Yes, I’m aware that the world is in a state of chaos. People are suffering and dying in Israel and Palestine. Humans are being stabbed on Manhattan’s streets.

Of course I feel guilty penning a humorous column in such a world. Writers are human.

But making people laugh is what I get paid for and I started this piece before things got this bad. And I’m stuck with it, because people need to laugh, even in the dark alleys of America.

Let’s get this out of the way: MANUALS.

All my household appliances and yours, except for the toilets, come with a manual.

Most manuals are printed in at least two languages, usually Spanish, English, and an Asian language used where all my appliances are made.

A manual is a document that is supposed to walk you through the necessary steps to make your appliance function.

Where do you get a manual? Dumpsters are your first stop.

Dumpsters are in every alley in the world, full of stolen guns, diapers or misplaced documents and manuals, and sometimes body parts. All manuals wind up there.

Yes, the print is too small, and like yourself, I can’t find my glasses. Luckily I have a wife who never takes hers off. If you don’t have someone like her, I suggest you get one.

You’re old now, very old and everything you own, except for your mate, comes with a manual, like your cellphone.

Do you need a manual to use the cellphone? No. You ask your grandkids or any 3-year-old. Just give it to them and stand back.

Why am I telling you this? Here it comes.

Nonagenarian. Stop it. I know I wrote about this condition before, but this is different.

I repeat: a nonagenarian is a person age 90 to 99. That would make me, or you, older than the president of the United States, including all of his rivals.

Teenagers don’t understand the word. When you use it, they will step back and grab a COVID mask. Just say, “I don’t know how to find my Gmail,” and hand it to them.

So I’m writing a new manual disguised as a book you’ll want to read that will hopefully appear on the bookshelves everywhere, perhaps in the winter or probably the spring. It will be called — are you writing this down? — “Nonagenarian Rules For Dummies.”

First, do you know one? Is there like a dance club in Maine where this age group hangs out so? I would like details.

I covered the junk food shops with no success, because if you’ve lived long enough to be a nonagenarian, you probably don’t do junk food. Text me if you know one still around.

One chapter will be mostly about genes. These are not the kind your kids wear, but the real stuff.

A gene is the basic physical and functional unit of heredity. We all inherit genes, one set from each parent.

I have my mother’s eyes, hair, nose and longevity.

I have father’s brain and, gratefully, not his nose.

You have my text, so read my book/manual. Time is running out and guess who’s waiting at the nursing home? A cute centenarian maybe?

Did I say that out loud?

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer. 

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