Well, I had the sweetest morning. I went over to Moise’s home to pick up some donuts for the Mansion, and eight of his children were on me in line to thumb wrestle with me.

I’ve taken a beating thumb wresting these boys, girls, and girls in recent days; they must be eating thumb food; they are, even the littlest ones, strong and fiercely competitive.

I’m not that old, and I was the thumb-wrestling champion of the Nation Bishop Junior High School Fifth Grade in Providence, R.I., a thousand years ago.

But I was in special form this morning, abashed at all of my recent losses. The Amish love to win, but they laugh just as hard when they lose. It’s the playing, I think, not the winning, that they love.

I should say this was a historic contest. Before me, thumb wrestling was unheard of among the Amish. I suspect it will spread now and long outlive me.

I am not Amish, and I wanted to win; I don’t particularly appreciate losing. I psyched myself, got into a good head practiced at home doing thumb stretches.

When I came into the kitchen, they were waiting for me, including Jacob and Joe And Delilah and Fanny and Lena and Little Sarah, who came up to my waist and clobbered me three times yesterday.

They had mad gleams in their eyes; they were fired up.

I was in a good mood, full of myself, freed from the creepiness of online trolls. I beat two of the boys right off and then three girls, which was even tougher.

“What do you have for breakfast every day?” I wondered, “Wheaties?” Their hands are all unbelievably strong; I have soft writers’ hands but good thumbs.

Even Barbara stopped making donuts and came over for a closer look. There was clapping and cheering in the background.

Tina came running in from the back door and was wagging her tail and licking my hand.

And then we went up a notch. The back door opened, and the big guys came in – Moise, John, Ezrah – covered in mud and sweat and looking to take a break.

They lit up and got in line.

I beat every one of them, and I have to tell you that there was some thought and strong thumbs in that room. Perhaps because it was new to them, they weren’t as successful as they will be tomorrow.

This might be my best chance to win; the adrenalin was flowing.

Moise had a gleam in his eye and a rare smile on his face. He was cleaning up the barn site, he said.

“Hi, Johnny-Boy,” he said, “can I have a shot at this?”

I admit this threw me. Moise is a strong and tough person; I’ve seen him toss bounders around like they were tennis balls.

But, I thought, I’m not dead yet,

I had plenty of fight left in me. Moise held out his muddy, calloused hand, just a few minutes ago hauling lumber around for his new barn.

“Come along, Big Man,” I said, I’m ready.” A big smile.

Now there was a big crowd around, their eyes were wide, and I feel like I was in the ring for the big fight.

A few minutes earlier, I was at home struggling to put my shoes on. Suddenly I was facing a group of fit, strong, determined thumb wrestlers.

The Amish make a lot of noise about being gentle, but don’t try to compete with them. They turn fearsome fast.

Moise was slightly confused; he didn’t know you tap back and forth three times before the match.

When we got started, I decided that I only had a few seconds to take advantage of his uncertainty about the game, and I struck quickly, pinning his down one-two-three.

There was a cheer from the crowd. Moise was smiling.

“Jon,” shouted Joe, his younger son and an excellent thumb wrestler himself (I beat him today but not yesterday):

“YOU ARE THE WORD, MAN!”

I raised my arms in the air like I remember Muhammad Ali doing, grabbed my donuts, and headed for the door, shouting, “The Old Man Won, The Old Man One, I Beat every one of you Amish thugs!”

Little Sarah and Delilah ran out to help me with my donuts and open the way back door of the Rav4.

As I went to pull the door down, Little Sarah and Delilah had their thumbs out for one last round. I beat Delilah, but Little Sarah got me. No matter. I was the Word, Man.

I called Maria on the cell and shouted, “I am the word, man!” She said she was happy for me. It was a sweet morning. I love being the word.

When I got back on my computer, there was a message from some troll saying I pretend to be nice and loving but was really vicious and greedy and hypocritical, and I smiled and replied: “I AM THE WORD, DUDE!” and hit the delete button.

Wow, that felt good. That might be my first athletic victory since the fourth grade.

As I left, I told Moise that I might bring some ice cream up this afternoon along with the ice cubes because of my victory.

There was a cheer from the room. I will give them one thing; they are good sports.

I’m taking Maria out for a hamburger to celebrate. Tonight, she’s taking me out to see the new movie “The Black Widow.” Life is good.