You know how you always said you’d be glad to do me a favor? Oh, sure you do. Well, now’s the time to pay up. In blood.
The blood center won’t take mine; I called last week to double-check because I’ve heard so much lately about how short Shepeard Community Blood Center is on all types, but especially O-negative.
Wouldn’t you know? That’s my blood type. Feel free to take my place in line.
I’d say I’ll give the next time, but they still wouldn’t take it. So count this as your good deed.
Remember, it doesn’t take long to give a pint. Your body won’t miss it. You will lose a bit of weight. Donating is safe. And, most of all, it doesn’t hurt. Unless you’re a baby, and I know you’re not.
The first time I donated was quite against my will. A petty officer walked into our Navy barracks, said there was an urgent need for blood and pointed to all us “volunteers.” We piled onto a gray bus and drove four hours to Baltimore, a city about which I knew nothing except that Yogi Berra had said risque things about it in a book when I was a kid.
I’m pretty sure it was Yogi; he’s said so many things over the years, they’re hard to keep straight. I never saw any of the ladies he talked about, and I never went back after giving my pint.
I don’t remember what type blood I gave that day in Baltimore. I found out a couple of years later that my medical records had me listed as A-positive but my dog tags said O-negative. It’s a good thing I didn’t need a transfusion back then.
After Baltimore, I began to give blood whenever it was needed. I never fainted. I never screamed. You won’t, either. It’s the cheapest way there is to help a friend. Or a stranger. Or yourself. Or me.
Help the blood center out now, because you might need it the next time.
Tell them Glynn sent you.
SPEAKING OF BLOOD: My wife picked up some disposable razors for me the other day, and when I saw the package, I couldn’t believe she would buy me 12 razors.
“Do you know how long it will take me to go through these?” I said. “These will last the rest of my life.”
You see, my beard is much younger than my face would indicate. Even after eight grandchildren, I could skip a day shaving and no one would notice.
Some men get 5 o’clock shadow at 11 a.m., and I envy them. I get it at 8 the next morning.
For that reason, my razor blades last a long time. I have a real razor with a replaceable cartridge that probably has the original blade in it, but it’s starting to scratch a little.
I’ve always thought it would be nice to have a burly beard instead of the splotchy one I get during summer vacation when I leave the razor home.
Maybe I shouldn’t complain. Most people wouldn’t mind the daily shave not being so arduous and time-consuming. Maybe I’m just lucky.