My sister Polly calls me, breathless about something.
“Venus” she says, “you have to drive me down the mountain to the hospital. There’s a bird in the van and I have to bring him home. And, I have to drive the van home, too!”
It’s 5:30 PM. I am naked, wrapped in an old bathrobe, and lying on my bed. I am tired.
“What bird?” I ask. “What van? Why is the bird at the hospital?”
Polly always says whatever is in her head at the moment and she seems to assume that you have been in there with her and have been following along.
“Well, the bird can’t stay in the van,” says Polly, reasonably. “I’m coming right over to get you.”
Now I won’t get to eat dinner or watch the news or take a rest. And, I can’t go down the mountain naked. I will have to get dressed.
“Polly, you aren’t making any sense,” I say. “How did some bird get to the hospital in a van?”
Okay, Dear Readers, I will spare you what I went through trying to get the full story. But, before I got the gist and the punchline, I did end up screaming and shouting because Polly kept throwing out the details in no order whatsoever.
I will save your patience and tell you what happened and why and how a hunting raptor with heavy, sharp talons and a thick yellow beak, wearing a brown cloth hood, ended up in a white van at the hospital an hour away from us.
Polly’s forty-year-old son, Josh, has fallen off a two story hotel roof.
Yes, that’s what has happened and now I suppose you want to know the rest of the story. (more…)