Each and every one of our human senses are amazing things but out of the five I believe hearing and seeing reign supreme.  In fact, they're tied for supremacy.

 

Take music for example.  There is no requirement for you to see the musicians playing their instruments; hearing it being played is the magic.  Now, let's consider an artist painting a masterpiece; it isn't necessary for you to hear the brushstrokes as they are being made but seeing what is being painted is the precipice.  However, there are times when hearing and seeing at the same time are all-important. 

 

During the entire time Lauri and I had together the most reoccurring statement I heard from her was, "Joe, you need a hearing aid!"  Or, one of my favorites, "I know what I'm getting you for Christmas...a hearing aid!"

 

When moments like those pop up I would open my satchel of standard defense statements.  I went to the "Hearing" file folder and withdrew the only page in there and began reading.  "Lauri, you don't understand, I can hear fine, it's just that if I'm turned a certain wa..."

 

"Nooooo, that's bullshit!  And put your damn satchel away!"

 

I went to the "Satchel" file folder and withdrew the only page found in there and began reading.  "Lauri, you don't understand, without this satchel I will cease to exis..."

 

I was able to get away with minimal bodily harm but she managed to snatch my satchel as I fled by.

 

It's true, for years she harangued me about getting a hearing test and all of them went unheeded until this one Thursday morning when the weekly newspaper arrived in our mailbox.  As I always do, I brought the mail inside and laid it on the table in front of her to sort out and went straight from there into the office.
 

Now...the office is slightly northeast of the kitchen; through two doorway openings and if a crow could fly between the two rooms it would have flown about forty feet.

 

From that distance I clearly heard Lauri say, "Yes, good morning, I would like to make an appointment..."  She's obviously talking on the phone so I turn my ear to something else because I learned a long time ago that someone else's phone conversation is none of my business.

 

A short time later I walked into the kitchen and Lauri looked up from reading the paper, smiled, and said, "I made an appointment for you to get a hearing test."

 

"Whaa, whaa, what?" I stammered.

 

"I said, I made an appoint..."

 

"I heard what you said," I interrupted, "I wanna know why?"

 

She flipped to a page of the newspaper and pointed to an advertisement.  FREE HEARING TEST on Tuesday, yada, yada, yada.  It went on to suggest the hearing tests were being conducted if in the off-chance you failed then they could sell hearing aids.

 

"You're going or else."  She said, turning back to the page she had been reading.

 

"Ohh, yeah,"  I said, blowing her a slobbery raspberry and knowing I had another card up my sleeve, "Well, I ain't going unless I get my satchel back."

 

"Where is the test being given?"

 

"At the hospital in Pols..."

 

I would've opened the "hospital" file folder and withdrew the single page found in it but that one I knew by heart, "I'm afraid of hospitals, people are sick and dying in hospitals and the patients who are in them aren't doing too well, either."

 

It was no use, the battle had been lost before it started.

 

I get there and find the door to the room where the tests are being given is open and I see a man sitting behind a desk talking on the phone and the booth where you sit while taking the test is tucked in the corner.  The man tells whoever he's talking with to hold on, looks up at me and says, "Are you Joe?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Yep, he's here, he just walked in the door."

 

"Are you kidding me?  My wife called to make sure I was here?  What a lo-down, mean creature she..."

 

"Well, we had a 5-dollar bet - she said you wouldn't show up."

 

"Ohhh, and what made you so sure I would?"

 

"She has your satchel."

 

I've had hearing tests before and this one was no different; raise your hand when you hear a tone.  With the test complete I walk out of the booth and over to Dr. Stewart's desk I go.

 

"Well, Doc,"  I said happily, "What's yer prognosis?"

 

"Joe, your left ear is fine; a little loss on the high tones, and your right ear is really good with some loss on low tones.  But, you don't need a hearing aid."

 

"That's what I knew," I said turning to walk out, "Thanks Doc."

 

I got to the door and had a thought.  I turned around and said, "Say, Doc, would you do me a favor?"

 

"Sure, Joe, name it."

 

"Do you have your prescription pad here with you?"

 

"You bet I do,"  He picked it up and waved it, "It's right here."

 

I get back to the house and from where I park Lauri can't see me, the truck or what I'm doing in it.  I looked to make doubly sure the coast was clear then reached behind the seat and extracted a roll of bathroom tissue.  I ripped off two individual sheets then I rolled each of them into little tubes.  Next, I stuck a tube into each ear canal, looked in the mirror to make sure they were clearly visible and then walked to the sliding door.

 

Lauri looked up when she heard the door open, saw me and the tissue tubes sticking outta my ears and there was immediate concern on her face.  She started to speak.

 

I quickly held my forefinger up to my lips in a shushing signal and walked over to her and laid the prescription Doc Stewart had written for me on the table.

 

Joe has a very serious hearing problem.
Lauri must not talk to Joe or anywhere near Joe for 3 weeks.

 

I almost made it through the office door when my satchel hit me in the back and bowled me over.