I told Ed I’d go with him to Clewiston, Florida, in the middle of the state, to visit a fellow in a nursing home as part of his ombudsman duties. It was an interesting drive and I regaled him with small talk that he ignored. But I felt like I was doing a good deed.

We got to Clewiston and looked for a place to eat. There were four restaurants -- we avoided the one calling itself “Chinese Taste”,reminding me of that long ago soda called “Orange Taste”. No, thank you. The best we could do was a sports bar called Beef O’Brady’s (catchy, huh?)

A beautiful little girl was there eating with mother and brother. She looked like a life-sized doll transported to modern times from the Victorian era. Long curly blonde hair, slightly long dress, attached belt tied in back, Mary Jane shoes. Brother sat her on his lap so she could play an arcade game. Mom came to get them. Mom was a knockout. She was tall, slender, silky straight blonde hair, long, fitted black dress. She belonged on the cover of Vogue. What, I asked myself, is she doing in bloody Clewiston? I imagine the tattooed wonders eating there were drooling.

Then we couldn’t find the nursing home because the street wasn’t marked and the locals didn’t know the names of most of the streets and were, like, duh. But we did find it and Ed visited this elderly patient, who had been allowed to fall out of his wheelchair and break his hip, and needed constant supervision he hadn’t been getting. Ed said he was comatose. But he took the data, and we drove back.

Another case he dealt with recently involved a woman whose mother has dementia. The daughter met with him, showed him photos of mother's ailments due to negligence -- I won't go into detail. It was gross. But then Ed learned that there is new management at the home, the mother is being treated, the photos are old and no longer relevant, the nursing home is not being paid and daughter is living on her mother's income. Daughter also is extremely stressed and strung out. Ed said she needed therapy and arranged for her to get free counseling at the Lee County facility. He arranged to meet her there but she canceled. On the phone later, she told him she was afraid he was going to "Baker Act" her. (The Baker Act provides for a person who is suspected of being deranged and suicidal to be forcibly held in a medical facility until he or she is deemed fit to be released.) So she won’t get the help she needs. Meanwhile, the nursing home is in the process of petitioning for payment so that her mother’s checks will go directly to them, and Cookie will be left high and dry. But Ed did what he could and he can’t help anyone who insists on self-destructing.

Yesterday I developed aches and the beginning of a sore throat and felt greatly relieved that my oppressive fatigue of the past days could possibly be due to a virus. But the whole thing disappeared by morning and I am better.

Meanwhile, please explain why Max, my manx cat, likes to hang out by the piano but when I sit down to play he runs like Hell. Everybody’s a critic. My late cat, Sniff, however, used to hang out on my foot while I played. He particularly liked the Brahms-Handel Variations.

xx, Teal