It's been a week since my discharge from Alta Bates and oddly enough, there has been a period of adjustment back to "normalcy". The two months of hospital stay was my "normal" that I created for myself and now it isn't.
It wasn't but a few days upon my return, that my wife Evy was involved in a bike accident resulting in a fractured pelvis which means that she'll be laid up for the next month.
So here we are, each with our own health issues, and supporting each other in less than ideal conditions.
Life moves forward in peculiar ways. Thank goodness for our friends and family that are nearby to lend us helping hands.
******
In learning to play Squash Tennis, I met a lot of the old timers who had been around the game for years. They helped convert me from the squash racquets tactics I was learning. One such player was Howard Rose, one tough, mean hombre who played out of the Princeton Club. I noted that everywhere Howard went, he carried a briefcase. In the locker room, in the car, even in his airplane. The only thing I ever saw come out of the case was a bottle of Apple Jack and it appeared quite often.
Once, flying into a hurricane on our way to the Nauset strip on the Cape, fortified by a swig or two, I noted that it appeared that our speed seemed to be about equal to the speed the hurricane was pushing us backward and I suggested to Howard that it might be time to turn around. Surprisingly, he listened. But I digress.
Seems Howard bought all of his Apple Jack from the local liquor store in New Rochelle where we both lived. The story goes that a liquor store owner in Stamford, Conn. called the sale manager of Apple Jack to commend them on their new ad campaign and noted that his sales were up ten-fold. The sales manager then blurted out, “Oh my God, to hell with the campaign, Howard Rose must have moved to Stamford” (and in fact, he had).
No comments:
Post a Comment