According to the somber-voiced narrator over sad cello music in every commercial on TV right now, we are all together in a time of challenges and difficulties. And the way we are going to get through them is with togetherness while being apart but also hopeful something something medical professionals first responders something buy a car. At least that's the message I'm getting.
Well I can't do much to help. I'm not qualified to be a caregiver or a food provider and the cure for anything is not coming out of me. But I can do one thing. I'm an excellent bleeder. So when the Kraft Family set up a blood donation center at Gillette through the Brigham and Women's Hospital and asked for volunteers, I was on it. Putting my ability to produce and leak much needed life sustaining bodily fluids to good use. The car commercials tell us to have hope, and like I say whenever I donate, my blood type is the same as my philosophy on life: B-positive. But I'm the only one who laughs for some inexplicable reason.
Does this make me a hero? You used that word, not me. The way I look at it, giving a pint is the least I can do. And as anyone who knows me will confirm, I never miss an opportunity to do the very least I can do. My close personal friend RKK asked me to step up, and I answered the call. I feel I owe it to him for turning four sets of poured concrete bleachers surrounded by acres of dirt parking lot that looked like the surface of Mars into a state of the art stadium with bars, restaurants and a Bass Pro Shop.
Granted, my blood is probably about 80 proof since Brady left. Which brings me to the only downside of my day:
But that's for the fine people who took care of us to work out.
I guess my underlying point is that there are ways we can all help. And letting a stranger jam a needle into my vein and suck blood out of me for 10 minutes is mine. And for everyone to please acknowledge my valor and selflessness and admire me for it. It's not the first time I've bled for this franchise. And it won't be the last.
P.S. I came to the realization today that I look better with the mask. I might make it permanent.