Monday, May 13, 2013
These Days are Ours... ours.. ours....
I can't help myself. I just have to interrupt my own math homework to slick back my hair, strike poses and sing "These Days are Ours... ours, ours.... Happy Days!"
Lawd help me when I run a nursing home.
Yesterday morning was Mothers' Day so it was our idea to lavish attention on the wife of a patient. She has Alzheimer's. I massaged her feet while she watched a TV game show in which very large people in strange, shiny, custom-made swimsuits "dived" (more like prayed while falling) off a diving board. She hummed gospel music. I asked her what the name of her church was again and said maybe I could get permission to drive her there one Sunday. I vaguely remember she went to a tiny Pentecostal church way the heck out of town. I doubt I'd really get permission. But I can pretend I can, can't I? Just to make her happy?
She brightened up quite a bit. She loved the choir there! She and the other ladies carried on so! ... but she couldn't remember the name of the church... oh, just give it a minute... oh, oh, darn... oh... oh... "Happy Days!"
I kept a straight face and we talked about it some more. She was convinced that was it. Ah, well. I picked octopuses off one navy midshipman's trousers once and threw them off the balcony because he was afraid they were coming after his face. He was happy once they were gone. If this lady wants to believe she had a church led by the Fonz, more power to her!
In fact, I like this power of positive thinking stuff. I doesn't appear to be working for my thigh-slimming, but maybe if she can get Fonzie for her church, I can get more entertainment at my shul. When my rabbi retires, I want Jon Stewart and Bette Midler to be co-rabbis at my shul. Not too much to ask, is it? Eugene is a beautiful place. Very green, good for the lungs to breathe such nice, clean air while jogging along riverside paths. It will rejuvenate them after breathing in LA fumes. I think I'll start writing my letters to them now...