“My stocking was hung by the chimney with care.  But in spite of my wishes, it looks rather bare.”

I didn’t ask Santa for a lot this year.  In fact, I kept my list pretty manageable.

I gave him just the usual requests for world peace, governmental leaders who can actually work together for the betterment of mankind, and a TV remote that won’t burrow itself into my sofa cushions.

Beyond that, I’m good.

But there were a few things I had hoped Santa would sense that I need and surprise me with this year.  Once again though, I learned if you want something you have to ask him in plain English.

For starters, I wanted a new car horn.  Mine is rather wimpy, and I want one that will strike fear into the heart of that guy who just cut me off.  I want it to not only be very loud, but have a blood curdling tone that will haunt offending motorists for days and make them tremble when they recount the incident.

That may sound silly, but you secretly want one too.  Admit it.

I wanted a clapper for reading glasses, but came up empty on that as well.  If we can create a device that turns on a lamp when you clap, we should be able to create reading glasses that come out of hiding when you smack your hands together.

I’ve purchased no less than a thousand pair of reading glasses through the years, and I have a sneaky suspicion they’re hanging out with all of my stray socks somewhere in the house, drinking beer in a secret location behind a wall.

Santa let me down in another area too.  I wanted a new memory.  My old one is simply worn out.

We can purchase more memory for our computers, so why can’t we order more memory for ourselves?

I’ve tried every trick in the book to boost my memory skills, but none of them seem to work.  At the beginning of last year, I bought several beautiful event calendars to place in various locations of my home, but then forgot where I put them.

I also faithfully enter important events into my I-phone calendar, then watch them pass me by without notice.

There must be a name for that disorder.  It’s not really dementia; it’s more of a mild disability that prevents me from paying attention to alarms and reminders that prod me during the day.  They become white noise that goes unnoticed.

I think someone at Apple should invent a way for Siri to actually poke you in the ribs until you’re doing what she just reminded you to do.

Speaking of Siri, I think I want her phone number.

She has such a pleasing, non-invasive voice.  I love the way she pronounces my name; not a harsh, tinny “Kint”, but a soft, slightly drawn out “Keennnnt”.  She purrs the answer to my every query, even the stupid ones.

She has her limitations though.  She can’t seem to find anything in Salisbury because she thinks it’s spelled “Saulsberry” or “Solsberry”.  We had an argument about that once and she didn’t speak to me for days.

It was my fault.  I shouldn’t have called her a “stupid robot”.

So if you didn’t get everything you hoped for this Christmas, you’re not alone.  I do sincerely hope your stocking was filled with the important things in life; much love, peace, and goodwill toward mankind.

But some of those after dinner mints from Olive Garden would’ve been nice too.

Kent  Bernhardt lives in Salisbury.