Yesterday we were sitting in the waiting room waiting on my sister’s being fitted for some upcoming procedures she will have to go through.
My biggest concern was the coffee maker. It had cups, the machine to drip out the coffee, but no carafe. How can they expect people enjoy their coffee if they don’t have anything to put the brewed coffee in?
Out from the back stepped my old friend Gresham Howren and his wife Lydia. We were in grammar classes and Boy Scouts together.
Gresham is getting treatments for lung cancer.
Gresham remembered my sister Frances. His mother was Frances’ 6th grade teacher. They had a nice little meeting too.
In most our classes Gresham sat in a desk in front of me. His last name is Howren and my last name is Hunter. Over the years I learned what button turns on Gresham’s giggle box and I pressed it whenever I thought of a good wisecrack in class. Gresham was a serious student and when he giggled he just about burst a gut smothering it.
We were glad to see and talked to each other. He doesn’t try to swallow his giggles any more.
Gresham asked me did I ever communicate with Geri Bundesman. I said I did. He said tell her hello. I hope she reads this, otherwise, I might forget.
Gresham and Lydia Howren went on their way and Frances was called back. I scouted out coffee on another floor.
Back in the waiting room drinking my coffee and reading the book I brought suddenly an elderly man materialized. He had a long walking stick in his hand. He asked for one of us to press the right button on the elevator for him to get him back on the main level. He was blind. How did he get on that floor? How did he get into the building? Did the person that brought him know he was blind? Another man jumped up and punched the elevator main floor for him.
The man who helped the blind man came back and told us his situation. He had a large number of siblings but only 5 were still living and of the 5 he was the only one able physically to help the other siblings.
For instance: He was there because he brought his ailing sister for cancer treatment. Not long ago she moved in with him so he could help her more. His sister was being treated for a brain tumor.
Frances has a brain tumor too. We carried her to Emory for radiation which should have stunted its growth (knock on wood).
Afterwards we had lunch at a New Orleans style Cajun restaurant . I had a bowl of gumbo. The manager is a nice spicy looking number…. Spicy – get it? Yuk yuk. I can’t stand myself sometimes. I wonder if the manager has a big collection of Mardi Gras beads.
After we let Frances off we bought groceries. It was Wednesday, Senior Discount Day.
While at Kroger’s several times I past an elderly serious looking couple which reminded me of the American Gothic painting. Once as I walked by them I noticed the man humming “The Little Drummer Boy” which got me humming it in my mind. Imagine if he effected everybody in the store and everybody in all aisles starting humming “Little Drummer Boy” together?
Imagine everybody in Krogers humming or singing the Little Drummer Boy and in the center of them all, the hub, so to speak, was a little elderly depressed couple.
The same Gothic couple was in front of me at the checkout counter. I chose to get behind them because they had very little in their cart. However, I soon found out they took up more time. They did have the money to cover what they bought. I think they first tried a credit card and the credit card only allowed them so much. Or they may have tried to pay with their cash money. Then they shifted through their purchases to see what they could do without and decided they needed it all. The lady finally said, “I’ll just write a check for the balance – how much is the balance?”
The cashier said, “$1.13”.
And she wrote the check. Problem solved. But the old man was no longer humming “Little Drummer Boy”.
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