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Tuesday, March 15, 2016

The Writer's Life 3/15 - No-Win

Here's more madness on the political correctness front. Tappan Zee H. S. in Orangetown N.Y. is putting on Mel Brook's The Producers -- without swastikas! Officials don't want to to offend anyone. Somehow the play within that play -- Springtime for Hitler -- is okay.

This morning at about 6:30, as I mounted the pedestrian bridge that spans lower Sheepshead Bay, I passed a solitary figure, in hooded rain gear, jigging for mackerel. There was a plastic bag nearby, fish flapping inside it. It was like a movie scene, the street lights reflecting off of puddles. I was reminded of when The Exorcist approached Mrs McNeal's home.

For the past six years I've accompanied a handicapped friend on her medical visits. She pays me $20. It has always required a lot of patience, as she she suffers from a rare affliction that affects the use of her legs. When she first started slowing to a crawl, I suggested it was time to go to a wheelchair, and she almost bit my head off, as she does to anyone acquaintance who makes the common sense suggestion. I'd wanted to bring it up again, hoping she would tell me to take a hike, free me from the responsibility. As I passed in my car on Saturday, I saw her struggling in the company of an attendant, and it gave me an opening. I sent her an email telling her to stop fooling herself. She called that night and gave me the history of her condition, which did not change the fact of the severity of her condition or my position. I assume my assistance is too valuable to her to "fire" me. Today I accompanied her to the optometrist, less than a block from the door of our building. In the lobby a woman asked when she was going to get a mechanized wheelchair. She was not being malicious. Nonetheless, she was chewed out rudely. The walk took a half-hour each way. I had to stop traffic so she could cross East 13th. It's ridiculous. The next time she emails me asking if I will be available, I will say no, I won't lie. I will tell her my patience has been exhausted. She'll just have to depend on the people an agency sends her. Her son is hundreds of miles away. She should be living somewhere near him, but they've been feuding lately and she has put her plans to move on hold. I tell myself I'm not doing anything wrong, but I still feel like a rat. It's a no-win situation.

My thanks to the kind folks who bought, donated and swapped books today.
Vic's Short Works:
Vic's 5th Novel:'s 4th novel:
Vic's 3rd Novel:
Vic's Short Story on Kindle:
Vic's Short Story Collection:
Vic's 2nd Novel: Kindle:
Vic's 1st Novel:

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