Monday, August 18, 2008
Flint Postcards: McLaren Hospital
My mom worked in the admitting office at McLaren for many years. She could sometimes pull a few strings and get you private room if you wanted it. I loved having lunch and milkshakes at the dimly lit little diner/coffee shop just off the main lobby. Our family befriended a lot of the foreign residents from Peru, Saudi Arabia and various other exotic locales. I've often wondered what your vision of America would be like if Flint was your only exposure to the country. (A lot of these guys played soccer with my brother in the Flint summer leagues, bringing some skill to an extremely rough brand of soccer that often resembled hockey or football more than futbal.) And I even got to visit the morgue once with my mom, where I discovered they really do have toe-tags on the bodies.