Do You Hear Anything?

The first present I remember receiving was a doctor's kit that my day brought me back from Holland after a three month long business trip. Attached to my dad with a devotion that mostly is reserved for heroin by heroin addicts, my parents decided not to tell me he was leaving. So he slipped out one morning before I woke up. I knew he'd died, but was too afraid to ask. So I spent most of those months in a daze of sorry and anxiety, subsequently developing a stomach ulcer. I'd never been a great eater to start with -- colic as a baby, followed by a propensity for non-political food strikes, i.e. -- I refused anything that wasn't meatloaf or KFC. Hours could pass at the table with nary a bite going into my mouth.

The ulcer made things worse. Hence, the doctor's kit. I loved its sturdy red plastic and especially loved the stethoscope. When my dad gave it to me with a pair of wooden shoes, I looked at him as if the dead had returned! Cried and cried in that way of great relief. My ulcer remained, though, because my fear never left. I'd put the eartips of the stethoscope into my ears , but I didn't care about checking anyone else's hearts. I'd check my own and listen carefully, asking anyone who was around, Do you hear anything strange?, because I couldn't hear a sound, nothing at all.

Michelle's Spell of the Day

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation. I can't take quiet desperation! " The Lost Weekend

Cocktail Hour

Drinking movie suggestion: Big Bad Love

Benedictions and Maledictions

Happy Thursday!

60 Days until The Sopranos airs!