The Very Old Doctor

I left for my morning constitutional a bit earlier than usual today -- after chatting with D2 about the final days of her summer corporate internship. Her last day is Thursday, and then she gets to chill for a few weeks before returning to her MS studies in Gatorville. The strange rescue dog and I ran into Evan, our County Attorney neighbor. His oldest just graduated from Wake Forest, and is working for an auto supply company in Doral -- living at home. His middle boy is a rising sophomore at FSU, and their youngest, auxilliary child, is a high school junior. As we were in the final stretch towards home, we saw Sam, the slow moving, sweet natured Boxer, and his owner, Doc. The strange rescue was timid towards Sam -- Sam outweighs her by about 60 lbs. Doc and I chatted. He's been retired from his Dermatology practice for a year now, and "hates retirement." When he closed his office, I'm pretty sure he was among the longest practicing docs in the county. He must be near or at 90. I asked why he didn't teach more, or consult, but he told me the hassles involved in each -- like the untenable commute to UM's Med School, where the Department very much wants him. As to consulting, he can't stand the frequent court cancellations inherent in our law business. So he spends his time reading a lot, and talking with his younger wife, a Jane Lynch lookalike. He has 2 grown daughters, but no grand kids. And that's too bad -- I can see him as a wonderful grandpa -- sharing his wisdom and wit and sharp observations with a grandchild. He still walks his daily 1/3 mile, though arthritis has him bent over to about a 45 degree angle. And he NEVER goes outside between 10 am and 3 pm --he said they'd revoke his Dermatology license if he did... I enjoy our chance encounters. He's so COURTLY -- old world manners and charm. He always calls me by my formal name. As we were finishing our encounter, Annette's mother came by with her LWD (Little White Dog). Annette is running for Lt. Governor, on the ticket that should win. I introduced Doc to her, saying she might become our state's "Second Abuela." She loved that. So walk on, Doc. Walk on.