A Date 7/26/20

Thoughts by Richard Bleil

Holly agreed to a date. Okay, it won’t be for a few weeks yet, but yes, she set an actual date. And you are probably thinking to yourself, “but wait, I don’t know Holly.” Well, neither do I, so it’s fair.

Just up the road is a little Italian restaurant. I’ve never been there, so I thought, hey, let’s give it a try. It’s actually a nice walking distance, but I just got my new tires, so I took the lazy way out and drove. To be fair, though, I was also thinking that maybe, after I grab a bite, it might be nice to go for a drive to try out the new “shoes” on my vehicle. Unfortunately, once I stepped outside, I realized that the heat is oppressive. High humidity, high temperature, just an awful combination, and since Corrine, my four wheeled sweetheart, has no functional air conditioning, I decided against the drive.

So, I get to the restaurant when I see her. Set up with a folding table and chair, she is sitting at the side of the restaurant with some kind of display. I ask what she’s selling (and secretly hoping it was girl scout cookies), it turns out she was setting dates for hearing tests.

Why, what kind of date did you think I meant?

She looked to be about college age, just old enough to feel creeped out by guys like me. So, I asked a few questions, but made no decisions. I went into order lunch at the sit-down restaurant, which, by the way, was amazing! But here is how my mind works; it tends to pick up on things subconsciously and it works on those things that I didn’t notice that I had noticed. What I noticed this time was that this young woman didn’t seem to have anything to drink. I assured them at the restaurant that I was just stepping out momentarily and went to check on her. Sure enough, no drinks.

Lately, you’ve been hearing a lot about my family, and my regular readers know that it’s because my father is in hospice. It’s a funny thing, because as a lot of negativity and hurtful memories about my family, my entire family as opposed to just my father, come up, so are a lot of pleasant memories. Yesterday I wrote about the Wright Patterson Air Force Base Museum which is definitely one of my favorite memories. Today I got to thinking about my mother, gone since June of 2012.

Among these memories was of her and the mailman. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter; what I mean is how she would send me out with a glass of iced tea to give to the mailman when it was very hot. Mom always was very kind, often at my own expense as she liked to give away my toys to the less fortunate explaining why I have nothing from my childhood left. But, this gesture towards the mailman is an example of her charity towards others. Dad was always very conservative, mom was liberal. Every election they spoke about how they would vote, and they never did because it was always opposite of each other and they figured their votes would just cancel out anyway.

So, I got to thinking about this gesture with the mailman and asked her what she would like to drink. She said double whiskey sour. No, that’s just a joke. She said she would love a water, but not being satisfied with that answer, I told her it was on me, and told them the soft drinks they have. So, she gave in and settled on such a drink. I went inside and asked if they have “to go” drinks, and asked for a large water, and a large pop of her choice, and asked that they add it to my tab.

As far as the date, no, I didn’t ask her out on a “date”, but rather, decided that maybe it’s a good time to have my hearing checked. The examination is free, and I’m sure they’re hoping that I’ll need to buy a hearing aid, but I also have to admit my hearing is not what it used to be. Too much Floyd, I guess. So, I made a date to go see the doctor (I couldn’t hear what she called this type of doctor), but not until mid-August (the first available appointment). My dad absolutely refused to go see an optometrist, another memory of mine, despite the fact that it was obvious to all of us around him that he was in desperate need of glasses. Frankly, I don’t want to be like my father, so I thought, yeah, there are times my hearing seems less than adequate, so lets at least find out.

I’ll keep you updated. And if you are following the familial hospice saga, again, no word today, not from my dad, not from my sister, nobody. But I honestly also don’t trust my sister to keep me informed, either, so no news could honestly mean anything. When my mother died, I was not informed until after the funeral, the reason being that they decided that it wasn’t worthwhile for me to spend my money to come back. If she wants to keep me out of the loop, it’s okay; I’m a big boy, I can reach out on my own.


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