Thanksgiving is over and the few calls to and from the OMOTM revealed that — to a phone call — the gatherings of relatives and friends were going to be greatly reduced.

The Old Men of the Mountain, when spoken to, generally start with the pandemic, then the how-are-you’s, then the weather.

To begin with — the title of these reports is The Old Men of the Mountain. Old is the predominant word, but so is Mountain.

Some have said they are training chipmunks to eat out of their hands, but many of the OMOTM say these things are nothing but rodents and are worse than mice.

It is tough for this scribe to type the month “November” but there is no stopping time. Time marches on, so they say, and each breath is in the future and once taken is in the past.

Some of the Old Men of the Mountain are beginning to come out of the woodwork. There have been a few meetings at a couple of places on different days.

There are many topics the Old Men of the Mountain have discussed via the now technology-loaded instruments developed by ole Alex G. Bell.

The phone calls today brought information that some of the Old Men of the Mountain are gathering in small groups of three to five people.

Boy! The news of the day politically might change some opinions both ways. A few of the Old Men of the Mountain I talked to commented that both sides of the fence are filling up.

It is tough to know where to begin. The few Old Men of the Mountain this scribe has spoken to are just like the scribe. None of them have really gone anywhere.