Listening to some gossip in the hospital waiting room

Published 12:00 pm Friday, February 9, 2018

A few years ago I was relegated to sitting in the East Alabama Hospital Waiting Room while my wife had knee surgery. It was when Trump and Hillary were trading barbs and I got tired of watching the same political rhetoric over and over again. There was a group of people there from one of the Chambers County local redneck communities discussing a resident in their local community who was in intensive care due to a bad car accident. The talk caught my attention as I found it interesting to hear their viewpoint reference the critical situation.

One of the men commented to another and the conversation between the two went like this: Did you see the car he was driving? You ain’t seen it? Smashed like you ain’t never seen nothing like it. They said he was driving about 70 when he left the road. I betcha anything that he was doing a 100. Why, you couldn’t even tell what kinda car it was. But I know what kinda car it wuz as I’m the one that had to co-sign so he could get it. Man I know he’s probably leaving here and I ain’t gonna sit out here and talk about him, but you know he never did have credit. Naw, everything he had was a co-signer. That big boat in his yard, shaw, his brother-in-law signed for that. Don’t many people know that his house ain’t in his name. It was in his Daddy’s name. Cause his first wife is what ruined his credit (sure did). She is the one that ran off with the U.P.S. man. Like I said, he’s probably leaving here and I ain’t gonna sit here and talk about him. But, (chuckle), you know he had to be some kind of dummy. Say what! Why that U.P.S. Truck came to his house every other day when there was no packages.

And you ain’t seen nothing yet until you see that car. Tell ya what! When we leave the hospital we will drive by the wrecking yard and I will show it to ya. It’s smashed all to pieces. But ya see if ya die in a car wreck, they can also retrieve the body and have tater salad after the funeral. You know that it is true, we always respond to ever tragedy with food.

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See if this don’t sound familiar! Did you hear about Margaret’s grandfather? Well no, what happened? Dropped dead night fore last – well I declare – yea, the way she tells it, they was sitting there watching the Wheel Of Fortune and she heard him mumble something bout not liking Pat Sajack. He got up to change the channel and got almost over to the TV and keeled over. It was his heart. Yea, dropped dead right there on the throw rug. Nother two inches and he’d hit his head on the corner of the coffee table.

Course, I believe to this day if he had the remote control his wife had hid from him, he’d still be here today. Well I declare! I tell you what! You bake a ham and I’ll fix a casserole. We’ll get over there and knock on the door and say that we are just sorrow to hear about your brother-in-law. Here are some baked beans.

I know that it is always stressful to have to await for news relative to the survival of a loved one. However, these small town hicks converted one’s attention for a moment from a stressful time period. The reality is that it would be interesting to be a fly on the wall in some rural hospital waiting room. These guys don’t glaze over the news but tell it as it is.

I’m trying to remember if the crowd was from Five Points or Fredonia. Oh, I remember. I think the crowd were members of the White Plains community. I will have to check this out with Gregg Farrar.

(Most of this column was taken from my friend Hollis Hobbs. But I am sure that any reader here could add to this conversation.)