And to All a Good Night

Merry Christmas , Happy Channukah, Kwanza, Divali, or, if you prefer, Happy Non-Denominational Holiday.  

My arm is improving, but typing hasn`t gotten beyond the hunt and peck level yet (although I can reach the shift key for capitals, much to my relief), so this will be short.  

First, update on the arm.  They cut off the cast a few days ago - that was a process in and of itself - and now they have given me physiotherapy exercises to do on my own.  Apparently, in the age of COVID, the physiotherapists don`t torture you any more,  athey just teach you how to torture yourself!!  The exercises are excruciatingly painful, but I am seeing results.  Slowly, of course, way too slowly,  But there is improvement.  Stay tuned.

Just wanted to let everyone know that I am thinking of you.  For all those who reached out - and there have been many - thank you.  For those that didn`t, the silent wishes are also appreciated.  And may all of us have a better 2021, full of health and love, happiness and peace.

 

The Dreaded Fall

Well, it has happened, every old person`s dread.  I fell on Friday evening.  I was doing my usual early evening walk.  In the ciurse of doing what I call the COVID shuffle, that is, dodging off the sidewalk, to the street to avoid those maskless folks who can`t be bothered to walk single file for a few seconds, when I slipped on a pile of dirt and leaves and went down boom.  This will be short - even typing is painful - so I will spare you the details.  The long and the short of it is, I am home from the hospital with a sling and painkillers, having broken the humerus in my left arm.  I have never broken a bone before; who knew it was this painful?  Friend John and neighbors George and Joan are talking care of me, and I will no doubt live, but shit, man.....  

Wistful

I have been feeling wistful.  Not unhappy, or even sad.   Just wistful.  Anyone else feeling that way?  Maybe it is just that we are not being bombarded with all the usual external stimuli - no movies, no opera (I just haven't been able to get into all the streaming stuff), no other musical outings, no theater, no culinary treats.  More time to think, I guess.

For whatever reason, I have been thinking a lot about the road - roads, really - not taken.  That boyfriend in college (you know who you are): what would have happened had we married?  (Truthfully, who knows whether that was a missed opportunity or just a figment of my fervid imagination - and really, the same is true for the following examples of missed roads...)  That girlfriend who I spent a lot of time with when I was younger (now many years dead, of necretizing fasciitis) - was that an attempt at a sexual connection, which I didn't explore?  Who knows how my life would have changed?  And had my once-upon-a-time fiancee not died of aids in the 80's? And dear, dear Hank.  Before his death, he implied that there was a potential relationship there, that I had "jilted" him in favour of David.  I honestly never saw it at the time.  But if I had?  

Those of you who know me know that, overall, I am not unhappy with how my life has progressed thus far, and consider myself far luckier than most. Nonetheless, one does wonder, what if? 

The more I think about it, though, the more I have to acknowledge that I am damaged goods.  I really am not connected to "normal" the way most people are. I have no family to speak of - my parents and grandparents long dead, uncles and aunts dead, a few remaining cousins far away, and, while not estranged, exactly, are certainly not a part of my life.   (my uncle hated my father, and even when I was little, I knew I was an obligation, not a love interested...  or was that also a figment of my imagination?)

Why?  I have been thinking about that (as well as lots of other things - see above).  My mother died when I was three.  Did I become wary of emotional attachments?  I adored my father, but he really was insane - probably certifiable, if jews did that sort of thing.... and connecting with him was always risky.  My stepmother didn't really like me.  I don't mean to say I was mistreated - far from it - but early on, I know she didn't value anything I valued.  Her idead of an insult was to say:  there you are again, with your nose in a book, just like your father.  So, again, no connection.

Maybe I just got out of the habit......

I am usually not this maudlin.  And, as I say, things haven't turned out so badly.  But one wonders...

All right, enough of that.  What else is new? Nothing much, in the world of COVID.  Of course, there are people who are behaving incredibly badly, and that's depressing for those of us who would prefer to have a glass half full outlook.  That, at least, is more easily solved.  Most of you know I don't have a television - haven't had in years - and if I listen to audiobooks instead of the radio, I don't have to have my nosed rubbed into people's stupidity!  After all, everyone around me personally is behaving well....

Nothing else much to report.  Still walking - trying to keep all the parts moving...

And I almost forgot the reading list.  Lots of mysteries - Martha Grimes (The Black Cat, The Case has Altered, Vertigo42) and Elizabeth George (A Banquet of Consequences) - it seems like there is an endless number of these around, and I do love them.  Agatha Christie's estate has authorized someone to write new Hercule Poirot mysteries.  I am, generally speaking, skeptical of those sorts of things, but the one I read (listenedd to, really), The Killings at Kingfisher Hill, was quite good.  I also listened to Truth and Beauty by Ann Patchett.  She is among my current favourite authors, and this is among her best (I had read it before...).  

More classically speaking, I read Young Werther, by Goethe.  My father endlessly quoted Schiller, Heine and Goethe to me when I was younger, but I never had read Goethe on my own, although, of course, I knew all about it, including the Werther mania in Europe...  (maybe one of the reasons I am feeling so - wistful - ).  Also in the classics vein, Fathers and Sons by Turgenev, another one of those things one knows about but often haven't read.  And I am a sucker for Russian literature.  Finally, I am listening to War, by Margaret Macmillan, a well known Canadian historian.  This is a (relatively) new book about the history of war.  She is a good writer (and the reader, who is not the author), is good too, but to say I am enjoying it would be putting too fine a point on it - it is too depressing for that....

Well, that is all for now, folks.  Hope you are all safe, healthy, and happy, and, on this pre-(American)Thanksgiving day, remembering how much you have to be thankful for.  In my case, it is, as always (among many other things), my friends.  Thank you all, for being so supportive, and such good friends.

Take care of yourselves, and each other....

Poor America

I am not quite ready to breath a sigh of relief quite yet.  Trump and his followers can still do a great deal of damage between now and January.  But at least one hurdle has been jumped.  Noone but a lunatic or a liar can say that Biden has not won, both the popular vote and the electoral college.   And the Democrats can still pick up a few Senators - from Georgia, of all places!!!!!

But still.  But still.  Seventy million people voted for Trump.  That is an incredible number of disaffected people.  And we have done this, and with the best of intentions.  Once again, the law of unintended consequences has reared its ugly head.  

 I've just read a book that goes a long way towards explaining this.  It is called The Tyranny of Meritocracy, by Michael J. Sandel.  It talks about the hopes we all had for globalization, and the hopes we had for meritocracy.  If only there were no barriers of race or gender or sexual orientation.  If only there were no barriers to education.  Then we could all earn what we learn, as Bill Clinton (and Obama too, for that matter) used to say.  

But there are always barriers.  Even if we could remove the artificial barriers listed above, and, of course, we haven't, there are still barriers.  People should have equal opportunity, of course, but people are not equal.  And the corollary to the meritocratic ideal of you got what you have by merit, is, of course, that if you don't get it, you don't deserve it.  And if you don't deserve it, then it becomes harder for those that do to say that the common good requires that you have it anyway.

I'm not immune.  I have been known to say that I have gotten when I have on my own.  And, if I could do it, why couldn't every one else do it?

To a certain extent, it is true.  My parents were poor by the time they got to America.  I worked my way through college.  I worked my way through law school.  My clothes - and furniture, for that matter, came from thrift stores.

And yet.  And yet.  We may not have had any furniture, or a car, or a television (until I was 16).  But I certainly won the gene lottery, both in terms of health and, some would say, in terms of brains.  There was never any question that I would go to college.  There was never any doubt that I could do whatever I wanted to do.  I was read to and quoted poetry to from the time of my birth.  I knew more culture before I was 6 years old than most people know before they are 60.  Not to mention the mere fact of the luck of timing.  Work was available.  Even my parents could buy a house eventually; I certainly could.  

So, I am, a bit late, admittedly, learning - or trying to - the milk of human kindness, trying to realize that those without my luck need to have the rest of us work less for ourselves and more for the common good.

The statistics are alarming.  We no longer value work, we value education.  And yet, even in America, only 30% of adults get a diploma from a 4-year college.  And men without a college education have the highest suicide rates, the highest rates of drug addiction/death, the highest rates of alchohol related deaths, the highest rates of what Sandel calls deaths of despair.  Even if they have work, what they do for society is not valued.

This is the wound that Trump ripped the scab off.  This was what even those with good intentions (Hillary Clinton and her Deplorables, Obama, with his reference to those who cling to their guns and pick up trucks) do not want to see.  And this is the problem that still needs to be addressed.

What would I do if I were queen?  I don't know.  A guaranteed annual income would help.  But that alone does not address the need for value and self-respect that comes from working.  How do we go back to a world where work is valued?  How do we get back to a feeling that, as Canadians are fond of blathering, we are all in this together?  How do we re-develop a sense of the common good?

We old people are fond of belittling the young, who can't understand that you can't party right now, that you should wear a mask, that you need to think of someone besides yourself.  But why should they, really?  That is not the example they have been given for the last few decades, is it? 

All that said, my personal life remains pretty benign.  I have set myself a fitness goal - shocking, I know, at least for me.  It is not the arbitrary 10,000 steps imposed by the tyranny of the computer ap, but, rather, the ability to keep up with the as yet imaginary group when travel starts again.  So, I am now walking 1 1/2 hours at a go, and sometimes more.  I mostly walk in my neighborhood.....

 

...and mostly alone (the tenor of the times, don't you know....), but sometimes joined by colleagues and friends.  Below, Paul and David, previously seen in these pages.  Paul is a colleague, David a new addition to our group, here having dinner in Steveston..... (after the obligatory walk)...

I think fall is my favourite season.  We are having quite a good one - or maybe I am just noticing it more because usually I am in the desert by this time...

Neighbor and friend John and I sometimes prowl the neighborhood together (although not often - he finds my walks too short and too boring....)

....and John and Dennis and I have been going for longer walks - here around Burnaby Lake - before treating ourselves to a patio dinner at a nearby Earls or Cactus Club....

All in all, I have a pretty small bubble - I think I have seen 11 people all told since the pandemic took hold in March, and all of us are pretty much hermits!!!!

So, what else do I do?  Well, I am actually working, believe it or not.  As most of you know, I was meant to retire, oh, 8 years ago.  And I did, sort of; I've been working on contract ever since.  Some years there is more work, some less, but it all goes to supporting my expensive habits, like opera and travel.  This year looked to be a lean year, but it is picking up, and since I am not ready to risk travel to the Desert quite yet, it is something to do, and it is helping to build up my travel fund...

By the way, they have organized the COVID restrictions quite nicely at work.  They gave all the support staff lap top computers, so they can work at home.  The Vice Chairs, such as myself, all have offices with doors that close, and we have limited the number of Vice Chairs who can be in the office any any given time anyway (by mutual agreement - the rest of the time we can work at home too).  Masks are mandatory while in the office, and they have upgraded cleaning and ventilation, so, really, it is quite safe, or at least feels that way.

So, there is walking, and working, and, of course, bridge, which I play probably on average 4 or 5 times a week, on line, of course, with my Desert brige club pals.  Like everything else in the world right now - politics, the Pandemic - it is a source of some disappoinment in the nature of mankind.  The opportunities for cheating on line are rife, and there is, apparently, lots of it going on.  However, like everything else in my life, it does not affect me directly.  Our club is reasonable small, so no strangers playing.  Also, our directors know our capabilities - at least as far as bridge is concerned - and can follow up if they find abnormalities.  I am pretty confident that we are running a fairly clean game.  At any rate, I win often enough to keep me interested.....

I'm doing a lot of knitting, too.  Like everyone else, it seems in this strange time, my attention span is short, so no sweaters or coats, but lot's of fingerless gloves and socks - all my friends have benefits from what I like to call the COVID bounty.  I listen to the radio or audio books while I am knitting, so am keeping up my multi-tasking skills....

There is always reading of course.  I have been downloading audio books from the library throughout, and the physical library is now (partially) open in our neck of the woods.  Masks are mandatory, of course, and the number of attendees at any time is limited.  Increased cleaning is evident.  And the new book section has been closed - too much handling of books there, I imagine.  But it is better than nothing, and John and I go regularly to get a new batch of mysteries (me) and sci-fi (him) offerings.  My latest were two (old, but not previously read) Martha Grimes, The Case has Altered, and The Black Cat.  I do so love an author who can be relied on to be a page turner!  

I did pick up a `first novel`by Helene Wecker, called The Golem and the Jinni, because I was entranced by the title.  A Golem, as some of you may know, is a mythological Jewish creature made by humans, of clay, to help the Jews in times of trouble.  A Jinni is a mythological Arab creature, you know, the kind that gets trapped in lamps and grants wishes.  These come to gether in early 20th century New York, and although I am not usually interested in mythological creatures of any sort, I must say, I am still turning the pages.  

I've also ordered a bunch of books - unlike the rest of the world, the first and only things I have ordered on line since the beginning of the pandemic.  These will, of course, be reviewed in these pages in due course.  In the meanwhile, it give me a sense of security to have a stash of wool and a stack of unread books at hand!

And of course, there are the Economist (John's offerings) and The New Yorker (Jack's) and miscellaneous bridge books (Dennis's) to round out the demands on my time.

So, with all of that, and numerous daily emails and texts and telephone calls, I am not feeling at all deprived, really, in spite of all those worrying about people's mental health in these trying times.

Hope you all are doing well.  Do reach out:  it will be good for both of us!!!  I would say I will be back to you shortly, but we both know that probably won't happen.  As always, though, I'll try.....

Update, Physical and Mental

 I am doing well.  I am feeling better than I have in months, breathing well and back up to walking 3 miles a day (working towards 5).  

After a certain age, one shouldn't take selfies, but I did want to assure you that I am alive and well, if no lo nger cute and perkie...

I

We have had a spell of summerlike weather, so walking has been quite pleasant.  

What else?  I am feeling blessed with my friends.  The silver lining of COVID is that people in general are reaching out more.  But being in the hospital with a life threatening event has made me realize more than ever how lucky I am.  Friends checked up on me daily, and followed by providing magazines, books, and tasty, home-cooked treats.  Those of you who know me know that I am a glass half full, not a glass half empty king of person.  At this point, I have to say, my glass is full.

How did I get to be a glass half full kind of person?  Well, my stepmother was the opposite.  I used to say that if the world were perfect, she would be wondering how long it was going to last.  Admittedly she had a hard life.  Her fiance was imprisoned and killed by the Nazis.  She lost her job as a radio concert pianist because she was Jewish.  She crossed the Alps into Italy in the dead of winter, the only one of her group to survive.

But the point is, she did survive.  She ended up in America, and married my father.  Admittedly, he was no prize, but she survived that too.  And yet she was terminally unhappy.  I actually think that it is genetic, and I inherited my (mostly) good nature from my father.  But one can work at it, and I have vowed to try to keep sunny.  It is pretty selfish, really; I am just happier that way....

What else am I up to?  Reading, of course.  The Economist (thanks to friend John who trots over with his copy every week) and The New Yorker (thanks to Jack who comes over periodically with dinner, magazines and books), and, of course, books.  I have taken to listening to audiobooks from the library as well, most recently The Magician's Assistant, by Ann Patchett.  She is a favourite of mine, reliably entertaining.  

The nice thing about (free) downloads from the library, is that you can return them after a few pages without guilt. I actually returned three this week:  Strip Jack by Ian Rankin (a favourite mystery writer, but didn't like the reading of this one, or the hyper format); The Glass Hotel by Emily St. John Mandel (lots of hype by reviewers, but didn't catch me at all); and The Last Widow by Karin Slaughter (liked her last one, but this one didn't catch me).  I am listening with pleasure at the moment to My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante.  Ferrante was interviewed recently by Sheila Rodgers on Writers and Company on CBC, and I was interested enough to take note.  When I saw it on the (virtual) library shelf, I grabbed it.  I will now try to find her others.  

In terms of actual books, I am working my way through the second volume of Isaac Asimov's autobiography (thank you, Tom).

Still playing lots of bridge (on line), with enough success to keep me playing (intermitten reinforcement being the draw that it is...)

There is now work to be had, and I am taking all that I can, with the hope that someday soon there will be somewhere I can spend all this money...

What else?  I have done my will and medical power of attorney (near-death experiences will do that to you...), and feel incredibly good about it.  There are many reasons for that, of course, but the salient one is that friend Hank died three years ago without a will, and so his fervent wish to endow a scholarship in his name at University of Arizona, his alma mater, could not be fulfilled.  I have now taken it on myself to do it for him (in addition to a number of other bequests), and it feels good to have all of that signed, sealed and delivered.

Not to worry, though, I have no intention of kicking the bucket any time soon.  However, as recent events illustrate, you never know.

One final shout out before I go.  Thank you, Wally, for reaching out to me.  I am so happy to know that you are alive and well, and are starting out on a new adventure.

More anon.

The Rumours of My Death Were Exaggerated -

 - but not by much.  Let me hit rewind, and fill you in.  I have been trying to up the exercise game since I came back from Palm Springs in mid March.  Nothing's changed; I still loathe exercise.  But I loathe doctors and medical care more, so I am trying to keep all the parts moving, currently by walking 5+ miles a day.  Walking, mind, not running, but it seemed to be working.  

About a month ago, my breathing started to become laboured.  My walking - never very fast - became slower.  Then, I could walk less and less.  Then, I started stopping at benches along the route for a breather.  Last Saturday, I collapsed, at home, just walking from my bedroom to the dining room - it is not that far.  I called friend John, who said he couldn't understand a word I said, but figured out I was in distress.  He grabbed my keys and his phone, and by the time he got to my place two minutes later, he had called the paramedics, and not too long afterwards, I was in the hospital.

Apparently, I had a very large blood clot on my lung, and probably came closer to death than I want to know.  After a stint in the emergency ward and the intensive care unit, and a brief stay in the hospital proper, 4 days later to be exact, I was back home, equipped with blood thinners, bandaids, and requisitions for a slew of follow up medical appointments.  In the next month or two, I will probably be seeing more doctors and nurses and technicians than I have in the last 24 years.  You know what, though, given that I really haven't had to deal with all of this in 24 years, I'm just going to consider it already amortized.  All in all, I have been - and am - pretty lucky.  And, lord knows, I am not the first person in the world to be on a permanent dose of blood thinners, and no doubt won't be the last.

And, no doubt, after this initial flurry of activity, this will all settle down to a chronic condition, and as chronic conditions go, well, it could be worse.  I will try to be compliant, and ensure that my life continues to be relatively comfortable, if a bit more circumscribed.

But what with COVID, and the smoke from the forest fires,  and everything else, 2020 really is turning out to be Annus Horribilus.  It will be good to see the back of it....

  

Nostalgia

 I wonder if everyone is feeling this right now, sort of wistful, I guess.  Everything seems to remind me of something or someone else.  Tom Petty, long dead, of course, has just released (or I guess I should say that his estate has just released) a new single.  And I thought of Hank, of course, also long (June 2017) dead now, who was a big fan, and sitting in the bathroom in Hank`s apartment in San Francisco staring at the Tom Petty at the Filmore poster (along with many other rock concert posters.....)

A note from friend Jamie about the recurrence of her husband`s illness brought back meeting her in the 80`s, through Caroline Lyons (also long dead), and the times David and I spent with Jamie and Bob, on their boat, and in their apartment in Marin, and watching their very fat cat trying to squeeze through the cat door.....

And talking to friend Mickey on the phone reminded me of when we met 25 years ago now, colleagues sharing a `bull pen`` at work, watching cohort Carl napping at his desk every afternoon.

And on and on and on.....

I guess that is what happens when you are not out there making new memories, you just trot out the old ones.  I`m not complaining, mind you - I`m lucky to have so many old - and good - memories to trot out.  And now that a lot of the memory keepers are dead, I can shape those memories to my liking.

It used to distress me that my memory was so bad (funny, one thing I do remember if my father grousing about how bad his memory was....), until I realized that it is how you remember things that is important, not whether that is an accurate depiction of what really was.....

Just some musing for a Saturday morning, sitting on my patio watching the boats and planes soing by.....