My GP's ever-pleasant physician's assistant called. "Doctor wanted me to let you know your X-ray results," she said. My left knee, which has been complaining about something, had posed for pictures a few days earlier. "The radiologist saw some loose floating bodies."
Of course I laughed. "Sounds like the Chicago River to me," I said. Of course the ever-pleasant PA did not laugh. She must not read classic crime fiction or stay up late watching old gangster movies. But then, I think she's only twelve years old, thirteen at the most, so she needs her sleep.
E-P PA gave me the orthopedic clinic's phone number. "Doctor wants you to make an appointment." (Not the doctor, or Dr. Whatziname but "Doctor," like it's his first name or something. I hate that.)
So here I am, waiting to see the orthopedic guy. My name is called and I'm escorted into a rabbit warren of hallways and little rooms. "You've been here before, right?" asks the nurse. His name is Rocky (yes, really). No, I tell him, first time. "Are you sure? You look so familiar. I'm sure I've seen you before."
Rocky looks familiar to me, too, but we leave that and move on to matters medical. I do not favor him with my belief that by the time you reach a certain age, everyone you meet looks like somebody you used to know, or reminds you of somebody you still know. I think there's a finite number of faces and by some point you've seen them all, so everybody reminds you of somebody else. It can get confusing.
I figure out quickly why Rocky looks familiar. He doesn't exactly look like him but reminds me of the actor who played Sal on "Mad Men" (or maybe still plays Sal on "Mad Men." I don't know - I'm only up to season three). It's not always that easy, though. Sometimes I'll see someone who looks familiar and though I know s/he is not the person I'm reminded of, I beat my head against a mental brick wall until I figure out why this person looks familiar. It drives me nuts.
It happened to me again this morning. The person in my bathroom mirror seemed vaguely familiar. I was into my second cup of coffee when I realized who she reminds me of - it's my mother.
About Me
- Jan C. Snow
- Since 1984, my light commentary, Marginal Considerations, has been a feature of Weekend Radio. Moving into the 21st century (yeah, I know - a decade late and more than a dollar short), it may be time to explore the format known as "the blog." (Still on the radio, BTW.) I am the author of A Natural History of Socks, illustrated by the late Eric May, You May Already Be a Winner (and other marginal considerations) and The Nonexistence of Rutabagas, plus maybe 1K features, essays, book and arts reviews in newspapers and magazines nearly everywhere, except perhaps Kansas. I live on Lake Erie one city to the west of Cleveland with too many musical instruments, several large plants and no cats. My front door is purple. I collect dust, take up space and burn fossil fuel. I kayak, knit, hike, sing, canoe, write choral music and play hammered dulcimer, but not all at the same time. I read too much and don't write enough, but what's new?
There IS a limited number of faces out there. Have you ever watched someone play on the video game system known as Wii? They have a function by which the player can make an avatar to represent him- or herself. One does this piece by piece, choosing first from a palate of facial shapes, hair styles (including balding patterns), hair colors, eye shapes, etc. Some of the features are adjustable, such as the width of the eyes, or the degree to which the eyebrows are canted. It is remarkable how this limited collection of stock features can create a likeness.
ReplyDeleteMeanwhile: I see that you found my blog address! And I'm glad you have taken up the blogging, as I commonly miss weekend radio. Hope you're well, and that the floating bodies . . . dissolve.
So funny! 12 year olds do need their sleep.
ReplyDeleteI see my mother every morning when I brush my teeth too..
ReplyDelete