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Letter to My Boss

I’ve discovered that one of the people who used to work at the company where I’ve been employed since well before the turn of the century is on hospice. This was what I wrote to the boss in case he might want to visit her one last time before she goes to the next world and tattles on him:

(His crime was that he didn’t thank her for her service and apparently didn’t adequately acknowledge her departure. But he did pay her while she was there and tried to keep her on board as a trainer. He’s not big on the mushy stuff with employees. That was my job)

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“I have spoken with Leota a couple of times in the past month and she’s the same person she was, just older. She hears good, walks, talks, sees fine, and has lung cancer. For now that just means hospice and oxygen and at least one very pretty nurse. I went to her retirement complex and saw people that look almost like you and I except they couldn’t stand up straight (most of them) and they use canes and walkers.

[political comments removed. Sorry. No I’m not. I’m supposed to be. At any rate, they’re gone.]

Anyway, she’s 80. She says it’s a close contest to see who will last the longest, her or her dog named cowboy.

When I walked in she said, “I don’t know who you are.” As soon as I spoke, that changed. I didn’t have a beard when she left so she expected someone with a chin like a kneecap but she knew the voice.

One of her guests was supposed to be excited to look at my unusual vehicles so I took the Lotus as requested, but I ended up getting a tour of his Mercedes powered customized van which he wants to sell. I was surprised I even looked at it but afterwards I began to question the way I’ve set up my life. His self contained van with a broken fridge and non functional coffee maker gets 25mpg on the road, he says, which is about half what my Europa would get if it could be trusted.  Very tempting.

[juicy inside stuff removed. Sincere apology sequence as above]

Meanwhile, I thought I’d pass on the news about Leota so that if you want to see her before she passes on then I can do that much to save you regrets. She still remembers that she didn’t get a gold watch or an official thank you  upon being the only one to retire from the business, but fortunately for you  there’s no need to make up for the watch because she’s busily handing out her treasures – mostly photos – rather than acquiring things.

Of course we know the perils of giving retirement watches, having made a test attempt by giving out turkeys. As I recall, first there were people who thought it a bother, or were anti-meat, or wanted smaller, or wanted a bigger one. Then there were those who wanted ham. So with the watch you’d be faced with the pethora of ways to go wrong. Wrong metal, wrong size, some want solar powered, some want battery, some want a wind up. Some don’t like chimes, others want every possible technology, and others have sensitive skin that only accepts gold. Real gold.  Not that cheap 23 carat stuff.

MW knows where to find her. And for heavens sake, don’t say anything non-adoring to her dog. Remember Gillespie and his toy poodles. He actually liked them! I grew up thinking they were supposed to be mocked like chihuahua dogs. Dog people get very attached to their companion pet. I want you to experience this but don’t have Pheobe any more (your loss) but I can set you up with a cat. You need this. And for the record, now I finally ‘get’ little dogs. Cutest creatures in the world! Along with pet owls.

She says it’s a slow growing cancer. Lung cancer seems pretty serious to me. She has a good attitude and is enjoying getting ready to leave.”

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Now, the after story.

After I saw the van  I really did start rethinking some things. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to keep a house and the old cars. Maybe what I really need is an itty bitty studio apartment, the truck, and travel. I wouldn’t spend the time fixing, mowing, and cleaning up things.

It’s a pity, because I really thought this was the way to do it. Buy a house and live out my days painting and entertaining kinfolk.

Could I really divest myself of the collector vehicles? Maybe. But I went into the Land Rover to get something and once my head was inside that cabin once inhabited by my closest friend, all my children, half the grand children, Jim’s dad (the original owner in the family) and smelled that glorious seasoned vehicle ambiance it was not such an easy thought to entertain.

And then I thought of all the learning I’ve gotten from these vehicles. And from life! Especially lately.

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