Daniel, the Red-Nosed ReinDyer

Rudolph's jealous, and, believe me, there's nothing more dangerous than a jealous reindeer. I'll tell you why ... but first ... I just thought of something ...

When I was a student at Hiram College (1962-66), we undergraduate wags came up with a term--reindeer--to refer to someone who was, you know, kind of silly, lightweight (in other words, unlike us--wise, sophisticated, men-and-women-of-the-world). You didn't dare date a reindeer for fear of retribution back in the dorm when you'd returned him/her to the stabl--uh, other-sex dorm. That image of a reindeer--happy, prancing around, blissfully unaware--has stuck with me, and I feel equal parts amusement and pride and shame at its creation.

Okay, so why is Rudolph jealous? Of me?

Yesterday afternoon I drove over to West Akron to see my dermatologist, to show him a bit of Something that was growing near the tip of my nose. He took one look at it, said, "You need help!"

Indeed.

So ... out came the can of freezing spray. I closed my eyes. He zapped my nose. (If you haven't ever had this done, it hurts for a few minutes, then goes away, and about a week later a lovely scab forms, and, if you're patient (which I manifestly am not), it will soon just drop away. Or you can pick at it and have parts of it return to re-heal those portions that Impatient You picked away.)

Outside, phoning Joyce to let her know I was on the way home, I looked in the car mirror ... and saw ... Daniel, the Red-Nosed ReinDyer.

And far away in frigid North--in the eternal brumal boundaries of the North Pole--I heard a wild (reindeer?) cry, and, later, I realized the voice was Rudolph's. And he was telling me didn't like my competitive move (turning my nose red), and he'd see me on Christmas Eve ... something about some kind of antler battle out in the front yard. Around midnight. Some fat guy in a red suit would be the referee ...