“A fanciful and unrealistic approach to the laws of probability makes people try their luck in situations that have nothing to do with luck – be it personal relationships or making a quick buck. For this reason, I didn’t gamble in any way, shape or form. To me it was like swimming in a pool half filled with sharks: though the sharks only took up half the pool, it was still their pool.”
Tuomainen, Antti. The Rabbit Factor (Rabbit Factor Trilogy) (pp. 77-78). Orenda Books.
I have a long standing rule to never enter a pool or any other body of water containing sharks. I also avoid gambling on games of chance, and when in those few occasions that I do, it’s not to win but to minimize my losses. This makes games of chance boring to me, so I avoid them as much as possible. However, I find gambling on life choices intriguing, not in a life-or-death way, but rather on the success or failure of those choices. It may not always be pleasant or enjoyable, but it’s often interesting. As Sir Terry Pratchett said, “life is a story,” and I believe taking occasional gambles in life improves the story.
The past three days have been quite interesting, especially for someone suffering through their decrepit years like me. On Wednesday, Hayden drove me to the Big Endive by the Bay for my medical appointments on Thursday. Along the way, we drove along the north bay to the Golden Gate Bridge and I pointed out some old Coastal Conservancy projects. Once in the city, we stopped at the Fog City Diner for lunch and were joined by my grandsons, Anthony and Aaron. Hayden had his first oyster, and although he approached it with trepidation, he was surprised that its taste was better than he expected. Later, we went to Peter and Barrie’s house in Noe Valley, where Peter and I updated each other on our respective medical adventures while Hayden took a nap. Afterward, we went to Bacco’s for dinner, enjoying both the tasty meal and the pleasant conversation. Back at the house, Peter and Hayden spent time planning a potential trip to India, where Peter and Barrie had lived and worked for about seven years.
The next morning, we got up early, and Hayden drove me to the hospital. He then explored SF while I underwent four hours of medical tests and meetings. Once done, Hayden picked me up after having revisited places from his early childhood. Although he lived his first four or five years in SF with me, he had only a vague memory of the City. He visited Golden Gate Park where I would often take him to play at the children’s playground and visit the museums. Today he visited the Japanese Tea Garden then drove to the beach and later climbed Strawberry Hill by Stow Lake. He then left there and drove to and down “The Crookedest Street,” and visited Coit tower and North Beach. My medical examination reports indicated that I would probably live at least for the next three months until my next visit.
We then had a delightful lunch of oysters and fish and chips at a restaurant overlooking the Bay before driving back to the Sacramento Area. Prior to leaving Hayden checked his phone to determine when we would arrive back home. It indicated we would arrive at precisely 5:5i PM. “That’s four hours from now,” I exclaimed.” It’s never taken more that 3 hours before.” We left at 2 PM and the traffic was awful, We arrived at Hayden’s house in Eldorado Hills precisely at 5:50 PM, just one minute off his phone’s estimate
The next morning, while Naida was walking the dog, a baby squirrel fell from a tree in front of them. Naida rescued the squirrel before the dog could reach it and brought it home. It squirmed and ended up squirting into her blouse and digging its claws into her back. I had to help get it out, and then Naida put it in a box. We found a nearby animal rescue service called Wildlife Care Association and drove there to deliver the squirrel. Impressed by their work, I decided to contribute to their organization. I’ve noticed that as I get older, I feel more inclined to support charities helping wildlife rather than those focused on humans.
After lunch, we returned home and spent some time watching old movies on TV.
Saturday was a rather uneventful day. Naida wasn’t feeling well, so we decided to skip our usual Saturday Morning Coffee routine. I had my breakfast and then went back to bed, sleeping until the early afternoon. Later on, before dinner, we spent some time listening to music.
On Sunday morning, the day looked beautiful, promising a pleasant time ahead, with temperatures expected to reach the high nineties in the afternoon. I was feeling much better after two days of feeling unwell and was eager to do something other than lying in bed, waiting for the illness to pass.
During breakfast, Naida shared a story from the mid-1950s when she had traveled to Germany. She had a harrowing experience where she was kidnapped by an ex-Nazi ex-con serial killer who took her money and passport. She managed to escape him and sought refuge with a humble German family, working as a nanny for their four children. However, the old and senile father of the family attempted to molest her, leading her to leave and try to find work with the American occupation authorities. Unfortunately, they couldn’t hire her as they were required to employ only local German citizens. While she was wandering around the city, uncertain about her next steps, she encountered the serial killer again. He threatened to kill her for escaping and even had a shovel in the car, intending to bury her. He drove around the city that night, searching for a secluded place amidst the bombed-out ruins, but couldn’t find one with enough darkness. Thankfully, she managed to escape once more and eventually found her way back to the US.
Recently, Naida has been attempting to write about this traumatic episode in her life for her memoir but has been struggling to find the right words to do justice to the experience.
Later, she left to walk the dog while I remained at home, gazing out into the backyard, contemplating the untold stories hidden within people’s lives and wondering what I should do with the rest of my day.
I do not know why I keep writing about what I do every day. For decrepits like me this chart sums up our usual day:
Naida has just gotten off the phone with her granddaughter Natalie LeClerc who called from her apartment in Chicago where she will be attending the University of Chicago Graduate School after graduating from UC Berkeley. She received a six year scholarship covering room, board, tuition and travel back and forth to her home in California. Way to go Natalie.
Sometime in the afternoon Naida somehow managed to hit herself on the mouth, leaving a bruise on her upper lip. This led to about an hour or so of activity, first figuring out how it happened and the extent of the injury (which wasn’t severe). Then we treated the injury and finally joking and laughing about it. Afterward we took the dog for a walk. Upon our return, I read some back issues of T&T and noticed how much more interesting my life seemed to be a few years ago. Nevertheless, I can’t complain considering the alternative.
Later we watched a couple of British mysteries on TV but couldn’t understand a word so we decided to go up to bed.
The following morning I had an appointment with an ENT specialist. After poking things into my nose and down my throat he opined that he had no idea what was going on but he prescribed something that he said may make me feel better even if it does nothing to cure the problem. After the appointment, I had a breakfast of caffe latte and a danish at Starbucks, followed by some grocery shopping at Raley’s. Back at home, after a nap, Naida and I watched a couple of hours of reruns of the old television show “Bat Masterson” starring Gene Barry. Occasionally we would pause and sing a few stanza’s of “Domino” or watch a some YouTube videos of Crosby, Dinah Shore, some French Guy and a few others singing it. At one point, Naida got up and played it on the piano. Later I took some photo’s of the dog and then Naida took him for a walk. While it might not be among the best days it my life, it feels about as good as it gets in my life now. One of the things I have learned is that everything you do or don’t do is good as long as you are not harming someone else or yourself. Moreover, it is especially meaningful if you make someone else’s life a little better.
Watching the media coverage of the various campaigns for President, I find it astonishing that most of the Republican candidates are so spineless and ineffectual they make Trump appear competent.
The news today, the first day of August 2023 brought the announcement of Trump’s indictment on four charges: conspiracy to defraud the United States, conspiracy to obstruct an official proceeding, obstruction of and attempt to obstruct an official proceeding, and conspiracy against rights. Although it remains to be seen but he may go down in history as one of our most consequential presidents for proving that even those who think they are above the law may sometimes get caught. While watching MSNBC’s reporting on the indictment I was struck by Chris Hayes comment that the indictment carried out Lincoln’s direction in the Gettysburg Address:
“…that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain —that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”
Today the temperature was in the comfortable 90s. It says something about the state of humanity under the impact of climate change when we begin to consider temperatures in the 90s comfortable.
We had a morning appointment at our hearing-aid dealer’s office, assuming it was a routine meeting to adjust our current hearing aids. To our surprise, we found that the dealer had gathered a group of elderly people, like us, who are hard of hearing. The purpose was to pitch newer hearing aids equipped with AI technology, each priced at over $5000. Although the meeting turned out to be pleasant and informative, I am skeptical about paying such a hefty amount for something that might not significantly improve my hearing.
Later that evening, I participated in a conference call with a group opposing the proposed development in Campus Commons. It felt good to be actively engaged in this cause again.
The following day, I spent my time watching the news coverage of Trump’s arraignment on charges related to his attempts to overturn the 2020 election and his involvement in the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol. I found MSNBC’s Lawrence O’Donnell’s coverage particularly interesting as he seemed thrilled at the breaking news of Trump’s council virtually admitting his guilt in an interview of Faux news.
In the evening, as Naida and I cuddled in bed, I affectionately called her “kiddo,” to which she giggled and corrected me, reminding me that she’s not a kid anymore. I playfully responded, “Okay then, I love you, Grandma.” She grunted in response and soon fell asleep. Before dozing off myself, I went through my usual falling asleep exercises, counting backward from 99 to 1 three times or imagining people I’d like to see disappear over the next few months. However, I didn’t make it past 10% of my exercises before drifting off.
The next day, I drove to the Golden Hills for my weekly lunch with Hayden. We went to Town Center, where we enjoyed a meal at one of my favorite pizza places it Town Center. This small take-out spot specializes in Italian cuisine with a hint of other Mediterranean flavors. The owner, a young Middle-Eastern immigrant, aspires to open more restaurants like this, with a second one planned for December. What makes the food here special is they understand the secret is in the dough. The dough is not an after thought as something to merely hold a collection of over preserved infused foods. They also understand that the cheese must be fresh stringy and tasty rather than tasting like week-old skin from some road kill.
One of their creative offerings that I particularly enjoy is the Stromboli, which can be best described as a rolled-up pizza. Recently, they added a new item to their menu, the Mediterranean Bagel, which I’m looking forward to trying later tonight at home.
Naida and I watched movies until 1AM, ending the TV marathon with Basic Instinct.
The following morning I decided to ask ChatGPT two questions to test its abilities. The first was:
Write a metaphor that has never appeared in print before.
It quickly responded with:
In the twilight of existence, where stars dance as cosmic embers, our souls intertwine like uncharted constellations, creating a symphony of celestial love.
Well I guess that puts the kibosh on my contention that iI could not do metaphors. As a result I now believe it can do metaphors just not good ones.
The second question was:
Create a collective noun for a group that has never appeared in print before.
It answered:
A “Zenthrall” of individuals.
I then asked:
What is a Zenthrall?
It responded:
As of my last update in September 2021, “Zenthrall” is not a recognized word in the English language, and it does not have any established meaning or definition in dictionaries or official sources. The term was coined solely for the purpose of providing a unique and original collective noun as per your request.
As language evolves over time, it is possible that new words or meanings might emerge in the future. However, as of my knowledge cutoff, “Zenthrall” does not have a specific definition or usage beyond the context of being a fictional collective noun.
Which leads me to the conclusion that ChatGPT AI is a sneaky duplicitous bastard and its answers must be closely checked at all times.
With this rumbling through my mind, Naida and I embarked on our journey to this weeks Saturday Morning Coffee. The temperature was still bearable, so we walked to the Nepenthe Clubhouse. As usual, I missed the punch line of today’s bad joke. During the announcements, I brought up the draft letters to the City, expressing our opposition to the proposed development at 707 Commons Drive. I urged everyone to send them to the city as soon as possible.
The conversation then took a lively and humorous turn, focusing on hearing aids. During the discussion I mentioned that I recently learned that there are new hearing aids equipped with AI and opined that they were developed specifically so that we could hear the punch lines of the jokes told at the coffee and added that it also was intended to tell you what you aught to be hearing rather than what is being said.
After the Coffee I, as usual, left to sit in the shade by the pool while Naida chatted. When she came out to get me she mentioned that she and a few others had thought it would be fun before or after the meeting is she played the piano and some of the attendees who wished to could sing along. Alas the powers that be, did not think so. After we returned home Naida played the piano for a few hours. It was thoroughly enjoyable.
Later in the afternoon, after a lunch primarily of watermelon, I listened to Naida play through a Cole Porter song book — you know Begin the Beguine and the like — while I read the second volume of the Quilifer Trilogy. Subsequently, I decided to take a nap upstairs before taking the dog for a walk. Regrettably, I overslept, and Naida took the dog for a walk instead. Later, I had dinner and delved deep into the Quillifer II novel where he battled the dragon
Sunday and Monday passed by. I am sure some things of interest occurred but I no longer recall what it was. Two more days lost to memory. The pool remained closed. The temperature outside hovered about 105 degrees during the afternoons. We watched a lot of movies, I am sure some were interesting. One especially so we recalled but could not remember the name.
The next day, I finished Quillifer II, then listened to Naida play the piano for a while. Then for some reason we decided to sing, “Me and My Shadow”. For those unaware of that 1927 song reprised by many pop stars throughout the 50s and 60s here are the lyrics to sing along to:
The shades of night are falling and I’m lonely
Standing on the corner feeling blue
Sweethearts out for fun
Pass me one by one
Guess I’ll wind up like I always do
With only
Me and my shadow
Strolling down the avenue
Me and my shadow
Not a soul to tell our troubles to
And when it’s twelve o’clock
We climb the stair
We never knock
For nobody’s there
Just me and my shadow
All alone and feeling blue
When the sun sets on the far horizon
And the parlor lamps begin to glow
Jim and Jack and John
Put their slippers on
They’re all set but we’re still on the go
So lonely
Me and my shadow
Strolling down the avenue
Me and my shadow
Not a soul to tell our troubles to
And when it’s twelve o’clock
We climb the stair
We never knock
For nobody’s there
Just me and my shadow
All alone and feeling blue.
Later we spent some time discussing the deprivations and loneliness of our respective childhoods. Perhaps the reason for the discussion had something to do with the lyrics of that song.
Well, I just realized that the the day’s I lost from memory that I mentioned above were not lost at all. Today is is actually Monday and not Tuesday as I thought. My bad. But, I still do not know what happened to Sunday.
The NRA is Coming for Your Children. I happened to be watching Rachael Maddow’s report on MSNBC recently about a company marketing assault weapons to pre-schoolers. I thought this news was worth noting. If someone believes the founding fathers intended the Second Amendment to protect the right of gun manufacturers to market working assault rifles to preschoolers and school children, then they should vote Republican. After all, why doesn’t the GOP just change their party’s acronym to NRA and get it over with — it’s no secret?
That evening while lying in bed we sang a few songs to put us asleep. About an hour later, I awoke with a terrible pain in my right arm. The pain did not allow me to go back to sleep so not wanting to awaken Naida, I went downstairs to read in my latest novel, Kotzwinkle’s Amphora Project, until the pain lessened. My arm felt paralyzed to some extent. After an hour or so I returned to bed. Although the pain had lessened, I still could not sleep. I got up early for breakfast. The pain had receded to a slight ache. I had a lunch appointment scheduled with Hayden, but I was too exhausted so I called him and cancelled it and returned to bed sleeping for about three or so hours.
On Wednesday I felt much better. In the the early evening I went for a swim, the first in over a month since the pool had been closed for repairs. I could barely make four laps. That’s a lot of deterioration in a little over a month. On the positive side, I read today that the traditional 10,000 steps a day guaranteed to add 20 years to your life was no longer applicable. About six years ago I was walking my ten thousand steps four or five days a week. I thought that might give me 15 more years or so. Since then I could barely get up to 4000 per day, so I assumed I had passed my due date. Imagine how pleased I was to learn the new number was 4000 steps. Well I am sure I can do that and expect to be around for another 15 years. Oh happy day. Never underestimate the benefits of self delusion.
What I love about life is that everyday brings something new and probably worse, so you might as well hang around to see what it is. Or as the great philosopherette Rosanna Rosannadanna sagely observed “Its always something”.
Later I had my weekly Zoom meeting with those of us leading the opposition to the tear down of an architecturally significant building in our neighborhood and replace it with overly dense residences inconsistent with the neighborhood. The group mostly retirees like me, range from a librarian (never underestimate a librarian) to a retired architect. Everyone appears competent and determined to be nice. Unfortunately, “nice” is not a personality trait of developers, lawyers and Mafia hit men. Nevertheless, nothing endures that is not fought for.
My life has always been a dance on the lip of a volcano.
I have never been very focused on money in my life. It always seemed to boring and ephemeral. During my somewhat chaotic life, I have given millions to wives, girlfriends, family members, friends, scammers, politicians, charities and random gifts. I rarely ever haggle over a payment. When I had it I spent it. There is one place, however, where I draw the line — tooth paste in a tube. When I go through a tube of tooth past and find that the last few millimeters when squeezed appear to produce almost as much toothpaste as what was in the rest of the tube, I am enraged. I am convinced the tooth past company had malevolently and greedily worked it out that most people when they get to those last few millimeters give up and buy a new tube before using all that was remaining thereby increasing the companies profits. Whenever, I find myself squeezing the last bit of toothpaste from the tube, I swear that sooner of later I will get even.
While we can often chose our actions, we rarely get to choose our consequences.
Today, I drove into the Golden Hills for my weekly luncheon with HRM. It was also the sixth day of my new medicine prescription (Prednisone). According to the information accompanying the medication, after about five days some patients become giddy and should rest and refrain from driving. Well, it happened on the drive and continued on through lunch. I felt like I had just sniffed a pound of coke. I talked non-stop while at lunch in a Japanese restaurant and swallowed things that I had not swallowed for 20 years, the last time I felt like this. I talked about my failures and sorrows like an old drunk. After I left, I stopped at the supermarket, loaded up on sweets, drove home and sat in front of the TV until I fell off the moon. Alas. in my life I have preferred the adventure of discovery to the safety of knowledge.
That evening Naida and I had a pleasant dinner in the backyard featuring my special Caprese salad and a stuffed potato.
It’s always something.
At about this time my hyper-activity began to subside. Unfortunately, before dinner, I was craving sweets and so I ate about half a bar of Ghirardelli Dark Chocolate with Carmel. I had forgotten it on the end table by the sofa in the studio. At about 11:30PM as I was preparing for bed Naida, white faced and solemn came in to the room and showed me the chewed up cover of the chocolate bar and said “I think Boo-boo ate it.” Then after a few moments of silence during which I opined “then he will be to be dead soon,” we moved into whatever action and hysteria individuals in the mid-eighties can get up to. I checked the internet. They suggested we infuse the dog with hydrogen peroxide and force it to vomit. We had no Hydrogen Peroxide, so I checked for the location of an all night pharmacy, and after calling Animal Poison Control and handing the phone to Naida to wait the 20 minutes or so I was sure it would take then to answer, I set off to the all night pharmacy in search for hydrogen peroxide. When I got there of course it was closed. Upon returning to the house, I found Naida speaking with Animal Poison Control. They recommended we wait until, among other things the dog vomits over 45 minutes strait before taking him to the all night animal emergency clinic (which I sure will be closed also). So now we are siting in bed watching the dog and waiting for him to begin vomiting all over the bedroom. I fell asleep at about 3AM with visions of waking up buried in puke with a dead dog lying on my head.
On the other hand, by the following morning sometimes it is nothing.
At precisely 7:05AM Booboo the wonder dog began barking like crazy as he usually does at this time of day. We fed him. Unfortunately, he continued barking at just about everything for the next two hours. I locked the bedroom doors so that he could not jump on the bed and bark in our ears. We could only hear muffled yaps as he prowled around downstairs. Naida and I were exhausted by last nights doings and slept until after 10:30 when I got up and opened the bedroom door to find him right outside, sitting up and bright eyed. As I made breakfast he followed me about closely looking for food scraps to scarf up. I mused gloomily on the question of whether any sort of poison could kill a dog given all the crap they seem to find to eat every day.
I then spent much of the morning wondering why my voice, which over the past few months had been trending into the deep bass range, had suddenly become high soprano. Like the wise woman said, “It’s always something” — and for the most part that seems better than the opposite.
That evening following a long afternoon nap, I decided in was time to take a swim at the pool. The temperature as I walked in the shade of the towering trees was in the comfortable mid-eighties. The evening the light in the Enchanted Forest appeared as a wonderful golden glow infusing everything along the path. “This is truly one of the most magically beautiful evenings of my entire life” I thought… until I arrived at the pool and removed my sun glasses. In order not to diminish my euphoria too much, I decided to consider the evening still exceedingly beautiful, just not quite as golden.
As I entered the water and made my way toward where I usually begin swimming my laps, I noticed the slight staggering and dizziness that I have been experiencing recently. I guessed It had some relationship to some circulatory or cardiac disruption that some day might find me floating face down in the pool — but hopefully not today. I began my laps varying my strokes by each lap. This does not mean any formal movement of my limbs, but rather more of a frantic shaking that I believed would eventually exercise each nook and cranny of my placid musculature. After I finished swimming a sat resting up before returning home, I looked at my watch and realized I had swam twice as long as I usually do.
I sat there, in the growing darkness contemplating life and darkness the substance of which I shall save writing about for another time as it seems to me that this post of POOKIE’S ADVENTURES has gone on for longer than ever before and tomorrow is Saturday and the Coffee is coming around again. So, I walked back home with one particular phrase, that in one way or another all of us probably consider as we near the end, resonating repeatedly in my mind:
“What’s it all about, Alfie?”
Papa Joe's Tales, Fables and Parables 