A lot of be glad about until I got addicted to TV news

I’m glad I got to live those first 87 years of my life.
When I break them down to periods, there are some that really stand out.
Like those early one-room school times of total innocence; then a 10-year span of war and illness, that got me to some really great married years.
Growing the newspaper publishing efforts were especially rewarding, as was growing three kids.
But, the scene changed for me during the last several years. I became addicted to news reports. And now I see and feel a down-side of aging.
The lead story on the front of The Detroit Free Press Sunday, July 27 brought me full cycle. From naivete to disbelief and trust in company findings, surveys and honesty. From politics that proclaim transparency, to universities supporting a political party, to lawmakers? unending orations and pleadings for more money to solve every problem.
That FREEP story reported Ford Motor Company wrote the questions for a testing, and they also graded them. Others companies did the same.
WHAM!
It hit me. Companies, academia, our government, our military, VA, IRS, etal, have likely been lying and misinforming me since my adulthood.
The leaders didn’t attend my one-room school, and I never got out of it’s teachings.
Innocence, naivete and total trusting now all seems gone. In many cases, gone too are many religions.
Those haven’t changed for me, though I was never allowed to attend church while at home, my mother’s life and teachings have prevailed. There is my God Jesus Christ and their religious leaders who proclaim ‘convert, pay a fine or be assassinated.?
I know, I know my TV has an off button, and I use it with increasing frequency, but then I miss comedic reruns and old mysteries.
I’ve got to learn how to use recording devices, but with 87 years gone maybe I should think of taking more naps.
Or work on one-liners:
Whatever you do in life give it 100% (unless you’re giving blood).
The grocery bag that breaks first is the one with the eggs.
Food: If you can’t spell it or pronounce it, don’t eat it.
* * *
Grandson Dan and his girl friend, Alex, stopped to see me enroute to a Petoskey wedding. They met months ago in Denver where they work.
Alex is from Washington, and she talks and walks like we Michiganians. I didn’t get to ask her if people in her state refer to themselves as Washingtonians or Seatelites.
She’s so quiet I could almost hear a pin drop, except Dan wouldn’t stop reading his Christmas list to me.