Reader dislikes Loose Ends

Dear Editor,

Tell the truth. Is Susan Nienow your mother, an aunt or of some relationship to your family? I like to read humorous anecdotes from talented writers (like Mary Roach from Reader's Digest to name one), but my time is limited, so I don't like to be disappointed in wasting five minutes week after week. After all, who cares about hotel pillows? Those of us with young children haven't seen a hotel since our honeymoon. Those with older children are more concerned about the inflexibility of the floor between the beds since that is ultimately where their child will land mid bed-to-bed flip.

There may also [be] a concern about the thickness of the walls since other guests will not appreciate hearing the constant chastisement of a six-year-old child who simply can't stop jumping. Perhaps these parents would be wise to avoid hotels where they may have received noise complaints during their honeymoon.

I forget what Mrs. Nienow wrote about a couple weeks ago (I didn't have the five minutes), but I remember it was equally apathetic. I want to know why I see children in Rockwood Park eating on the play equipment? I know that within a week, I'll hear some news source reporting on the obesity epidemic. I have an idea: start with taking the lollipop out of junior's mouth while he crosses the monkey bars. Not only will that help with the obesity issue, but it also may prevent the liberal media from doing a feature on park safety. Six inches of mulch is not enough to stop a Tootsie Pop from lodging in junior's throat after a five-foot fall. And even if I must have my sensibilities offended by an overweight three-year-old taking his Doritos on the slide, I wish his parent would have the common courtesy to pick up the bag.

I want to know why Christmas items are perched inauspiciously on the top shelves of Wal-Mart and Home Depot. Does anyone even remember Thanksgiving? I'm sure Kroger will run their annual turkey special, but I'll have to walk past the six-foot snowman globe to get to it.

I want to know why neighborhood roads are technically "highways," so if you get a drunken jerk for a neighbor (which I had), he can call the police because you put a cone on the side of the road, alerting the four cars per hour that your son is riding his bike.

I don't want to know about the spaghetti dinner that is undoubtedly going on at Mrs. Nienow's church. Perhaps she could write about that and leave commentary to someone with writing ability or at the very least, anger issues and a slight case of ADD.

Laura Deely

Midlothian