Compassion

“It was one of those days,” wrote humorist Erma Bombeck, “when I wanted my own apartment — unlisted!” It was a day in which she simply was not in the mood for small talk. However, this was the day on which her young son had chosen to describe, to the last detail, a movie he had just seen. And as the boy punctuated his monologue with a constant flow of “you know’s?” Erma Bombeck felt herself being driven further and further up the wall. “My teeth were falling asleep,” she said. Then came three telephone calls — “three monologues that could have been answered by a recording,” she said. “I fought the urge to say, ‘It’s been nice listening to you.’” Later, on her way to the airport, she was forced to listen to still another monologue. This time it was the taxi driver talking about his son who was away at college. Finally, in the airport…

At last there were thirty beautiful minutes before…