Colman Peter Dr.

“Actually,” he volunteered, “I can only afford one wife, but she has been badgering me to find a second one to help with her duties at home…”

You’ve got to be kidding. This guy doesn’t know when to let it go. He then timidly handed me a yellow, unfinished manuscript.

“Would you care to peruse a few pages? Please keep in mind it’s a very rough draft at this stage…”

“Sure, why not? What have I done? Nervously, I served another question across the short gaming table with every intention of distracting the competition. “By the way, if you don’t mind the intrusion, did I ask what brings you to New England?”

“Sure. I’ve just learned my Dad is not doing well; he has cancer. He lost his wife…his second wife, that is. My Mom and Dad were divorced back in 1956 when I was eight years old…” Dad later remarried. That was forty-four years ago. Anyway, his wife died last November, after a long illness. Dad was still sick while he cared for her. He’s at the Veterans Administration Medical Center in Manchester right now. One of my uncles called me. Dad doesn’t know I’m coming. I want to spend as much time with him as possible before…well, I don’t think he has much longer to live. It’s been a long time…

We were beginning our descent.

Maybe the guy’s not so boring after all…
Slowly, I sensed some of my cynicism eroding, and I allowed myself the risk of acceptance, or was it just my run-away skepticism reigning itself in? In any case, the steed I had engaged for a short, harmless canter had begun to falter and rear, and shake its bridle at the unfamiliar road we were taking, much like Frost’s horse…Yes, that was it.





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