POOKIE’S ADVENTURES: Birthdays, Books and Bygones. (October 2023)

“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.

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POOKIE’S ADVENTURES: As October Ends 2023.

“It often feels like time only moves forward in a straight line, but in reality, it swirls around us. Everything we’ve experienced, the people we’ve loved and hurt, they’re all still here.”

• Osman, Richard, “The Last Devil to Die (A Thursday Murder Club Mystery)” (pp. 241-242), Penguin Publishing Group.

It’s been around five days since we got back from Mendocino. The weather in the Enchanted Forest has been fantastic, with temperatures in the mid-eighties and a gentle breeze. Today, I went upstairs to take a nap because I was feeling down for no apparent reason. When I feel like this and suspect my antidepressants aren’t doing their job, a short nap often helps boost my mood. However, it didn’t work this time, so I headed downstairs and walked into the studio.

As I looked at the green sofa, I noticed Naida lying there. She seemed to be having a fit – her eyes were partly closed, and she had a vacant look. Her hands were moving as if she were having a seizure. As I approached to see what was happening, I realized she wasn’t having a fit at all. She was playing an imaginary piano and silently singing along. When she saw me, she explained that she was playing and singing “It’s only a shanty in an old shanty town.” We sang a few verses together and then spent about an hour listening to various artists on YouTube who covered the song over the years. We heard versions by Ted Lewis, Mrs. Mills, Johnny Long, Coleman Hawkins, The Ink Spots, Doris Day, Jerry Lee Lewis, The Trailer Trash Jazz Band, Jimmy Wakely, and even one on a player piano. After that, Naida played it on her piano for a while. Not surprisingly, my depression had lifted.

It’s only a shanty in old shanty town

The roof is so slanty, it touches the ground

But my tumbledown shack by an old railroad track

Like a millionaire’s mansion is calling me back

I’d give up a palace if I were a king

It’s more than a palace, it’s my everything

There’s a queen waiting there with a silvery crown

In a shanty in old shanty town

I’d give up a palace if I were a king

It’s more than a palace, it’s my everything

There’s a queen waiting there with a silvery crown

In a shanty in old shanty town

Friday passed like any other day, with nothing particularly noteworthy and little to complain about. About a month before my upcoming week-long trip to my sister’s house in Mendocino with Naida, I had been experiencing severe headaches, dizziness, and fatigue. However, by the time we returned to Sacramento, these symptoms had seemingly disappeared and stayed away until today. This leads me to suspect that these symptoms may be more related to allergies and the recent heatwave in Sacramento than any other causes. Nonetheless, I believe it’s a good idea to have them checked out.

Now, it’s Monday afternoon, and I’m not really in the mood to recount my weekend activities. I do remember it being fairly enjoyable, though not particularly memorable.I’ve realized that I’ve grown tired of the journal format for this section of “This and That.”

Today is Thursday, and I had my weekly lunch with HRM. During our meal, we discussed his recent trip to Arizona while savoring a Stromboli at our favorite pizza place, Formaggio in EDH. I also had a visit from my daughter Jessica for the first time in over three years. She stopped by for breakfast on her way to and from DC. The rest of the week was uneventful, and today, the dog barked a lot.

Today is Saturday, the last day of September, and it’s 1 AM as I write this. I’m not entirely sure why the timing matters, but here it is. It’s a record of time or memory. Time, in the grand scheme of things, may not even exist, and memories tend to fade with time. Yesterday, I sent Aline the wool scarf and hat that my friend in Thailand knitted. It was the last scarf I had. It was made with pink and blue wool, and the cap was pink and blue as well. I still have more caps left. I also had a very stressful time with Naida and her daughter trying to straighten out Naida’s medical insurance with Kaiser, resulting in a contretemps between Naida and me that lasted well into the evening.

Tomorrow, October begins. I’ve always liked October, partly because I was born in October, but also because it’s a fantastic month. Growing up on the East Coast, October was the best month of the year. The fall colors, the clear crisp air, and driving into the Berkshires created a vivid picture of pleasure in my memory.

Today, Sunday, October 1, I was reading the latest Cormoran Strike novel while Naida was watching the KVIE Art Auction to raise money for the public TV station. For some reason, she decided to start bidding and ended up winning an art photo of the Barnes and Noble store in Sacramento. She mentioned that it was where her career as an author began. We drove to the studio to pick up the framed photograph, which was quite exciting, or maybe “exciting” isn’t the right word. It did get us out of the house, though. Later, after returning home and dropping off the artwork, we took the dog and drove to the frozen yogurt shop to celebrate. Oh, and the Niners won again. Before going to bed, we watched “Airplane I and II,” so all in all, October, my favorite month, started out well.

On Monday, I woke up early to go to my hearing-aid provider for a hearing test to figure out why my hearing aids no longer seem to work as well. I made a mistake and arrived an hour early, so I left to have breakfast. After returning and completing my hearing test, it was determined that I am most likely going deaf in my left ear. It’s an interesting thing about aging – things on one’s body seem to constantly fall apart or stop working. As one of America’s three greatest philosophers, Rosanna Rosannadanna, once said, “It’s always somethin’.” (The other two are Scarlett O’Hara and Groucho Marx)

It’s Saturday night now, and I don’t think anything particularly noteworthy happened this week. The temperature has been in the 90s, which is quite hot for October. I had my usual lunch with Hayden, and Naida’s son David stopped by. Naida got him to change the light bulbs. Some days I felt good, and some days not so much. We’re currently watching “Love Story.” So, to wrap it up, here’s a quote:

“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)

There, I feel better now.

Wednesday evening. I’ve mostly been hanging around the house, pondering the cause of my lethargy. I recently read an article about people who are obsessed with reading books on their computers or smartphones. Given my tendency to believe that my slightest discomfort is life-threatening, I concluded that my lethargy might be due to my addiction to small screens. I did have lunch with Hayden yesterday, and he told me how he and Little Jake are progressing with their efforts to learn Japanese before their planned return to Japan in December.

The Arab/Israeli war has taken the media’s attention away from the Russia/Ukraine conflict. The Republicans in the House of Representatives are still in turmoil, despite being in power for almost two years. Does this indicate that the current Republican Party is incapable of governing?

On Friday, I remember having a meeting with my dermatologist and a later one with my PP for my annual check-up. So far, everything seems fine, except for unusually low blood pressure. On Saturday, Naida attended the Saturday Morning Coffee event while I slept in until noon. We then watched some westerns on TCM, followed by an Alain Delon and Ann Margret noir film set in SF.

 

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POOKIE AND NAIDA’S TRIP TO ITALY — Part II. The first two days in Rome — Day One.

”It’s the people, in the end, isn’t it?”… “It’s always the people. You can move halfway around the world to find your perfect life, move to Australia if you like, but it always comes down to the people you meet.”

                Osman, Richard. The Bullet That Missed (A Thursday Murder Club Mystery) (p. 336). Penguin.  Publishing Group.

Rome: I lived in Rome from1968 to 1972 and have visited there about every three years since then sometimes staying for as long as three or four months. I consider it as much my home as where I lived now. Some cities may be more beautiful or have more spectacular monuments but none has the layers of history that Rome has close at hand in almost every nook a cranny, most of which the average tourist inevitably misses. There is Etruscan Rome, Republican Rome, the Roman Empire Rome, Medieval Rome, Jewish Rome, Baroque Rome, Papal Rome, Victorian Rome, and Fascist Rome all of which lie about like shards of historical detritus ignored by visitors and tourists alike as they rush off on their way to the tourist Meccas of St Peter’s, The Pantheon, The Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps and a few others. This is only the smallest part of my Rome. My Rome is not hidden. Enter any church, any building, any neighborhood any alleyway or path and you with discover artistic and historical marvels that most will miss as they trundle by with their noses in their guide books. That’s my Rome.

   On our first full day in Rome we woke up not particularly early, dressed and set off for the day. The Hotel we were staying at was nestled adjacent to the Piazza Esedra colonnade that marked the entrance and the curved colonnade of the massive old Roman baths of Diocletian. We had breakfast at a cafe nestled among the columns. From out table we could see the large Esedra fountain and the looming repurposed buildings of the baths. I recalled when I first lived in Rome in 1968 through1972 a few blocks from here just off Via Nazionale, I had aspirations of becoming a poet before realizing both a lack of talent and commitment. I became an International lawyer instead with an office located in a building at the top of the Via Veneto with a view overlooking the Borghese Gardens. The traffic around the Piazza was much less then and late at night I would sit by the fountain and write many of the poems I would read at coffee houses with a small group of young aspiring expat poets with talent and commitment that matched mine.

Piazza Esedra at about the time I lived on the street in the street (Via Nazionale) upper left of the photograph.

After breakfast we crossed the plaza and entered the Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri basilica. The church is located within the ruins of the frigidarium of the old baths. Unprepossessing from the outside, it is one of Romes least known and greatest marvels. It is also one of my favorite places and can be explored without the hordes of tourists that so mar ones enjoyment of some of the more well known attractions in the city.

Once you pass inside one discovers Michelangelo’s last architectural commission and the titular Church of Rome. It is also a repository of the science of the era.

After our visit there we walked down nearby Via Porta Poinciana and on to the intersection of Via Qurinale and Via Quattro Fontane at an  intersection containing four fountains aptly named four fountains (Quattro Fontane). At one of the corners sits another of Romes less known but equally magnificent attractions, the little church of  San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, Borromini’s architectural masterpiece.

 Unfortunately, it was closed so we turned down Via Quattro Fontane and passed the old location of the British Council Library where I used to spend my days reading at a little desk by a window overlooking the street. There one day, I discovered a large book that contained the complete seven edits by James Joyce of his novel Finnegan’s Wake. I spent many happy hours going through it. Further on down the street, we went into the Barberini Palace Museum. Naida’s shoulder and neck pains had gotten to the point where she could barely continue walking.

 The Palazzo Barberini a 17th Century Palace designed primarily by Carlo Maderno,  Francesco Borromini, and Gian Lorenzo Bernini, three of Italy’s most famous and distinguished architects. Their patron was Maffeo Barberini, of the Barberini family, who ultimately became Pope Urban VIII one of the most corrupt Popes in history. It was said of the  Barberini’s “What the barbarians did not steal, the Barberinis did.” It now houses the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, the main national collection of older paintings in Rome. It is one of the worlds finest museums featuring what maybe the world’s greatest collection of Renaissance, Mannerist, and Baroque paintings. I was attracted, as I always have been, to the museums collection of paintings by Caravaggio and his followers. As we toured the collection Naida often sat and rested to relieve her aches and pains while I wandered through the collection. One word of advice when visiting a palace in Italy always look up. You will inevitably discover some of the finest works of art painted on the ceilings.

    After leaving the museum we continued down Via Quattro Fontane, past Bernini’s Fontana del Tritone and up Via Sestina. As we walked along Via Sestina we stopped in the Borsellino Hat Shop where I intended to buy this years hat. tI was quite expensive and I could not decide between a Panama or a fedora. After leaving the store w walked on toward Trinita del Monte past the Hassler and the Hotel de la Ville where I used to stay when visiting Rome. At the top of the Spanish Steps we stopped to take in the view and and fight off street venders. We then walked down the steps and past Bernini’s Fontana della Barcaccia (The literal translation of Barcaccia is the “Fountain of the Leaky Boat.” This fountain was built as a monument to the great flood of the river Tiber in the Christmas of 1598. During that time, Rome was flooded in its entirety and the only possible to travel about was in boats. According to some stories, a boat was left in the square when the flood water subsided.)

           We then walked a few paces down Via Condotti and entered Antica Cafe Greco (The café was named after its Greek (Greco in Italian) owner, who opened it in 1760. Historic figures including Stendhal, Goethe, Arthur Schopenhauer, Bertel Thorvaldsen, Mariano Fortuny, Byron, Georges Bizet, Hector Berlioz, Johannes Brahms, Franz Liszt, Keats, Henrik Ibsen, Hans Christian Andersen, Felix Mendelssohn, James Joyce, Gabriele D’Annunzio, François-René de Chateaubriand, Orson Welles, Mark Twain, Friedrich Nietzsche, Thomas Mann, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, Nikolaj Vasil’evič Gogol’, Edvard Grieg, Antonio Canova, Harriet Hosmer, Giorgio De Chirico, Guillaume Apollinaire, Charles Baudelaire, Wagner, Levi, María Zambrano, Lawrence Ferlinghetti and even Casanova have had coffee there.) I had hoped to have coffee and a light lunch there while giving Naida a rest. As we sat at a table we noticed a large camera crew and what looked like actors filling the place. A waiter came by and said they were making a movie. I responded, “Great, we will just sit her and order and watch. Maybe we will get into the film.” “That would be impossible” he said. “Well, my partner has to use the restroom. Can we at least do that”, I responded. “That would be impossible too” he answered and ushered us out of the place.

    We walked back to the Piazza de Spagna found a public restroom and  I sat on a bench while Naida enjoyed to adventure and romance of one of Rome more interesting public facilities. After that, we walked past my fathers old high School when hi lived in Rome (The family lived on the same block as Mussolini at the time) and entered a Chinese/Italian restaurant that seemed to cater primarily to Chinese tourists. We had an interesting and quite tasty lunch after which we crossed the Piazza once more and entered a building located at the base of the Spanish Steps that housed Keats Shelley memorial museum one of my favorite spots in the city and one that I make sure I visit whenever I am in Rome.

    The memorial is located  in the rooms that Keats lived in in Rome and where he died and includes not only the room in which he died but also its furnishings. The museum contains not only an extensive library of works by Keats, Shelley, Byron, Hunt and Browning but and interesting collection of memorabilia including the vial of poison that Shelley carried around with him to use should he find life to be too boring or insufferable. Keats, Byron, and Shelly all died within a time span of just thirty-eight months from each other. Keats died of Tuberculosis, Byron of a respiratory infection and Shelley in a boating accident. The Courier, a newspaper favored by Tories, who hated Shelley for his liberalism and atheism, printed the news of his death with this vindictive, tasteless obituary: “Shelley, the writer of some infidel poetry, has been drowned (sic); now he knows whether there is a God or no.” 

 We decided to head back to our hotel but thought it a good idea to visit the Trevi fountain first. It was only a few blocks from the Spanish seeps and more or less on our way. As we left the Piazza de Spagna, we passed Basilica di Sant’Andrea delle Fratte another church that the architectAntica Cafe Greco had a major influence on its design. We went inside. At the sides of the presbytery are two angels (1667-1699) by Bernini, the Angel with the Crown of Thorns and the Angel with the Superscription . They were originally intended for the Ponte Sant’Angelo, but Pope Clement IX considered them too valuable to be exposed to the elements and they were later moved here and replaced on the bridge with copies.

After leaving the church, we passed to the warren of small streets and alleys on the way to the museum, I pointed out the first and last place I ate brains. I had stopped there for lunch and asked the waitress/owner of the place to serve me her best dish. “Cervelli” she replied. I did not know what that meant until after I had complemented her on the meal.

    The Fontana di Trevi was overcrowded and obnoxious as are most of Romes more famous attractions. As I stood there it reminded me about the time I had visited Rome In about 1973 or 4. It was about midnight when I found myself at the fountain. I had recently seen Fellini’s La Dolce Vita so of course I decided to go for a swim — more like a wade. That was not enough to slake whatever Itch possessed me, so I climbed the fountain and sat of the shoulder of the statue of Oceanus. At that point, the police came, ordered me down, laughed at me, and sent me on my way.

After leaving the fountain Naida and I climbed the steep street that led to the Piazza del Qurinale and the residence of the president of Italy,. We walked past the palace and down the Via Del Qurinale and stopped at a little park to give Naida a rest to take some photographs and then continued on.

    We passed Bernini designed Basilica Sant Andrea al Quiranale which was closed for repairs and restoration and Borromini’s San Carlino all Quattro Fontane, also closed. It was a shame because here was someplace where one could compare the styles of the two architects — Borromini with his cerebral and mathematic inspiration that ushered in the Baroque style of architecture and that of Bernini with his exuberant flourishes and theatrics that to me almost prefigured the Rococo. Bernini, having tired of the applaud given to Borromini’s San Carlo designed St Andrea specifically to outshine his rival. I do not think he succeeded.

    I was disappointed by the closure of the two churched As we used to say, “One thing is consistent in Italy. When arriving at museums and other sights in Italy, no matter what you may have been told they are sempre chiuso.”  We did however stop and visit Church of Saint Bernard ‘alle Terme’. The church, built on the remains of a circular tower which marked a corner in the southwestern perimeter wall of the Baths of Diocletian (its twin is today 225 meters southeast from San Bernardo alle Terme). These two towers flanked a large semicircular exedra; the distance between the towers attests to enormous scale of the original structure.

    We left that church and I decided that since it was virtually across the street that we see if the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria was open. The church, the only one completely designed by Carlo Maderno, is mostly known for the Bernini magnificent and lascivious sculpture of the Ecstasy of St. Teresa. Unfortunately or fortunately, we entered just as high mass was about to begin. We sat, stood, and kneeled through the ceremony. It brought back old and mostly pleasant memories. I do not know what Naida thought of it, other than I assume a longing to return to the Hotel to lie down and rest her aching body. According to the pedometer on my phone, we had walked over five miles that day something I firmly believe 83 year olds should never do. Anyway, after the mass, we moved over to the Cornaro Chapel, where the Bernini work resided. Usually, I stand in front of it for a while savoring its beauty and its humor (if some of the stories about the sculpture could be believed), however, it was obvious Naida was eager to return to the Hotel before I could complete my Bernini, Saint Teresa and the Cornaro family lecture. So we left, returned to the Hotel and slept until late next morning,

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POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN PRETTY LITTLE MAY. (May 20, 2022)

 

 “Many years ago, everybody here would wake early because there was much to do and only so many hours in the day. Now they wake early because there is much to do and only so many days left.”

                Osman, Richard. The Thursday Murder Club (A Thursday Murder Club Mystery) (p. 42). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle  

 

 

   Well, on Monday, May 9th, I woke up a little after noon. I hadn’t wanted to. I had told myself last night I had a lot to do today. Perhaps the reason for my late awakening was because we watched that great silent movie “Greed” on TCM last night until 1:30 PM. The movie was directed by Erich von Stroheim and starring Zasu Pitts two of my favorite names that, nevertheless, I believe would better fit characters in a fantasy novel than living human beings. It lasted over four hours. Even so, it was considerably shorter than the 8 hour version originally produced by von Stroheim. 

 

Whatever the reason for my late awakening, I staggered downstairs, prepared my usual breakfast and looked out the window to see a heavily overcast sky. I decided the day was looking unpromising for my plans. I considered returning to bed after breakfast. Decided it was a good idea and so I did. While lying there in bed, I wondered why would someone with a relatively short time left spend so much of it in bed dreaming. Decided dreaming was as good a use of the time left to me as any, rolled over, and fell asleep.  

 

I woke up at 5:30 PM. One would think I had lost a day or was lazy. On the contrary, I had several dreams. In the one I remember, I was much younger (At my age it is usually a good thing to be much younger in my dreams). We were quite poor (nothing new there). I was upset (nothing new there either). Apparently, someone had been leaving so many things in my room there was little space left for me. So, I piled those things into big boxes and bags to throw away.  I noticed most of it was actually mine or I liked, so I ended up putting most of it back. My mom, pleased that I was cleaning things up, gave me a big sack of things to throw away. I looked inside and liked what I saw in there so I dId not throw it away either. The reason for all this cleaning and throwing was that we were soon to be moving into the country, to a place I had gone to many times before in my dreams. My mom was happy we would have more space but she did not like the kitchen in the new house. I liked the place we were moving to also but I worried that I would be bored living somewhere so rural. I was also concerned that since it was so far from my school it would take hours every day for me to go there and back.

 

So, you may think I have had a lazy, wasteful day made worse by the diminishing number of days I have left, but actually I seem to have worked quite hard and while I did not accomplish that much, I did try.

 

After waking up, I spent a little time researching the causes of sleeping excessively during the day after which I walked the dog. Then following a light dinner I returned to bed. I am very tired. Perhaps my allergies are kicking up.

 

The view from a bench along my walk.

The next day, Tuesday, I discovered I was full of shit. I was not the lazy bastard I was pretending to be. I was sick. I woke up feverish, vomiting, pains in my chest, gloopy yellowish stuff coughed up from my lungs, and yes I was still exhausted. I spent the day in bed. We have some of those COVID home testing kits, but I could not read the instructions, my eyesight seemed to have clouded up and the printed words seemed too tiny to read, even with a magnifying glass. Maybe tomorrow. 

 

I am glad to learn I am sick and not suffering from a moral failing. The dog seemed concerned. He spent most to the day guarding the bedroom and he rarely barked. I need to rethink my relationship with him.

 

Better today Wednesday. Not much but better. I don’t feel as ill as I have the past few days, but the lethargy and headaches remain. It was my brother-in-law George’s birthday today, or was it yesterday? I  sent him some books. Happy Birthday George. It is my daughter Jessica’s birthday next week. I sent her some books also. This evening Naida walked the dog to the Dog Park. While she was walking the dog, I stayed home and ate a ravioli dinner. I had spent most of the day in bed and was still in my underwear when she returned and brought home a friend and her dog from the dog park. The dog’s name was  COVID. 

 

Speaking of COVID, before sitting down to dinner, I took one of those self-administered home COVID tests and it came up negative. Hooray for me, whatever is afflicting me it may not not COVID. I am sure it is something worse.

 

I tried to have lunch with Hayden in the Golden Hills. Stopped first to shop at Nugget Market in town center. Felt sick, became very dizzy and vomited in the parking lot. Drove back home to the Enchanted Forest and went to bed. Later, I took my temperature. Finding it below normal, I did some research regarding this information and some of my other symptoms and found that it all pointed to possible Hypothyroidism so I upped my Thyroid medicine and continued trying to set up doctors appointments. Friday morning I felt a bit better, but no appointments yet.

 

Finally, did get an appointment with my primary care physician for June 1. He did not think much of my hypothyroid idea. I did not sleep much last night. Got up about two and stayed downstairs wandering through the internet until Naida also got up. We later walked over to Nepenthe Club House for the Saturday Morning Coffee. It was better attended this week than it has been for the past few weeks. Peter (the nice guy) and his girlfriend Joan asked me about the controversy reported in the news about proposed restrictions on the owners of property on the top of the crumbling bluffs in Pacifica. They had seen a program on TV and were concerned about the homeowners being mistreated by the proposed Coastal Commission policy of Managed Retreat in areas of extreme bluff erosion. I managed to quiet their fears with my usual seemingly reasonable bloviation. Later at home, I did some research and was surprised I was mostly correct. The homeowners objected to having the Local Coastal Plan contain the option of public purchase at current appraised value of lands subject to rapid erosion due to the effects of climate change. They believed that that option would lower the value of their property and interfere with their ability to sell their properties at a higher price to a gullible purchaser.

 

Later Naida. the dog. and I had a very long walk through Enchanted Forest. It was the longest walk I had taken for the past 3 weeks. Perhaps, increasing my thyroid medication dosage experiment is working.

 

Sunday, I was feeling much better. I finished breakfast at 2PM. We watched some cooking shows. The temperature was expected to reach into the 90s again today. I am committed to swimming today.

 

Well I guess I was not as committed as I thought. After breakfast, I went upstairs to put on my swim trunks and take my medicines. I fell asleep until 5PM and while it remained nice swimming weather we took the dog to the Dog Park instead. Naida reminded me there was to be a full eclipse of the moon that night. 

 

That night we drove to the levee behind the Dog Park because the trees in the heart of the Enchanted Forest did not give us a broad view of the sky. We had some difficulty finding the moon at first because of the clouds in the sky. Finally we saw the moon for a few moments as the shadow began to move across it just before it disappeared behind the clouds.

 

Well, one week has passed since I began writing this epistle. What if anything have I accomplished during that week? Let’s see. I slept a lot. I worried about my health to the point of obsession. Walked the dog. Saw part of a lunar eclipse. This appears to have been one of those weeks in one’s life that one would usually forget, not because it was bad but because it was eminently forgettable. Nevertheless, I recorded it here, not that I expect anyone would read it. But there it is, Joey’s week hanging up there in a Cloud somewhere — for how long, I have no idea. It is all sort of biblical really. 

 

It is now almost two o’clock. I am still in my PJs. I ate breakfast and wrote this. Now, I will go upstairs, shower and dress. That should take at least an hour. After which I will say to myself, “Onward and upward” or something equally inane and start my day. I really love being self-absorbed — I’m sure you’ve noticed.

 

Wednesday, I do not remember Tuesday, nor what I did Monday after I dressed to start my day. This happens a lot more now — not dressing to start the day, but forgetting whole days. I do know that beginning yesterday here in the Great Valley the temperature is expected to remain in the high 90sF and low 100sF. That seems like very hot for “pretty little May.” That is something else I realized about being old old. Not only do you forget things, but the weather and temperature seem to have become more important to you than to anyone other than farmers. Why is that I wonder? And as long as I sit here wondering and exercising my fingers on the computer keyboard why does the dog, who has snuggled up to me here on the sofa, smell so bad. He is a good dog though, all things considered. For example, when I go upstairs for my daily nap he follows me up and lies on the bed next to me or by the window. When I wake up and start back downstairs he runs in front of me barking like an insane… dog announcing to Naida my return from the underworld. 

 

At about one-thirty in the afternoon, I left for the Golden Hills to have lunch with Hayden. As I drove I listened to more of Cloud Cuckoo Land. I picked up Hayden at his house and went to Nugget’s for pizza. It was surprisingly better than usual. While there, we talked. He seems somewhat more concerned and confused about his future. We talked about that for a while and about his trip to Thailand next month. After lunch we drove to the CSD. His friend Ethan was there. Ethan was the lad whose mother had been murdered. His father tracked down the murderer and killed him.  He eventually was convicted of manslaughter but has been released from prison a year or so ago. When I first met Ethan, he was pretty messed up. His friendship with HRM has helped him a lot. It was good to see him. He seem’s to still be doing well. Hayden’s girlfriend Krista was there also, she piled into the car and we drove back to H’s house. Krista will be spending a month in NY this summer attending acting school while H and his friend Jake fly off to Thailand.

 

I then drove back home. When I got there I was exhausted and immediately took a nap. Later Naida and I watched some movies including Jack Benny’s A Horn Blows at Mid-night. It is no wonder Benny made jokes about it on his radio and television shows. If you do not know who Jack Benny is, then you must be less than 65 years old. For those under 65 you might as well ignore it since it would be as alien to you as the so-called Roaring Twenties are to me. I mean, do I really need to know about Clara Bow? Did the the existence of the “It Girl” have any impact on my life? Can it even be used as a meaningful figure of speech? If I mentioned I saw a Clara Bow movie last night and felt moved by it, would it in anyway improve your day?

 

The next morning I got up at about 11AM. I do not know why I have begun to do that — sleeping so late in the mornings. Perhaps in this case it was because we did not go to sleep until 2 AM (watching Benny lay an egg). Anyway, while eating breakfast Naida and I discussed the story of Roger Belair who had so mistreated her mom during Naida’s teen age years. He did not beat her but was a master gaslighter instead. Men that gaslight women are not very different from wife beaters. They both hate woman and themselves and probably have repressed gender orientation issues. But, while the wife beater overtly reveals his shame, the gaslighter, a sociopath too cowardly for physicality, acts out of pure malice.

 

Enough of pop psychology for the day, it is toying with 100F outside, the sky is a cloudless blue and I am committed to resume swimming today no mater how poorly I feel otherwise.

 

At about 3PM with the temperature having risen well into the 90s, Naida, the dog an I set off to the pool dressed in our pool gear, mostly bathing suits and towels. There was no-one at the pool when we arrived. We entered the water and I began my laps. A couple our age then arrived. I finished my laps and left to sit in the shade by the side of the pool. Naida ever eager to engage someone in conversation later told me the the man told her he was 81 and his girlfriend as he referred to her was 83. He told her he found it amusing that his girlfriend would never say someone they knew had died preferring to refer to them as having “popped off.” 

 

Naida and her two new friends in the pool.

At about five thirty, two more people arrived just before we left to return home. At home after showering we laid on the bed with the dog between us and listened to Chopin’s Concerto No 2, The Death March followed by Mozart’s “Lacrimosa dies illa.” The composers and performers made death appear to a glorious end to life. If so, why does the last few years have to be so miserable. On the other hand, now and then we do have great days like today.

 

It is Friday about 2PM as I write this. Although it is pleasantly warm outside and the sun is shining, the wind is gusting up to 30MPH. I have recently finished breakfast and my morning computer routine. If you must know most of my days go like this — in order: 1) Review and respond to recent emails. 2) Peruse Quora, Brad DeLong’s blog, headlines from The NY Times and Washington Post. 3) Review NinersNation blog followed by 49rs Webzine. 4) Read Huffington Post. 5) Wade through Daily Kos (Review and some days write a post that is mostly ignored) 6) look through Facebook. 7) Scrutinize Trenz Pruca’s Journal choose and post five articles in Facebook. 8) Check Papa Joe’s Tales and post on Facebook. 9) Check This and That blog chooses an item to repost on either TPJ or PJT and once every two weeks post a new entry into T&T. 10) Write something here in This and that from re Thai r ment by 3Th. 11) Check my to do list and do something on it if I feel up to it. 12) Read a few chapters in the latest novel I am engrossed in. 13) Repeat all the above one more time. After this I go back upstairs take my pills, brush my teeth, shower, take a nap, dress, return downstairs, have lunch, repeat 1 to 12 above, walk the dog, eat dinner, repeat 1 to 12 one last time, watch television, go back upstairs and prepare for bed, go to bed and sleep, wake up at 3:30AM go downstairs read more of my novel, return upstairs, sleep until 10:30 AM, begin all again. Now and then I break this schedule to do the things I write about here it T&T. 

 

Today, however, I had beans for lunch.

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