The Day After

Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone. In keeping with America’s limited attention span, we’re already on to Christmas sales and decorations. However, I’d like to linger over Thanksgiving for a little while longer if you don’t mind.

My father spent his holiday undergoing major surgery. There were complications that left him worse for wear. Right at this exact moment, he is sleeping in his room in the Cardiac Care Unit. When he finally does get to go home, it will be because of the dozens and dozens of people who looked after him and our family, often in complete disregard of their own families, or any possibility of enjoying the holidays themselves.

Some of you might say—quite correctly—that,  of course they did; it’s their job. Yes, they’re compensated for what they do, but there’s an enormous difference between doing a job for hire in a competent fashion, and doing it competently with patience and compassion.

Every single person who crossed our path, from the wonderful nurses who prepped Dad for surgery, to the ladies at the patient information desk who kept us informed, calm, and caffeinated (quite a feat I assure you), to the nurses who cared for him post-op, all of them did so with great care. They treated us as if we were part of their own family. Dad’s surgeon not only showed great professionalism and skill, but also took the time to explain things honestly. He even took the time to deliver a bit of a lecture to Yours Truly about my own health.

Yesterday, in the tedious hours when all the patients were quiet and there wasn’t much to do, I watched Dad’s primary care nurse eat her turkey dinner, such as it was, at her little desk. Even as she tried to enjoy that small moment to herself, she kept one eye scanning the computer screen that monitored the vitals of her patients. It wasn’t much of a holiday for her, or any of her colleagues for that matter, but you wouldn’t know it. Every thing they did, big or little, they did cheerfully, ungrudgingly, with loads of encouragement for their patients laced with plenty of good humor. Dad’s convalescence is going to take a very long time, but he’s well on his way thanks to them.

In a time when simple kindness is so rare, the contrast to normal behavior is all the more striking. Today the news is full of scenes of normal people acting like fools and brawling over Christmas shopping. It’s heartening to know that there are still people in this world who put others first, not because they get paid to do it, but because it’s the right thing to do.

For them, my family and I are truly thankful!

Bleg

FOB (Friend of the Blog) William, is having major surgery tomorrow and will likely spend his Thanksgiving in a hospital bed. Please send a prayer his way tomorrow, m’k? Thanks!

Rob, Don’t Eat It!

My apologies to Steve over at The Sneeze.

This is the week when Americans stuff themselves with all manner of gustatory delights. A traditional item found on our family sideboard at Thanksgiving is the venerable mincemeat pie. This is not really a dish common to people of our ancestry. Rather, its appearance on the Thanksgiving Day menu is due to the fact that my father loves the stuff. As does my oldest brother. In the entire family, they are the only ones I know of who enjoy mincemeat pie. And also because my father’s birthday is November 25th and it’s kind of a birthday treat.

Blah, blah, blah, get on with it, right?

So, every year I get the urge to try a piece. Every year the same thing happens…

Bleeeccchh!

How can something that smells so good, taste so bad? A typical list of ingredients—so they say—includes apples, cranberries, raisins, currants, candied orange peel, brown sugar, rum, brandy, butter, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, and cloves. Oh, and there’s probably nuts in there too. More traditional recipes also include suet. You read that right, suet. The stuff you put out for birds in the winter.

However, at our house, the mincemeat comes from a jar; a brown gelatinous mass, that glops into the pie shell inviting unappetizing comparisons. Still, it smells damn good while it’s baking. This year, I have determined to find out what it is about mincemeat that makes me cringe. The results of my research are shocking to say the least!

Continue reading “Rob, Don’t Eat It!”

C’mon Man!

No corner of American life is such a fertile field for the restless, little brains of consumer products marketeers to spin wildly out of control, than the kitchen. Thanks to them, we have Ginsu knives, Bread Buddies, egg peelers, crackers, and genies…Dr. Nick Riviera’s Juice Loosener, and on and on.

There’s a good reason why they sell these things in the middle of the night. Only the severe neurosis caused by sleep deprivation or insomnia can make a normal, rational human being buy this crap! Well, that and stupidity.

Now, just when you thought it was safe to go back in the kitchen junk drawer, comes this abomination…

Continue reading “C’mon Man!”

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!

To all of you who’ve purchased my book, a great, big, sloppy, wet Thank You! The Good Thief has moved up to 1,176,073 on Amazon! Or, as I prefer to think of it, The Good Thief has moved up 2,000,000 places on Amazon!

Now for a little bleg: If you haven’t already done so, go out to Amazon and write a review. I won’t die from the criticism, but please, be gentle!

 

Welcome to the 21st Century, Part Deux

Who would’ve thought this iPhone thing would open up a whole new level of self-discovery for me? It has, and I thought this was worth sharing with you…

I was talking with my buddy Jack about my grudging adoption of the ubiquitous iPhone. Jack has long owned and used Apple products—in fact his wife once worked for Apple—and is therefore thoroughly convinced of their virtues.

When I finally admitted that, yes, it is a superior device to my old Blackberry, he commented that he was going to start calling me Pepe le Pew. Puzzled, I asked him why. He replied that there are some people who are, and I’m paraphrasing here, “so mortally afraid of being one of the sheep, that they refuse to adopt the new, and clearly superior technology.” Pepe le Pew saw himself as a great Lothario, and “absolutely refused to admit he was a skunk.”

Continue reading “Welcome to the 21st Century, Part Deux”

Welcome to the 21st Century

<sigh> Well, I guess I’ll have to turn in my Junior Luddites of America membership card. Yesterday I took delivery of an…an…I can’t say it.

[What? You’ll do what? You can’t be serious?? Where did you get the authority to…Okay, okay, I’ll say it…Damn you!]

Yesterday I took delivery of an iPhone. But I want you to know that I am being coerced into the following remarks by the unspeakable terror that is the Apple Marketing Department. I had no idea they had this much power. And to think I was worried about Barack Obama!

[What are you gonna do with that rubber hose?? Okay, fine. Give me the damn script! <paper rustling sounds>]

This product is superior in every way to every other wireless device currently or ever available, with the exception of the iPhone 5. It is the single most revolutionary piece of technology to be conceived by the mind of man. It has changed the life of mankind for the better. It will now change mine. I now realize that only fools and monkeys use a Blackberry. All hail Steve Jobs and long live his beneficent rule over us all.

[Aw c’mon, you’ve got to be kidding! I mean, the guy’s dead for cryin’ out loud…<rubber hose applied to side of head sounds>]

Owww!

I honestly don’t know what could have made me so blind for so long. But now I’ve seen the light! I am finally free to…ignore everyone around me, <alarmed scuffling sounds> hand over gobs of money to the evil minions who work in the app store, while my brain devolves to a single, neural synapse whose soul function is to release dopamine into my system whenever I upgrade to the latest version because it has slightly bluer blues and goes “bing” in 200 languages!

Arrrrggggghhh! <dragging sounds>