mom go through the sewing room after Grandma died.

I’ll choose to believe it was on purpose; she was, after all, blessed with the same weird sense of humor as Mom and me.

And we all know that old saying about blind squirrels …

Baby got back ... and a big, bushy tail.

Baby got back … and a big, bushy tail.


I submit that all newspapers’ letters pages should have the blind squirrel as the mascot. Amid all the ranting, proselytizing and general craziness, there quite often is one letter (very often from one of the previous ranters) that is simple, straightforward and exceedingly wise, which is proof to me that flights of sanity can afflict all of us (OK, maybe not Rush and Glenn, but you know what I mean).

Now when you have a mascot, the mascot needs a name. So … ideas? Nope, it’s not a contest and there’s nothing at stake for submitting the winning name … other than my undying affection and the chance to walk past Luke, the spawn of Satan, relatively unscathed. As long as you’re not carrying a squirrel.

If you have his bunny, all bets are off.


After talking with my friend John Deering, I’ve decided that I’ll occasionally bestow a Blind Squirrel Award on someone in the public realm who exhibits a rare display of common sense. Yep … doubt there’ll be a lot of those given out …