It's all part of the story

I talked to my brother Pat last night and he told me a story that had me waking up at 2 a.m., composing a re-tell for the blog.

Pat has a friend whose dad is getting older and a little goofy. He went to the driver's license bureau one day to turn in his license because, and these are his exact words, I'm blind in one eye and can't see out of the other. The kind lady behind the desk said, "Oh, don't be too quick to do that. Let's test your vision." Lo and behold, he passed and walked out with his license. I would say if a guy's own assessment is that he can't see they ought to take him at his word.

The same old guy called his son one day and said he wanted to buy a gun. Son goes to see dad and together they go to the gun shop. Same old guy who is blind in one eye and can't see out of the other. He needs the gun dealer's help to fill out the four page form because....he can't see the lines. But he walks out with a snub nosed 38. I have no idea what that is but Pat says it's a gun meant for deadly business. What the hell, I say.

I read this on Your Daily Poem today: "There are nearly thirteen million people in the world. None of those people is an extra. They are all leads of their own stories." Charlie Kaufmann wrote that in his play (film?) Synecdoche, New York. I also like the poem there today. You can find it here. On my paranoid days, I don't reprint poems because I worry about the copyright police. I wonder if they make you go to meetings in copyright jail.

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