Herbert
I always get a kick out of my father-in-law. Herbert (not his real name) is one of those old guys who takes things very slow . He and my mother in law live in a small, eastern Colorado town.
When The Husband and I make the long trek up north to see them, it's always the same. We sit in the living room and talk for hours. Like taking a trip back in time. It's kind of cool. The TV is never on. It's always quiet there. The pace is always very slow . On one visit, Herbert got up and said he was going to get the newspaper. About 20 minutes later, I realized he wasn't back. I asked if we should go check on him. I thought he might have fallen on the driveway.
"No I'm sure he's fine. He'll be back soon." Just then I heard their car pull up. He parked the car and walked in the front door, carrying the paper. Seeing the confusion on my face, my mother in law explained. "He hated where the paper boy threw the paper. He called and complained but he still didn't like where the paper was thrown. So he called the newspaper and asked them not to deliver the paper anymore." Herbert drove to the newspaper's office every day and picked up the paper himself. Yes, it's that small of a town.
Herbert has been in ill health lately. Heart and other problems have left him with less ability to get around at all. I guess that means it's a good thing he likes that s l o w pace. He likes to look out the window and keep track of how many construction trucks go by. He loved it when the neighbor with an open pasture put cows and horses in it. Then he could pass the time watching the the livestock.
Last week he had a pacemaker put in, and we all held our breath.
He's fine. We knew he was on the mend when 5 days after the surgery he asked if they could drive to the outskirts of town to see the big semi that turned over on the highway.
They went.
When The Husband and I make the long trek up north to see them, it's always the same. We sit in the living room and talk for hours. Like taking a trip back in time. It's kind of cool. The TV is never on. It's always quiet there. The pace is always very slow . On one visit, Herbert got up and said he was going to get the newspaper. About 20 minutes later, I realized he wasn't back. I asked if we should go check on him. I thought he might have fallen on the driveway.
"No I'm sure he's fine. He'll be back soon." Just then I heard their car pull up. He parked the car and walked in the front door, carrying the paper. Seeing the confusion on my face, my mother in law explained. "He hated where the paper boy threw the paper. He called and complained but he still didn't like where the paper was thrown. So he called the newspaper and asked them not to deliver the paper anymore." Herbert drove to the newspaper's office every day and picked up the paper himself. Yes, it's that small of a town.
Herbert has been in ill health lately. Heart and other problems have left him with less ability to get around at all. I guess that means it's a good thing he likes that s l o w pace. He likes to look out the window and keep track of how many construction trucks go by. He loved it when the neighbor with an open pasture put cows and horses in it. Then he could pass the time watching the the livestock.
Last week he had a pacemaker put in, and we all held our breath.
He's fine. We knew he was on the mend when 5 days after the surgery he asked if they could drive to the outskirts of town to see the big semi that turned over on the highway.
They went.
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