Sigh. For me, ripeness is now but a cherished memory. On the other hand, 2024 as we enter it is certainly not yet ripe, I fear it is destined to deteriorate significantly long before the year ends.
Watching humanity wriggle through another chapter of what we call history seems to me like observing bacteria in a Petri dish. Once the algae is consumed, they devour each other until none remain. Then, the Petri dish is cleaned for a new experiment, or in disgust, it’s tossed into the trash, and the lab lights turned off.
On the third morning of 2024, while lying in bed, Naida and I decided to sing some songs from Showboat before we began our day. The dog grew bored with the noise and moved to sit by the window, awaiting the appearance of a squirrel to bark at.
We eventually rolled out of bed by late morning, grabbed some breakfast, and settled in front of our computers. Naida was tackling her inbox, while I delved into my usual mix of factoids and opinions, diving into whatever obsessions caught my fancy for the day.
I reached out to my grandson, Anthony, and asked if he’d like to crash with us until March when he moves into his new apartment. Having an extra pair of hands around will definitely make getting our place sorted for the next phase of our lives much easier.
On New Year’s Day, I got a surprise call from Hayden, who was all the way over in Bangkok, enjoying lunch with none other than my old pal, Richard Diran, a.k.a. Burma Richard. Richard’s like a modern-day Renaissance Man. He’s an artist, adventurer, gemologist, ethnographer, explorer (and maybe even a smuggler, but we won’t dig into that), restaurateur, writer, and so much more. Some expat writers in Bangkok have even used him as inspiration for characters in their novels. He’s one of a kind, that Richard!
Hayden, his two friends with Richard Diran (Also called Burma Richard) having lunch at a restaurant on Soi 8, Bangkok Thailand.
On the fourth day of the new year, Naida and I set out for a leisurely stroll with our faithful canine companion, Booboo the Barking Dog. It was early afternoon, the sun shining down warmly with the temperature a delightful upper 60s – just perfect for an adventure. Seizing the moment, I decided it was time to jump back into my long-neglected exercise routine, now that the December plague that had knocked me out was finally retreating. Little did I know, things wouldn’t go quite as planned.
We casually strolled our way to the Nepenthe Clubhouse, where I ventured into the exercise room. With a smug grin, I assured Naida that I wouldn’t overexert myself, considering my nearly year-long break from serious exercise. I confidently hopped onto one of those intimidating machines and gave it my all for a whopping 30 seconds or so – clearly, my body had a bone to pick with me. Gasping for dear life, I surrendered and exited the torture chamber.
Desperately needing fresh air, I stumbled outside and collapsed into a chair by the pool, wheezing like an asthmatic pig attempting to impersonate a racehorse. That’s when Naida had a brilliant idea: she, too, would give this exercise thing a shot. Off she went back into the exercise room. A few minutes later, she emerged, declaring that she’d had enough of this nonsense too, promptly joining me in a neighboring chair, looking just as spent as I felt.
And so, there we sat, basking in the glorious sunshine, chatting about everything and nothing for a good hour or so. It took us that long to regain our dignity and composure after our feeble attempts at exercise. Once we’d fully recovered, we decided it was time to call it a day and retreated to the comfort of our home.
On Friday, around noon, I found myself glued to MSNBC, eagerly awaiting Biden’s speech in Pennsylvania to kickstart his re-election campaign. This election might very well be the most pivotal one in the history of our nation.
Biden delivered the best speech I’ve ever seen or heard from him. He set the tone for the upcoming presidential election by emphasizing that it represents a vote on the preservation of democracy. This message has the potential to resonate strongly with the voters, unless Trump manages to shift the focus of the press and the electorate onto other issues such as age, foreign entanglements, immigration, and the like. In the coming weeks, we’ll witness how Biden’s grand strategy unfolds in the press and the polls. If it gains traction, Trump will need to find a counter-issue.
Saturday brought gloomy weather, with steady rain. It wasn’t stormy, but it was definitely a good day to stay in bed. After breakfast, I loaded up my Kindle with a bunch of new books and returned to bed. I woke up around 5 and went downstairs. It was still dark outside. I wandered into the kitchen where Naida was busy. Still half-asleep, I gave her a peck on the cheek and stumbled my way into the studio. I pulled the computer onto my lap and read a fascinating article about wolves.
Did you know that there is no such thing as the ‘alpha’ male in wild wolf society? Only captive bred packs have a hierarchy; in the wild, packs share all responsibilities. Parents raise, teach, and care for their pups until they can go out on their own, and there are no fights in wild packs for dominance. No single wolf is in charge, so fights and challenges are usually situational. Brothers fight each other, sisters fight each other, brothers fight sisters… sounds like a typical family, doesn’t it? One overriding difference separates wolf society from ours – wolves don’t hunt for sport.
Much of our TV viewing is dedicated to news and political commentary. The growth of this type of entertainment, and the shift from news to what’s often called “infotainment,” was triggered by Reagan’s abolishing of the “Fairness Doctrine,” which paved the way for the rise of Fox News and similar media companies. Unfortunately, many of these outlets prioritize sensationalism and opinion over objective reporting, blurring the lines between news and propaganda.
Reflecting on my Sunday, I found myself pondering why my life now seems to revolve around the weather, the television programs I watch, and the books I read. Has it always been like this, or is it just a phase? Regardless, I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter much to me anymore. After all, I do have my memories.
As for Monday, I don’t recall much of what happened on Sunday. Shortly after waking up, I experienced an unusual bout of dizziness that persisted on and off throughout the day.
During my recent research on Aaron Burr, I became fascinated by his progressive stances in the early days of the nation. Despite his flaws, Burr vehemently opposed slavery, championed women’s equality, and supported immigrants’ rights. His legacy is complex, but it’s important to recognize his contributions to progressive causes in the midst of his personal controversies.
Tuesday was supposed to be my annual checkup, though I couldn’t help but wonder why I needed another one so soon. Nevertheless, these appointments provide some entertainment in my current routine. Despite the cancellation, I treated myself to lunch and a grocery shopping trip, followed by a well-deserved nap.
Wednesday morning brought a gray sky with a silvery hue, a somewhat poetic contrast to the darkness. While enjoying breakfast, we watched movies set in Mendocino, reminiscing about our visits to the area, adding a touch of nostalgia to the day.
I’ve been engrossed in “Country of the Blind,” a novel by Christopher Brookmyre. Despite its roots in mystery, the book delves into social commentary, criticizing the negative impact of media moguls like Rupert Murdoch. Brookmyre’s work serves as both entertainment and a thought-provoking critique of our society.
Later that afternoon, I visited my dentist, Dr. Smita Khandwala, for my annual teeth cleaning. Despite her heavy accent, I appreciate her patience and explanations during our appointments. Her office may seem dated, but her dedication to her patients is evident.
In the evening, after watching “Angela’s Ashes,” a captivating movie based on Frank McCourt’s memoir, we indulged in dinner at Lemon Grass, one of our favorite restaurants.
A few days ago, while going through a box of old family photographs sent by my daughter, I stumbled upon a forgotten picture of myself from 1971, shortly after my arrival in California. It’s amazing how such simple artifacts can evoke powerful memories and reflections on the passage of time.
Pookie in 1971 — The Hippy Years.
I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went downstairs and read for a while before returning to bed. I woke up at about noon on Thursday and went downstairs to have breakfast. Afterward, I recited to Naida the Buck Milligan introduction to James Joyce’s Ulysses, both in the Joycean original and the AI translation. She interrupted me before I was finished and went to her computer to fuss over some receipts from the sate of her books. I then read a bit more of the novel that I was engrossed in last night instead of sleeping.
I then sat for a while, staring out the window, wondering what I should do today to make getting out of bed worthwhile. I thought perhaps screaming while running naked through the streets of the Enchanted Forest would do nicely. However, when I looked up at the clock and saw it was almost 4 PM, I thought it would be better to have lunch before engaging in strenuous exercise. Given that there would be less than an hour of daylight remaining by the time I finished lunch, running naked down the dark streets in mid-winter would be ill-advised. So, I decided to shelve that idea for today and headed off to the kitchen.
Later, while watching one of the PBS shows, I received the following message from Richard Diran (Burma Richard):
“Hey Joe, so the last perfect day I had was with Hayden and his crew. The next day, my guts bloated like a Biafra watermelon. I went to the hospital for an MRI, and they said you have to check in at the emergency room.
I asked, ‘How about tomorrow?’
They replied, ‘Nope, today or you may be dead.’
I said, ‘Okay.’
So, the bladder cancer has extended to my colon. I had an operation and am currently in the hospital about to be discharged.
On January 22, the doctors will meet to decide the best way forward with treatment.
I do want to squeeze a bit more life out of this world for the sheer force of curiosity to see what madness lies ahead.
Love you!
R”
I was devastated. I spent a long time trying to put into words what I was feeling and what it all meant. Eventually, I gave up. Everything appeared inadequate. Death does not ask us when we would like for him to turn up at our door. I longed to visit Richard and spend some time with him — a last adventure, so to speak, but I am beyond the ability to sustain 20-hour plane rides. I sent him a note, expressing my concern, sorrow, and hope that he will prevail over his maladies and we would be able meet again.
When I finally went to bed, I couldn’t sleep. Thoughts about Richard swirled in my mind. In addition, I had been viciously attacked by two mosquitoes earlier in the evening, As a result, two large bumps have disfigured my forehead and itched a lot. So, at about 2 AM, I went downstairs to wrestle with my thoughts about Richard and later to finish up the novel I had been reading. I returned to bed after 4 AM and slept until 10:30 when the house cleaner arrived. Later, Naida and I, along with the dog, went to Mel’s for lunch. When we returned the housekeeper was still at work, so we waited a while for her to finish up and leave so that we could go upstairs for a late afternoon nap.
That evening, after watching a fairly awful movie, I listened awhile to Naida play the piano following which we went upstairs to bed.
On Saturday I got out of bed at about noon as usual. I spent a few moments wondering if this late rising indicated I was suffering from deep, perhaps terminal, depression. I almost immediately dismissed it. My life has been little more than alternating episodes of unwarranted euphoria and melodramatic depression now and then punctuated by brief moments of delusionary euphoria.
It looked to be another grey and gloomy day as I stared at it through my window. As I stood there I thought “enough of this. This should be a day of new beginnings.” I recalled Molly Trad’s poem:
I have a desperate attraction to new beginnings
Sometimes the numbers on the calendar look so beautiful
Dream big, be bright, believe in love and believe in yourself!
And I do
Today is an auspicious day
So, right then and there, I decided to sit on the sofa with Naida, watch television, and contemplate my new beginnings.
On Sunday, I woke up as usual at about noon, had breakfast, and sat down with Naida to discuss our plans for the day, if any. She mentioned that the Northern California Publishers and Authors group, an organization she founded over 20 years ago and now directed by the author M.L. Hamilton, was having an event this evening. It was being held at a place near us called the Flaming Grill, which was not far from our location. “Let’s go,” I said, “I’m up for it.” So, a bit later, after walking the dog, we headed off to the meeting.
The Flaming Grill is a well-regarded hamburger restaurant in Sacramento, located in a somewhat run-down shopping center near Alta-Arden. We sat in a section of the restaurant designated for the meeting. While perusing the menu, I noticed an item called “Gator Bite Po Boy.” I asked the owner/waiter if it was made with real alligator. “Yes,” he responded, “we order it from Louisiana. A couple of months ago, I was even able to order camel meat.” I decided to order it just to add to my list of life experiences. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad at all.
I sat at a table with two of Naida’s friends, the authors Tom Kando (“Humanity’s Future: The Next 25,000 Years”) and Frank Luna (“Red Mars”). The meeting focused on discussing what authors need to know about publishing their books in today’s market, which I found quite interesting. We left with a copy of a cheat sheet provided to the attendees.
Upon returning home, we watched the Sunday evening PBS lineup before returning upstairs to bed..
On Monday, I went to the Golden Hills for lunch with Hayden. He had just returned from a month-long trip to Thailand and Japan with two of his friends, Little Jake and Christian. I was eager to hear his stories. I picked him up at his house, and he gave me an amazing shirt that I loved. We decided to dine at a Mexican restaurant in Town Center. On the drive, I told him about the unfortunate news about Burma Richard. He was distressed by the news and shared several stories Richard had told them during their lunch. During lunch, we discussed some of his adventures on his trip. One interesting thing he mentioned was that they were scheduled to fly out of Honolulu on one of the Alaska Airlines planes of the same type that had its door fall off the day before, causing his flight to be delayed by almost a day.
Later, Naida, the dog, and I went for a walk. We walked up onto the levee along the American River, where 2 billion dollars had been spent to shore it up. The construction machinery had been removed, and the fencing taken down. This is what we saw:
We were surprised to see that much of the vegetation had been removed, leaving only bare dirt. A few steps further, we came across this:
Within about a month after the contractors left, the levee had already begun eroding into the river and needed temporary supports. This is just another example of what happens when you choose the lowest cost bidder.
Later that night we watch Antiques Road Show (of course). It was televised from Alaska.I do not know what is going on up there but those people there seemed to just have come out of the wilderness carrying the most valuable antiques we had ever seen on the show. And, yes I know only decrepits like us who have nothing better to do than watch this and what’s worse enjoy it. So what.
“The lie of time. Everything I’ve done and everything I’ve been is present in the same place. But we still think the thing that has just happened, or is about to happen, we think that’s the most important thing. My memories aren’t memories, my present isn’t present, it’s all the same thing,
Osman, Richard. The Last Devil to Die (A Thursday Murder Club Mystery) (p. 242). Penguin Publishing Group.
On my birthday, the 49ers lost. I’d hate to think of this as a recurring theme in my life.
That morning I woke up to phone calls and birthday messages from my daughter Jessica, son Jason and his family, Hayden, my sister Maryann and brother-in-law George, Peter, Barrie, Annmarie, and several others.
While waiting to leave for my birthday dinner, we watched the movie “Cop Land,” starring the likes of Stallone, De Niro, Keitel, Liotta, and more, set in New Jersey and New York. It was a good movie but a bit slow and ponderous. I couldn’t help but think it could have used a better director, perhaps someone like Scorsese. Despite the blood and corruption in the film, it made me nostalgic for New York. I had known many New York cops during my time there and was well aware of the city’s grittiness. As I pondered, I couldn’t help but mutter, “My memories aren’t just memories, and my present isn’t quite the present; it’s all a bit of a blur.” I’m not entirely convinced that’s a good thing.
Later, we headed to a restaurant called Namaste Sacramandu, a Nepalese/Indian restaurant that we love, for my birthday dinner. Naida’s two daughters, their husbands, and Hayden joined us. The food was delicious, and the company was delightful. We chatted about food and shared travel stories.
After dinner, Hayden kindly drove Naida and me back home and then headed back to EDH. Naida and I settled in to watch TV until bedtime. Thus I marked the beginning of my 85th year.
On the first day of my 85th year (or is it my second?), it was a Monday. I left for my first medical appointment of the year with my optometrist or ophthalmologist, or whatever you want to call an eye doctor, at 7:30 in the morning. After about three hours of examination, the doctor declared, “Nothing’s changed. You’re still going blind, but not until after you’re dead,” or something to that effect.
With that cheerful news in mind, I had a pleasant breakfast at Bella Bru in EDH, a place I hadn’t visited in quite some time. I filled up the car with gas and drove back home, where I indulged in a long nap.
After my nap, Naida and I took our dog for a stroll along the river. As we walked toward the river we passed an amusing Halloween tableau.
Following that little bit of amusement, we walked up to the top of the levee and down the other side toward the banks of the American River. As we walked along the brush toward the river we came across a man who seemed to be passed out on the path. Concerned, we asked him if he needed help. He raised his head without looking at us and mumbled, “No,” then laid back down. We continued our walk to the river, marveling at how, even at this late point in the year, the water levels were almost at flood stage.
Afterwards, we made our way back home and spent the rest of the evening watching movies on TCM. We caught “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” for what felt like the umpteenth time. So, that was how day one (or maybe two) of my 85th year unfolded.
Tuesday began with a visit to my primary physician’s office. They conducted an EKG, which revealed that my heart appeared to be in good shape, especially for someone of my age. After a hearty lunch, I headed for my blood and urine tests. Unfortunately, I haven’t received the results just yet. Following that, we took our dog to the dog park, and afterward, we settled in to watch a Joan Crawford classic, “A Woman’s Face.” Later in the evening, before heading to bed, we indulged in some Bette Davis magic with “Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte.”
As for Wednesday, I must confess, I have no recollection of it. I can only assume it was as exciting and action-filled as all my recent days have been. Now, it’s Thursday morning, and I’m enjoying breakfast. Naida is seated beside me, sipping her coffee. We’re tuned into “The View” and sharing our thoughts on Whoopi’s latest hairdo. Meanwhile, our dog is going crazy, barking at the leaf blowers outside. The weather forecast predicts a scorching temperature in the 90s this afternoon, setting a record for the date. Just a moment ago, Naida surprised me by saying, “I don’t usually eat breakfast, just lunch.” It’s amazing how, after all these years together, I’m still learning new things about her. Looks like we’re in for another thrilling day in the Enchanted Forest.
That evening as we were preparing for bed, we decided to sing together the song, What Lola Wants, Lola Gets from the broadway musical Damn Yankees. We also danced as we sang. I do not know why.
Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets
And little man, little Lola wants you
Make up your mind to have
No regrets
Recline yourself, resign yourself
You’re through
I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for
Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets
Take off your coat
Don’t you know you can’t win?
You’re no exception to the rule
I’m irresistible, you fool
Give in.
I woke up a little past midnight, and unable to return to sleep I ventured downstairs. I couldn’t help but revel in the serene embrace of the night. There’s something magical about the quiet hours, a time when I can easily lose myself in the enchanting world of a book. The pages seemed to whisk me away to far-off lands, and in this case, I found myself immersed in the contemporary charm of Finland in Antti Tuomainen’s mystery novel Beaver Theory.
I think I am especially interested in Finland right now because my sister and our dear friend Ester have been hatching plans to travel there in a few months hoping to witness the northern lights. Coincidently Kathleen Foote, whom I think some of you might know, I believe may be exploring Finland now.
Of all the natural wonders I’ve been fortunate enough to witness in my lifetime, the northern lights take the crown. They paint the night sky with hues of emerald and violet, a celestial dance that leaves you awestruck. The only thing that ever came close in terms of awe-inspiring beauty were the two tornadoes that, by some bizarre twist of fate, skirted me on evening on the very same trip when I first glimpsed the northern lights. It was like nature itself was putting on a show just for me!
But let’s get back to my nighttime reading rituals. You see, I’m not content with merely flipping through pages. I often find myself reaching for maps and scrutinizing photographs of the book’s settings. It’s a habit that helps me get closer to the characters and immerse myself fully in the story. Sometimes, if there’s room for one more, I even hitch a ride in the backseat of the car with the characters or play peekaboo through the bushes or windows like some peeping Tom.
The following morning after a hearty breakfast, I, along with Naida and our faithful companion Booboo the Barking Dog, embarked on a leisurely stroll through the Enchanted Forest. The weather was just perfect, with temperatures hovering in the high 70s, and not a whisper of breeze to disturb our tranquility. The sky, a deep, unblemished blue, framed the towering trees of the forest, casting them as verdant peaks against the canvas of the heavens.
At one point, as we settled on a bench to soak in the blissful silence and natural beauty, fate had a surprise in store. Along came a dog walker, with a whole fleet of seven Chihuahuas on leashes. The moment those Chihuahuas and Booboo caught sight of each other, any semblance of the peaceful serenity we had been enjoying shattered like glass tumbling from a window, crashing onto the sidewalk. We returned home shortly thereafter.
On Saturday, I had a delightful lunch with Hayden. We chatted about his exciting new job and his upcoming adventure to Japan and Thailand.
Then, on Sunday afternoon, I had to undergo some CT scans. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but it had to be done.
Monday rolled around, and it was hearing-aid day. Afterward, we rolled up our sleeves and got to work cleaning the house in anticipation of my son Jason’s visit. Unfortunately, he didn’t show up and didn’t respond to my messages. That evening, I finished reading Caimh McDonnell’s latest Bunny McGarry in America novel “Other Plans.” I love all the McGarry novels.
By Tuesday morning, I was growing genuinely concerned about Jason. I tried calling him, but there was no answer.
Naida and I spent most of that Tuesday morning diving into her impressive 1979 PhD thesis, titled “Leadership and Gender: A Comparative Analysis of Male and Female Leadership in Business, Politics, and Government.” It’s a masterpiece, and many urged her to publish it, but she declined due to her disappointment with academic career opportunities.
Her thesis primarily delved into the experiences of women leaders, using male leaders as points of comparison. The women she interviewed included a creator of prominent US business leaders, a US Senator, a US Cabinet member, California Assembly Speakers and other notable men and women leaders. One of the fascinating findings from her interviews with these “leaders” was that they all shared some common experiences. For example, according to Naida:
“By mid-high school they had all demonstrated some of the abilities that would enable them to achieve leadership positions in the future. The held school elective positions of every description, participated in sports, debated, and — a typically common achievement — played the lead role in the school play.”
Naida also shared that all the leaders she interviewed were considered somewhat on the margins, often coming from what could be termed as a less privileged social background, such as being poor or immigrants. At the time she wrote her thesis, it could be said that women in general were like immigrants, striving to fully integrate into American society. It’s only in the past two decades or so that women have truly begun to attain full citizenship in American society.
The immigrant experience has always been a wellspring of leaders in our nation, individuals who have contributed to its development and helped elevate their communities from being despised minorities to accepted citizens. As one legislator, whose parents hailed from a Communist country, put it:
“Natives of the area (hometown) tend to take a lot of things about government for granted, whereas immigrant parents are forever thankful that they live in this country…and they will bring out the fine qualities of living in this country…the importance of becoming a part of governments there much more vividly,,, I felt much stronger about certain issues than a lot of fellow students when I was going to school…[A]lso giving of yourself to do the things you can possibly do the country. I can’t quite describe it in words, but it was very, very instrumental in making the decision to run for office.”
During our discussion, Naida mentioned that during her time at Carmel High School, she became the first woman to be elected to the student council. Furthermore, she even managed to persuade the Harlem Globetrotters to pay a visit to the school for an exhibition, and afterwards, they all headed to Carmel Beach for a memorable party.
Finally I got in touch with my son, Jason. He had dental surgery last Friday and is still in a lot of pain, making it difficult for him to talk. Meanwhile, his wife, Hiromi, traveled to San Diego to visit their daughter, Amanda, who’s starting her first year at the University of San Diego.
Amanda at UC San Diego
Wednesday was pretty uneventful. On Thursday, I drove into the Golden Hills for lunch with Hayden. After I returned home, Naida and I decided to catch a movie – “Killers of the August Moon,” which we both enjoyed. Unfortunately, on the same day, there was yet another tragic mass shooting, this time in Maine. The Democrats called for sensible gun control measures, while the Republicans offered prayers and sympathy. It’s almost like the GOP should just change its acronym to NRA. It’s no secret.
This latest shooting marked the 36th mass killing in our country this year, according to The Associated Press and USA Today in partnership with Northeastern University. Shockingly, at least 190 people have lost their lives in these incidents (defined as four or more people dying within a 24-hour period, not including the perpetrator).
To put things into perspective, this year has seen the second-highest number of mass killings in a single year on record, with only 2019 surpassing it. Since 2006, there have been over 560 mass killings, resulting in the tragic loss of over 2,900 lives and the injuring another 2,000 individuals.
Moving on to Friday, I woke up around 11 AM. As I lay there, trying to peel my eyes open, it struck me that my lifelong hypochondria has been simply practice for getting old.
Once I managed to get up and check the mail, I discovered that my sister, Maryann, and her husband, George, had sent me a t-shirt for my birthday. It’s now my all-time favorite shirt. You see, books have always been my escape from people and reality. Wearing this shirt is like a silent declaration that I’m not avoiding anyone because they’re unbearable, but because I find reading far more captivating.
Later in the day, we went grocery shopping and then watched a documentary about elephants. Afterward, we delved into three episodes of Morgan Freeman’s narration in the series “Life On Our Planet,” produced by Steven Spielberg. The third episode depicted the third major extinction event when volcanic activity released carbon dioxide, causing a 6-degree increase in Earth’s average temperature and wiping out 90% of life on our planet. This transformation took approximately 60,000 years. To put that in perspective, in just the past century, our Earth’s median temperature has risen by almost 1.5 degrees, and it’s still accelerating. Halloween is just around the corner, and with that in mind, we headed off to bed.
The next morning, we attended our Saturday Morning Coffee gathering, my first in nearly three months. As usual, I missed the punchlines of jokes and most of the announcements, but it was good to reconnect. Afterward, we returned home and once again immersed ourselves in the melodious narration of Morgan Freeman for the next three episodes of “Life on Our Planet.” We had reached the era of dinosaurs. There was a lot of death and, well, a lot of sex. Well actually while death was exposed for all to see, sex was not. Courtship was. The sex itself was shielded from those of a certain sensibility like children. Why children must be shielded from sex but free to observe some of the most horrid examples of slaughter and mayhem I will never understand. Actually, courtship rituals are usually pretty interesting and attractive to an observer, but, unless you were a committed voyeur, to observe the act itself usually quickly becomes boring except for the participants themselves. I guess that is the essence of drama and comedy , it is all about getting there, being there is anticlimactic.
On Sunday, we wrapped up watching the Morgan Freeman series. We also napped a lot. I wasn’t feeling too great for most of the day. The temperature outside was in the 70s, which was nice. The Niners lost again. We hit the sack earlier than our usual bedtime.
Around 2:30 AM, I suddenly woke up. My stomach was upset from the bowl of baked beans I scarfed down right before bedtime. I took some Alka-Seltzer and made my way downstairs. There, I decided to dive into the latest book in C.J. Cherryh’s Foreigner series, “Defiance.” It’s crazy to think I’ve been reading these novels for nearly 50 years now, all 22 of them, one at a time as each was published . By the time I looked at the clock again, it was already 4 AM, and I still felt a bit queasy – all thanks to those beans, not the book. I figured I should try to squeeze in some more shut-eye before the sun comes up.
Monday morning, I finally rolled out of bed around noon. After breakfast, I took Naida to Kaiser to tackle some bureaucratic hurdles, but alas, we didn’t make much headway. To unwind, we decided to chill at a lovely coffee house nearby before heading back home.After returning home I spoke with my primary care physician’s assistant who told me that my blood test and CT scan were normal for someone of my age. I am not sure what that means. I am sure people of my age are dying all the time. It is like telling someone with a terminal illness your test results are normal for someone who is dying. I think a bowl of chicken soup will make me feel better than that diagnosis. Anyway, after that our evening proceeded as per our usual routine.
In the broader world, the conflicts in Israel and Ukraine persist. Trump continues to ignore judicial orders. The weather here in the Enchanted Forest is quite delightful, and to top it off, the dog didn’t get on my nerves today. If fact he was quite delightful. And never forget, if you make it through the night, tomorrow is another day.
Today is the last day of my 85th October, Halloween. There seems to be little evidence of Halloween here in the Enchanted Forest — a few houses with decorations and that’s about it. This morning we drove to the lawyer’s office to update Naida’s will. There’s no need to update mine since I have nothing and want nothing. In the afternoon we took the dog to the vet’s for a checkup and to purchase some of the medicines he requires.
Tomorrow comes November. Autumn is over. Winter is coming.
Papa Joe's Tales, Fables and Parables 