At the Physician’s Office

We were at the physician’s office
for something I, as an adolescent,

don’t remember but was about me.
The physician, new to us and not

our primary before the word
primary was used, spoke in poly-

syllabic words to describe my
condition, which neither my

father nor I understood. The
physician more than seemed

satisfied with his considerable
acumen not to mention his

academic credentials. That
would be the last time we visit-

ed that physician. On the way
to the car, my father said that

the best communication is the
most understandable commun-

ication. Keep it simple, son. That
physician wanted to impress us

with his knowledge, apparently,
more than he wanted my healing.

His need to impress, perhaps only
himself, only served to drive us

away from the healer he, osten-
sibly,  was supposed to be.

Miles to Go Before the Gentle Hybrid Sleeps

The hybrid animal moved nicely
down the two-lane road. Looking
in the rearview mirror, the driver
of the animal saw a muscular

Mustang rush up to the hybrid’s
behind. When the road turned to
four lanes, the easy-going hybrid
moved to the right-hand lane, the

muscular Mustang roared past.
The gentle hybrid eased to the
red light and next to him sat the
muscular Mustang. When the

light turned green, the muscular
Mustang’s driver put the peddle
to the metal. The hybrid eased
away from the light and steadily

moved up toward cruising speed.
At the next red light…well, you
get the picture. Yes, there sat
the rumbling and grumbling mus-

cular Mustang next to the easy-
going, quiet hybrid. And when
the light changed, the muscular
Mustang roared ahead, pulled in

front of the hybrid and the hy-
brid’s driver wondered why the
muscular Mustang was going
so fast when the brake lights

came on and the muscular
Mustang made a quick right
turn into a gas station. The

quiet, easygoing, clean, green
hybrid, eased on down the
road for many, many, many
miles to come.

To Soothe the Weary Brow From Bad Politics

After a day,
the start of
a two-month stay,
looked at
each other
and started
to say,
“We need
classical music”
to keep the
political furies
He said,
“Let’s buy
a cheap
radio, the
to play.”
and at
the end
of their
they went
they looked
at each other
and started
to say,
“For our mental
health, we
should have
bought the

He Didn’t Say It With Elation

Dead Portuguese Men O’
War littered the beach.
Not knowing what they
were but thinking maybe

dead jellyfish, he jabbed
the end of his hiking stick
into one and it popped.
He popped a few more

and stopped a walker
and asked if she knew
what they were. She did.
He jogged on only to see

a family of four, the two
children running in and
out of the water, shovel-
ing Men O’ War onto a

plastic shovel and run-
ning them out to sea.
He passed on the inform-
ation he had gotten —

poisonous dead or alive —
and only got back elation
that those are such naughty
boys and ever so hard to

keep inline. Shaking his
head, he jogged back to
the cottage and his Choco-
late Lab sniffed and made

a surreptitious move for
the hiking stick. Lifting
the stick out of her way,
he said, “Oh, girl, curios-

ity killed the cat and you’re
no cat, but you are as
naughty as those two
towheads at the beach.”

He didn’t say it with elation.

We Have Conveniences

We have conveniences
upon conveniences,
smart appliances

after smart appliances,
all gauged to make
money for the corpor-

ations not so much
the inventors who
work for the corporat-

ions and all designed
to make our life easier
to manage, but for all

the advances, there
are all the risks to
our identity (with

smart this and smart
that and social media),
so privacy is now a

thing of the past
(Darling, you know the
smart T.V. is watching

us.) and then there is
the matter of the resist-
ance of human nature

to embrace the most
up-to-date, ultra-mod-
ern, still strange, yet

truly interesting notions
to be tested called peace,
justice, mercy and the

strangest of all — un-
conditional, self-sac-
rificial, agape love.