Tag Archives: people

Small World

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“It’s a small world.” How many times have you heard this in your lifetime? I remember my parents saying it and thinking, “What are you talking about?” Now, here I am saying it at least twice a week! It’s official, I’m my parents.

The community had a huge yard sale on Friday and Saturday at the new abode. According to the neighbors, this is a twice-a-year function that is heavily advertised and equally as popular. Perfect timing for this professional box unpacker.

The weather was damp and rainy, but that did not stop the crowds. Yes, crowds. I made a good chunk of change selling crap left by the previous owners and some of my own crap. I’m very close to getting a “less is more” tattoo or t-shirt.

This lovely couple, Frank and Joanne, stopped by to browse yesterday. There was an instant connection. They had a good sense of humor, especially Frank’s quick wit. People could have been shoplifting, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

As we were exchanging backstories of how the hell we wound up in Lewes, DE, Joanne was surprised to learn that I had never vacationed in this area. I explained I’m a Jersey Shore girl, Ocean City. NJ, to be exact. Her parents lived in Ocean City, NJ.

I explained that my husband was familiar with this area through his job, and my only introduction was when we looked at this house. Now she is intrigued.

Joanne, “How do you just move to a place you’ve never been to?”

Me, “I don’t know, but here I am.”

Frank, “Wow, there’s more than one!”

Me, “You know someone else who just packed up to Lewes?”

Joanne, “Yes, our dear friend from college. She just called me one day and told me her boys were all out of the house; they sold their home in Villanova and bought a place in Lewes.”

Frank, “I asked her if she bought it on Amazon because she never asked us to check it out or inquired about the area.”

Joanne, “We couldn’t believe they made such a big purchase without a second thought.”

Me, “I looked at Frank’s Mount St. Mary College sweatshirt while Villanova and boys ran through my mind when I asked, wait a minute, what is your friend’s name?”

Joanne, “Marie _______ _______.”

Me, “WHAT!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Frank, “You know Marie?”

Me, “Yes, we were paralegals together back in the day and work besties.”

All of us, “OMG! It’s such a small world!” Along with laughter.

Frank takes out his phone, captures a photo of the three of us, and sends it to Marie.

We are all meeting for Happy Hour on Friday!

Enjoy the Ride!

What’s Your Back Story?

Things are coming together nicely here at the new abode. Setting things up to make it our own. Incorporating some memories of the past with our new upcycled purchases. Facebook Marketplace is my new bestie.

I love the idea that our decor has a back story. Our Ethan Allen dining room set was formally residing in a “home” with a regulation-sized basketball court INSIDE next to the movie theatre. Oh, yeah, that was an, let’s just say, interesting transaction.

Susan, the woman selling this piece, interrogated me online like an FBI agent. I finally had to tell her that we are a middle-aged couple who are too tired to commit a crime, clean it up or run from it. Seriously, Susan!

When we arrived, she answered the door with her phone in her hand, air pods in her ears, and more than once, let us know that her husband was listening to the conversation. If fear were a person …

Once we passed her test, she started pushing other items for sale on us. Bye, Susan, bye-bye.

Needless to say, that experience left a mark, but humanity was restored when I hit the jackpot on a gorgeous 2-year-old retractable canvas awning to shade our enormous deck. I need to enjoy the deck, not fry eggs on it.

Anna had the most beautiful beachfront home in North Jersey and a heart to match. She was handing over this $14,000 plus awning, in mint condition, for a mere $700.00, and she threw in the custom-made cover to boot. She was no Susan, that’s for sure.

Maybe the salt air, her Italian heritage, or both made her so generous. All I know is Anna’s house was right out of Architectural Digest, and it was warm, welcoming, and filled with love. Her only request was a photo of us relaxing under the awning.

Next up, we needed some headboards. One, because we upgraded to a King mattress and handed the sleigh bed over to our son, and two, we now have extra bedrooms for when the kiddies visit. They better visit!

Once again, the Marketplace came through like a genie granting wishes. For $150 bucks, we landed two, like new, Ethan Allen twin headboards that match our existing dresser perfectly. The owner had them stored at Sprinkles, their ice cream shop, and gave us a cone of our choice on the house with the purchase. What more could we ask for at this point?

Well, I’m gonna tell ya. We still needed the king-sized headboard. The challenge was getting one that matched our cherry wood set without looking too Ralph Laurenish at our new beach location. Are you with me?

Just when I thought this would be an issue, Lauren, a young woman with a great sense of humor, posted the PERFECT piece for $100. She was posting for her mom Lisa, who we concluded was a fantastic person based on her name. Yes, my name is Lisa, so I know this to be true.

Today we are on our way to pick up yet another Ethan Allen piece. It is a beautiful cabinet, with a hidden desk for all our electronic devices/crap that we don’t want to expose. Amen!

This beauty has been for sale for four weeks. It is the last piece standing in a sold home that must be gone by tomorrow. Can you say deal of a lifetime?

I love the idea of second chances, backstories, and new beginnings, whether furniture or lifestyles; we can all Enjoy the Ride more than once.

Sunny Skies

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

Back in January, when we decided to move to another state, after 58 years of living not only in one state but one zip code, I knew things would be challenging. Correction, I did live in another zip code for the first 15 months of my life.

In October, we purchased a home to use as a second residence while renting our apartment at the complex I like to call “The Resort,” but the universe always has bigger plans. A heads up would be nice.

We landed at The Resort after selling our home of 30 years to our son and surrendering to the inflated, dog-eat-dog real estate market in our area. Sorry, you’re not getting my soul for a house.

A CURVEBALL ARRIVED just when I was getting used to the thought of weekend getaways and vacations at our home. BAM! A colleague of my husband’s announced his retirement in the same area where we purchased our home. He saw this as an opportunity served on a silver platter, while I saw more of a Taco Bell drive-thru moment. Yup, fear, and doubt were playing center stage.

I had more to think about in my defense, like leaving my job of 18 years. Oh, and let’s not forget MY CHILDREN. I compiled a list of excuses a mile long. I presented my case without a single dramatic courtroom moment and concluded that the jury had spoken; it’s time to pack your bags. Maybe it was just the thought of packing for the second time in a year.

Financially it was a no-brainer to make a move. Sentimentally, in my mind, it was just not happening. Meanwhile, I am the first to tell anyone, “why are you holding on to that?”

As the months and days went on, reality sank in that this was actually happening. But I just couldn’t trust that this huge life change was happening for me and not to me. Even though examples were in my face clear as glass every day, without fail. At this point, even the universe had its hands in the air.

What does a girl do when she just can’t seem to get a handle on trusting what’s best for her? Oh, she consults a Psychic. That’s right, folks, if Abraham Lincoln could do it, so could I. Google it; it’s a fact.

How did that go, you ask? Well, I’m currently sitting in my new home writing this post. We moved in over the weekend during a freak Nor’eatser storm. Drowned Rat Moving Company may be a new business venture.

All week I watched the weather report showing a Nor’easter with flooding rains and 50/60 mile an hour wind would be hitting the area. There couldn’t be a better metaphor for what I was leaving behind. Well played, Mother Nature, well played.

Typically I would have looked at this storm as “a sign” that we shouldn’t move. I’ve spent too much time and energy playing victim. Those days are over. Guess what else storms bring? SUNNY SKIES.

I’m entering this new adventure with an open mind, heart, and growth. This chapter is called: Knowing my Worth and Acting Accordingly.

It’s never too late to Enjoy the Ride!

Get Hold Of Yourselves

XFD8tp93TXeaaieZMR125wDid you hear the one about the squirrel that walked onto a deck wearing a mask during the pandemic? At this point, it’s the only way anyone would believe that this actually happened yesterday. On the FIRST day, masks were mandatory in Pennsylvania. 

I was sitting in my sunroom, on a quiet morning, listening to the bird’s chirp, waiting for the sun to make an appearance when I felt I was being watched. Listen to your instincts.

Once my eyes registered, I realized that I was, in fact, looking at a squirrel, looking at me, wearing a mask. This little guy just stood there as if he was on the red carpet waiting for the paparazzi to get their shot, which is precisely what I did. A miracle considering the laughter!

I still have no idea what this little guy had in his mouth, so I’m going with the obvious, that he watched a do-it-yourself mask-making video like the rest of us. Well done!

Now that the squirrel community is on board with following directions, it would be great if humans would follow suit. The sad reality is that people are well, people, and they only listen to what they want to hear and do what they want to do. Educated, grown-ass adults suddenly become toddlers. 

It’s not that difficult. Wear the mask because the GOVERNOR said so. This is smart, safe, and limits make-up application to just the eyes. 

The lack of human cooperation since the kick-off of Stay In Your Damn House guidelines does not surprise me or any other human being who has witnessed the behavior of parents on back to school night. When the words “this is not the time to ask questions about your child” are uttered, the hands begin to rise. 

Disclaimer: I’m not a teacher. I’m the parent who LISTENS. 

Living in a culture where instant gratification is a necessity and impatience is at the forefront does not help. Listening to adults asking on more than one occasion, “Is this over yet?” is the equivalent to “Are we there yet?”  and that rarely ends well.  Get hold of yourselves, people!

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Honestly, the universe doesn’t always protect us, sometimes it challenges us with more than we would like to receive, and on occasion, hits us when we’re down, instead of cutting us a break. We have to remember that not every test passes in an instant, and not every threat can just be shrugged off.  So, here we are, on the day who the hell knows of this blip in our regular routines, with guidelines changing every day, and new choices to be made. We can resist. We can hide. Or, we can just react in a manner that will benefit ourselves and others.

Don’t make it harder than it has to be. Enjoy the Ride! 

 

The Honeymoon

Elderly couple at golden wedding holding handsAs most of you know I work in the medical field, on the administrative side, not the actual healing side. Trust me, this is a blessing for all of us. 

Although, I must say, after 15 years I do believe I could include therapist to my resume without an ounce of guilt.

I say this because, for whatever reason, some patients walk in the door with an agenda to unload. I’m not sure if it’s the glass window, my face or loneliness, but whatever the case may be, the stories just spill into the room. Some good, others require earplugs. 

Don’t get me wrong this can be a blessing or a curse depending on the schedule. There are days when I have to take things with a grain of salt, and then there are days when a gem like the one I’m about to share falls right into my lap and heart. It’s like hitting an emotional lottery.

George and Pauline are longtime patients. They are both in their 90’s, with Pauline being 8 years older. Yes, Pauline is pushing 100.

They are both brilliant, highly educated, interesting, frisky and funny as hell! The full package.

Unfortunately for everyone, Pauline can no longer come into the office, but thank goodness George comes regularly.

On Thursday, when George was making his next appointment I inquired about Pauline and he said “the honeymoon isn’t over” and I smiled. This is when he spilled to this GEM all over my desk. Hmm I hope I scheduled his next appointment.

One month after we were married Pauline was in the kitchen when I was heading out for a morning run. I yelled from the door “Pauline, I’ll be back I’m going for a run” and she replied, “hurry back and I’ll make it worth your while” The honeymoon wasn’t over. At this point, George is sporting a huge grin. 

He continues to tell me that he hadn’t thought about that moment in a very long time, but today as he was leaving to come to this appointment, Pauline was settled in with her  aide when he yelled into the room “Pauline, I’m going to see the doctor, I’ll be back shortly” and without missing a beat she replied, “hurry back and I’ll make it worth your while” As I was staring at George I noticed he was still wearing that big grin, but his eyes were welling up when he leaned in and said: “Looks like the honeymoon isn’t over yet.”

Honestly, folks, it doesn’t get much better than that now does it? Enjoy the Ride!

 

 

Bye Bitch

via Daily Prompt: Insist

Verb: demand something forcefully, not accepting refusal.

This right here is the story of my life Monday through Thursday as I’m slaving away at my job in the healthcare industry.

I’m not sure what occurs before a potential patient contacts our office for an appointment, but it’s not a moment of zen.

I imagine more of a good look in the mirror for a one on one pep talk. “You got this!” “Pick up that phone and DEMAND to be seen TODAY because everything is ALL about YOU!”

The other explanation would be that they just live their every day lives like the entitled e’ffers they are, and this is their norm. This right here is the winner.

Me:  Good morning Doctor’s office.

PITA:  I need to be seen today around 1. Have you been eating your make-up again?

Me:  Are you already a patient?

PITA:  No! Bitch in the house.

Me:  Did you have a trauma?

PITA:  No! Ok, I see where this is heading.

Me:  Are you a diabetic with a wound?

PITA:  No! God help us all.

Me:  Why do you need to be seen today?

PITA:  I have a painful corn on my toe, and I’m leaving for Florida tomorrow. Tragic, absolutely tragic.

Me:  Well, that’s not something we would consider an emergency.

PITA:  But I’m in pain, and I have things to do before I leave. Sounds like a first world problem to me. 

Me:  You would be a new patient, which takes extra time and you do not have an emergency.

PITA:  You mean to tell me you don’t save time for emergencies? Can you please Google emergency?

Me:  Yes, we do, but your situation is not an emergency.

PITA:  Being in pain isn’t an emergency? You are being inconvenienced, there’s a difference.  

Me:  Not the type of pain you’re experiencing.

PITA: Well, what am I going to do? I hoping for death.

Me:  Call around to see if you can get in with another physician.

PITA:  I don’t have time for that today. I told you I needed to come today at 1:00. Because you are who again?

Me:  I’m sorry, but I already told you that would not be possible.

PITA:  Huffing and puffing. The agony of defeat is music to my ears.

Me:  Ok?

PITA:  I guess I’ll have to try someone else since you don’t want to help me. Bye Bitch!

Me:  Silence. CLICK! BAM! BOOM!

Enjoy the ride!

 

 

Cave 219 Unit A

fullsizeoutput_2473For as long as I can remember I’ve been required to complete some sort of form before my entrance into a school, hospital or doctors office. So why is this practice suddenly considered a personal attack on freedom? I have a few ideas.

Well, for whatever reason, people seem to be relating this procedure as a personal infringement on their rights as an American citizen. Hmm, I wonder where they could have gotten that idea?

As some of you may already know, I work in the healthcare system where I am in the presence of the public on a daily basis. Feel free to send words of encouragement. 

So, as you can imagine, my days have been a real joy ever since people decided that every question presented, including NAME, has a hidden agenda. Items that have been routinely asked for DECADES I might add!

There seem to be (2) questions that set people off on a personal protest, lecture or aliem_soapboxcomments on everything unfair. Let me introduce you to race and ethnicity. Again, why?

Um, first of all, it’s evident to anyone with eyes if you’re black, white, orange or blue and secondly, you do have the FREEDOM to not answer the questions. Places do exist where options are not a thing, and this isn’t one of them.

Recently a new patient completed his form and vigorously crossed out ALL of the race selections to write A M E R I C A N across the page. Where does one begin?

Do I ….

a) Inform him that “AMERICAN” is not a race or an ethnicity unless you are in fact a NATIVE. Based on his white hair, blue eyes and Fighting Irish jacket, I’m going to risk stating that his ancestors were not the hot guys in loincloths at the first Thanksgiving.

b) Ask WTF does that mean? Outloud!

c) Earn an Oscar nomination for exhibiting an extreme level of control while in the presence of an ass. Is there a category for “best poker face?”

See you on the red carpet folks! I have bills to pay ya know.

Next up are the folks who REFUSE to complete the ethnicity portion of the form, which is fine, and again, you have that right. In fact, there is even a little box that says DECLINES TO PROVIDE.  

4534673-Cartoon-prehistoric-man-before-cave-color-illustration--Stock-IllustrationNO ONE, especially me is forcing you to reveal your heritage. However, one does not have to be Nancy Drew to solve that mystery or at least come close. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes people tick. 

My faith in humanity weakens when I think about the passion associated with these “protests” and how that energy is wasted on something so senseless. Ugh!

Do they realize that their name, address, social security number, phone numbers, employer information, marital status and the name of a family member for an emergency contact have just been delivered on a silver platter, which dramatically weakens their argument and provides enough evidence to trace their roots back to a cave?  Dear Lord!

Use your energy wisely and as always, Enjoy the Ride!

 

No Questions Asked

1aew9yI recently ran late for work, which is very out of character for this early bird. Of course, it had nothing to do with me. Nope, I have to blame it on the dog. The ole “the dog ate my homework” just reached a new level.

Every day before I leave for the salt mines I take my love bugs for a walk. They are well aware of this routine and are normally waiting on me. This particular morning Peanut was suddenly MIA. As I was calling him I could actually hear the panic in my voice. Pets are not spared from my zero to catastrophic reasoning.

I ran up the steps expecting to find a four-legged comatose dog, but instead, I found a stuffed Ladybug smoking a cigarette in the hallway. (not really we don’t allow smoking in the house) and Pee Wee paralyzed by an erection in the bedroom! (erections are always welcome, except in this moment) Oh yes, this was happening. 

Look, if you’re going to be late, I’m certain the line “I’m sorry I’m late I had to wait for my dogs erection to recede in order to take him out for his morning poop” will not only work, it just may go down in infamy at work places across the land. No questions asked.

My first jaw-dropping excuse came from Jackie, a young girl from the hood, who I had the pleasure of knowing early on in my working career. She called out one morning with this gem. “I won’t be in today, my boyfriend dropped his gun on my foot and I can’t walk.” It’s solidly shocking enough not to question its authenticity.  Feel better and leave his ass is all that can follow.

Of course, all excuses can not be as great as these two, so we settle for what I like to call “The Lazy.” This is when you just roll over, pick up the phone and make that call before ever uttering a single word.  You proceed to sound as if you’ve crawled through the dessert for a week while stating you are soooooooo sick you feel as if were hit by a truck. Yes, the groggy morning voice works but it’s lazy, lacks creativity and leaves you in the position of answering questions about your miraculous recovery the following day. Effort and imagination are your friends, people. 

Then there is this classic, “The Silencer”. You start off strong with “everything is coming out of both ends.” Although this statement will have you on and off the phone in a nano second, it will also leave the door open. The recipient is left to wonder “how in gods name are you making this call?” or they are imaging you sitting on the toilet. Now one of you must die. 

But I must say, nothing to date has even come close to the lengths one of my sister’s co-workers went in order to dodge a huge meeting in NYC. Are you familiar with the saying “less is more”? Well, you’re about to be.

This guy was one of those co-workers that had an all talk no show kind of work ethic. We’ve all had one of these in our lives. 

My sister on the other hand is nothing short of a psycho perfectionist with standards through the roof. Martha Stewart meets Walmart.

She knew there was no way in the world he was prepared for this presentation. Even by his lazy standards.

Mr. Unprepared headed to the train station with his empty briefcase. The briefcase of deceit.

The next day the office received a call that Mr. Unprepared was a no-show to the meeting. Shocking.

This simple act now transpired into frantic phone calls to his cell, the hotel, the client, his family and anyone else on the planet who may have information on his whereabouts. This went on ALL day.

Imagine a full-blown investigation, manhunt, milk cartons being prepped for his photo and my sister feeling a tad guilty for all of those lovely adjectives she used to describe him. Just a tad. 

Shit got real when his wife showed up at the office in tears with their baby and his parents with the faces of fear and anguish. All of this over not being prepared.

After hours of worry for everyone, and the revelation of huge holes in his timeline, he surfaced to state that he was robbed and disoriented. Really now ….

Ironically, once again his creativity fell short. If you’re planning on going to this extreme you better be the master. This guy wasn’t even close.

He came back to the office with no signs of a struggle, other than his smile. Talk about leaving the door open for questions. “I ate some bad sushi from a street vendor” would have been the appropriate way to go in this situation. Short and sweet.

This guy was the definition of Douchebaggery!

While everyone was fawning over his safe return, my sister was giving him the “I know what you did last night” eye. He knew that she was on to him.

So, what do rats do when they’re trapped in a corner? They head to HR with lies about their trapper. Oh yes he did.

Let’s just say he probably never saw the knock on his door, followed by the words “Hey Pussy, can I talk to you?” coming.

Enjoy the Ride!  No questions asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s Always A Story

dog-story-telling-meme

I recently saw the quote “Alcohol, because no great story ever started with someone eating a salad.” This may be true but something tells me I could get a great story out of eating salad. There’s always a story.

Recently I went to the local mall in search of some fancy shoes to wear to a wedding. My feet have not seen anything fancy in years, so this was not going to be easy. I already ordered and returned two pair. Cinderella I am not.

My first mistake was bypassing Macy’s. The logic, if that’s what you want to call it, was to try stores I never shop in first. Why?

First up: Shoe Carnival. How inviting does that sound?  I was in, out and emptied handed in 5 seconds. Carnival is the key word.

Next, I headed down to Boscov’s, where everyone on the planet seems to find amazing merchandise basically for free, except me. As I was browsing the shoe department my intestines began to rumble…oh yes! Glutes tight as I head to the ladies room.

I proceeded to do the shit shuffle from the shoe department, up the escalator, through the furniture department, where I was blocked by a kid throwing a full-blown temper tantrum over the lack of Pokemons. Get the hell out of my way!  

This journey seemed 5 miles long through tar at this point. I headed down some godforsaken 1980’s hallway to the turn of the century bathroom where the gates of hell opened. No words.

Now that I was a least 2 pounds lighter I headed back out to the Mall with every intention of heading home. But no.

I made a sharp right and headed to Sears, because who the hell knows. There I was gazing over the shoes when a women dressed in red from head to toe, approached me with this statement. “If you keep smiling I’m going to file a lawsuit against you.” Alrighty then …

As I look for a glimmer of sanity I notice a man looking at me shrugging his shoulders. Seriously! That’s all you have is a shrug?

Ugh, I stood there alone smiling and now fearing a potential lawsuit. I decided home is where I need to go. Nope.

Just as I was about to escape I noticed the smile police browsing books at Barnes & Noble. She appeared very normal in that moment. 

Next thing I know she is heading my way as if my smile was on the list of the 10 most wanted!  Suddenly she is inches from me when she gave me another warning. “I told you to stop smiling!!” Good thing I hit the bathroom before this moment.

I found myself hiding in the Hallmark store texting my daughter and sisters about the incident, just in case I went missing. I learned that trick from Law and Order SVU.

At this point a normal person would have been sprinting to the car … not me.

Macy’s was my last stop. Within seconds I had a beautiful pair of sparkly shoes on my hooves. Life was good again for a nano second. 

A lovely woman sat down next to me admiring my selection. I loved these shoes! I would have loved them more if I had the 4th toe on my Right foot amputated, but that was not an option. Yet.

We were chatting about the wedding, my need for an emergency amputation, and the fact that my shoes need to be beautiful and comfortable when she began digging down into her bra. I should have known this was not just an adjustment.

Just like a magician she pulls out a pair of dentures, puts them in her mouth and apologizes for talking to me without her teeth. A rabbit would have been less shocking.

My face must have been asking all sorts of questions, because she proceeded to inform me that her 70th birthday was coming up and she no longer cared what people thought. Truth!

At this point of my tale my husband asked “did you finally leave?”

Me: No, I asked her when her birthday was?

Husband: Why?

Me:  I wanted to know.

Husband:  Why?

Me:  Because I wanted to know if she was a Leo.

Husband: Why do you care?

Me:  Just be glad I do.

Although I left the mall without shoes, I did get this post.

That wedding I was talking about is TODAY!!!!

My nephew Ryan is getting hitched to his beautiful bride Monica. Hurricane Hermine is a no show in PA, and we are about to get this party started!

Enjoy the Ride … I know I will!

 

 

 

 

When Harry, Norman & Robert Met Lisa

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Three wise men walked into a Podiatrist office. No, this is not the beginning of a joke about aging feet, it’s the story of one of the best days I’ve had at work in a long time.

Let me introduce you to Harry, Norman & Robert. Three interesting, intelligent and inspiring men who walked into the office, dropped some wisdom and went about their day.

Harry -83 years young:  Harry is a recent surgery patient with a wonderful sense of humor.

When he came in for his first post-op appointment he said, and I quote: “I want to thank Lisa for answering all of my questions, she is a fountain of knowledge.” I asked him to call my children to inform them of that fact, he thought I was kidding … I was not.

Believe it or not, the accurate conclusion that Harry made about me was not what captured my heart. But, it certainly didn’t hurt.

Harry told me that he volunteers in a first-grade classroom, and has been doing it for years. He was so happy that the teacher had the class send him Get Well wishes after his surgery, but there was a catch, they had to include a joke. Laughter is the best medicine.

This gesture filled Harry’s heart. He told me that he enjoys volunteering in the First Grade classroom because it gives him the joy to see these children enter the door not certain what to expect and leave with confidence.

He went on to explain that he has a special bond with this teacher. Harry lost his son years ago in November, just when this teacher was getting married. One young life ending as one began.

Shortly after the teacher was married she found out she was expecting and 3 months into the pregnancy her new husband died suddenly. Grief, let me introduce you to grief.

Their losses brought them together and they are wonderful friends who helped each other heal. He’s been volunteering ever since.

83 years old, still thinking, still living and still making a mark in this world.

Norman-86 years young: He came to us a few months ago via his family doctor, which is never good, and let’s just say that “the little piggy that went to the market” never came back.

When he called the other day he was very nervous that “the little piggy that stayed home” was on its way out too so we made room on the schedule. Podiatry office humor.

Norman came in as if he was the guest of honor at a celebration, not someone with a potential gangrenous toe.

He was wearing a Villanova cap to “make the doctor happy” since his daughter is a student and it was the day of the championship game. Well played Norman, well-played indeed.

Norman was excited to reveal he had recently written a paper on aging. When I took him to the exam room I had to inquire about the paper. I was very curious.

I was thinking he wrote it for the AARP magazine. Nope, he said, “I wrote it for my family, I want them to know how quickly it comes up on you.” A warning of sorts.

The title of the paper is “Getting Old Is Not For Sissies.” Norman told me he stole that line from Bette Davis, an actress I wouldn’t know because, and I quote “you’re too young to remember her.” He had me at “too young.”

Norman still can’t believe he is 86. He doesn’t recognize the person in the mirror. Still has a lot to share with this world. Has an incredible sense of humor, and wants nothing more than for his family to be happy.

Norman is going to drop off a copy of the paper for me to read. No worries, I will share.

Robert-91 years young: Robert came in for a routine appointment. As soon as he came to the window he showed my co-worker a photo of him and his wife from 1941. They looked like movie stars.

Robert is a tall man, but frail. No doubt more so since he lost the love of his life. He told my co-worker a story that left them both with watery eyes.

Later I asked her about it and of course, I too was left with watery eyes. We’re so sappy sometimes.

Robert explained that he and his wife were sitting at the kitchen table and she asked: “How long have we been married?” Robert responded with “65 years dear.” Her response was “I have not regretted one day in 65 years.” Robert explained that even though she is gone, he is still stunned by her words. He is a walking, talking broken heart.

I was also taken back by my co-worker’s response to Robert which was “It was nice to be able to hear that Robert.”  Indeed, it was.

I must say, it was a pleasure to pick-up these three men while I … Enjoy the Ride!

 

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