Sometimes I get stuck in front of the Internet.
It’s a problem.
See what I did here? I started a blog and then abandoned it. But someone who went to the school where I did my MA just sent around an email asking if any alumni have blogs that they’d like to share.
So now I’m pre-populating my blog with all sorts of posts so I can link to this and show my fellow graduates what fine ideas/insightful commentaries I’m churning out.
Pretty smart, huh?
Intertnets, this is day 2 of my quest to drive myself to panic over my son’s current illness. How many times can I type his symptoms into a search box? More than you can imagine.
How many times does it come back with something comforting, something that helps? A few, but they don’t seem to carry as much weight as the others, the frightening ones.
I want to wake him up and see how he is now. I want to ask him how he is every five minutes.
I want to know what’s wrong.
I want him to get better.
Re-reading The Year of Magical Thinking. Not sure why I find this book so compelling, but I’ve read it several times. Maybe I’ll figure it out this time.
Here’s my Magical Thinking factoid: my brother was working as an emergency room social worker for New York Presbyterian Hospital at the time John Gregory Dunne died. When I read about the social worker calling Joan ” a pretty cool customer,” I wondered if my brother had been the social worker. I was pretty sure he was: I could hear him saying “pretty cool customer.”
For some reason, I didn’t actually ask him about it until long after I read the book. When I did mention the title of the book, my brother immediately said, “It wasn’t me!”
He says lots of people have asked/assumed it was him, but no: he looked up whether or not he was on duty that night, and while he knows who did utter the famous phrase, it wasn’t him.
(and: he says he was relieved: that line is apparently featured in the play of the same name. My brother say he’s glad not to be part of literary history as the social worker who calls a recently bereaved woman “a pretty cool customer.”)
So that’s it. My factoid.
Did you hear a whooshing sound? Because I did. Just now!
- I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.