Doctor's Orders
Posted: Fri Jan 21, 2022 3:18 am
“My pa was a Doctor Dicky and the fact that I am too means we got the GI Bill to thank twice over,” the old man smacked his lips as he chewed his bubblegum and sped through his paperwork, “But his pa? My gramps? He was a carpenter. He worked with his hands, but when they stopped paying for carpenters—he worked at The Factory,” not a factory, The Factory, “And Gramps did that till the end of his days. He worked long. He worked hard. He did it right.”
Richard had heard this story many times before. The off-color jokes were different, and the points of emphasis always changed…but the beats remained the same. It was a speech in his grandfather’s arsenal that he employed with regularity and repurposed as needed. Rich could recite it if given the opportunity. But he loved his grandfather who doted on and treated him special. The old man was nearing eighty and wouldn’t be here forever. A Vietnam veteran and a Yale educated physician. When Dr. Farrow spoke—everybody listened.
“Gramps worked long, he worked hard,” now came the crescendo, “And then he died. Working in a goddamn factory. None of his co-workers could manage to get off to see him put in the dirt.”
What was the moral this time? What was the point?
“The lesson my pa learned he passed onto me—that it was better to go overseas and fight for freedom and life than it was to die working for someone else for something you didn’t even own,” this one—it always lead back to this one, “I founded this business with my father and after a time, when he passed on, began work with your mother. The noblest of professions. Men of medicine. Doctors for children.”
The old man used to smoke cigarettes, his Mom said, but he had to quit because it was a very bad look for a pediatrician. He took on gum chewing afterwards and it stuck. The noblest of reasons.
Dick thought he looked silly. A man in his seventies. Popping his bubblegum.
“It is noble Gramps…”
He shoulda let the old man pop his bubblegum. He shoulda let the old man keep going.
“Yes, but not good enough for ‘Big Dick’ Buster, isn’t that right?”
“Not completely,” Richard blushed, “It’s not quite like that.”
“That’s not what your mother says,” Dr. Farrow tsk-tsk’d and stood up from his chair, extending to his full 5’4” form, “She says that you have…’political aspirations’.”
Dick could tell his grandfather’s opinion in the way those last two words dripped off his tongue. His balding head bore a forehead full of wrinkles that constantly revealed his mood. Bushy eyebrows and a thick silver beard made him appear exceptionally wizardly. It added to his gravitas. Big Dick understood it. His grandfather had been short his entire life just like Richard had. A small man was capable of casting a large shadow under the proper light.
“Man, I wish she wouldn’t have told you anything Gramps,” Richard tried to play this politically, “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s not worth mentioning,” passive, non-committal, “Just something I’m considering is all.”
It wasn’t good enough for Gramps.
“And that something? Spit it out kiddo.”
“Majoring in Political Science,” it felt like a swear-word, “Trying to get involved in community organizing or maybe even criminal justice.”
“You trying to be lawyer Buster-Brown?”
“I’m trying to make a difference,” blue eyes shined bright with a fire that burned belly deep, “I’m trying to be a leader.”
And at this his grandfather had the audacity to laugh. The chubby boy felt his demeanor shrink as his elder threw ice water on the fire that had begun to burn within. The look on his grandfather’s face was incredulous. Grandpa laughed until he choked on his bubblegum and then he spat it out and laughed some more.
“And what is it that you s’pose a pediatrician does?”, his grandfather’s confidence sounded earned, it felt real, “Am I a follower, is it?”
“Gramps,” Dick felt shell-shocked, “It’s not,” he couldn’t find words, “I don’t,” he felt like he had said enough, “I want to,” why wasn’t what he said enough? The words sputtered and his mind skipped on the same beat again and again and again, “I want to make my own pa—”
“Will you shut up man?”, his grandfather sounded like President Kirby and Dicky knew it to be on purpose. The President telling Canon to shut it was his gramps favorite debate moment of the decade, “You’re overthinking this. You’re making this more complicated than it need to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you were born on third base Richard,” blue eyes met his own, “Have the sense to take the quickest route home.”
“Gram—”
“Hold up, let me finish. Allow me to spell it out,” Richard felt his lips purse and his throat seal, “You come from a family of doctors who have handled generations of patients. We have built a business that you only have to grow. We have given you a good name that you can add upon or push into ruin.”
“It’s not about you guys! It’s about what I want to do…”
“You need to stop thinking about what you want to do,” another piece of gum from the pocket and into his mouth, “And start thinking about what’s expected of you.”
Chew. Chew. Chew. Stare and hold strong. His grandfather extended a hand and gripped on Richard’s shoulder. It was tight but gentle. Its presence was more promise than predicate.
“I love you Dicky.”
“I love you too Gramps.”
And that was that. The hand was removed from his shoulder and a wallet soon entered the old man’s hand. A ten dollar bill went to Richard’s palm. A kiss stained his cheek.
“Get yourself something sweet,” the old man grinned, “You earned it after the beating I gave you.”
Richard smiled and made his way to the office door.
“Better a speech than a spanking Old Man.”
“You would be so lucky, now get out of here before my fat foot finds your fat ass!”
Fin.
Richard had heard this story many times before. The off-color jokes were different, and the points of emphasis always changed…but the beats remained the same. It was a speech in his grandfather’s arsenal that he employed with regularity and repurposed as needed. Rich could recite it if given the opportunity. But he loved his grandfather who doted on and treated him special. The old man was nearing eighty and wouldn’t be here forever. A Vietnam veteran and a Yale educated physician. When Dr. Farrow spoke—everybody listened.
“Gramps worked long, he worked hard,” now came the crescendo, “And then he died. Working in a goddamn factory. None of his co-workers could manage to get off to see him put in the dirt.”
What was the moral this time? What was the point?
“The lesson my pa learned he passed onto me—that it was better to go overseas and fight for freedom and life than it was to die working for someone else for something you didn’t even own,” this one—it always lead back to this one, “I founded this business with my father and after a time, when he passed on, began work with your mother. The noblest of professions. Men of medicine. Doctors for children.”
The old man used to smoke cigarettes, his Mom said, but he had to quit because it was a very bad look for a pediatrician. He took on gum chewing afterwards and it stuck. The noblest of reasons.
Dick thought he looked silly. A man in his seventies. Popping his bubblegum.
“It is noble Gramps…”
He shoulda let the old man pop his bubblegum. He shoulda let the old man keep going.
“Yes, but not good enough for ‘Big Dick’ Buster, isn’t that right?”
*pop*
“Not completely,” Richard blushed, “It’s not quite like that.”
“That’s not what your mother says,” Dr. Farrow tsk-tsk’d and stood up from his chair, extending to his full 5’4” form, “She says that you have…’political aspirations’.”
Dick could tell his grandfather’s opinion in the way those last two words dripped off his tongue. His balding head bore a forehead full of wrinkles that constantly revealed his mood. Bushy eyebrows and a thick silver beard made him appear exceptionally wizardly. It added to his gravitas. Big Dick understood it. His grandfather had been short his entire life just like Richard had. A small man was capable of casting a large shadow under the proper light.
“Man, I wish she wouldn’t have told you anything Gramps,” Richard tried to play this politically, “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s not worth mentioning,” passive, non-committal, “Just something I’m considering is all.”
It wasn’t good enough for Gramps.
“And that something? Spit it out kiddo.”
“Majoring in Political Science,” it felt like a swear-word, “Trying to get involved in community organizing or maybe even criminal justice.”
“You trying to be lawyer Buster-Brown?”
“I’m trying to make a difference,” blue eyes shined bright with a fire that burned belly deep, “I’m trying to be a leader.”
And at this his grandfather had the audacity to laugh. The chubby boy felt his demeanor shrink as his elder threw ice water on the fire that had begun to burn within. The look on his grandfather’s face was incredulous. Grandpa laughed until he choked on his bubblegum and then he spat it out and laughed some more.
“And what is it that you s’pose a pediatrician does?”, his grandfather’s confidence sounded earned, it felt real, “Am I a follower, is it?”
“Gramps,” Dick felt shell-shocked, “It’s not,” he couldn’t find words, “I don’t,” he felt like he had said enough, “I want to,” why wasn’t what he said enough? The words sputtered and his mind skipped on the same beat again and again and again, “I want to make my own pa—”
“Will you shut up man?”, his grandfather sounded like President Kirby and Dicky knew it to be on purpose. The President telling Canon to shut it was his gramps favorite debate moment of the decade, “You’re overthinking this. You’re making this more complicated than it need to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you were born on third base Richard,” blue eyes met his own, “Have the sense to take the quickest route home.”
“Gram—”
“Hold up, let me finish. Allow me to spell it out,” Richard felt his lips purse and his throat seal, “You come from a family of doctors who have handled generations of patients. We have built a business that you only have to grow. We have given you a good name that you can add upon or push into ruin.”
“It’s not about you guys! It’s about what I want to do…”
“You need to stop thinking about what you want to do,” another piece of gum from the pocket and into his mouth, “And start thinking about what’s expected of you.”
Chew. Chew. Chew. Stare and hold strong. His grandfather extended a hand and gripped on Richard’s shoulder. It was tight but gentle. Its presence was more promise than predicate.
*pop*
“I love you Dicky.”
“I love you too Gramps.”
And that was that. The hand was removed from his shoulder and a wallet soon entered the old man’s hand. A ten dollar bill went to Richard’s palm. A kiss stained his cheek.
“Get yourself something sweet,” the old man grinned, “You earned it after the beating I gave you.”
Richard smiled and made his way to the office door.
“Better a speech than a spanking Old Man.”
“You would be so lucky, now get out of here before my fat foot finds your fat ass!”
Fin.