So Write About That!: A Three-Part Series on What to Write About
A truly miraculous thing happened to me this morning. But first, a little backstory:
Two years ago, a friend’s son came down with a cough. What does a yeshivah boy do when he’s sick? Nothing. (Trick question, I know!)
When his father heard that cough, he immediately invoked the Concerned Parent Act and issued an Executive Order, demanding that Yanky get himself to the nearest doctor.
Reluctantly, Yanky obeyed said order, but when he lifted his shirt for the stethoscope, his cough was promptly forgotten as the doctor barked, “What’s that birthmark you’ve got there? I want it removed—immediately!”
When Yanky reported back to his dad, the reaction was, shall we say, not entirely positive.
“Some backwater doctor!” his father sniffed. “We’ve got zero skin cancer in the family, and you’re dark-skinned, for goodness’ sake! I’ll take you to MY dermatologist!”
Turns out, dermatologists aren’t exactly sitting around waiting for people like Mr. Hersh to come in for a second opinion. The next available appointment was months away.
“My dermatologist accepts walk-ins on Fridays,” Hersh remembered. “I’ll pick you up from yeshivah early and hopefully he’ll see you without an appointment.”
This well-laid plan turned out to be ample fodder for a number of celestial laughs, but after numerous glitches and snags, father and son were finally admitted to the inner sanctum where the doctor completely ignored Yanky and honed in on…his father!
“It’s been five years since your last skin check,” he said sternly, “Since you’re already here, let’s have a look…”
And that, my friends, is how Aryeh Hersh discovered a cancerous mole on his own back, narrowly nipping melanoma in the bud. (P.S. Yanky’s birthmark was benign.)
Whew! Quite a story, huh? I know I got chills when I heard it.
But that’s the backstory, remember? Now for my miracle. You ready?
Today, I went to the dermatologist for my annual skin check.
And it was… NORMAL! Completely normal!
Now if that’s not a miracle, I don’t know what is.
Hmmm… chills? Unlikely. Our brains are wired for excitement and titillation, for action and cliffhangers, tension and drama.
“I crossed the street today and made it safely to the other side.” Seriously?!
“Now lemme tell you about how I walked away from a head-on collision, completely unscathed.”
The thing is, the true miracles definitely deserve billing and neon lights, but there’s the little matter of catering to the sensationalist-seeking reader.