{"id":4951,"date":"2018-02-25T17:03:04","date_gmt":"2018-02-25T23:03:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/?p=4951"},"modified":"2018-02-25T17:16:58","modified_gmt":"2018-02-25T23:16:58","slug":"dirk","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/2018\/02\/25\/dirk\/","title":{"rendered":"Dirk"},"content":{"rendered":"<h3>1. Excuse Me<\/h3>\n<p>The sky was blue. The sun was shining. The dogs and I were returning from a long walk at the soccer fields, which are green-green-green from the rains of the last few days.<\/p>\n<p>We were making the last corner and heading to home, when I saw Dirk, a boy from down the street. Dirk is not his name, but let&rsquo;s call him Dirk. And <em>boy<\/em> isn&rsquo;t right, either. His brother went to college years ago and seems to no longer live in town. Dirk is well past high school age, and we&rsquo;ve seen him working at a local hamburger joint and a grocery store. So&#8230; no, <em>boy<\/em> isn&rsquo;t right, but then I&rsquo;m just an <em>old geezer<\/em> who remembers when he and his brother used to come to the door on Halloween.<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Hey, Dirk!&rdquo; I said, squinting in the sunlight.<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Oh. Hi,&rdquo; he said.<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; he said. I turned to see him hurrying to catch up with us, crossing the street with his hands clutched together and pulled tightly to his chest. &ldquo;Can I talk to you for a minute?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s up?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>He crossed the street, and we stepped onto the grass to get out of the way of a car that was coming up to the stop sign.<\/p>\n<h3>2. What Do You Think?<\/h3>\n<p>Dirk, with whom I&rsquo;ve infrequently spoken but to whom I&rsquo;ve always said &ldquo;Hi&rdquo; proceeded to ask me if he could have some advice. Advice about things that are going on in his life &mdash; serious things. Not scary things, but the kinds of things that you and I would struggle with.<\/p>\n<p>We walked together down the block, and he talked about his situation. He summarized what he&rsquo;s thinking he&rsquo;d like to do. And he asked what I thought of that, because he wanted to talk it out with people he trusted.<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;You want to sit here on our bench?&rdquo; I asked, pointing to the black bench that sits in front of our house.<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; he said.<\/p>\n<p>We sat down.&nbsp;And he went on, elaborating on details he hadn&rsquo;t yet shared, and telling more of his story.<\/p>\n<p>I listened. And I answered by saying that I am not his doctor but that it seemed to me like he was thinking hard about what he wanted to do. He should talk to his doctor, I said.&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;And here&rsquo;s what I would do, if I were in your situation,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;because if I just went to the doctor and started talking, I&rsquo;d probably just ramble on.&rdquo;<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Yeah,&rdquo; he nodded.<\/p>\n<p>I suggested that he write down his thoughts, write down the plan he had told me. &ldquo;Take it with you tomorrow,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;You can use it as notes, so you don&rsquo;t ramble.&rdquo; And I suggested he might be able to leave the notes with the doctor, too, since he seems to get so little time with them.<\/p>\n<p>Dirk sat up from the hunched position he had been in. There was a bit of a sparkle in his eyes. I could hear <span style=\"text-decoration: line-through;\">relief<\/span> hope in his voice.<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; he said as he got up.<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re welcome,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;Let me know how it goes. &#8230;Just knock on the door. The doorbell doesn&rsquo;t work, so just knock loudly.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&ldquo;I will.&#8221;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>1. Excuse Me The sky was blue. The sun was shining. The dogs and I were returning from a long walk at the soccer fields, which are green-green-green from the rains of the last few days. We were making the last corner and heading to home, when I saw Dirk, a boy from down the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4951"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4951"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4951\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4958,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4951\/revisions\/4958"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4951"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4951"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4951"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}