Mickey Z
Cool Observer
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Introducing "Storytelling Saturday"
Don’t leave us hanging. What happened with Michele? Did you find out what was wrong?
P.S. What’s up with that “captcha_word” box at the bottom? You suddenly become Yahoo Groups? ;)
Posted by Luna_C on from I love my Hot Coffee 07/30 at 09:54 AM1. appendicitis
2. too much spam lately
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 07/30 at 11:03 AMI hope it was caught in time for a relatively simple remedy, Mickey (and I hope the docs don’t overcomplicate it for business purposes).
I don’t have a story that tells any kind of great message, but there is one on the web that has had me and my friends chuckling. There’s also the digital rights management chair collection and a nice page on Noel Godin
Posted by Harry on from 07/30 at 11:40 AMJust testing,Mickey.
Posted by joe on from Oregon 07/30 at 01:40 PMI met Dick Noonan in Saratoga Springs, New York, in 1975. I liked him right away. He was smart, tough, and saw the world through the eyes of an outsider, as had I, throughout my life. We spent quite a bit of time together, after that, just talking a lot, in restaurants or bars or wandering aimlessly around this amazing little town. Dick mentioned that he hoped to be a doctor one day. “Why?” I asked. He winked: “Because I’ve always wanted to learn how to play golf...”
In `76, we were sitting in a little cafe after we’d both had a very bad day. Our conversation was pretty dark. Dick blurted out: “God, I’m a hopeless misanthrope, how can I want to be a doctor?” I said: “Got any money in the bank?”
He’d been saving a little, he said. I said: “Let’s quit our jobs and wander around in Europe till our money runs out.” He was quiet for quite a while, then grinned: “O.K., maybe people who don’t speak English are more human.”We wandered around in Europe for almost 5 months, then, about 6 months after our return to the states, got an apartment together in San Francisco. Dick would occassionally mention that he still wanted to be a doctor. I never saw him making any attempts to realize his dream, however, and I shared a place with him, and we spent lots of free time together, so I figured I’d know if he was “up to something.”
One day, in May of 1977, he asked me if I wanted to go out for some breakfast. He was in an unusually serious mood. Well, he lightened up a bit at breakfast. San Francisco has a huge gay male population which puts lots of “stress” on young, single, straight males. We enjoyed that stress. It always made us feel better: Tough guys that we were, we took the stress in stride.
Dick declared, suddenly, that he’d have to move out in about 6 weeks, and wanted me to have a chance to figure out what to do before he left the apartment. “Why?” I asked, genuinely shocked. “I’ll use more deodorant. I’ll let you get into the bathroom first in the morning. Whatever it is, we can work it out.”
Well, Dick had been accepted by a medical school in Perugia, Italy. He started in September. He did not speak or write a single word of Italian. He had not been in school for 6 years. His undergraduate degree was in English. Oh - and he was broke.
He’d been accepted to two other med schools, he said, both of which were in the Carribean. Both of them taught in English. He chose the Italian school because their medical education was excellent, he’d learned, and that’s what he wanted.
I thought it was an absurd, masochistic decision, and I wanted both to laugh and cry. “Wow, that’s great, Dick!” I exclaimed. “Congrats!” Poor bastard, I thought. You don’t have a prayer. You’re worse than doomed. “If I can do anything at all to help, just say so, my friend.” I forced a cheery smile.
“What about the language barrier, Dick?” I said, somewhat cautiously, a little later. “I imagine medicine is pretty tough even in English, and you don’t know any Italian at all!”
“I donno,” he said. And we left.
Five years later, Dick wrote me to say he’d just graduated and had been accepted for an internship in family medicine at Albany Medical School, in Albany. He’s now a family doctor type guy, in New Hampshire. His Italian is incredibly good, and he’s a pretty good doctor, I hear.
Posted by joe on from Oregon 07/30 at 03:02 PMI can’t think of a funny story at the moment, but I can think of a really funny coincidence. My dentist’s name is Dr. Ouch!!!! I’m dead serious!!!
Posted by RB on from 07/30 at 06:04 PMAnyone got a shrink named Dr. Couch?
Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 07/30 at 06:51 PM
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