The details of life can be frustrating, but they can also matter most this time of year.

I can’t help but notice those little things that add up and set the tone for the day.

Like the hand dryers in public restrooms that always shut off 30 seconds before your hands are dry, or the elevator buttons that don’t really “open” or “close” doors. Or being the next in line after waiting 45 minutes when they open a counter next to you and the cashier politely informs the person behind you that she can “take them now.”

It’s like being told, “to ensure quality control, this call may be monitored,” and then they put you on hold for 10 minutes. I imagine someone listening in on the silence to see if I mutter a few curses so they can disconnect the call. I never disappoint them.

I find it annoying when network news refers to Saddam Hussein as just Saddam. I don’t remember America ever being on a first name basis with Adolph Hitler. Since when did Hussein become Santa?

It’s the little things.

I have a friend recovering from an operation. He’s 65, single, no family and a retired lobsterman. Because I am not immediate family, the doctors and nurses wouldn’t tell me anything about his condition. And I refuse to marry him.

He has or has had bladder cancer. They won’t tell me much and most of it is confusing to the patient so he can’t tell me much either.

I visited him at the hospital recently and he asked me to get him some Tums, “fruit flavored ones” and some of those “roots and herbs cough drops.” (Ricolla is what he meant.) The meatloaf gave him heartburn and he had a sore throat. The request and solution seemed easy enough, but the nurses took them away from him. “Doctors orders,” he said.

“Why?” I asked my friend.

“Dunno. What I really want is some tomato juice. Next time you come would ya bring me some? They ain’t got any in the kitchen.” I checked and the nurses confirmed it, they didn’t have any tomato juice.

“Too high in sodium” they said. “Can’t have it.”

“Next time you visit, would ya bring me some Red Rose tea,” he asked?

“Sure,” I said. The caffeine is a maybe, but I know that tea is a diuretic and making an old man without a bladder urinate more frequently may have serious adverse consequences. This time I called the nurse before delivery.

“No problem,” she said. I didn’t question it.

When I stopped in with a small box of Red Rose tea, he showed me his gums and shook my hand. My kids made him Christmas cards that looked more like Valentines. My wife and kids have been feeding his rabbit at home. My dog, Zac, nosed his hand for a pat on the head before we were all asked to leave.

This time of year and in today’s America the little things still mean a lot. Even if it’s all you got.

Curt Slocum is a features columnist for the Harpswell Anchor. He lives in Sebasco Estates with his family. His e-mail address is: Trukcdecs@aol.com.

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