Wisdom

                             Wisdom

Maybe a year or so ago, give or take, I was sitting in my doctor’s office chatting away with my HCP.  HCP stands for, in modern gobbly-gook insurance terms, Health Care Provider.  I’d like to call him my doctor, but to be truthful, he really isn’t.  He’s a Nurse.  He’s one of those high-powered nurses to be exact.  He’s got the letters APRN MSN CNP after his name, lots more letters than the MD hanging on the back end of a medical doctor’s moniker.  His particular letters stand for Advanced Practice Registered Nurse, Master in Science in Nursing, Certified Nurse Practitioner.  Which in actuality is a doctor, plain and simple.  But, in the world of medicine, it’s really not.  Complicated, I know.  It means, and I’m sure he would hate this appellation, ALMOST a doctor.  He can do ALMOST everything a doctor can do with some minor no-no’s, like prescribing particular high-powered drugs.  He’s “overseen” by an MD in his medical practice that can perform for him the few things he legally can’t.  At least can’t in Ohio.  I don’t believe it’s often that he had need to call on his mentor.

I call him Rick instead of Doc, a difference more in label than in definition.  It’s actually quite simple.  Rick equals Doc in our household.  The medical board of Ohio might differ with me, but I’m good with it.

Rick was a bit of a change from our previous doctor.  Hell, maybe more than a bit.  Doctor Larry was a traditionalist – coat and tie, shined shoes, polished glasses, a professional in every aspect.  Rick, however, showed up for my first appointment with him wearing his sneakers, earrings in his ears, Dockers pants and an open-collared shirt.  But the look of a true medical caregiver was immediately apparent despite the clothing and jewelry.  The outside might be a touch unconventional to my ancient eyes, but the inside was a bonafide doc.

Anyhow, Rick and I were chatting that particular day and during our conversation I noticed that he was, at times, mostly listening to me drone on and on and not offering much to the conversation.  When I questioned him, sort of indirectly about the aforementioned pause, he replied that he always made a habit of listening closely to his “older” patients and soaking up their wisdom.

And that stopped me in my tracks.

Wisdom?  Wisdom?  From yours truly?

It was a concept that I was surprised to hear attached to my name.  I, of course, have to accept that I’ve reached the grand old age of three score and ten (plus a couple more) and in some circles that can be considered “old”.  And, depending on what your definition of what “old” might be, that particular attained age might meet your qualification.

So the term old I’ll grant you.  Also accepted are: “Old enough to know better?”  Yes.  “Old as the hills?”  Yep.  “Older than dirt?”  OK.  “Old enough to get out of the rain?”  Uh-huh. 

But wise?

Had to think about that one for a while. 

So should I trust what my “doc” said about how he was listening to the wisdom of his older patients and accept that statement?  And, accepting that, how it apparently applied to me? 

And once again I thought about it. 

When examined, the dictionary has lots of definitions for the word “wisdom.”  Having experience, knowledge and good judgement.  Sagacity, intelligence, understanding, insight and perception.  Acuity, discernment, sense (both regular and common), shrewdness, acumen, judgement, foresight, prudence, circumspection, scholarship, philosophy and tons more.  I looked at those words (and, truth be told, looked up the ones that I wasn’t quite so familiar with) and thought, “Perhaps…  I know I’ve demonstrated a lot of those qualities from time to time.  Hell, maybe I AM wise!”

I smiled.  What a wise old owl I was!

And then, after further reflection, I thought about the times I was caught doing the absolute opposite of these stellar qualities!  Whoa Nelly!  I’ve done WAY more unwise stuff over the years than wise.  There’s gotta be WAY more of them, I thought.

So I’m a dumb bunny and not a wise old owl?

But, again, maybe most of those horrible opposite-from-wise behaviors I’ve so rashly demonstrated were accomplished when I was younger.  Young and foolish.  Young and dumb. 

Young and definitely unwise.

And maybe so.  Maybe most were acted upon years and years in the past and could be excused by my tender age at that time.

Maybe…

And then I thought about a slew of humdingers I had pulled at definitely more of an advanced age.  Hmmm…  Like the time I…  Well, I’m not going to go into particulars about those episodes in this blog.  Suffice it to say I’ve unquestionably pulled some idiotic, brain-dead, illegal, immoral and most definitely UNWISE shenanigans and not all that long ago.

But…  and this is a big but. 

Perhaps wisdom is not HOW bad your transgressions were in the past.  Maybe it’s how MANY of them there were.  As compared to how MANY demonstrations of true wisdom you have also done.  Maybe it’s a ratio!  Surely all of us have done unwise stuff.  Running that red light.  Continuing a habit that you KNOW is bad.  (Smoking.  Drinking to excess.  Jaywalking.)  Even just going out in the rain without an umbrella or raincoat.  Way unwise!  And of course, you always remember the bad ones and forget the oodles of wise stuff you do every day!

Yeah, that’s the ticket!  The unremembered wise stuff versus the embarrassing and humiliating unwise stuff.  There’s gotta be LOTS more of the former and maybe, just maybe, not that many of the latter ones.

So, was my “doc” himself wise in listening to my wisdom?  Is it possible he gleaned any sparks of sagacity or lightning bolts of wisdom from the tongue of this old fool?

Maybe.  Maybe not a bucketful, but a spoonful?  A thimble-full?

Maybe…

I’d like to think so.      

Doppelganger

                        Doppelgänger

The other day a friend of mine – actually more than a friend, but I’ll go into that relationship shortly – was chatting with me and said, “Hey brother, you might be interested that I saw your doppelgänger today.” 

I blankly said, “Huh?”  (I’m quick on the uptake most of the time as you can see.)

He went on to say, “He was one of my customers at work today and when I saw him come in the door, I called him by your name.  When he gave me a puzzled look, I examined him a bit closer and realized that – maybe – it wasn’t you.”  He continued, “But son-of-a-gun, he REALLY looked like you.  I even showed him your picture on my phone to back up my assertions and later took one of him to show you.”  He then pulled out his phone and showed me the photo of this person in question, this doppelgänger.  I looked at it and responded, “Yes it really DOES look like me.” 

Kinda. 

He sent me the aforementioned photo later that day and I looked at it once again after enlarging it on my computer.  Yep, still looked familiar.  But doppelgänger?  Identical?  It was really hard to say from one picture, one angle.  But close.  Doggone close! 

So dear reader, for my amusement, have you checked out the photo at the top?  For those of you who have seen me in the last decade or so and know what I look like, does it look like yours truly or not?  I’m curious as to your answer.

To continue on with a vaguely associated train of thought, did you know that babies learn most of what they need to know by the age of three?  They observe and listen and see almost everything.  And they soak it all in.  They are truly little sponges.  But the objects they focus on the most are faces.  Babies are absolute geniuses when it comes to faces.  The first one they concentrate on is, obviously, their mom’s.  They are able to identify their mom very, very early in life.  This ability to identify faces continues throughout their lives.  Humans are very good at discerning faces.  In fact, we are all Einsteins in this field!  Imagine looking at a picture of a group of people right at this moment.  You are able, almost always, to pick out people you know.  Even if the picture is blurry, grainy or small.  You can usually say, “that’s Uncle Johnny” or “there’s ol’ what’s his name from where I work.” 

Even if the picture was taken decades ago. 

You might not immediately muster up his name, but you surely KNOW that face!  I’m sure you’ve said numerous times in your life, “I forget the name but I REMEMBER THAT FACE!”  I know I have.  And if you think about it, that’s actually pretty remarkable!  And let’s make sure we all understand.  The difference between your face and mine is very small.  We all have one nose, two eyes, two ears plus the associated cheeks, chins, foreheads, wrinkles, etc.  And they are VERY similar in size and shape – the difference between yours and mine is in millimeters or less.  But we can usually differentiate Bobby from Betty from Ben almost all the time!  Even from quite a distance. 

It’s a truly exceptional trait.

What I think is even more remarkable, you are able to see various subtle differences in faces and be comfortably certain that any two are probably kin – brothers, sisters, parents, aunts and uncles.  Just from minor variations in size and placement of facial features.  When you think about it, isn’t that incredible also? 

Oh, and speaking of brothers…  Have you ever pondered about what actually constitutes a brother?

You would probably think this question is a gimme.  A brother is a sibling of yours – another offspring of your parents.  Male.  Or he’s possibly an offspring of just one of your parents, making him a half-brother.  That kind of brother is, of course, blood and your relationship is easy to understand.  If the brother came along due to the remarriage of a parent, they became stepbrothers. Also easy-peasy to understand.

Another is a relationship by common ties or interests.  A brother stamp collector, a brother member of the military (a brother-in-arms), a brother fireman or policeman.  Even a brother heart attack survivor.  (Me.)

One more definition of brother to bring the topic back to where I want it.  It’s that of fellow member.  Similar to the above definition, perhaps, but possibly even closer.  Brother clergymen, Brother Christian or Brother Mason.

And with that last one, Brother Mason, we come back around to the friend I mentioned in an earlier paragraph of this blog who showed me the photo of my doppelgänger.  He’s a brother of that particular flavor, his name is Ben (hi Ben!) and he is one of my Masonic brothers from our local lodge.  Now due to my recent reaffiliation with this fraternity after a too-many-year hiatus, I’ve only known Brother Ben for a few months, but already consider him my brother almost as much as my blood brother Chuck and of my military brothers from the Air Force.  And because of the comfort level I have with him and the others in my lodge, I’m more than happy to share the story of his remarkable meeting with my erstwhile doppelgänger with the faithful readers of this blog. 

So to wind this down to some sort of conclusion, do you believe in doppelgängers?  Do you believe that there are people walking the Earth today that are, as close as can be determined, identical to yourself?  Do you believe?

Well, I believe there are!  Of course, I’ve got the picture!  And of course I also believe in little green men in flying saucers (most of the time).  So go figure.

But most of all I believe in brothers.  The blood kind, the brother-in-arms kind and the fraternal kind.

We got each other’s backs.