Good grief! I’m overwhelmed.

Friday, January 26, 2001

Good grief! I’m overwhelmed. Humbled, too. Don’t you people have anything better to do?

Attention, St. Peter! If there’s a point system for working one’s way to heaven, business must be picking up judging by all the cards, gifts, and flowers I’ve received.

Listen, folks. You’re beginning to embarrass me.

The police chief called and then the county sheriff. Didn’t say they missed me, but didn’t mention anything about outstanding warrants either.

Jana Peterson called all the way from Idaho and blew the family’s telephone budget. Brady and Frannie are fine she said.

Harlan Boe called from LeRoy, and right away I remembered the day I was invited to break bread at wife Maggie’s dinner table with their family. One of the best times of my life.

Marj Meier called from the capital of the world, Adams. Heck, I’ve misquoted more people, mangled the spelling of more names, and they still let me come back to Adams.

Of course, Mike Ruzek called. He didn’t beat around the bush.

"What can I do?" he asked.

I told him, "Next time, wear pants."

Come on. A guy stuck at home waiting for his eyesight to return has more to worry about. Like, how am I going to answer all my mail?

Daryl ("don’t call me ‘Ben’") Franklin sent such a large card he’ll have to seek reimbursement from the Mower County Board.

Even V. Allan from Hormel Foods contacted me. Few know that arguably one of the best-dressed execs at Hormel regularly consults me for fashion tips. Considering my vision problems, I’d say Mr. Krejci is in serious trouble.

Of course, the Herald gang was at it again. They sent me a card and another gift. I’ll have to wait until I can see better to read their snappy greetings. (Probably insults and blind jokes.)

A former Herald publisher, Dave ("Don’t call me ‘Winston’") Churchill, remembered me. At least I think he did. He sent a form letter addressed to Mr. Bonorden or Current Resident.

Thanks, Dave, for the beautiful bouquet of flowers that I mistook for a salad. It was delicious.

First Ward council member Mickey J. sent me a card. I’ve been spending a lot of time on the first ward at Austin Medical Center, but I don’t think that qualifies me to vote there, too.

Gary Ziegler wrote me from Lyle. I wouldn’t want those cocky characters at Adams to find out, but, pound for pound, person for person, Lyle can match any town for pride.

And the mayor of Grand Meadow, the one and only Jim Baudoin, took time out from his job at the Elkton elevator to write me.

I get so much mail at my house, the mailman complained of a hernia yesterday.

Speaking of pain, do you remember the personal care attendant who was helping me? This unpaid and unofficial helper and I haven’t spoken for a week. She’s become quite testy and changed from Florence Nightingale to mean old Nurse Ratchet. Something about inappropriate behavior.

Good grief! Not that again. It’s the same thing she said after our first date four years ago.

I told her she’d make a great corrections officer at the county jail. She waved a rectal thermometer at me and I promised to behave.

I needed her to drive me to Adams last Saturday night to try some of Fred Harvey’s world famous chicken again. Had a great time at Post No. 146 and didn’t get a ticket from Chief Briggs.

The situation is this: I can see more and that, I believe, is a good sign. I can’t read yet, but managed to find my way around Austin Medical Center yesterday. I’m not sure if I had conversations with 12 different nurses, or the same conversation with one nurse 12 times.

I’m deeply touched by the many gestures of concern and good wishes I’ve received in the past three weeks – too numerous to mention but not to forget.

To acknowledge all the support and cards, letters, and gifts, I’d have to take out a full-page ad in the Herald.

The world I see is still a blur, but my heart sees many faces. You can pack your bags when the time comes. You’re all going to heaven.

There is nothing more I can say, nor nothing less sincere than thank you.