Pondering, Photographing, and Writing about Wild Places

Two Knucklehead Theory

I believe that two knuckleheads are better than one knucklehead. I often share this theory with someone after working together to solve a problem.  For the two mail carriers on my route, however, the theory doesn’t seem to apply.  Despite numerous attempts to correct them, they brought me yet another bill from the gynecologist today.  Like the others, I wrote “not at this address” on the envelope and put it back in the box. 

Several years ago my Dad, an undisputed tough guy, was out fishing by himself when he got a treble hook in the quick of his thumb.  It was in past the barb.  Being in a pretty remote area, and wanting to deal with it right away, he didn’t go to a doctor.  Instead, he stopped at the first grocery store he could find.  Luckily, in the parking lot was another tough guy.  They put their heads together and soon the guy was pulling out the hook with a pair of pliers.    And how fortunate to be so close to a place that sold bandages and triple antibiotic ointment!  Two knuckleheads.  Problem solved.  Theory proven

Today, my dad called to say that he had cut his hand at work on Saturday and wouldn’t be able to go fishing as a result.  “But don’t worry,” he assured me, “I stopped by the ob-gyn and had it sewn up.  It only took three stitches.”  I was a little confused and asked him to clarify.  “It’s ok,” he reassured.  “They were very nice.  And they didn’t even have to put me in the stirrups.”  I wondered where he would have gone if his tooth hurt.  The proctologist?

Later, at the store, I ran into my good friend Karen.  When I asked her how she was doing she replied, “I’m Ok.”

Her reply lacked conviction, so I asked her again.

“How are you really?”

This time she opened up.  It had not been an ok day.  It had been a day that began with a delivery driver jumping off the loading dock and sticking a nail through his foot.  It was early and nobody was there to help him.

“But everything worked out,” she said.  “The veterinarian next door pulled out the nail, cleaned him up and gave him some medicine.”

I didn’t ask, but couldn’t help wondering if the poor guy was instructed by the doc to hide his pills in a ball of dog food and then mix it in with the rest of his supper.

I guess that sometimes, knucklehead or not, it’s just a good thing there’s more than one of us on the planet, even if the other guy doesn’t practice the exact medicine you think you need at the moment.  Like Mick Jagger says, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try some times, you just might find… you get what you need.”

Next time I’ll double-check the name on that ob-gyn bill in the mailbox.  You never know, it might be for my dad.  And I just might be the knucklehead who needs to deliver it to him.

What do you think?