I am 68 years old. I've reached the point that I am hoping I'll live as long as my father--83--which means I'd see my granddaughters graduated from college, that, at least.
So, I am felling old.
But I'm also feeling ageless. Sure, there are things that have slown down and been rearranged, but in my mind, I am ageless. I still have most of my mind--a blank about names, but mostly all there. And though things ache that didn't used to, my body is pretty much my own.
And if 60 is the new 40, 68 is the new 48--in those terms I'm not yet 50, give me a break...I'm almost two decades past 50!
My hands don't work as well as they have for all these years and my knees act up after I've been sitting or driving a car for a couple of hours.
But in my mind--in the part of me I think of as ME--most everything is mostly as it's been for the last three decades or so. In my head, I'm forever 38, a good place to be in your head.
But that's 40 years from True.
Being older is a remarkable experience. You feel all over the map about age. At least I do.
"You're only as old as you feel" is bullshit. You are as old as you are.
And I'm felling old today.
Tomorrow I might buy into 38. But not tonight.
Tonight I'm 68 and living into that.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
A shadow of himself
This time of year, Bern cuts on our dog's hair.
Mostly she does it outside on the deck, but some of it happens on 'the little bed' in our TV room upstairs.
She cuts him and cuts him and he ends up a shadow of himself.
He still weighs a sturdy 50 some pounds, but in his summer cut he looks much smaller.
Pulis really have a lot of hair. If we let it grow it would cord and he'd look like the dog in the wonderful Dr. Pepper commercial--I hope you've seen it.
We let him cord once and all of us--Bern, Bela and Me--hated it,
There is enough Puli hair swept off our porch and deck to make another Puli.
But he likes it. Summer is hard on a dog that would, if we let him, lay in the snow for hours.
They come, finally from Mongolia. Attila the Hun brought them as he raped and pillaged his way all the way to Hungary--where one half (her mother's side) of Bern's family came from. The Baccho's would have loved our dog...the national dog of Hungary, all the way from Asia and now in Connecticut.
What a journey. We had a Puli when we were much younger and Bern's parents would keep him (his name was Templomkerti Palac Suba and he was born in Hungary and we called him Finney. Bern's parents, her mother especially, being Hungarian, loved him so.
Bela, our current Puli, was born in Syracuse and is not as smart as Finney and more aggressive to strangers.
He is a bad dog.
Someone recently, when I was walking him, asked me if he was a Portuguese Water dog--smaller and shorter, he is--and I said, "no, he's a BAD dog."
And we love him so.
Go figure.
Mostly she does it outside on the deck, but some of it happens on 'the little bed' in our TV room upstairs.
She cuts him and cuts him and he ends up a shadow of himself.
He still weighs a sturdy 50 some pounds, but in his summer cut he looks much smaller.
Pulis really have a lot of hair. If we let it grow it would cord and he'd look like the dog in the wonderful Dr. Pepper commercial--I hope you've seen it.
We let him cord once and all of us--Bern, Bela and Me--hated it,
There is enough Puli hair swept off our porch and deck to make another Puli.
But he likes it. Summer is hard on a dog that would, if we let him, lay in the snow for hours.
They come, finally from Mongolia. Attila the Hun brought them as he raped and pillaged his way all the way to Hungary--where one half (her mother's side) of Bern's family came from. The Baccho's would have loved our dog...the national dog of Hungary, all the way from Asia and now in Connecticut.
What a journey. We had a Puli when we were much younger and Bern's parents would keep him (his name was Templomkerti Palac Suba and he was born in Hungary and we called him Finney. Bern's parents, her mother especially, being Hungarian, loved him so.
Bela, our current Puli, was born in Syracuse and is not as smart as Finney and more aggressive to strangers.
He is a bad dog.
Someone recently, when I was walking him, asked me if he was a Portuguese Water dog--smaller and shorter, he is--and I said, "no, he's a BAD dog."
And we love him so.
Go figure.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Dead, all dead....
It just occurred to me today, for no reason, really, that all my grade school teachers are surely dead.
Mrs. Bingham, first grade; Mrs. Santi, second grade (one of only two Roman Catholic families in our town of 500); Mrs. Short, third grade; Miss Hawkins (worst, worst, worst teacher ever and a horrible person) fourth grade; Mrs. Baldwin, 5th grade; Mrs. Martin, sixth grade.
Dead, all dead. The Dead are legion.
Miss Hawkins was the daughter of Dr. Hawkins who ran the pharmacy in Anawalt, though I'm sure he didn't have a doctorate, he was a pharmacist and wore a white coat, so we called him "Dr.". I think her given name was Grace, but it didn't matter, we called her "Miss Hawkins". She had a form of epilepsy and we had been briefed on what to do if she had a seizure. David Jordan was picked to run to the office and alert Principal Ramsey.
Then one day, it happened, she fell down after finding a pouch of chewing tobacco in Charlie Harmon's desk--Charlie was 3 years older than the rest of us and was just waiting to be 16 in the sixth grade to quit school. She was writhing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, making strange, inhuman sounds and David--always a good boy--jumped up to go to the office. But Billy Bridgeman and Donnie Davis stopped him at the classroom door.
"Let's ;just watch a while," Billy said.
And we did. She was an awful person and should have never been let loose near young children--smacking and hitting and humiliating all of us.
So we watched her jerk around for a few minutes and then David went to the office.
I'd never seen anyone have, what we, politically incorrect back then, called a 'fit'.
It was something.
And couldn't have happened to a more deserving person.
I know she's dead, she died when I was in high school, hopefully painfully, in agony. And all the others, people I admired, sometimes loved. All of them are surely dead as well since they were my parents' age and my parents have been dead for decades.
What an odd thought--that all my grade school teachers are dead. And how enlightening it is to realize much of my past (at 68) is dead. I won't even think about Junior High and High School teacher, though I'd bet only one or two are still alive and probably non compos mentus.
The past peels away after us, doesn't it?
The dead behind us are legion, aren't they? As we will be for those ahead of us.
Something to ponder and be bewildered by.
The way of life, I suppose. To shed the skin of the past and then be shed....
Alas....
Mrs. Bingham, first grade; Mrs. Santi, second grade (one of only two Roman Catholic families in our town of 500); Mrs. Short, third grade; Miss Hawkins (worst, worst, worst teacher ever and a horrible person) fourth grade; Mrs. Baldwin, 5th grade; Mrs. Martin, sixth grade.
Dead, all dead. The Dead are legion.
Miss Hawkins was the daughter of Dr. Hawkins who ran the pharmacy in Anawalt, though I'm sure he didn't have a doctorate, he was a pharmacist and wore a white coat, so we called him "Dr.". I think her given name was Grace, but it didn't matter, we called her "Miss Hawkins". She had a form of epilepsy and we had been briefed on what to do if she had a seizure. David Jordan was picked to run to the office and alert Principal Ramsey.
Then one day, it happened, she fell down after finding a pouch of chewing tobacco in Charlie Harmon's desk--Charlie was 3 years older than the rest of us and was just waiting to be 16 in the sixth grade to quit school. She was writhing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, making strange, inhuman sounds and David--always a good boy--jumped up to go to the office. But Billy Bridgeman and Donnie Davis stopped him at the classroom door.
"Let's ;just watch a while," Billy said.
And we did. She was an awful person and should have never been let loose near young children--smacking and hitting and humiliating all of us.
So we watched her jerk around for a few minutes and then David went to the office.
I'd never seen anyone have, what we, politically incorrect back then, called a 'fit'.
It was something.
And couldn't have happened to a more deserving person.
I know she's dead, she died when I was in high school, hopefully painfully, in agony. And all the others, people I admired, sometimes loved. All of them are surely dead as well since they were my parents' age and my parents have been dead for decades.
What an odd thought--that all my grade school teachers are dead. And how enlightening it is to realize much of my past (at 68) is dead. I won't even think about Junior High and High School teacher, though I'd bet only one or two are still alive and probably non compos mentus.
The past peels away after us, doesn't it?
The dead behind us are legion, aren't they? As we will be for those ahead of us.
Something to ponder and be bewildered by.
The way of life, I suppose. To shed the skin of the past and then be shed....
Alas....
Monday, May 25, 2015
6 things you can rely on me not doing....
I read an article on The Huffington Post tonight about the "six most ridiculous stunts" pulled by Christian ministers.
1. Pastor Lawrence Bishop of the Solid Rock Church in Monroe, Ohio, built a bull riding ring in the sacturary and rode a bull for three seconds before being bucked off and then preached a sermon. 300 people answered the altar call and were baptized that day.
2. The Kentucky Baptist Convention, led by Chuck McAllister, had a series of "Second Amendment Celebrations" serving a steak dinner with guns as door prizes. McAllister called it 'affinity evangelism'--identifying with what he called 'Red Necks'. In 2013 1300 men made 'affirmations of faith' after the events.
3. There have been lots of MMA fights in churches (whatever the hell MMA means!). Some with professionals and others with members of the church. David and Samson are used in sermons about the fights. "Turn the other cheek" doesn't show up. One pastor explained it by saying, "It's a couple of God-fearing men punching each other in the face."
4. Back in 1972, Pastor Herb Shreve bought his son a motorcycle to try to bridge the gap between them. Then he went to a motorcycle rally and decided there were lots of folks there who need to hear the gospel. There are now 1200 Christian Motorcyclists Associations in the US.
5. Ed Young, pastor of the North Texas Fellowship Church, gave an Easter sermon with a real lion and a real lamb to proclaim that Jesus was both the Lamb of God and the Lion of the Tribe of Judah. Hey, I've used bunny ears and Easter eggs and once ate an Easter Lilly--but a real lion and a real lamb!!! The local humane society brought suit against him.
6. Pastor Troy Grambling of Florida's Potential Church (who names these things?) made an "Action Movie Move". With the help of stunt man, Mike Buse (stage name "Mr. Dizzy") Pastor Grambling sat in a car which was blown up and emerged unscathed. There was a video. Impressive. I don't know whose car it was but it said 'Potential Church' on the side before it was engulfed in flames.
On the same page were some humorous church signs. My favorite was from The Madison Avenue Baptist Church (obviously American Baptist) that said, GOD WANTS SPIRITUAL FRUITS/ NOT RELIGIOUS NUTS.
Amen.
1. Pastor Lawrence Bishop of the Solid Rock Church in Monroe, Ohio, built a bull riding ring in the sacturary and rode a bull for three seconds before being bucked off and then preached a sermon. 300 people answered the altar call and were baptized that day.
2. The Kentucky Baptist Convention, led by Chuck McAllister, had a series of "Second Amendment Celebrations" serving a steak dinner with guns as door prizes. McAllister called it 'affinity evangelism'--identifying with what he called 'Red Necks'. In 2013 1300 men made 'affirmations of faith' after the events.
3. There have been lots of MMA fights in churches (whatever the hell MMA means!). Some with professionals and others with members of the church. David and Samson are used in sermons about the fights. "Turn the other cheek" doesn't show up. One pastor explained it by saying, "It's a couple of God-fearing men punching each other in the face."
4. Back in 1972, Pastor Herb Shreve bought his son a motorcycle to try to bridge the gap between them. Then he went to a motorcycle rally and decided there were lots of folks there who need to hear the gospel. There are now 1200 Christian Motorcyclists Associations in the US.
5. Ed Young, pastor of the North Texas Fellowship Church, gave an Easter sermon with a real lion and a real lamb to proclaim that Jesus was both the Lamb of God and the Lion of the Tribe of Judah. Hey, I've used bunny ears and Easter eggs and once ate an Easter Lilly--but a real lion and a real lamb!!! The local humane society brought suit against him.
6. Pastor Troy Grambling of Florida's Potential Church (who names these things?) made an "Action Movie Move". With the help of stunt man, Mike Buse (stage name "Mr. Dizzy") Pastor Grambling sat in a car which was blown up and emerged unscathed. There was a video. Impressive. I don't know whose car it was but it said 'Potential Church' on the side before it was engulfed in flames.
On the same page were some humorous church signs. My favorite was from The Madison Avenue Baptist Church (obviously American Baptist) that said, GOD WANTS SPIRITUAL FRUITS/ NOT RELIGIOUS NUTS.
Amen.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Two recommendations
I have a novel and a movie to recommend.
The novel is A god in ruins by Kate Atkinson. No surprise here--her last novel Life after Life is one of 5 best novels I ever read and may have to move over for A god in ruins, which I'm only half through but already feel competent to recommend to the skies! To the stars, in fact.
The heroine of the last Atkinson book was Ursula Todd, who, as the title suggests, kept getting born over and over to live out very different lives. The main character of this one (I couldn't call him a hero because he wasn't though he was in WWII) is Ursula's younger brother, Teddy Todd.
Atkinson goes back and forth over the many decades of his life (he lives into his 90's) and often does so in the same paragraph! But it is seamless and never confusing. I've never read a novel written like this one. Get it! (I always have library books but I don't think I'd mind if you read this one on a tablet!)
This unsurprising recommendation (she's written 6 or 7 books--all very different but remarkably good) is followed by something I would never imagined in a hundred years that I would like so much that I would highly, highly recommend it: Mad Max: Fury Road!
I would have never seen it, but Bern wanted to (for reasons beyond my comprehension) and we went yesterday.
I would try to give a synopsis but I couldn't, not ever. I may have seen one of the Mad Max movies from the past, but it really made no impression on me. This one blew my mind! I usually don't like distopian books or movies and I usually don't like loud and excessively violent movies. But I loved this one--which is all of that.
It's two hours of almost constant chase scenes. Would that get old? Weird vehicles racing across an endless desert with unrelenting violence--how could that work?
It just does. I'm astonished that I loved it.
Tom Hardy and Charlize Theron, I believe, both deserve Oscar nominations even though they probably don't have a hundred words of dialog each. Their physicality and ability to remain so in character (as really hard-ass good guys!) is mesmerizing.
The special effects and the stunts are mind altering--how can people do that over and again? Filming was miraculous considering how many closeups there are of moving vehicles belching fire and exploding.
I know, I know...all that stuff probably makes you ask, "what has Jim been smoking?"
But it was remarkable. I would compare it to something but I don't have anything to compare it to.
Bottom like, as odd and strange as it was, it was completely 'believable' and totally engrossing.
Really.
Don't believe me? Go see it.
The novel is A god in ruins by Kate Atkinson. No surprise here--her last novel Life after Life is one of 5 best novels I ever read and may have to move over for A god in ruins, which I'm only half through but already feel competent to recommend to the skies! To the stars, in fact.
The heroine of the last Atkinson book was Ursula Todd, who, as the title suggests, kept getting born over and over to live out very different lives. The main character of this one (I couldn't call him a hero because he wasn't though he was in WWII) is Ursula's younger brother, Teddy Todd.
Atkinson goes back and forth over the many decades of his life (he lives into his 90's) and often does so in the same paragraph! But it is seamless and never confusing. I've never read a novel written like this one. Get it! (I always have library books but I don't think I'd mind if you read this one on a tablet!)
This unsurprising recommendation (she's written 6 or 7 books--all very different but remarkably good) is followed by something I would never imagined in a hundred years that I would like so much that I would highly, highly recommend it: Mad Max: Fury Road!
I would have never seen it, but Bern wanted to (for reasons beyond my comprehension) and we went yesterday.
I would try to give a synopsis but I couldn't, not ever. I may have seen one of the Mad Max movies from the past, but it really made no impression on me. This one blew my mind! I usually don't like distopian books or movies and I usually don't like loud and excessively violent movies. But I loved this one--which is all of that.
It's two hours of almost constant chase scenes. Would that get old? Weird vehicles racing across an endless desert with unrelenting violence--how could that work?
It just does. I'm astonished that I loved it.
Tom Hardy and Charlize Theron, I believe, both deserve Oscar nominations even though they probably don't have a hundred words of dialog each. Their physicality and ability to remain so in character (as really hard-ass good guys!) is mesmerizing.
The special effects and the stunts are mind altering--how can people do that over and again? Filming was miraculous considering how many closeups there are of moving vehicles belching fire and exploding.
I know, I know...all that stuff probably makes you ask, "what has Jim been smoking?"
But it was remarkable. I would compare it to something but I don't have anything to compare it to.
Bottom like, as odd and strange as it was, it was completely 'believable' and totally engrossing.
Really.
Don't believe me? Go see it.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
shooting hoops as the light fails
I just took Bela for a walk at 8:30 p.m. The light is failing.
And two kids--one from our neighbor on the right and one from our neighbor on the left--were shooting baskets as the light failed.
I remember doing that over and over and over, when I was a kid.
My Dad had put a pipe in the ground that held a basket and back board, in the yard beside our apartment, 6 feet down from street level.
I shot baskets endlessly as the light failed all through three seasons of the year.
If I didn't have Bela with me I would have gone over and asked to take a shot.
I can shoot basketballs through a hoop with the best of them--even now, at my age.
I would have impressed those kids with a couple or three 17 footers.
They yanked me back to when I was their age--10, 11, 12, 13, 14, on and on--shooting hoops as the light fails.
I thank them for those memories. Really.
And two kids--one from our neighbor on the right and one from our neighbor on the left--were shooting baskets as the light failed.
I remember doing that over and over and over, when I was a kid.
My Dad had put a pipe in the ground that held a basket and back board, in the yard beside our apartment, 6 feet down from street level.
I shot baskets endlessly as the light failed all through three seasons of the year.
If I didn't have Bela with me I would have gone over and asked to take a shot.
I can shoot basketballs through a hoop with the best of them--even now, at my age.
I would have impressed those kids with a couple or three 17 footers.
They yanked me back to when I was their age--10, 11, 12, 13, 14, on and on--shooting hoops as the light fails.
I thank them for those memories. Really.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Ultimate embarressment
Embarrassment is a natural human emotion. We shouldn't fell ashamed, or anything really, about being embarrassed--it's just something humans feel. Yet, don't we all regret our embarrassment? It's akin to regretting the 'love' and 'compassion' we feel--all of them being emotions--but somehow embarrassment is off the scale of shame and...well embarrassment--to feel.
So, today I had my annual urologist visit.
(Woman can think gynecologist and sympathize with my plight.)
Back in 2005, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was out of the blue and I really handled it well. I got an appointment with Sloan Kettering's top diagnostician--a woman, by the way--and asked her what to do after she reviewed all my medical records.
(First I asked her why she was so interested in the prostate and she said: "it's a nasty little gland and I don't have one, so I can be totally objective.")
Then I said, "if I were your brother or father, what would you tell me to do?"
She answered, "jerk that thing out as soon as possible."
She gave me the name of a surgeon in Greenwich who she said was one of the 'best of the best' and I had my prostate 'jerked out'. Then radiation for a month. Then, for some reason, the urologist in Greenwich no longer took my insurance so I found one in Meriden-- my GP's urologist.
My blood work showed a problem and he gave me hormone injections for a year. Since then all has been well.
But my urologist had back surgery and my annual appointment had to be shifted to his partner, Dr. Wong.
Dr. Wong is (obviously) Asian and a woman. And she looks a lot like my daughter-in-law, Cathy Chen.
Once I realized the likeness, I got very nervous and started talking non-stop. I almost told her my life story before she did what urologists always do to men (women, think gynecological exam).
Having a young Asian woman who looked a lot like my daughter in law stick her finger up my butt was, I tell you, the ultimate embarrassment....
No kidding....
So, today I had my annual urologist visit.
(Woman can think gynecologist and sympathize with my plight.)
Back in 2005, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was out of the blue and I really handled it well. I got an appointment with Sloan Kettering's top diagnostician--a woman, by the way--and asked her what to do after she reviewed all my medical records.
(First I asked her why she was so interested in the prostate and she said: "it's a nasty little gland and I don't have one, so I can be totally objective.")
Then I said, "if I were your brother or father, what would you tell me to do?"
She answered, "jerk that thing out as soon as possible."
She gave me the name of a surgeon in Greenwich who she said was one of the 'best of the best' and I had my prostate 'jerked out'. Then radiation for a month. Then, for some reason, the urologist in Greenwich no longer took my insurance so I found one in Meriden-- my GP's urologist.
My blood work showed a problem and he gave me hormone injections for a year. Since then all has been well.
But my urologist had back surgery and my annual appointment had to be shifted to his partner, Dr. Wong.
Dr. Wong is (obviously) Asian and a woman. And she looks a lot like my daughter-in-law, Cathy Chen.
Once I realized the likeness, I got very nervous and started talking non-stop. I almost told her my life story before she did what urologists always do to men (women, think gynecological exam).
Having a young Asian woman who looked a lot like my daughter in law stick her finger up my butt was, I tell you, the ultimate embarrassment....
No kidding....
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