Frank stopped by the office yesterday.  He was upset that his children don’t want him driving anymore.  “Look,” he said, “this paper says I can drive.  I’m not taking the test.  You know that test costs $400?!  I’m not doing it.  This paper says I can drive.”  The paper had a doctor’s letterhead at the top and appeared to be some sort of medical evaluation.  

At 90, Frank was as feisty as ever, as I imagine most 90 year olds probably turn out to be.  “I’ll make sure he sees it, Frank,” I said.  

“My kids don’t want me driving, but you see here,” Frank pointed at the paper I was now holding.  “This says I’m ok.  Read it.”  I tilted my head and looked at him from the corner of my eye.  “Yeah.  Go ahead.  Read it.  It says I am ok to drive.”

“I’ll make sure to tell him that, Frank.”  It had been quite a while since Frank had stopped by.  He must not have had any problems for his son-in-law to fix until now.

“My kids want me to take that driving test, but I’m not gonna.”  

“Kids,” I said.  “What a’ you gonna do with ‘em?”

“Well, they’re just looking out for my wellbeing,” he said in their defense.  “We’re all close.  We’re like this.”  Frank made both hands into a ball.  “And I’m glad we’re like this, not like these people that go out shooting everything up.  We’re like this.”

Frank is stubborn and he wants to do what he wants to do, but he gets it. He understands his family loves him and is just trying to look out for him.

The names in my "diary" entries and other nonfiction may or may not have been changed from the real life names.