Small Town Living

My mother just got a "pocket" dog. This is my new brother, Joe. Yesterday my brother called to say that our dad was alright. Last time I got a call like that was in November when Dad and Grandfather were on a National Geographic ship touring the Antarctic. Another ship was sinking and we were relieved to know it wasn't theirs. Like last time, I was delighted to know that he was okay, but not sure why the information was necessary. It seems Dad experienced some chest pain while baking a chocolate cake. After finishing the cake and no doubt eating some of it, he decided to go to the emergency room. Although Mom says you get right in when you say you're having a heart attack, there was still a wait, during which the nurses wanted to know how the chickens were doing...

They determined there was no heart problem, kept Dad around for observation, then sent him home to his cake. Meanwhile I went to the hospital to help. Had I known then about the cake, my priorities might have been different - after all - I already knew he was alright...

At the hospital desk there were three nurses I'd never seen before. I said, "I understand you have my dad." They replied, "He was released just a few minutes ago." Not - "who is your dad?" or "what is your name". I love this town.

I pulled into my parent's driveway and cracked up. Dad was in the yard watering plants. We all ate cake and lived happily ever after.

Thank goodness he'll be in top form for the Community Council meeting next week!