Saturday, July 28, 2012

Friends from Texas

"Are you uncertain of your sexual orientation?Jim Morris , a local "Jimmy Buffet" type singer, dead-paned into the mike after finishing one of his beach and bars songs. Whoa ... I expected another song to follow, but much to our amusement, a fella walked out in a long blond wig and curled up with our friend, Doc Mulloy.  Doc took it all in stride!  Such is life at the local bar a little ways up the Peace River called the Nav-A-Gator  (to our Texas Boating Friends, something like a commerical version of Andy Upchurch's Oleanders).


I will always remember Doc's phone call to us years ago as we were headed for a Shrimp Boil in Rockport, Texas.  "Where are youuu, Joanne and Richard?  Luke and I have got the shrimp right off the boat and they are HUGE!"  Our friends, Wayne (Doc) and Monica, are former Waterford Pier 18 neighbors and TMCA  (Texas Mariners Cruising Association) mates from Houston. Wayne closed his medical office for a week to visit us here in Punta Gorda.  Doc is a big Jim Morris fan!


Wayne, also known as Doc and as Shifty, graduated from Texas A&M in three years to attend medical school at the Univeristy ofTexas Medical Branch in Galveston* and followed up with a residency in Fort Worth. Doc can sure tell some stories and I want to  share one from his emergency room years. 

A fella arrived with a bullet in the top of his head. Doc ringed the neurosurgeon on call who asked Doc if he had any experience with this kind of matter. After Doc told him that at UTMB he had worked nights on a NIH grant cutting open dog's heads, the neurosurgeon told Doc that was good enough, just take care of the head-shot fella himself.   Well, back then, the nurses didn't like residents much and the one on duty was the worst in that regard.  She said, "Mulloy, you called the neurosurgeon in?"  Doc told her that he had and that he was to proceed on his own.  Suspicous, she called the neurosurgeon herself and then looked straight at Doc  saying, "If you mess up this head-shot patient, it'll be your funeral." Doc looked right at her and said, "NO - it will be his funeral!"  After cutting into the fella's head he removed a bone chip, extracted the bullet, replaced the bone chip, sewed him up and sent him home!

Let's jump forward forty or fifty years.  Doc was reminiscing about ferrying people to the TMCA French Picnic on Double Bayou from Marker 17 in his fishing boat, Lucky Strike.  That reminded me of standing  on the dock at Marker 17, (part of it anyway), and looking back out at Trinity Bay. I  felt a sense of timelessness as if I could be in a any decade of the last century. It has that special kind of beauty.  About a third of the dock's planks were missing, another third rotten and remainder were of unsure footing.  The rest of the Marker 17 Bar was about in the same shape.   I had come down the bayou in our dinghy to pickup Michele, my step daughter, who was driving over from Houston for a ride up to the picnic site, that was inaccessible by car.  As I walked into the bar, an old fella with long blond hair and overalls asked if I needed anything. I said that I was looking for a young girl.  He said somewhat emphatically that he was too!!!  That fella was Jim Bo, the owner.  

After Ike blew away Marker 17 and everything else Jim Bo had,  Doc arranged for TMCA to help get him and his wife back on their feet.   I understand Marker 17 has been rebuilt and Jim Bo is back in operation.

We had a lot of fun reminiscing about UTMB, Galveston Bay, TMCA and all the people we knew there.   We dined at Sharkies on Venice Beach, The Loose Caboose in Boca Grande, the Celtic Ray, Harpoon Harry's and the Isles Yacht Club in Punta Gorda; visited the Edison and Ford Winter Estates in Fort Myers; toured our canals in Chuck's fishing boat; sailed Eagle's Wings on Charlotte Harbor; and of course, listened to Jim Morris at the Nav-A-Gator.  We said good-bye after breakfast at Elena's Breakfast Place as they headed to Fort Myers for their flight back to Houston. We all had a great time.


Wayne's Photos

Just one more story - Back in 1997 Doc developed a little cough but otherwise felt fine. Monica insisted that he get checked out - and as a result, found that he had an operable growth in the upper part of one lung.  At the hospital he needed an admissions ID consisting of a long string of numbers followed by a "C" which he assumed signified Catholic. He was born Methodist but married Catholic so he called the church to request a priest to come and say something nice to him. Informed that he didn't rate a priest but that they could send a deacon, he responded that he could get anyone off the street to say something nice and then got so mad he couldn't sleep all night. In the morning, he called the Admissions Office demanding that they change that "C" to an "M".  In reponse he learned that the "C" stood for caucasian, not Catholic!  After the tumor was removed and he totally recovered, Doc named all his boats, sailboat Lucky, fishing boat Lucky Strike and now trawler, Lucky Us.








Word's of wisdom from Doc  - Never argue with an idiot. From a distance, some people cannot tell the difference.   Eagles don't chase flies.



* Michele received her MD from UTMB.  Joanne retired after 25 years at UTMB.