Nov 7, 2010
Welecome to the 5th instalment of my short story collection I have titled, "Stories I Tell on Myself." We have two stories this week that I think you will enjoy!
Story 9 Letter to a Doctor.
Forms are an important part of our everyday life--- and were before
we were old enough to understand. This particular form, very au
courant, which is the basis for the story is a letter to a real
doctor to be signed by a real patient when email activated. It is
an incredible piece of paper that one day could end up in my file
---or even---. I hope it never gets activated. What do you
think?
Story 10 There are Rocks and There are Rocks.
All I did was take two relatively small pieces of marble from the
Vermont countryside, in search of something indigenous to the
territory, small enough to put in our station wagon and cart the
700 miles back home. As part of my career moves after that, we let
Mayflower Moving Company have the honor.
They are at rest now, perfectly positioned on our patio to be seen and admired every day. They’re part of the family. Listen and find out why I think that’s important and amazing. Hard to imagine!! Almost.
I encourage you to provide feedback on this story or any of the
earlier shorts by email at talesbytom@gmail.com or by
voicemail at 1 206 339 5456.
Some administrator at the hospital was a pretty smart one; must have had at least one or more experiences with an alcoholic such as the one that wrote the form letter, and must have thought long and hard about "what would happen if...".... I bet the form letter received awesome distribution to folks who worked with knives on surgical tables.... Responsibility can be overwhelming... if the possibilities are all considered.
Rocks.. pretty neat idea...closest I came to that was acquiring a huge tractor tire when Kevin was about two years old in Peoria.
I gave it several coats of silver finish, and half filled it with nice clean sand... voila... a secure/safe sandbox for my first son. It was a huge success, and a real magnet for the neighbor kids, too. tanks, soldiers, camps, shovels, buckets, etc. complete.
We moved seven times in the next twelve years when #3 kid was born, and the sand box remained with us... Mark got the same value from it his brother did twelve years earlier. About six years later, he outgrew it, and the sandbox became lonesome; no kids to enjoy it... So, for the family, we weren't about to rid ourselves of the sandbox... a flower garden added color to the yard, and the conversation piece lived on... but, as we became empty nesters, and a move was required...
I wonder if the folks in Grand Rapids still enjoy the flower box?!?