When I left you all, in the summer of 2016, I needed a break from reporting. I got the feeling I was repeating myself, and, lord knows, the last thing I want to do is be boring. In any event, I was feeling sorry for myself; that is hard enough to do alone, and I wouldn't want to inflict it on you.
However, a few of you have said that you missed the reports, and the unexamined life not being worth living and all of that, I thought I would start re-examining, for myself if not for anyone else.
Why was I feeling sorry for myself, you may ask? It's hard to remember that far back, but I seem to remember it was the fact that I was turning 70, and no one cared. Certainly, no parties were forthcoming, and I didn't feel that enough people would come to one I threw for myself. So, basically, I just sulked.
So no, there was nothing dramatic. I was not sick. I didn't lose my job. I still have my lovely place. It was strictly first-world problems. As I said, just feeling sorry for myself.
Life went on, as it has a habit of doing. For me at least. There are two deaths to report (forgive me if I am repeating myself). Friend Art from Palm Springs died, after failing for some time, of smoking related ailments. It was very hard to watch the last bit, and in the end, I was not sorry to see him die. He was not a happy camper, and his death was not easy. I am sorry now, though, and think of him every time I pass the corner - which is every day while I am in Palm Springs - where I used to turn in after the gym to say good morning and catch up. Or when I play bridge at the club, where people are still asking about him. In many ways he was not a very nice person - a right wing fascist who railed against big government while he was taking advantage of everything the government offered, some of which he was not entitled to - but he was smart and well read and funny, and a good friend.
Well, we might as well get the deaths out of the way.- I promise I will get to the cheerful stuff later. In June, 2017, almost a year after Art died, friend Hank died, in the most gruesome circumstances. In May, after I left Palm Springs for the 2016/2017 season, I stopped in San Francisco to see Hank. He had scored tickets for Hamilton - the musical everyone has been raving about - and that was the reason for the visit. It was short, but lovely. We had a lovely evening - the play more than lived up to the hype surrounding it - and it was a wonderful San Francisco evening.
A week later, he was in Vancouver with me - we had scored tickets to the U2 concert, the start of their tour that season. This wasn't so rosy, however. The concert itself was a disappointment, but, more to the point, it was clear that Hank was not well. He couldn't walk very fast, and, but for the concert, I couldn't get him off my patio. He was off the following week on a vacation with friend Suzanne, to Spain and London. I begged him to see a doctor before he left.
He didn't, and the next thing I heard was from Suzanne. She had gotten him as far a hotel outside of Heathrow, and he was meant to go to the hospital as soon as he arrived back at SFO. He didn't make it that far, and died alone in his hotel room that night, June 2, 2017, from (as we later found out) a blood clot which had gone to - his heart, his lungs, who knows. It was a huge shock to all his friends, which were legion. I will fill in the details in the course of this chronology. Needless to say, I am still reeling.
Back to the summer of 2016. In spite of turning 70, not much changed in my life. It continued to be filled with bridge (my partner Alex having the patience of a saint, I tell you), both at the club and at several nearby tournaments (Lynnwood, Washington and Vancouver), and, of course, kitchen bridge with the boys. Oh, and I shouldn't forget our annual outing to Harrison Hot Springs for classes and bridge with Barbara Seagram, the Canadian bridge guru. With September started the theater season, and Tom and I were out quite a bit. Most was not memorable, but I do remember Green Day's American Idiot, which I very much enjoyed., and Angels in America, which seemed to be everywhere that season. I had seen it first - with Tom - some thirty years ago. With age, and knowledge (if not wisdom) it has gotten better; Tony Kushner, the playwright, was a bloody genius.
November, 2016 saw my annual trek (not much of a trek, of course, in a plane, but it is a manner of speaking...), and after a few days, it is always as if I never left. Not so much live theater, but the Metropolitan Opera in the movies, and the National Theater Live - in the movies (I would go to London if I could...), and, of course, bridge - Alex is down here for the winter as well, as is friend Robin from White Rock, and, of course, the ghost of Art. Peter made his annual trek from San Francisco for Christmas (which was hosted this year by Alex and his wife Vicki), and we had a great visit.
And, in January, my big adventure. I flew up to San Francisco, had dinner with Hank (blissfully unaware of the future) and Peter, and then Peter and I were off to Buenos Aires and then off to Antarctica.
This is just a teaser. It was a fantastic trip - the best ever - but like the dolt that I am, and not anticipating that I would renew the blog - all the pictures are on a memory stick, up in Vancouver, where I am currently not. I will double back and post them when I get back in May. Not all of them, of course. I took a million pictures - those penguins were very cute. Meanwhile, suffice it to say that it was fabulous. There were only 120 people on the ship, plus fifty staff and 7 crew - specialists in birds and penguins and rocks and history - and there was not one mis-step. It was not lux - there were no marble bathrooms, for example - but we were extraordinarily well taken care of. Peter planned the whole thing, and kudos to him. I did not begrudge one of the many shekels it cost. Well, as I said, more later, with pictures.
Back to reality,February, 2017 in sunny Palm Springs ( guess that doesn't really pass for reality, huh?), and the ongoing round of activities (see above, in addition to Scrabble and dinner with friend Marvin, and a concert with the Ten Tenors with Bobby, visiting from Puerto Vallarta, et al. I had several live opera outings last winter as well; two in Los Angeles (Salome and Tales of Hoffman) and Houston with Peter for the last of their Ring.
See above for my return to Vancouver in May, 2017, and Hank's death in June. A week after his death, I was back in San Francisco. That trip had been previously planned, for opera (Don Giovanni and Rigoletto), but ended up as a week of mourning, as several of Hanks friends and I tried to sort out his apartment in the hopes of finding a will. It was awful. Hank was a hoarder. A smoking hoarder. There was years and years worth of unopened mail, enough baseball caps and tee shirts to start a store, beta tapes, magazines and newspapers everywhere - you get the picture. But no will. Hank was adopted, and has no family, so in spite of the fact that we all knew what he wanted - that is, to have his money go to the alumni association of the University of Arizona - we will not be able to make it happen, having no standing.
And looking at all his stuff, and his procrastination, and his unpaid bills (why was he buying $500 tickets to Hamilton when he wasn't paying his insurance bills?) made us realize how unhappy he must have been. He hadn't seen his doctors for six months, in spite of increasing desperate - unopened - letters. He was clearly committing slow suicide. Which would be okay, but. But why didn't he trust any of his friends enough to ask for help. But, if you are going to commit suicide, which I think is perfectly okay, by the way, why not put your affairs in order. All in all, it made all of us not only sad but angry, which is definitely not the way you want to remember a dear friend.
Back in Vancouver for July and August, 2017. See 2016 above - see, I told you, not much going on in my life worthy of note. Colleague Bea and I did our usual outing for our joint birthday celebration - dinner and Bard on the Beach. As always, it was a success, and good to spend time with her away from work. After all these years, I still have a bad case of hero worship for Bea. I keep thinking that if I hang out with her long enough, I too might develop the milk of human kindness. In August, Arlene came to visit for a few days from Seattle. We also have developed a routine for these visits (also including Bard on the Beach - luckily they perform at least four plays each year), and I love it. Maybe because of my chaotic childhood, but I really love these rituals around which my life now resolves. (Ray and Peter came to visit as well).
October, 2017 was memorable only for my return to San Francisco for the memorial service for Hank. Cale, Hanks associate from the alumni association, organized it, and did a wonderful job. The disappointment was that rather than 300 attending, as he expected, only 38 were there. None of the young people, on whom Hank expended so much care and love, not to mention money, attended. However, the old timers from the Bank of America were all there, and we had a celebratory lunch after, and laughed and cried, and put Hank to rest.
The one good thing about his death has been getting to know Hank's friend Bill better than I had. I have still never met him - he cares for his elderly mother, and does not leave Texas, where he lives - but I had heard so much about him from Hank that I almost felt that I knew him, and he has been a rock. I can't replace Hank for him, I know, but at least we can talk from time to time, about Hank, and some other things of interest - politics, history, and the state of the universe.
Geoff, friend from Palm Springs, also visited in October, and then, at the end of the month, I returned to Palm Springs, where I am always happiest (perhaps because, as my friends always remind me, I don't work there). I did work in Vancouver, every single day last summer, making hay while the sun shines, and all of that.
And that's all for now. I will pick up again next time, hopefully with pictures. But for now, know that I am still on the planet, and, for the most part, content.
Glad to be back.
However, a few of you have said that you missed the reports, and the unexamined life not being worth living and all of that, I thought I would start re-examining, for myself if not for anyone else.
Why was I feeling sorry for myself, you may ask? It's hard to remember that far back, but I seem to remember it was the fact that I was turning 70, and no one cared. Certainly, no parties were forthcoming, and I didn't feel that enough people would come to one I threw for myself. So, basically, I just sulked.
So no, there was nothing dramatic. I was not sick. I didn't lose my job. I still have my lovely place. It was strictly first-world problems. As I said, just feeling sorry for myself.
Life went on, as it has a habit of doing. For me at least. There are two deaths to report (forgive me if I am repeating myself). Friend Art from Palm Springs died, after failing for some time, of smoking related ailments. It was very hard to watch the last bit, and in the end, I was not sorry to see him die. He was not a happy camper, and his death was not easy. I am sorry now, though, and think of him every time I pass the corner - which is every day while I am in Palm Springs - where I used to turn in after the gym to say good morning and catch up. Or when I play bridge at the club, where people are still asking about him. In many ways he was not a very nice person - a right wing fascist who railed against big government while he was taking advantage of everything the government offered, some of which he was not entitled to - but he was smart and well read and funny, and a good friend.
Well, we might as well get the deaths out of the way.- I promise I will get to the cheerful stuff later. In June, 2017, almost a year after Art died, friend Hank died, in the most gruesome circumstances. In May, after I left Palm Springs for the 2016/2017 season, I stopped in San Francisco to see Hank. He had scored tickets for Hamilton - the musical everyone has been raving about - and that was the reason for the visit. It was short, but lovely. We had a lovely evening - the play more than lived up to the hype surrounding it - and it was a wonderful San Francisco evening.
A week later, he was in Vancouver with me - we had scored tickets to the U2 concert, the start of their tour that season. This wasn't so rosy, however. The concert itself was a disappointment, but, more to the point, it was clear that Hank was not well. He couldn't walk very fast, and, but for the concert, I couldn't get him off my patio. He was off the following week on a vacation with friend Suzanne, to Spain and London. I begged him to see a doctor before he left.
He didn't, and the next thing I heard was from Suzanne. She had gotten him as far a hotel outside of Heathrow, and he was meant to go to the hospital as soon as he arrived back at SFO. He didn't make it that far, and died alone in his hotel room that night, June 2, 2017, from (as we later found out) a blood clot which had gone to - his heart, his lungs, who knows. It was a huge shock to all his friends, which were legion. I will fill in the details in the course of this chronology. Needless to say, I am still reeling.
Back to the summer of 2016. In spite of turning 70, not much changed in my life. It continued to be filled with bridge (my partner Alex having the patience of a saint, I tell you), both at the club and at several nearby tournaments (Lynnwood, Washington and Vancouver), and, of course, kitchen bridge with the boys. Oh, and I shouldn't forget our annual outing to Harrison Hot Springs for classes and bridge with Barbara Seagram, the Canadian bridge guru. With September started the theater season, and Tom and I were out quite a bit. Most was not memorable, but I do remember Green Day's American Idiot, which I very much enjoyed., and Angels in America, which seemed to be everywhere that season. I had seen it first - with Tom - some thirty years ago. With age, and knowledge (if not wisdom) it has gotten better; Tony Kushner, the playwright, was a bloody genius.
November, 2016 saw my annual trek (not much of a trek, of course, in a plane, but it is a manner of speaking...), and after a few days, it is always as if I never left. Not so much live theater, but the Metropolitan Opera in the movies, and the National Theater Live - in the movies (I would go to London if I could...), and, of course, bridge - Alex is down here for the winter as well, as is friend Robin from White Rock, and, of course, the ghost of Art. Peter made his annual trek from San Francisco for Christmas (which was hosted this year by Alex and his wife Vicki), and we had a great visit.
And, in January, my big adventure. I flew up to San Francisco, had dinner with Hank (blissfully unaware of the future) and Peter, and then Peter and I were off to Buenos Aires and then off to Antarctica.
This is just a teaser. It was a fantastic trip - the best ever - but like the dolt that I am, and not anticipating that I would renew the blog - all the pictures are on a memory stick, up in Vancouver, where I am currently not. I will double back and post them when I get back in May. Not all of them, of course. I took a million pictures - those penguins were very cute. Meanwhile, suffice it to say that it was fabulous. There were only 120 people on the ship, plus fifty staff and 7 crew - specialists in birds and penguins and rocks and history - and there was not one mis-step. It was not lux - there were no marble bathrooms, for example - but we were extraordinarily well taken care of. Peter planned the whole thing, and kudos to him. I did not begrudge one of the many shekels it cost. Well, as I said, more later, with pictures.
Back to reality,February, 2017 in sunny Palm Springs ( guess that doesn't really pass for reality, huh?), and the ongoing round of activities (see above, in addition to Scrabble and dinner with friend Marvin, and a concert with the Ten Tenors with Bobby, visiting from Puerto Vallarta, et al. I had several live opera outings last winter as well; two in Los Angeles (Salome and Tales of Hoffman) and Houston with Peter for the last of their Ring.
See above for my return to Vancouver in May, 2017, and Hank's death in June. A week after his death, I was back in San Francisco. That trip had been previously planned, for opera (Don Giovanni and Rigoletto), but ended up as a week of mourning, as several of Hanks friends and I tried to sort out his apartment in the hopes of finding a will. It was awful. Hank was a hoarder. A smoking hoarder. There was years and years worth of unopened mail, enough baseball caps and tee shirts to start a store, beta tapes, magazines and newspapers everywhere - you get the picture. But no will. Hank was adopted, and has no family, so in spite of the fact that we all knew what he wanted - that is, to have his money go to the alumni association of the University of Arizona - we will not be able to make it happen, having no standing.
And looking at all his stuff, and his procrastination, and his unpaid bills (why was he buying $500 tickets to Hamilton when he wasn't paying his insurance bills?) made us realize how unhappy he must have been. He hadn't seen his doctors for six months, in spite of increasing desperate - unopened - letters. He was clearly committing slow suicide. Which would be okay, but. But why didn't he trust any of his friends enough to ask for help. But, if you are going to commit suicide, which I think is perfectly okay, by the way, why not put your affairs in order. All in all, it made all of us not only sad but angry, which is definitely not the way you want to remember a dear friend.
Back in Vancouver for July and August, 2017. See 2016 above - see, I told you, not much going on in my life worthy of note. Colleague Bea and I did our usual outing for our joint birthday celebration - dinner and Bard on the Beach. As always, it was a success, and good to spend time with her away from work. After all these years, I still have a bad case of hero worship for Bea. I keep thinking that if I hang out with her long enough, I too might develop the milk of human kindness. In August, Arlene came to visit for a few days from Seattle. We also have developed a routine for these visits (also including Bard on the Beach - luckily they perform at least four plays each year), and I love it. Maybe because of my chaotic childhood, but I really love these rituals around which my life now resolves. (Ray and Peter came to visit as well).
October, 2017 was memorable only for my return to San Francisco for the memorial service for Hank. Cale, Hanks associate from the alumni association, organized it, and did a wonderful job. The disappointment was that rather than 300 attending, as he expected, only 38 were there. None of the young people, on whom Hank expended so much care and love, not to mention money, attended. However, the old timers from the Bank of America were all there, and we had a celebratory lunch after, and laughed and cried, and put Hank to rest.
The one good thing about his death has been getting to know Hank's friend Bill better than I had. I have still never met him - he cares for his elderly mother, and does not leave Texas, where he lives - but I had heard so much about him from Hank that I almost felt that I knew him, and he has been a rock. I can't replace Hank for him, I know, but at least we can talk from time to time, about Hank, and some other things of interest - politics, history, and the state of the universe.
Geoff, friend from Palm Springs, also visited in October, and then, at the end of the month, I returned to Palm Springs, where I am always happiest (perhaps because, as my friends always remind me, I don't work there). I did work in Vancouver, every single day last summer, making hay while the sun shines, and all of that.
And that's all for now. I will pick up again next time, hopefully with pictures. But for now, know that I am still on the planet, and, for the most part, content.
Glad to be back.
No comments:
Post a Comment