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This is more of a story than a poem. But it is a true story.

In a Georgia Hospital

Upon not-so-close close inspection,
It is obvious that
The left arm of the five year old boy laying in the Hospital Bed
Is misaligned
  Upon seeing it,
The Comment from his Great-Uncle
  Three hours earlier
 was: “That’s bad.”

But the boy is otherwise injured.
Most noticeable is the large scratch on his forehead
 There are also scrapes on both arms and his left shoulder

He has an IV in his arm.

He is mostly unclothed,
but this doesn’t seem to bother him.

I suspect that he is silently nervous
because he knows that they still have to fix his arm
 And he has no idea what that is going to entail
And
because a description of the procedure would not give him peace
 I have not enlightened him

He seems mostly comfortable, and somewhat sleepy because of the morphine.

His lips are chapped and he has been asking me for water
He has had no food or water for nine hours
And they won’t let him have any before surgery.
And he has cried because he will miss the big barbecued meal with his cousins.

We have prayed together that his arm would feel better. God will answer that prayer.

He asks me again to continue telling him the story that I am creating for him
About a family’s pleasant Lake Superior outing
 They hike together
They walk along the shore
(I try not to mention food)
 They see waterfalls
 They sleep at the cozy cabin
  This is where I would rather be.
  I hope my words can help Daniel escape, as well.
 Days later,
He will surprise me by telling the rest of our family
In no small detail
The whole story that I tell him here.

Now they are wheeling him away from me.
 Down the long white hallway
Into surgery
 And after that he will probably sleep until morning.
I see tension in his eyes
And hear it in his voice
as he bravely says, “Bye, Daddy.”

I hope he knows that I love him.
 

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Everything I ever need to know I learned from

the Princess Bride (Part 2) 

You’ve got an overdeveloped sense of vengeance. It’s going to get you into trouble someday  ··· I just want you to feel you’re doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed. ··· This is true love – you think this happens every day? ··· No one withstands The Machine. ··· Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while. ··· You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles. ··· So, let’s just start with what we have. What did this do to you? Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity so be honest. How do you feel? ··· Get some rest. If you haven’t got your health, then you haven’t got anything. ··· Have fun storming the castle. ··· Well, why didn’t you list that among our assets in the first place? ··· Oh, you mean this gate key. ··· There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours. ··· Sonny, true love is the greatest thing, in the world-except for a nice MLT – mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe. They’re so perky, I love that. ··· I’ll explain and I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon. ‘To the pain’ means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right. Your ears you keep and I’ll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, “Dear God! What is that thing,” will echo in your perfect ears. That is what ‘to the pain’ means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever. It’s possible, Pig, I might be bluffing. It’s conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I’m only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But, then again… perhaps I have the strength after all. Drop your sword! ··· Is very strange. I have been in the revenge business so long, now that it’s over, I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life. ··· There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead, well, with all dead there’s usually only one thing you can do. Go through his clothes and look for loose change. ··· My brains, his steel, and your strength against sixty men, and you think a little head jiggle is supposed to make me happy? ··· Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning. ··· Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. The End. ··· As you wish.

I just added a link in my blog roll – Mountain Trail.

It actually not a blog but a website maintained by my wife’s brother and sister-in-law, who are what you might call world travelors and they take photographs. Lots. Of many different kinds. So if you are interested in professional looking pictures of, say, a unique doorway in Peru, a desert in china, or a waterfall in the Rockies,  check it out. And as a bonus feature, you get the BBC news feed.

I recommend starting in the ‘best photos’ section.

There are two truths that everyone thinks about themselves:

(1) I don’t watch that much TV.

And

(2) I don’t let my kids have very much sugar.

And then you ask the question, well, what about last week?

(1) “Oh, no, last week was an exception. They had the WKRP marathon and I haven’t seen that show in like forever and I wanted to watch that special about what’s going on in Iraq and have you noticed the documentaries on the history channel have been really interesting? So, yeah, now that you mention it, last week I guess I watched . . . . well, . . . wait, 22 hours, that can’t be right, can it? Well that won’t happen this week, because . . . except, oh, yeah except this week aren’t they doing that thing where every sit com has the tornado theme. That’s gonna be interesting.

(2) “Oh, yeah, well, we wanted a special treat because Thomas got an A on his spelling test and really when you think about it, a kid can handle pop every day if he doesn’t have more than two cans and, oh yeah it was Julian’s birthday so we had the left over Baby Ruths from the bag that he brought to school and well it wouldn’t be right to let them go to waste, would it? 

There are millions of children in Russia (not to mention other countries) that are living in orphanages waiting to be adopted. They don’t deserve this any more than your children do. As an American you are wealthy and have plenty of free time. No, look again. You are and you do.

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