I awoke in a hospital bed. It seems someone had found me, temporarily blinded and with a bump on my head, wandering in the vicinity of Damascus Drive. I had been taken to the Emergency Room, where I was diagnosed as having a slight brain concussion.

I asked how long I had been hospitalized and was told that I had been there since the day before. When the nurse inadvertently left my chart on the table, I sneaked a look at it. My name clearly read: "Paul J. Overton," Occupation: computer programmer. Retired.

The nurse told me that my doctor had said I could go home the next day. She also mentioned that my son and daughter, (Robert and Roberta, aka Bob and Bobbie) had visited me while I was asleep. Since there were no complications, my only instruction was to rest for several days.

When I arrived at home, I found everything right where I had left it. Apparently the maid had not been in, since no tidying up had been done. One of the first things I did was check on my old Indian motorcycle. It was still sitting in the garage in its normal pristine condition, apparently unmoved. It was a relief to find that my antique machine was safe and sound.

It must have been Wednesday morning, about ten o'clock, when my doorbell sounded with its familiar phrase of "The Old Oaken Bucket." Since I had had my two or three days of rest, I was quick to answer. Imagine my surprise to find, on my doorstep, my childhood friend Dorothea, looking much like I remembered seeing her last, during my "experience." She looked to be about my age, with long iron-gray hair down her back. "Hello," she said, "remember me?" "I certainly do," I replied, "It's been a long, long time, hasn't it?" "It sure has," she continued, "and imagine finding you right here in Man…" (Mandan, Manitowoc, Mankato, Manassa's Jct. or Manhattan--take your pick).

I invited her in and after an hour of reminiscing about school days, she agreed to meet me later for dinner, after she finished running errands for her thriving cottage-industry business. She asked me if I remembered the answer I had given to the question: "How many consecutive iterations of the same word can you put in a sentence and still have it make sense?" "Sure," I replied, "Five. The sentence is: That that that that that is is is is obvious. It goes without saying that that that is not is not is not." She was duly impressed with my memory, as well as the sentence and after a hug and a "See you later," we parted.

I didn't tell Dorothea, but I am planning to join my local chapter of the Elvis Presley Fan Club. I anticipate some exciting times there.

The next day, I decided to get a word-processor so I could begin working on my autobiography. Since I haven't had access to a personal computer since my retirement, I am looking forward to learning a lot more about them. Much has changed in this fast-developing field since I retired. Fortunately, I have a brother in the computer business, so I know where to start looking for a PC. I clearly remember what Philopheles said, "Not much to it, just Doodly-Do it."