The “sure cure” came impulsively…


   It began when I spied an older slender woman standing with a tall, solid young man in the waiting lounge.


   I had to stare a bit to catch all the letters on the front of her black t-shirt:



  is not

a Liberal Conspiracy.


For more use the DOOR.




   What happened occurred about 15 minutes before our Detroit plane landed at Medford Oregon.

   The woman, who I suspected was “one of those” science teachers offering wisdom to snake-handling fundamentalist bohunks from the hills, and, as it turned out to be, her 19-year-old grandson sat directly in front of Karen and me.

   Suddenly, the grandson began hiccuping–the loudest hiccups I’ve ever heard, each one about 10 seconds after the previous one.



   At first there was silence, then soft private laughter with no heads turning around. I, perhaps, was a bit louder than the rest. My wife, who usually glares at me in times like this was even was laughing–very softly I must add.

   He’d tried drinking water…counting…nothing worked.

   I leaned over the seat. “Want me to cure you?” I asked.

   “Yes, please! I’ve tried everything!” he gasped.

   I stood, and calmly announced so those could hear several rows away”

   “Trump won.”

   The hiccups immediately, and completely, disappeared.¹


   ¹ Yes, we have to have a footnote after something like this, even though this real story is over and further explanation often spoils things. Afterwards, both grandmother and grandson thanked me. And, yes, people laughed for whatever reason. And no one threw anything. Just for the record, this is only the second time I’ve mentioned the President–by name–in these posts.