I'm discovering that a lot of you enjoy reading these essays when I write about the occasional visits My Neighbor Al makes to my home.
One of the pleasures of Al's life is drinking Italian Dark Roast coffee, and he knows the pot is always on in my kitchen.
He tends to stay that way until his wife Diane calls his cell phone to tell him she's got a long grocery list and that they'd better get their fannies to Fareway.
The reader response on my Facebook page was extremely high after I wrote about Al showing up at my home late last month to ask about the Christmas gifts I had received, and to encourage me, for various reasons, to pray a lot in 2017.
I'm trying to follow Al's advice, but it's still just January, so it's anybody's guess on how it's all going to work out.
That brings us to today....
Al rang the doorbell late this morning, and when I served up his first cup of Italian Dark Roast he wanted to know if I was feeling all right.
"What do you mean am I all right?" I asked.
"Well, I thought you were under the weather because you haven't been doing any writing lately," Al said. "Ronnie, my boy, I miss you when you're not on Facebook--especially when you write about me."
"Al, you're right about me not writing lately," I said. "I decided to take a week off after the trip last weekend to Minnesota for the funeral of my nephew."
"What do you mean you took a week off?" Al said. "You're retired, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm retired, Al, but what I meant was that I took a week off from writing. It's supposed to be a hobby at this stage of my life, you know. Some guys make birdhouses in their garage when they retire. I write stuff on my laptop. The writing comes easy to me, but it seemed to be turning into an every-day job in recent weeks.
"I thought I was emotionally drained after writing about so much sadness in a short amount of time.
"It was tough enough to write about my nephew's death, but I also wrote about the deaths of Debbie Reynolds and her daughter Carrie Fisher, the death of an Iowa guy who was run over by a tractor, and the train wrecks that Iowa and Ohio State had in their bowl games.
"I decided to fly under the radar for a while after all of that. A lot of what I did for several days was listen to Fifties music on that computer/keyboard gizmo Mark, my son, installed here at home, with some daily trips mixed in to a place where I do my indoor walking.
"I didn't completely shut myself off from the world. I made sure I went to Valley's gym Tuesday night so I could watch the Tigers sweep their boys/girls doubleheader against Dowling, and I plan to go to tonight's Valley-Ankeny doubleheader, too. I also made it to Wednesday's pie-and-coffee session. But I wrote nothing.
"Mostly, I got some quiet time and relaxation. Now I feel a lot better. Maybe even recharged."
"Recharged? What the hell does that mean?" Al asked. "I thought that only happened to batteries. Whatever, I'm glad you're doing better, and I'm pretty sure what I tell you today won't cause you to have a relapse."
"Go with it, Al," I said. "I'm ready."
"Well, I'll bet when you have an appointment to visit one of your many doctors, there will occasionally be a student doctor coming into the room with him or her.
"I don't particularly like it when my doctor has a student--particularly a female student doctor--with her."
Why not, I asked.
"Because I maybe want to discuss my prostate, my hemorrhoids, a particular itch I might have below my belt, or some other personal issue, that's why," Al said.
"In fact, I had an appointment a couple of days ago with my family doctor, and a female student doctor came into the room, too. Made me nervous."
Not so nervous that Al wasn't able to ask the student doctor a question or two.
"I asked her if she was a student at DMACC," Al said. "The student doctor said, 'Not DMACC. I go to DMU, which is short for Des Moines University.'"
Al said he apologized to the girl for thinking she went to DMACC.
"I told her I knew she wasn't going someplace where she could learn to be a welder," Al said.
"That upset the real doctor. She told me there's nothing wrong with being a welder."
Getting back to Al not being comfortable when a student doctor is in the room, I said, "Hey, Al, I know you're old-school, but worrying about saying something about your hemorrhoids or an itch in your crotch in front of a female student doctor is really old-fashioned behavior," I said. "Grow up already. The female student doctors have a lot more savvy and maturity than you.
"So how did it go at your appointment?"
Al said he avoided talking about his prostate, his hemorrhoids and his crotch, instead concentrating on the persistent cough he has, which he's always blamed on 25 years of 2-pack-a-day smoking as a younger guy.
"The doctor said I had some mild bronchitis, and prescribed an antibiotic," Al said.
"Good, that should make you feel better in a few days," I said.
"Not if this weather doesn't improve," Al said. "On days like we've had lately, my dad used to start talking about what freezing weather does to brass monkeys."
"Why brass monkeys [one of which is pictured]?" I asked.
Then I remembered.
"Hey, Al, don't tell me any more about freezing weather and the anatomy of brass monkeys," I said.
"I'd prefer not writing R-rated stuff like that on Facebook. A lot of my church friends read what I write here, and I don't want them to think you and I sit around talking about stuff like that when we drink coffee."
Pause.
"Ronnie, my boy, I think you'd better take another week off, and fly under the radar some more," Al said. "You still seem emotionally drained to me. Besides, I thought you were praying a lot like your pastor and I keep telling you to do.
"Pour me another cup before Diane calls my cell phone."
