Doctor Marty

Believe me, you do not want Marty as your kindly old MD. Even I will admit that. For starters, I doubt I'd I'd be all that kindly. Then there's fact that I don't care for blood, which might just make being a doctor a tad difficult. But perhaps I could be mistaken for one.

I did actually play a doctor in the background of the movie Little Murder which was filmed in my neighborhood back in 2009. I was in two blink and you miss them scenes but I was in there, lab coat and all. So there's that. I could believably be mistaken for a doctor. In fact I was once mistaken for a doctor. Or more precisely, the doctor was mistaken for me.

Me Uncle Frank who lived up in Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula had to have surgery. He told me that as he was coming out of surgery and still very groggy, a doctor came over to speak to him. He thought that the doctor was me. All the while he was answering the surgeon's questions Uncle Frank said he was thinking things like, "Marty's not a doctor," or "Marty's not here, he's in Detroit," and the like. A funny story, in a cutesy kind of way. I assured him it could not have been have been me, for the reasons he cited plus one other. "What's that?" he demanded to know.

"You survived the surgery," I replied with a laugh. 

You know what? When he told the story the next time he added that reason to his list.

A Different World

It's sometimes hard to appreciate how different the same place can be. 

I don't notice the change in seasons in and around home all that much. They're so slow and subtle that by the time you realize that the Sun isn't rising until 7:30 in the morning it isn't rising until 7:50. You don't get that it's been setting well before 8 until it's setting at 6:45. Then I visit Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula in late September and the differences from the Fourth of July, the last time I was here, are stark.

Yesterday I was star gazing at 6 AM. No sign of old Sol, not even a hint that he might be prowling about. But the stars were out in force even with a nearly full Moon, if you looked in the right direction. At the same time in July the Sun has obliterated the full Moon by almost a half hour. I've taken my morning walks then as early as 5, in a reasonable amount of dawn color.

Last night I went to the 6:30 Mass in Detour, around 35 minutes east of Hessel, for my Sunday obligation. Yeah, I know, like me Uncle Charles used to tease, I'm really a Seventh Day Adventist. That's funny if you appreciate religious humor. But however that may be, by the time Mass was over and I was making the drive back to Hessel, while it wasn't exactly dark it was surely the evening twilight. And it was dark by the time I was back at the house just after 8. 8 PM in Hessel three months ago? We would still have daylight for nearly two more hours, and twilight until about 11.

It's still great because it's still Hessel. It just doesn't look like it.

Doorknobs and DayQuil

While lazing in Hessel, in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula, I found need to replace a keyed door handle. One would never imagine procuring such a presumably common impliment might be at all a difficulty. Yet neither hardware in nearby Cedarville offered such a commodity; even the Ace in Pickford all of 11 miles distant offered not what I had thought would have been a hardware staple. C'est la vie; such is life. As I was considering a trek to Sault Sainte Marie, the Soo, 35 miles distant from Hessel, I elected to consider whether I might discover such product in a place of business there. But tomorrow would suffice for that journey.

On the trail back through Cedarville I decided to stop at the Family Dollar for DayQuil (as I seem to be fighting a cold) and flavored carbonated water. I simply adore Family Dollar's Strawberry Kiwi and Wild Cherry water. Perusing the shelves of yon establishment I stumbled upon canned vegetables, among which was Margaret Holmes' Tomatoes, Okra, and Corn medley. As I likewise adore tomatoes, okra, and corn yet rarely enjoyed okra (a veg I particularly love yet rarely enjoy; Mom used to fry it rolled in corn meal and, to employ the vernacular, boy, that was good eatin') I presumed Margaret would be flattered should I purchase  a can for myself, to eat with the fish patties awaiting my dinner in the Hessel freezer.

Margaret's mix was good, but was galaxies removed from me Mom's recipe.

Be that as it may, before reaching the checkout it occurred to me that Family Dollars typically have small hardware sections. I didn't expect to find it there, yet lo and behold there was exactly one brand new keyed doorknob. I took it in my hands with a cackle. It saved a 70 mile round trip which may have been for naught anyway, there currently being a dearth of such commodities in the eastern Upper Peninsula for some reason.

Setting my items down at the checkout, the clerk began to scan them. Water, veggies, and DayQuil were scanned promptly and efficiently. Then she scanned the doorknob once, yea twice, each attempt performed unsuccessfully. "What's your birthday?" she demanded. Indeed, it was a command.

I drew back in confusion, asking incredulously, "You require my birthday lest I cannot purchase a doorknob?"

"No, I'm sorry, sir. I need it for the DayQuil. It won't let me scan the doorknob until I get it," she explained.

Okay, I then understood. I don't get why Big Brother feels need to protect me from daytime cold medicines, but perhaps that's another issue.