I shuffle into the dining room here at the home and look for a table. There are a couple guys here in their mid-seventies, I’m guessing, who I’ve gotten to know a little bit. They’re here for rehab, having broken their hips. One of them was a cop and the other a mason. The cop’s name is Vance and the mason is Gus. We play cards in the afternoon between our PT sessions. Vance is a rotund, big-boned man with a large square face, receding hairline, mustache, and gray eyes. A large bulbous nose dominates his face. Gus is a wiry bald man with mottled skin that stretches over his thin bony face like shrink-wrap over a plate of leftovers. Gus is a widower. Vance is divorced. Both of them have large extended families who come to see them regularly.
Today, they’re sitting over by the window lookin
