we slid quickly into the familiar waters of our old college dialogue,
Morrie asking questions, listening to my replies, stopping like a chef to sprinkle in something I’d forgotten or hadn’t realized.
He asked about the newspaper strike, and true to form,
he couldn’t understand why both sides didn’t simply communicate with each other
and solve their problems. I told him not everyone was as smart as he was.
Occasionally, he had to stop to use the bathroom, a process that took some time.
Connie would wheel him to the toilet, then lift him from the chair and support him as he urinated into the beaker.
Each time he came back, he looked tired. “Do you remember when I told Ted Koppel that pretty soon someone was gonna have to wipe my ass?” he said.
I laughed. You don’t forget a moment like that. “Well, I think that day is coming. That one bothers me.”
Why?Because it’s the ultimate sign of dependency. Someone wiping your bottom.
But I’m working on it. I’m trying to enjoy the process.” Enjoy it?
“Yes. After all, I get to be a baby one more time.” That’s a unique way of looking at it.
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