I am always amazed at how often we cheat death. I have, maybe 300 times, one of which you shared with me, when we went through the ice in the frozen Susquehanna River. Some I had on my own, recognizing those whirring wings of fate and shaking my head in wonder at my escape as they passed overhead. So one has to be careful.

Each morning when I awake, I feel for my pulse. If it is there, I get up and make coffee. If not, my plan is to just take the day off and rest, hoping that tomorrow things will be better.

Some time ago, one or maybe both of you, because you are incurable worry-warts, sent me a Web site called "How to recognize you are about to have a stroke," or something close to it. I don't remember, but thank goodness I did memorize the six things that tip a person off.

So, yesterday I stayed up especially late before I went to bed, and when I woke up, there was light, or it seemed like light, entering the windows of the room. It was especially bright from one direction, so I looked at the clock and it said—well, really it didn't say anything, I had to look at the hands, and it told me—I mean, actually it didn't tell me anything, I had to read the dials—I mean the hands—while the clock stayed perfectly silent, neither saying nor telling me anything, the lazy coward. I had to do it on my own.

Anyway, I was confused. I didn't know what time it was; the hands were pointing at 11:30. Now you begin to understand my confusion, because both of these hands are just about the same length, so even though you look at it carefully, you still have to call time-and-temperature, but if you are confused, as I was, you don't remember the number. I also couldn't get my bearings, and I couldn't find the telephone directory, even though I went all through the house, even the garage and the barn. No, we haven't installed a phone in the barn.

Your mother always tells me that when I can't find something, I should just stop and think about where it was when I saw it last. The only time I remembered looking at the phone directory was one night when I was at a downtown bar having a beer, and I thought I had better call home because it was getting kind of late, but I couldn't remember our phone number. (Maybe it was the three beers.)

But I couldn't go back to that bar to look for the directory, because I also couldn't remember the name of the bar or where it was. It might even have been in Chicago. Anyway, that phone directory experience was about 11 years ago, so even if I could find that directory, the number for time-and-temperature might have changed. Come to think of it, I seemed to remember that Jimmy Carter was president then, so it might have been more years than that.

I recall that the first (1.) sign that you are about to get ready to have a stroke pretty soon is that you are confused about where you are or what time it is or maybe you are dreaming, because you actually haven't awakened yet. So I was having the first symptoms exactly. I thought, Whoa, settle down and let's think about this. I wanted my rational mind to take control, and sure enough, after about half an hour it did, and what it told me was, Chill out! My mind said, This is how you always wake up, so you are not having a stroke. Maybe a hangover. Boy, it's true, I just hadn't realized it had been 11 years. Was Carter president before Nixon or after? Was Jerry Ford actually president, or did I just dream it?

I was starting to relax, but then I thought of the second (2.) sign, which is that you suddenly have a bad taste in your mouth like you have a piece of aluminum wrapping from a Hershey's Kiss stuck in one of your teeth, or maybe like you went to the zoo and got kissed by a camel. Yes, that was it! I had gone to the zoo! I just didn't remember the name of the camel. I looked at the clock again. Eleven-thirty still. The hands hadn't moved.

This was sign number three (3.) Everything seems to slow down to a crawl, until time stops completely. Why had time stood still? Then I remembered. One day the clock fell off the night stand and pulled the plug out from the receptacle. I had looked at the plug: one of the prongs had broken off. That's why the hands stayed in the same position—11:30 or 5:55, we didn't care, as long as it was correct four times a day, which is more accurate than most clocks. I started thinking about when that prong was broken off. It was 11 years ago! Everything was coming together. Now there was no doubt, I was about to have a stroke!

As I waited, I became quite philosophical about my impending stroke. I was thinking, Why do we have time? Who needs it? Why don't we pass a law that on a certain day, like next Tuesday, everyone has to line up around the nearest landfill and throw away their clocks? Then we won't get any older. It is amazing how the certain knowledge that one is going to have a stroke clarifies one's thinking. I was pleased with myself.

Then I was overcome by a feeling of (4.) dread! Stop, everybody! Don't throw away your clocks! If we don't have time, everything will happen at once!

What was symptom five (5.)? A terrific headache. By this time, I was lying on my back on the bed. Actually, my head was hanging backward from the edge of the bed, trying to ward off convulsions. I noticed a distinct unpleasant aroma. Another sign! I had noticed it just seconds before my head started to ache. I rolled over and looked right at my old tennis shoes. I threw them out the window, then took five aspirin. Symptom (5.) was ebbing rapidly.

Oy, symptom six (6.) You get numb, first in your fingers and toes, then your ears, then your brain. No, no, no! Now I recalled that this is not a stroke symptom; it is a reaction to reading People Magazine or watching television and oil spills and Barry O'Bama, who was actually born in Ireland, you know.

Anyway, I just thought I would give you a heads-up about my impending stroke. Hold on, someone's at the front door.

It was your mother, all excited. When we went to the garage sale at Our Lady of Sorrows and Bring Some Money, I bought a lottery ticket, first prize $50. Your mom had just come from the mailbox—and we (I mean, I) had a check for $50!

The symptoms were right!

I had had a stroke of luck!

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