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| The local market has a bin where employees keep returned items. The bin is labeled "Spoils." I never thought much about it, until one afternoon I heard an announcement over the loudspeaker: "Victor to the spoils. Thank you." It was an absolutely crazy evening at our emergency clinic. The doctor on duty was being bombarded with questions, given forms to fill out, and even asked for his dinner order. I was in the next room, cleaning up a sutured wound, when I realized the doctor hadn't given instructions for a bandage. "What kind of dressing do you want on that?" I shouted through the door. "Ranch," he yelled back. For some reason, the bookstore clerk couldn't get the computer to recognize my preferred customer card. Peering over her shoulder at the screen, I said, "There's part of the problem. It shows my birth date as 12/31/1899." "That's right," my husband chimed in. "She was born in June, not December." At 82 years old, my husband applied for his first passport. He was told he would need a birth certificate, but his birth had never been officially registered. When he explained his dilemma to the passport agent, the response was less than helpful. "It's all right," the agent said. "Just bring a notarized affidavit from the doctor who delivered you." Short and baby-faced, my buddy Wiggins had trouble being taken seriously in the Army. A mustache, he assumed, would fix that. He was wrong. "Wiggins!" bellowed our drill instructor after spotting the growth during inspection. "What's so special about your nose that it's got to be underlined?" While my husband was stationed overseas, our four-year-old daughter decided that she needed a baby brother. "Good idea," I told her. "But don't you think we should wait till your father's home?" She had a better idea. "Why don't we just surprise him?" During basic training, our drill sergeant asked all Jewish personnel to make themselves known. Six of us tentatively raised our hands. Much to our relief, we were given the day off for Rosh Hashanah. A few days later, in anticipation of Yom Kippur, the sergeant again asked for all Jewish personnel to identify themselves. This time, every soldier raised his hand. "Only those who were Jewish last week can be Jewish this week," declared the sergeant. Just before I was deployed to Iraq, I sat my eight-year-old son down and broke the news to him. "I'm going to be away for a long time," I told him. "I'm going to Iraq." "Why?" he asked. "Don't you know there's a war going on over there?" When I worked as a medical intern in a hospital, one of my patients was an elderly man with a thick accent. It took a while before I understood that he had no health insurance. Since he was a World War II vet, I had him transported to a VA hospital, where he'd be eligible for benefits. The next day, my patient was back, along with this note from the VA admitting nurse: "Right war, wrong side." Few people outside the military know what a quartermaster does. So during my aircraft carrier's Family Day, I demonstrated a procedure called semaphore-I grabbed my flags and signaled an imaginary boat. When finished, I pointed to a little girl in front and asked, "Now do you know what I do?" "Yes," she answered. "You're a cheerleader." Sitting in coach during a lengthy flight, my wife and I heard a flight attendant ask the high-paying passengers in first class, "Would you care for Chardonnay or Burgundy?" A few minutes later, the curtains between the two sections parted, and the attendant wheeled the wine cart back to our aisle. "Excuse me," he said, looking down at us, "would you care for a glass of wine? We have white and red." When Dad's satellite dish conked out, I found him on the phone with the help desk. The TV set was pulled away from the wall, and he was staring at the mass of tangled wires spilling out the back of it. He looked absolutely overwhelmed. "Tell you what I'm going to do," Dad said to the technician. "I'm going to hang up now, go to college for a couple of years, and then call you back." My 50-something friend Nancy and I decided to introduce her mother to the magic of the Internet. Our first move was to access the popular Ask Jeeves site, and we told her it could answer any question she had. Nancy's mother was very skeptical until Nancy said, "It's true, Mom. Think of something to ask it." As I sat with my fingers poised over the keyboard, Nancy's mother thought for a minute, then responded, "How is Aunt Helen feeling?" A pastor I know has a standard liturgy for funerals. To personalize each service, he uses the Find and Replace command on his computer to replace the name of the deceased from the previous funeral with the name of the deceased for the upcoming one. Recently, he had to replace the name Mary with Edna. The next morning, the funeral was going smoothly until the congregation intoned the Apostles' Creed. "Jesus Christ," they read from the preprinted program, "born of the Virgin Edna." I feel inadequate when talking with a mechanic, so when my vehicle started making a strange noise, I sought help from a friend. A car nut, he told me how to explain the difficulty when I took it in for repair. At the shop, I proudly recited, "The timing is off, and there are premature detonations, which may damage the valves." As I smugly glanced over the mechanic's shoulder, I saw him write on his clipboard, "Lady says it makes a funny noise." My friend was flabbergasted. She'd read that in a recent survey, our home state of California was ranked 47 in a list of the nation's smartest states. "Can you believe that?" she fumed. "We're 47 out of 52!" Halfway through dinner one night, our friend Jim told us of his days playing football in college as a defensive lineman. "Did you play sports in college, Mike?" his wife then asked me. "Yes," I answered. "I was on West Point's shooting team." "That's great," she said. "Offense or defense?" Strolling through town, I saw a road worker printing a sign that read "Raised Manhole Ahead." I pointed out that there were more like ten raised manholes. The sign, he assured me, would be changed. Later that day, the sign was corrected. It now read "Raised Menhole Ahead." Since I was a new patient, I had to fill out an information form for the doctor's files. The nurse reading it over noticed my unusual name. "How do you pronounce it?" she asked. "Na-le-Y-ko," I said, proud of my Ukrainian heritage. "That sounds real nice," she said, smiling. "Yes, it is melodious," I agreed. "So," she asked sweetly, "what part of Melodia is your family from?" These newspaper editors stand corrected. From The Silver City (New Mexico) Daily Press: "Due to technical difficulties, Tuesday's page 7 was inadvertently left out and replaced with Monday's page 7. Today, page 5 will feature Tuesday's front page, while page 6 will be the correct page 7 for Tuesday." | ||
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