Hayter’s article for Nov 13, 2022
“Sometimes being lucky really stinks”
A few minutes ago, I realized that I am among the luckiest people in the world. Had I grasped that notion earlier in life, I might have better appreciated my luckiness.
Growing up, I was the unluckiest child I knew. The only people I was close to were my family and friends from my neighborhood. I was the kid who always borrowed everyone’s tricycle. When I was too old to ride a tricycle, I had to borrow someone’s bicycle. Dennis and I were the last kids in the neighborhood to get a bicycle.
And my friends got to go to great places I’d never heard of. Galveston, Sugar Land, Galena Park… Places with magical names. A land of sugar? A town that’s in a park. And, Galveston? Galveston didn’t have a cool name, but it had a beach and an ocean. Back then, the only water I was familiar with flowed over the Washburn Tunnel.
Eventually, I went to school where I had history and geography classes where I learned that I was luckier than the vast majority of kids in the world. I never knew some people had it that bad.
I was an adult when I heard Barbara Streisand sing about how the luckiest people in the world were people who need people. A songwriter named Bob Merrill came up with those lyrics. It song is beautiful, but under minimal scrutiny, it stinks on ice.
I choose to think that the song was written for people like me. I’ll give you a couple of quick examples. The first one involves a guy who was assisting at the entrance to the Willis vs Woodlands football game a few weeks back. The weather was cold and wet so before exiting the car, I grabbed Kay’s, small, sissy-looking umbrella from the backseat.
After going through the metal detector, I
found Big Al, his son Clint, and two of Clint’s kids, walking around in the
rain without umbrellas. I offered each of them mine, but they considered it too
sissified. Knowing there was a large umbrella in my car, I decided to go get it
for the others. That’s just the kind of guy I am.
To reach my car, I had to exit through the main gate, the entrance with a sign that read, “If you leave the stadium you will need to buy another ticket to get back in.” Though I’ve never used someone’s ticket stub to get into an event, I could still understand the need for such a rule. However, one might consider it kind to let an old guy exit the stadium without having to pay eight bucks for a return ticket. Did I mention it was cold and rainy?
I explained my dilemma to the first
responsible-looking person I saw. Unfortunately, he was way too responsible. He
said, “Sir, I’m sorry, but you will need to buy another ticket to get back in.”
Some rules do not allow for logic.
Fortunately, a young attendant behind me said, “Wait a minute. It’s raining. The man needs an umbrella.” He then turned to me and said, “Sir, exit through this side gate, and I’ll see that you get back in.” -- I smiled, thanked him, and shook his hand. On my way to the car, I said a silent prayer for the kid. What a nice young man.
Where was I? Ah, the gate. -- When I returned to the side gate, the young man was busy doing something else, so I took it upon myself to walk through the gate like I knew what I was doing. When I did, one lady approached me, but stopped and just gave me the stinkeye.
One thing to note about this story is that my family members were sitting in the rain in need of a large umbrella. The guy at the gate is the one who helped them. That fact made them among the luckiest people in the world. Me? I carried a small sissy umbrella through the cold and rain to help others. My reward was a stinkeye.
That pretty much shoots holes in the “People” song, but Bob Merrill, the lyricist organized some beautiful words. This brings me to Kay. Without a doubt, I am one lucky duck to have married the girl. On certain days, she could’ve said the same of herself. Regardless, last week I had an appointment with a surgeon whom I’d never seen or even heard of.
It was not until I checked in that that I discovered my insurance card had exited my wallet. Ever since I had COVID, stuff like that happens more and more. It’s my brain fog. The lady behind the counter kindly let me keep my appointment. “But next time…” I assured her there would be no next time for this twit.
When I finally saw the doctor, he asked why I was there. That’s never a good sign. I told him that a CT scan was sent to him by my family doctor. He said he never received any scan. Then he said, “Without the CT results I don’t even know what’s wrong with you.”
When I told him what was wrong, he said, “Okay, but without a scan I can’t do anything for you.” The bottom line, the nurse and the checkout lady were kind and caring. The doctor had the bedside manner of Jack Nicholson.
When I got home, I explained the situation to Kay, figuring she would blame me for the problem. Instead, she got on the computer and found the results of my original CT Scan, and emailed them to the new doctor. And, until my brain-fog lifts, she will accompany me when I go to see Jack Nicholson.
That, my friend, is what Barbara Streisand was singing about. Now I fully understand that at some point during our aging process, we’ll end up in a place that will make us each so much luckier than we are today. If that doesn’t perk you up, you’re relatively sane.
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