the yosefblog abides May 8, 2008
The 45 second walk from your hall duty in the A building to your Department Coordinator’s office in the C Building is the longest 45 seconds of your life iff (that is spelled correctly, for those who don’t know elementary logic) you are greeted by said Coordinator with the words: “Your father is on the phone; it’s about Yosef”. The thoughts went like this:
1. He is dead.
2. You are melodramatic and have a hyperactive and highly literary imagination.
3. Therefore, it is unlikely that he is dead.
4. But he probably got in a car crash and is in a coma.
Or, option 5, he inexplicably fainted on the el platform. He is fine, and decidedly not dead. But he cannot drive for at least two weeks, which makes him “dead weight” (no? too soon?).
In all sincerity, though, the thoughts go through your head so quickly, and one of the ones that was nearly half formulated and only barely coherent, like a dull headache coming on, was this: This person is my perfect match (although I have always wanted us to create profiles on eharmony and see if it matches us up, just to verify this suspicion with 29 scientifically proven points of compatibility), and he could be gone, and I am but a wee lass of 30; how could I possibly “start over”? How could I replicate that? Could the universe be so indifferent to my desires (Werner Herzog would say “yes, neccessarily”)? Only now, as I have more than 45 seconds to consider this thought, do I realize that there are so many people in the world, as sure of the “perfection” of their relationships, that have had that person taken from them in an instant. It is terrifying and comforting to know that the human brain is adaptable enough that such an event will most likely not kill you, the survivor, and that you will, in fact, find a way to move on. But for those few seconds when I actually thought my life might actually turn out like that, I was weighed down by that possibility, and the realness it had in those moments before I picked up that phone.
Now, anyone want to drive my gimp husband around for the next two weeks?
I’m curious about your logical proposition. You tell me. Is this statement true? :
If you are greeted by D.C. with the words “Your father is on the phone; it’s about your children,” then the 45 second walk from H.D. to D.C.’s office is the longest 45 seconds of your life.
Hmmm…yes, I *might* give you that, although it is far more likely that random and non-serious issues might arise with children about which I might be called. In fact, I have received such calls, and they often simply involve diarhhea. Adults can usually take care of such things themselves…
dibs
I am so happy yosef is okay. We know a handful of people who had a single fainting/seizure/attacks of one sort or another and the never had it again. The human body is a mystery… a disgusting, irritating mystery.