…with Gary Moss

If you have an immune deficiency disorder, you are susceptible to catching the scrabble bug. Even if you do not have IDD you could be overtaken by ‘scrabble mania’. It usually preys upon people who love word games and puzzles. It can worm its way into your being, stealing your focus and attention. It is not fattening, but other than your fingers, you eyes and gears of your brain, nothing else moves very much. Studying your stem lists on a tread mill is a good supplement to make up for your lack of exercise.

Scrabble players need to be cognizant about hand washing. More hands have been in most scrabble tile bags than have touch Cockeyed Jenny. And when it is cold season, it is not a bad idea to wear a mask.

An aside about contagiousness:
It was in the early 1970s. The Viet Nam War was in full swing and many young men across America were being called up to serve their country. One of the first stops for the prospective soldiers during induction was showing up for a physical.
My father-in-law at the time, Carl, owned and operated a furniture store on Finkell near Telegraph, in Detroit, Michigan. It was a small store that he operated with one other salesman and Jim, a big burly young man who moved things about in the store and delivered large chairs, tables, and sofas.
Jim was prime for being selected by the draft. One day his notice came. Carl was very concerned for Jim’s well being and for the fact that it would be difficult to find and train someone to replace a good worker. A week later Jim headed down to the draft board and spent all day going from line to line, having this test and that test.
The next day when Jim reported to work he appeared to be very sad and forlorn. Carl ask Jim what had happened. Jim was the big, quiet type. He never gave more than one-word answers. This time he responded with 4 words, “They didn’t want me.”
Carl was both happy and concerned. There must have been some good reason that Jim was not drafted. Carl’s curiosity had the best of him. He had to know why Jim was not drafted. “Why were you rejected?” he asked Jim. Jim answered briefly as expected, saying something like “medical dysentery.” A worried look swept across Carl’s face. Within minutes, Carl had put the Out-To-Lunch sign on the door, locked his store, and headed down the block to his friend, the Pharmacist, at the corner of the block. He inquired about Jim’s condition, ‘medical dysentery’, wanting to know if it was contagious. Did he or his customers have anything to worry about.
The pharmacist was stumped. He didn’t know what this could be. Next they called and checked with a doctor/friend. He could not shed any light on the question. Finally in desperation, Carl called directly to Jim’s draft board.
Like all governmental agencies, Carl got the run around. His call was transferred from one department to another. He spent the better part of 2 hours on hold. Finally, the examiner who had met with Jim was on the phone with Carl. The examiner told Carl that the information was confidential and could not be shared. Carl was furious, having had waited so long, and fearful for the well-being of himself and others. Carl pleaded with the examiner.
Finally the examiner asked, “Just what is it that you want to know?”
Carl asked, “What is this condition that Jim has, ‘medical dysentery’?”
The examiner was heard on the other end, roaring with laughter. After a minute or five he calmed himself down and said, “Jim’s condition is ‘mental deficiency’”.