…about waiting room magazines.

This morning my wife wanted me to drive her the 45 minutes through heavy traffic to the hospital for her annual breast cancer follow up. It has been four years now and everything is still clear. For that we thank God.

We don’t say that in some cultural that’s the kind of thing you say way; but we truly thank Him because He exists. We acknowledge His existence, and we thank Him for what we know to be His intervention in an all too human event.

Of course, there are those who will read this and take exception. They are the ones who have deluded themselves into believing, with all too many other Illuminati, that when you die that’s it.

I personally have known only one man who truly believed that. On his death bed and almost with his last breath he denied that a god could exist. The concept “no god” was his god.

That’s fine. He made his choice, and we all must choose, that’s the way we are made. I have often questioned Jaques’ vehemence however, as I was not able to determine if he was trying to convice others or himself.

Anyway back to the waiting room magazines story.

As is habitual for me now, when I entered the large room to wait at the University Hospital near us, I automatically reached for a magazine. I glanced through the scraggly pile of Seventeen, Scuba, JP, and other of little or no interest to me publications, when I spotted what I though would be interesting – a journal by the American Bar Association.

Since it was early in the morning I flipped it open and began reading without paying much attention to what I was reading. I saw a picture of Chief Justice Warren talking to someone then read about Ronald Reagan and how the selection of judicial nominees for the Federal Bench is actually quite objective.

Wait a minute! Hold on! I was starting to wake up a little more. Earl Warren? Ronald Reagan? What the …?

I closed the magazine to read the front page more carefully. It was then I learned the truth of waiting room reading material. This particular magazine was dated November 1, 1986. That’s right, 1986.

I decided then and there to start a personal campaign. Here it is. I pledge, cross-my-heart-hope-to-die, to never, never, ever, begin to read a waiting room magazine without first ascertaining its date of publication.

I learned this morning that the 1.2 billion (estimate, it could have 1.3 billion) jokes I have heard and read about waiting room magazines are all true.

Now that I have proven those jokes to be the TRUTH, they ain’t funny no more. That’s a rotten trick play on an “elderly,” “senior-citizen,” at 7:30 in the morning; giving him a 20 year old magazine to read.

I hope God takes care of business with that person when they eventually meet. It will serve him right.