There are three annoying words spoken daily in our lives — words we learned on our mothers’ laps.

“There’s always something.”

My mother used these words more than “Hail Mary, full of grace,” or “Jesus Christ, help me,” which she said a hundred times a day, when she ran out of Rinso for the laundry or clothespins.

Being Catholic, she added the “Help me” to keep from offending Jesus, as if Jesus himself was actually a celestial “Siri” waiting for her next question. In fact, don’t we all treat God as a heavenly “Siri?”

Yes, don’t deny it. We do.

OK, you’ve caught me digressing. I do that often, it’s because now I have the shattered attention span of an official nonagenarian. Have patience with me, I’m almost out of clothespins.

Wake up, dear reader. The topic today is: “There’s always something.” This expression was ingrained in my life by my mother, who used it like a washcloth or toothbrush.

Here’s an occasion. I’ve taken great pains to dress for an occasion, like going to our annual dinner at Front and Main, or a walk or bar mitzvah.

I’ve showered and shaved, dressed in clean underwear, shirt and sneakers, and pulled my summertime seersucker pants up and got in the car.

Once in her seat, She, who has eyes like a MAGA poll watcher, exclaimed: “What’s that on your pants?”

She knows what it is, but she wants me to know that. It’s a stain of wild Maine blueberry champagne jam.

“Oh Lord, ain’t it always something?”

Before I became a nonagenarian this past September, I would let fly with a long parade of foul expletives. But now I simply mutter: “It’s always something.”

I actually think it’s a complaint used by people you would never expect to utter it, like the priest on the other side of the confessional screen when I told him about Rosemary De Branco’s angora sweaters.

He clutched his rosary and whispered, “It’s always something with you, Jeremiah.”

Or, for example, when poor octogenarian President Joe Biden tripped over a sandbag and fell to the staging after handing out the last diploma at a graduation ceremony at the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado this past week.

I’m sure the first lady lowered her head, made the sign of the cross and whispered: “Oh Lord, it’s always something with that man.”

And when Kevin McCarthy gulped when he heard Joe Biden ask for more bridges, tunnels, better railroads and tents for the homeless at the border, and then add, “Kevin, would you considers saying the rosary with me?”

I’ll bet Vladimir Putin muttered them into his vodka when the G7 nations of the free world gave President Zelenskyy more tanks, rockets, bullets and airline tickets.

As a spiritual pilgrim, I imagine the Lord of the universe looking at us from the other side, holding the eternal forehead and moaning, “Ain’t there always something?”

Well, June is here, and summer will end. We’ll have enjoyed the good and suffered the bad, and then one day the Lord of the universe will press our button and whisper, “It’s always something.”

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer. 

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