Fridays

On many Friday evenings during the fall and winter months, I crash. The week is behind me and I'm feeling tired, somewhat cranky, relieved, and cold. As a matter of fact, I'm sitting here wearing a coat and it's fifty degrees outside. My shoulders are relaxed and drooping and if I rested my head on this keyboard, I'd be sleeping in fifteen seconds. Perhaps it's the Friday night traditional two glasses of white wine I just downed. Even the dogs are calm and Michael is snoring in his chair after his drive from Charleston, SC this afternoon. His work there is finished and he's back after several weeks of hotel living.

It was a wild day. One of my absent supervisors had a delivery for emergency medical training taking place tomorrow. The truck arrived with 3,000 pounds of secured equipment, packed in large crates, and they wouldn't fit through the doorways. With a phone on each ear, I managed to contact the right people for help. I changed into athletic shoes and ran around the entire campus looking for an open bay in the transportation building and found a forklift, too. I was a "First Responder" in my world of public safety.

Received some good news today...Dad is settling into his new home and doing well so far. My brother saw him looking quite alert today, in the company of ten other residents in a family room setting. Dad has always been a social butterfly and even though his words are slow to come, there is no doubt in my mind that he will find some friends. They'll tell lies and trade absurd stories that no one has ever heard before. But that's OK. The activities staff at the nursing home learned that he loves music and will invite him to sit at the grand piano in the dining room and play. I know he will try - not with his paralyzed left hand, but he'll try hard with his palsied right hand to play "Down on the Farm", or at least, "Jingle Bells". Then he might ask someone to offer him a beer in exchange for another tune!

Dad's piano from 1964 until 1989 when he surrendered it to me.