Data & Errata

When my father had his giant heart attack, people rallied in interesting ways&#46 Hundreds of cards arrived in the mail–he’d made a significant impact on so many folks&#46 Care packages came stocked with “waiting room” supplies like crackers and nuts and shiny pulp fiction&#46 One friend sent a ring of coffee cake all the way from Ann Arbor, Michigan&#46 But the strangest and most wonderful arrival was a large box marked “live animals inside”&#46The UPS driver dropped the big box onto our porch and then stepped back to study its print&#46
“There really live animals in there?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered, feeling the tiniest bit afraid.
What kind of animal would you send to a family whose patriarch was struck down? What kind of pet would help allay the terribleness of seeing your dad lying helpless in a tangle of hoses and tubes?
“Would you mind hanging out a minute while I open it?” I asked.
“Sure,” he answered. ‘I’m really pretty curious, to tell you the truth.”
We sliced open the tape along the top and pulled back the flap carefully. My two small children screamed and jumped back, then rushed forward again, incredulous. Inside were twelve gigantic Maine lobsters, their claws banded with thick rubber ties. They wiggled and probed, their antennae moving anxiously.
“Cool,” the driver grinned. “Dinner.”