A memorable moment from my childhood was that of an obscure relative showing up at our home unannounced late one night, sweaty, panting and hungry as a wolf. Dad – ever solicitous - gave the heavily tattooed fellow a hot meal and forty-three bucks straight from his wallet before hustling him out the door, informing me later that our hurried visitor was, in fact, a doctor. This I had already gathered, having spotted the prominent “DOC” emblazoned across the back of “Uncle Clyde’s” orange jumpsuit.
BILL
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