“I always feel like a traveler, heading somewhere, towards some destination. If I sense that this destination doesn’t, in fact, exist, that seems to me quite reasonable and very likely true.”
VINCENT VAN GOGH.
I’ve also always felt like a traveler, heading somewhere, towards some destination. I never found it. I suspect Vincent discovered that it did not exist on that sad July day in 1890 in Auvers-sur-Oise, France.
It has been well over a week since I last wrote here. I have been quite ill, experiencing persistent headaches and dizziness. I spent most of that time in bed. Even today, I still feel unwell, although somewhat less than the past seven days. Severe depression accompanied my physical ailments.
I don’t recall much of what transpired during the few hours I was awake and mobile during that time. I do remember a day when Naida cried out, “I am a worm wiggling in the mud.” On the morning of another day, Naida woke up and decided to recite some poetry. Without my hearing aids on, I couldn’t understand the words, but I could discern the rhymes and rhythms. I believed she was reciting Longfellow, specifically “A Skeleton In Armor,” one of her favorites. I was correct. Later I attempted to read my latest novel but gave up after struggling through one chapter.
While happiness often may be as simple as waiting to see what happens next – a principle upon which I’ve based my life – when you feel awful, however, waiting to see what happens next sucks. However, one should never underestimate the benefits of self-delusion. So, I am certain I will feel better tomorrow… or the day after.
During the past week or ten days, I’ve hardly written here. There seems to have been a change in my health and Naida’s as well. I appear to require more and more sleep to get through the day. Today, the first day of September, I attempted my usual stroll through the Enchanted Forest – about a two-mile walk. I had to stop and rest on benches five times to complete it. Each stop demanded about 15 minutes to regain my strength and breath.
Yesterday, I drove to the Golden Hills for my weekly lunch with HRM. He surprised me with his announcement that his true interest for college lies in languages. He expressed no difficulty in learning them. He already speaks English and Thai fluently and has some understanding of Italian. Recently, he has been teaching himself Japanese. He aspires to learn ten languages and listed them for me. When I returned to the Enchanted Forest, exhaustion forced me to bed, where I slept until seven PM.
I’m perplexed about what has been happening to me in recent weeks. Is it psychological, a result of depression and psychosomatic pains, or is it physical? It could be that I’ve been consuming too much news. Watching the news can lead to severe physical and mental decline.
Today, after breakfast, I returned to bed, feeling both physical and mental discomfort. Around 5 PM, I went downstairs. Naida was watching the news. I joined her. After about an hour, I developed a stomach ache and contemplated returning to bed. Would I be better off if I stopped watching the news and spent my time walking through the woods, or perhaps sleeping more and dreaming? I missed the Saturday Morning Coffee again today. I also learned that my dear friend Burma Richard is battling cancer.
On Sunday, I awoke with my usual headache and dizziness. After breakfast, I headed to CVS to pick up some prescriptions, although I shouldn’t have been driving in this condition. As I drove along Howe and prepared to make a left turn at the stoplight leading to CVS, I noticed a young black woman on the sidewalk to my right, screaming and beginning to run backward. A young man approached her angrily. Here began my series of poor decisions. Despite being an almost 84-year-old man, I believed I needed to intervene and prevent whatever negative event I perceived was about to occur. My second example of poor judgment was to turn the wheels of the car sharply to the right, intending to cross two lanes of busy traffic and park by the curb. My plan was to exit the car and prevent the anticipated incident. This resulted in blaring horns and screeching tires from the cars in the two right lanes. I quickly returned to my lane and reached the stoplight for my left turn. As I stopped, I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw the woman escaping down a side street, with the man turning around and walking back along the sidewalk.
I continued to the CVS parking lot. As I entered, four cars backed out simultaneously, directly towards me on all sides. Amid the chaos, I considered the incredible mathematical improbability of the situation, along with the equally likely mathematical probability that one of those drivers would collide with me. Surprisingly, none did. The car directly in front of me moved after a few back-and-forth maneuvers, allowing me to park in the space it vacated.
After collecting my medicines, I returned home. It was a gorgeous day, around 80 degrees with a gentle breeze. I decided to take a walk despite my headaches and dizziness. I had to stop at each bench along the way to rest. The weather was so delightful that I took some photographs. While resting on the second and third benches, I thought that Naida would enjoy this more than I did, and I decided to head back home instead of continuing the walk. I still needed to stop and rest on my way back.
Once home, I encouraged Naida to pause her memoir revisions and enjoy the day by going for a walk. So, she and the dog went out. I was still battling pain and dizziness, so I went upstairs for a nap. I considered increasing my thyroid medication slightly to alleviate the dizziness. I slept until around five o’clock. Although my headache and dizziness had eased, I was famished. I had dinner, and we watched “Schindler’s List” before going to bed – not the most uplifting film to dream about.
The new week began with a dream that left me awestruck for about ten minutes as I lay in bed. I was convinced that this would be one of those dreams forever etched in my memory, becoming an integral part of my life. Alas, by mid-morning, it had vanished. So it goes. On a positive note, I woke up feeling better – no headaches or dizziness throughout the morning. Maybe it was my thyroid after all. As positive as this seemed, we managed to watch “The Hours,” one of the greatest downer movies of all time, before leaving the house for lunch.
As we set off for lunch, we hadn’t decided on a suitable restaurant yet. While driving down Fulton near Fair Oaks, I remembered a place where we used to dine outdoors on the patio. We hadn’t been there since before the pandemic. Although we used to frequent it, I stopped going because I thought the menu had become mediocre. Since it was a beautiful day to dine outdoors – sunny and around 80 degrees – I suggested we give it a try. Naida agreed.
We were seated near two other residents of the Campus Commons, whom I had dubbed Big Bill and his girlfriend, Cheryl. Bill had once been the head of the FBI in Utah but resigned due to the Mormon influence there. He became a PI in the Bay Area until retiring and moving to our community. Cheryl also lived in our community and served on the HOA Executive Committee. After exchanging greetings and pleasantries, we sat down at our table and placed our orders. The menu seemed different, the food tasted better than I remembered, and I hadn’t enjoyed a meal this much in years. The prosciutto and melon appetizer with a sprinkle of pepper and sea salt, the caprese salad, the gnocchi with roasted peppers, and the corn risotto were all divine. I ate slowly, often closing my eyes to savor the flavors. As we were waiting for my espresso with lemon peel, Naida said, “Do you know what’s going through my head right now? Dry bones.” And then she began singing it softly. I joined in. Just in case here is the refrain:
Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around.
Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around.
Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around.
Now hear the word of the Lord.
After lunch, we returned home – and I still had no headaches or dizziness.
Around 5 PM, I decided it was a good time to go for a swim. I did just that, and it was refreshing. There were more people at the pool than usual, about eight in total. As they gradually left, I found myself alone by about 6 PM. So, feeling rejuvenated from my swim, I left the pool as well and headed back home.
Tuesday morning was great. I was awakened by the dog barking more hysterically than usual. I realized he was barking at the tar-spreading trucks that were to cover the streets and alleys of our neighborhood today. I had forgotten they would block our garages for the day. I had lunch scheduled with HRM, so I threw on my pants, put one arm into a shirt, slipped into some shoes, ran downstairs and into the garage, and drove the car out. I squeezed through two tar spreader trucks, passed the barricades by driving up on the curb, and eventually parked the car on one of the streets not scheduled to be covered today. I got out of the car, put my other arm into its sleeve, cinched up my belt, and began the walk home. I had not taken my walking stick with me, so with my uncombed hair flying about, my generally rumpled outfit, and my stagger, I trundled on looking like some ancient drunk just getting home after a long night.
Following breakfast, Naida and I listened to about two hours of the divine Ella Fitzgerald. I have always loved her. In person, she looks like everyone’s favorite aunt, and when she sings, she sounds like a 19-year-old skinny ingenue in a skin-tight sequined dress standing in the spotlight of a smoky nightclub somewhere in Harlem. On one song, Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, I think, Naida joined in. She held the keynote while Ella’s voice sparkled around it like fireflies on a hot August night, with Sachmo laying down a cool, raspy bass line. It was magnificent.
Although I had always enjoyed Fitzgerald’s singing, I was really introduced to her music by Bob Cavallo when we were freshmen in College. We went off to college together at Georgetown in DC and supported ourselves by running bands for college dances and holding crooked card games for the wealthier students who seemed to enjoy losing. Bob then went on to open a nightclub in DC, then managing the Lovin Spoonful, Earth, Wind, and Fire, Elvis Costello, and many others. One day I was in his office in LA, and he was extremely upset. “I’m selling a defective product, musicians. I’ve got to get out of this business.”
“What would you do?” I inquired. “Movies,” he responded. “I am thinking of making a movie, a rock movie.”
“Who will you get for a star?” I asked. “I have this kid in Minneapolis. He says he will fire me if I don’t get him a movie.” And that’s how “Purple Rain” was born. He followed this up with 12 Monkeys and a string of movies starring Bruce Willis. Later he returned to the music field as CEO of one of the major recording companies. I do not remember which.
Later I left for lunch with HRM. On the drive, I pondered my similarities with Leonardo Da Vinci. I am left-handed, so was he. I’m of Italian descent, so was he. He, of course, was a genius, and I am not. He, however, rarely finished anything, neither do I.
“You can’t change the path you walk; you can only change the side you walk on.”
Smirnoff, Karin. “The Girl in the Eagle’s Talons (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo Series)” (p. 349). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group.
I guess I also thought about the book I was reading, the seventh in the Millennium series that began with Stieg Larsson’s first of three books, “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo,” and after his death continued with a trilogy by another author followed by the first book in another trilogy featuring the same main characters, “The Girl In The Eagle’s Talons” by Karin Smirnoff. Perhaps I will write about it later.
Hayden and I had lunch at a Mexican restaurant that we like. He was excited about his upcoming trip to Phoenix on Friday for his sales training to market a new television broadcasting service. I, less so, being somewhat jaundiced about sales schemes like this (having participated in one or two myself). I then returned home, went for a swim, walked the dog, ate dinner, watched some TV that I promptly forgot, and went to bed.
The next day was even less notable than the day before. I did not leave the house or even change out of what I had worn to bed. Well, tomorrow is another day.
Thursday was worse. I tried to figure out what was happening. I failed. I considered going to the emergency room. Didn’t. I stayed in bed all day writhing in pain. I was convinced (not for the first time) I was going to die before morning. Didn’t. For some reason, I woke up feeling good for the first time in over a month. Not great… I still felt like an old man, even older than I felt a month ago, but the dizziness was gone along with the headaches. What was that all about? Will I feel good tomorrow also? Naida’s daughters opined that Naida and I have been suffering a virus, flu, or something. If so, why did she handle it so much better than I did? OK, I’m a wuss and a hypochondriac.
I do not recall what happened on Friday. Nothing good I imagine. Saturday started out the same, but Naida and I had a nice lunch at a nearby restaurant. At about 6pm, my sister and George arrived to spent the night. We went out to dinner at the marvelous Nepalese restaurant that Naida and I discovered a few weeks ago, Namaste Sacramandu.
The following morning we packed and left in Maryann’s car for Mendocino. Along with a stop at a the Blue Wing Saloon in Upper Lake for a late lunch. After the six hour drive we arrived in Mendocino and went right to sleep.
The Next morning we got up at about 10AM. It was sunny and warm for Mendocino so we took a walk with the dog. I tired quickly and returned to the house.
George dressed in his Mendocino VFD outfit was called out on an emergency. When he returned Naida and I were sitting on the sofa reading. We asked him what was the emergency. “An old woman was dying when we arrived,” he said. “A member of the family showed us the old woman’s ‘please do not resuscitate me’ document. She was unconscious, so we waited for her to die.”
Naida and I were shocked at this. “In your long career a a paramedic, did you see something like this offer?” “It was not common during my time in San Francisco but it did,” he said. “It was sad.”
“What was the saddest thing you have seen?” I asked. “Children,” he responded. He then added,
“There was a time, I was not working but at a ski resort when a young woman had been run over and killed. I couple of nurses and a doctor who were vacationing at the resort were trying to resuscitate her. I came by to help I took one look at here and said to them, I’ve seen this several times before, her brain was already oozing out from the wound in head. Then the woman’s fiancé came out and the last thing I saw was him, which her in his arms, rocking back and forth and crying.”
After breakfast Naida, George and I accompanied by Booboo the Barking Dog and Finn the Wonder Dog walked into town to buy some things. Naida bought some practical things like toothpaste which we had forgotten to pack. I, who recalled Naida telling me a few day’s ago that we needed to buy a fly swatter to deal with the invasion of fly’s and mosquitos that had taken over the house, marched into the hardware store and ordered their most effective and painful implements to slaughter small flying creatures that invade a home. I walked out with two traditional fly swatters, one for each floor in the house and one of those electric fly and mosquito killers that looks like a tennis racket. When I showed my purchases to Naida, she grabbed the racket, swung it about once or twice and said, “I’m a tennis player, you know. It’s all in the follow through.” So while George continued his walk, Naida and I, two well armed assassins, returned to the house, collapsed on the bed and slept for the next few hours.
We had a nice spaghetti and fish dinner that evening and sat around reading, playing on our computers or reprimanding the dogs. I felt quite well with only a slight headache.
The following morning, after breakfast, I walked with George and Finn to my favorite bookstore. After browsing for an hour or so I bought several books, a Sicilian cookbook for my sister, a tarted up copy of Lord of the Rings for me tarted up books library, a book of E.A. Poe’s poetry and short stories for Naida along with a guide to North American Hummingbirds, a book on Japanese folktales for HRM, and a bust of Inigo Montoya that also recites those immortal words, ‘Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father. Prepare to die.’”
The walk back to the house was exhausting forcing me to stop and rest several times along the way. Maryann attended a Mendocino County Board of Supervisor’s meeting. George played with Finn in the back yard. Naida continued to read a novel, and I wrote this.
After a nap, I took another walk this time towards the cliffs. I contemplated the view for awhile before returning to the house for dinner. I was pleased with myself for having made my step count for the day. That night we watched three episodes of Deathloch, a comic’ mystery that takes place way down under in Tasmania where the gender roles are as reversed as the seasons in the southern hemisphere
Today Wednesday, following lunch we napped most of the afternoon. Later we visited a new brew pub in Fort Bragg. I believe it will grow into one of the city’s foremost attractions. Delightful location, service, and beers.
In the middle of the night, Naida awoke with pains in her shoulder. I had to walk across the garden to the main house and wake up Mary and George in order to get some Tylenol. It seemed to work and Naida slept well the rest of the night.
The following morning, we slept late. After the usual morning rituals, I returned to the main house where George informed me that the bagels had arrived. Oh happy day.
Later, I walked into town to buy some Tylenol so as to avoid nighttime rambles in search of a pain reliever. I continued on through the town to the store selling random scientific implements and toys. I could find nothing for presents or for my pleasure so I returned to the bookstore. Nothing piqued my interest, but pursuant to my rule to never enter a bookstore without purchasing something, I bought another talking bust of Inigo Montoya and walked back to Mary and Georges house. So far today I have walked over 3,700 steps. Good for me.
That evening Mary George and I went to a new brew-pub named Tall Guy Brewery that had opened in Fort Bragg. It was a delight. I predicted it would become one of the future highlights of Ft. Bragg.
Later, we all went to have dinner at a seafood restaurant in Fort Bragg. It is a relatively new restaurant that none had eaten at before. It proved to be a wonderful experience. One of the better seafood restaurants that I have eaten at.
Papa Joe's Tales, Fables and Parables 