YOU DON’T SAY!

In the quest for happiness and stability, my older sister Tessie (much older) and I made a joint visit to the Touro Law School to meet with someone about the procedure for long-term home health care for Mom. The recommendation was from the Catholic Health Care group but our information is sketchy and so is the directions from the GPS,

As you may know Mom is home from the nursing home and immobilized in a hospital bed unable to do for her self.

Never having heard of the place, I plug it into my GPS, pickup my older sister Tessie (much older) and set out on the highways and byways of this great country until we come to these very large and isolated buildings with a separated by a very large parking lot. There is no markings on the buildings to identify them and no way of seeing a street sign since we came from another direction.

Determined to find which building it is with the address 225 Eastview Drive in Central Islip, we cruise around the building and still no clues. I suggest we ask this gentleman climbing out of his Lexus and wearing an $800 suit, grey and he was in his late sixties.

Wearing jeans and an old shirt: I don’t give a dam being the motto on my wardrobe closet wall, I roll down the window and ask if he can tell me which building 225 is.

With a tutorial ring to his voice he starts in by saying: “There is no building called 225! That is the designation on the street sign. Are you here for a reason?”

No you moron, just like to make up questions to total strangers I say to myself.

“We’re here to meet with a Touro Group.”

“There is no Touro Group.”

I could get out now and slap him one, but with this many lawyers surrounding me I don’t stand a chance.

“Then it might be the Touro Law group” I respond.

“There is no Touro Law group, there is a Touro Law School.”

“Where might I find it?”

“It’s this building right behind me.”

(I’d like to find him)

“Who are you here to see?”

I say: “Someone named Judith.”

“Ah, Judith, just go into the main entrance and ask the guards and they will let you in.”

I thank the moron and we park, think to myself all he had to say was this building, to my first question. Now you know why I hate lawyers, why they are called “mouth pieces” and why I get an urge to run them over if I can sometimes.

If it will please the court, I object.