Getting behind the wheel of the vehicle, my brother followed me in my taxi back to Noreen's Fayston home. When we got there, it was exactly where she said it would be, which was a relief, given the exigent circumstances of her previous day. Such is the cycle of life.Īccording to the arrangement I had made with Noreen, the following morning I drove with my brother to retrieve Noreen's car in the Bolton parking lot. As she paid the fare, she told me she was planning a move to New Jersey in the fall to live with one of her sons. She explained that they'd sold the main house and she was now living in the guesthouse under an agreement with the new owners. Granted, this was just my intuition speaking, but, taking the measure of this woman, I'd bet dollars to doughnuts. It appeared as if good fortune had shone its light on Noreen and Frank, and my guess is the couple had found ways to spread the wealth in the course of their life together. Which made sense, as humility goes hand in hand with true generosity. Noreen smiled at me but didn't affirm my inkling. "It is something, Noreen, and I have the feeling that you and your husband were generous to others in similar ways through the years." Isn't it something how people can be that kind?" They eventually lent us the deposit to buy our first home. We rented from a lovely couple, a dentist and his wife. During breakfast, the phone would ring, and I'd play secretary. ![]() The office was the kitchen in the home we rented. But when we first started, it was just the two of us. "Well, I was home with our three boys for most of the time. "It sounds like you were involved in the business." Together we built the company, before we sold it to a German outfit." Have you noticed the cables that connect the cab of a truck to the trailer? That was just one of Frank's inventions. In fact, he was flying his plane a week before he died." Frank passed away a few years ago, but we had 10 good years after he retired. But that was fine and dandy with him, and he didn't let me down - we had many glorious vacations. "I actually met Frank on a ski trip and told him that first day, 'I want to spend my life having ski adventures all over the world.' You could tell I was a cheeky girl. "My second husband, Frank, and I bought the place in Fayston some 40 years ago." "Gosh, you've been tested in life, haven't you? How'd you end up in Vermont?" Not long after that, my first husband died in a car crash in the early years of our marriage." My father died when I was young, and I went to night school to learn accounting and help support the family. "Well, first off, you're going to have to call me Noreen. My guess is the couple had found ways to spread the wealth in the course of their life together. Steering our way off the hospital grounds, I asked, "So, Mrs. "Yes, the tests showed no problems, but the doctor said I shouldn't drive for a couple of days." I told them it wasn't necessary, but they insisted." Did they drive you to the hospital in the cruiser?" ![]() The police showed up and they opened up an emergency gate - I think it was in Bolton - and they parked my car in a parking lot for the Long Trail on Route 2." I was driving up to do some shopping in Burlington this morning and, on the highway, I suddenly had this dizzy spell and had to pull over. I figure it's sympathetic without being invasive. ![]() This is a line I often use when picking up someone just discharged from the hospital. "I bet you're glad to be out of there," I said, firing up the ignition. Johnson and I walked gingerly out to my cab, and I helped her into the front seat. Johnson," she called out to her, "your cabdriver is here." "Oh, yes," the receptionist replied, and pointed out an elderly lady seated to our right. "Somebody called about a ride for this patient?" I added. (I have accumulated random facts in the manner of a hoarder collecting knickknacks.) This was followed by my stray, bonus recollection that the concept and practice of triage originated on the battlefields of the Napoleonic Wars. ![]() The thought passed through my mind that, presumably, they'd seen the triage nurse and awaited their turn based on how in extremis their condition. To my left was the waiting room, occupied by about a dozen people in various degrees of physical distress. "Noreen Johnson?" I was speaking to the receptionist at the emergency department of the University of Vermont Medical Center.
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