Thoughts from the ammo line

[Valin]

Power Line

Scott Johnson

July 20 2018

Ammo Grrrll responds to the CALL OF DUTY. She writes:

So I’m lying on the pavement in the Prescott Residence Inn parking lot trying to copy numbers off my left front tire. There are many numbers on the tire and I don’t know which ones are important, so I just write down all of them. The blazing Arizona sunshine is blinding me until I have that “aha” moment that I shared with Sir Isaac Newton, Archimedes, and other like-minded geniuses: “Wait a minute, these numbers are also on the other front tire and my back would be to the sun.” It’s insights like that that allowed human civilization to march forward. Eventually.

A terrified front desk clerk at the Prescott Residence Inn spies me lying on the pavement and runs out to inquire if I have fallen and can’t get up. This is the kind of courtesy and concern extended to women of late, late middle age. No, but thanks for asking. When I explain what I am doing, she says confidently, “That’s BOY’S work!” I couldn’t agree more; but, my “boy” has told me that he thinks it would be good for me to do this myself. Always pushing me to be my best self – you just can’t buy supportiveness like that.

(Snip)

My dear baby brother, who lives in the Twin Cities, only has a full-time nursing job, a mother-in-law in declining health, four kids and six grandkids (all of them in four or five different forms of athletics that need watching), so you can see that he was simply too lazy to pitch in. Haha. I kid. He had already been back and forth to the St. Cloud Hospital and Alexandria several times. Oh, did I mention he also had pneumonia? The big baby…

(Snip)

So now I am in Alexandria supervising Daddy’s rehab for two weeks. I am astonished and thrilled to report that I witnessed his Occupational Therapist give him a 30-point cognitive test on which he scored – wait for it – THIRTY!! Way to go, Daddy. Prayers welcome from any and all faith traditions for a complete recovery for him and safe travels home for your intrepid, if messy, columnist.