less than a year after my wife’s funeral i was confronted with the most terrible realities of being a widower1 with five children.
notes from school.
field-trip permission slips, pta election ballots2, troll book order forms, sports sign-ups, medical forms and innumerable academic progress reports -- an onslaught of *work courtesy of the educational bureaucracy.
this “literature” has to be read and signed, or placed at the bottom of the *rdcage. regardless of its destination it must be dealt with on a daily basis.
one day, eight-year-old rachel was *ing3 me complete five (count ’em, five) emergency treatment forms for school. she would fill in the generic4 *rmation (name, address, phone number), and i would add the rest (insurance numbers, doctor’s name, date, signature). after signing the forms, i checked them for accuracy. it was then that i noticed on each card, in the slot beside mother’s business phone, rachel had written “1-800-heaven."
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