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Uriah J. Fields

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By Uriah J. Fields
Sunday, February 18, 2007

Rated "PG" by the Author.

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"How is your sex life?" "My sexual plight." Either of these two assertions could have been the subject of a conversation I heard four senior women discuss while I was engaged in a bit of eavesdropping. Read on and you can decide.

Yesterday, while I was walking down a long hallway in an apartment complex, just before approaching the lounge that is at a forty-five degree angle from the end of the hallway, I heard four senior women in the lounge talking about their sex lives. Upon hearing this conversation about sex that titilated me, I immediately stopped walking and did a bit of eavesdropping as I sought to stay out of the site of these ladies and hear more of what they had to say.
One woman said, "These days a man is hard to find, especially when you are our age." (I supposed she meant over sixty). She indicated that she was still interested in finding a man.
The second woman said, "Well, I am not interested anymore in having a man. Those days are over for me. What woman my age needs a man?"
The third woman, unlike the other three women, were married, and seemingly having a desire to either sypathize with or encourage the single women, said, "You can never know when the right man will show up." She added, "I am a witness that it can happen."
The fourth woman, unlike the other three women who were sitting, was standing and holding on to a walker, but looking as "fit as a fiddle." She said, "I don't even know whether or not I can do anything anymore. My music box hasn't been played since my husband died eight years ago." To that the other women bursted out laughing. One of them said, "That's a good way to describe it, music box!"
About that time I, a male, also feeling as "fit as a fiddle," approached these women letting them know that I had heard their conversation when I said, "I am a musicmaker! Some people call me a master musician." Surprised to hear a male's voice, three of them again bursted out with laughter. Most surprised and seemingly slightly embarrassed, the woman with the "not-recently - played music box" attempted to respond to me in a way that she decided against and then said, "I better not say that." After a delay she said to me, "So you play?" I responded, "But I only play fine tunes." Again, three of these women laughed as if they were experiencing paroxysmal emotional excitement. I took my harmonica, my troubadouring instrument, that has earned me the name Uriah Harp, that I am seldom without from my pocket and played a measure or two. Then I reiterated, "You see, I am a musicmaker."
As I was about to enter the elevator on the opposite side of the lounge from which I had entered, not to be outdone, the woman with the "not-recently played music box" said,
"Maybe we can do it in the elevator?" I replied just before stepping into the elevator, "The elevator is too small because when I play music I am like a wild man, all over the place." I wonder what did those women say after my departure. What do you think?

Copyright 2007 by Uriah J. Fields††††

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Books by
Uriah J. Fields

THE FIELDS SCHOOL: An African American School Without Failures in Alabama

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The Saint Troubadour

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Books on Human Development

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Grandpa Benjamin

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God with Us

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Inside the Montgomery Bus Boycott - My Personal Story

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The MacLomain Series Boxed Set (Books 1-4) by Sky Purington

Travel through time with the MacLomain Clan. One short Celtic story and three time-travel Highlander novels...  
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Ruth Fever by Beverly Scott

Since the tragic death of her parents, grief is Ruth Dennisonís constant companion. Only her relationships with and concerns for her second grade students and her interaction with ..  
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