A Change of Heart
When I went for my 3-month check-up with my dermatologist, I realized I have been seeing him since 1987, when I was 38 years old. He’s a few years older than I am, with his three children all practicing with him now.
Much of our conversation, when it wasn’t focused on closely examining my skin, has been on his politics (180 degrees from mine) and his love of hunting.
It was just last summer that he told me he had added 150 ducklings to his property on Kent Island. His intention was clearly so he would not have to obey the official limits if he was enjoying shooting at birds.
Today we were talking about what he might do with his time if he retired. I laughingly suggested he could always shoot at things and asked how many of the ducks were left. He admitted to having shot only 5 of them, a fox having claimed a few more. He said they were just too cute to shoot, so he has contented himself with shooting at clay pigeons and feeding the ducks. His nurse and I both congratulated him on his change of heart.
I didn’t dare ask if his feelings about Obama have changed. I’m afraid his political stripes are a whole different story.