Whiners

There were all sorts of things that went on when I was a kid.

We walked to school each day, for one.  Lunch box in hand (I was very proud of my Davy Crockett model, with the little metal holders inside for the milk thermos), my big brother and I would set off.

He always seemed to walk too fast for me.  I would shout for him to slow down - protect the little brother and all - and he would just trudge on.  Never falling more than 5 feet behind him, it finally dawned on me that I was just a whiny idiot.

Me?  Whiny?  That had to change.  That is why I am a far more noble CRUSTY curmudgeon.  Whiner, indeed.