Don,

I heard the thrill of anticipation in his voice: do you want to see your stone? I thought for a second. See my stone? If I have a thousand choices left in life, this would not be one of them; or even if I have ten thousand left, but what could I say? The reality was this: I’m flat on my back, my feet have been fitted high up into the stirrups, and there is a camera up my penis. This professional wants to show me my stone, he awaits my answer. Sure, why not? I said. There is a delay while the nurse swings the portable monitor into a place where I can view it. There it is! he says. Can you see it? Yes, I said, I see it.

It is true, I did see the stone floating around in my bladder; it looked to be the size of a marble. What was it doing there? How did it get there? How do I get it out? Or do I? I lost interest. The truth is I have never been interested in learning about things medical. The medical headline in the newspaper and/or the first paragraph of the newspaper article satisfy any interest I have about medical matters. Members of my family use medical terminology to discuss health-related matters; I barely understand their conversation, and I lack sufficient motivation to overcome my ignorance. Why is this, do you suppose? Most likely a case of: what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Of course this is dumb, but I have always been this way, even since childhood.

The professional tells me he will break the stone into little pieces and wash it out. This sounds like a reasonable thing to do, I tell him. But how am I going to show Don my stone? I wonder. Well, you have heard the saying: even if they don’t come, they have been invited.

All the best,

LeRoy

Don,

Without doubt, this is the craziest undertaking of my life. Why would I wish to risk public humiliation by creating an Internet forum to carry on a dialogue with another person? Worse yet, why would I recruit one of the few friends I have left – a high school classmate, no less – to participate in this crazy public spectacle?

Think about it. For more than five years, a few thousand emails or more between us, we have carried on a private correspondence in which we talked about whatever we wished – no topic was off limits. Well let me stop here for a minute to think about this. Maybe our private email correspondence was not so private after all. In the age of the W, we have learned that the FBI has been secretly authorized to collect information about and spy upon American citizens. I doubt the W would be much interested in what I think or write, but you might be a different story. How guilty would I be, do you think, if in the course of spying on you they might read one of my emails, which detailed the moral outrage I felt since the W declared war against the Iraqi people? Or one of my emails, which expressed how embarrassed I am to be an American citizen during the messianic age of the W? I’m afraid I would be guilty as charged. Very clever ploy on your part, my friend, to deflect the W’s spies to me – and you get off scott free! Expatriates have it so easy!

Well now, how does this first Dialogue post strike you? Is it exhibitionism run amok, an obscure type of intellectual pornography, or just an old man seeking to stave off old-age?

Take care,

LeRoy