Blog #3

Hi.  How are you?  This is the third edition of the blog and I figure if you’re back for a third time, that makes you part of the family.  Welcome.  Did you have a good week?   Mine was ok.  I always manage to keep busy.  I write my letter to my daughters; that goes out on Sunday.  And I write to you and that goes out on Thursday.  I play bridge a couple of days and I volunteer a couple of days and, of course, doctors.  I have so many doctors that I don’t even try to learn their names.  I just call them by their specialty.  I have Dr. Skin and Dr. Lung, Dr. Back and Dr. Knee, Dr. Blood and Dr. Pain and Dr. Heart.  And you can only imagine what I call the guy who gives me a colonoscopy.  I have more doctors than you can shake a thermometer at.  It all comes with the advanced years.  I played bridge today and I asked for a show of hands on anyone who had a doctor’s appointment this week.  All hands went up except for the guy with the torn bicep who couldn’t raise his arm.  Then, of course, I have three grandchildren in town to take up my time.  What a glorious treasure! 

I want to tell you something that happened in February.  My wife and I were on a road trip and were in the midst of a long, 18-hour leg.  We made periodic stops along the way at McDonald’s to pour liquid in one end and tinkle it out the other.  At one stop late in the afternoon she decided she needed some exercise, so she began walking around the McDonald’s – weaving through and around the booths and the chairs and the tables.  And not slowly.  My wife is 71, slim and in great shape.  She does nothing slowly.  We call her the Princess of Lickety Split, and there she was, flying around the store at 4.0 miles per hour – past the counter and the soda machine and the cardboard cutout of Ronald like a skinny Pac-Man on meth.  It was fantastic!  Everyone was staring at her.  People at the counter were making bets as to how many times she would pass the Iced-Tea dispenser before their Big Macs arrived.  I could not stop smiling.  What a woman!

Carol and I take this road trip every year --  we drive to Naples to visit friends, then to Carol’s sister in West Palm and up to my daughter in North Carolina.  It always makes me anxious when I go out of town.  And for good reason.  Once, when I was out of town, I had quadruple bypass surgery.  Another time I was in the hospital with pneumonia.  Another time I was hit with a urinary infection.  I think I have a new plan:

Whenever I travel I dread

Winding up in a hospital bed

I’m thinking next year

I should leave my wife here

And take all my doctors instead.

When I was talking about Carol’s road race in the McDonald’s, I guess I should have said Pac-Person instead of Pac-Man.  I apologize.  My daughters have schooled me to say:

·        firefighter, not fireman

·        police officer, not policeman

·        Congress person, not Congressman

·        Pac-Person, not Pac-Man

·        Worker, not workman

·        Letter carrier, not mailman

We have a lady letter carrier, and I don’t see what the big deal is.  You’re either a mailman or a fee-mailman.

The comments and suggestions keep coming in.  Except for the few that mention arsenic or self-immolation, I do appreciate them.  My favorite suggestion came from Carol’s Cousin Paula.  She thought if I called a nursing home and offered to read my blogs to the inmates, I could get a free room in exchange.  I love it!  I called a few to see what was the best deal I could make.  Well, the free room is out.  The most I could get in exchange for readings was a cup of cherry Jell-O, no whip.  I love cherry Jell-O.  When my oldest grandson, Zachary, was 13, he decided to do a good deed and perform magic tricks at a senior center.  In the first room he entered, he asked the elderly lady to pick a card.  She memorized it and placed it back in the deck.  He went through a few tricky gyrations of the deck and came back with her card.  “Is this the card you picked?” he asked.  “I don’t know,” she exclaimed.  “I forgot.”

I receive a lot of feedback that it is too hard to make comments at the bottom of the blog.  God love you, you’re as low-tech as me.  I don’t have the first clue.  When it comes to computer tech, Carol and I are like two snakes trying to design a shoe. Call the nearest nine-year-old.

Besides lots of doctors, my generation has lots of pills.  I make a list of all my meds and keep a copy in my wallet.  Then, when I go to a doctor, I just give them the list.  You should do that.  One time I want to play a game when I have six or eight old folks together.  I want each to put a list of their meds in a bowl.  Mix it up, pick out one list at random and try to figure out whose list it is.  It’s kind of like Senior Clue.  Colonel mustard in the bathroom with the stool softener.

On Thursdays I tutor math, but last week was Spring Break.  Of course where I tutor we are encouraged not to use the word “break”.  You see, I tutor at the St. Louis County Justice Center, a wonderful euphemism for the “slammer”.  My guys, the most violent felons in the building, are trying to get their High School Equivalency, and it is always interesting.  One time I was dealing with an inmate on a word problem that asked for the product of two numbers.  I asked my student if he knew what “product” meant.  He said, “Product?  You mean like cocaine?”  Sad, but true.

Ok, it’s over.  Don’t forget to fill out the “follow blog” box in the upper right or at the bottom.  And click on the submit.  It’ll ask you to do a few benign things and then you’re on the list.  You can do it.  I have faith in you.  (Call the nine-year-old.)  And have that grandchild help you to comment.

And please stay well.

See you next week

Michael