Gratitude

Most of us have many things to be grateful for at any time during our lives. And most of us fail to recognize those things, opting instead to complain about what we don't have. I have definitely been guilty of complaining when I should've been saying, "Thank you."

Today, the first thing I have to be grateful for is my wife. Because of my spinal deterioration and its accompanying pain, and my diminished lung capacity, I'm literally no longer able to take care of myself. She does things for me that I used to easily do, and she has never wavered in her devotion. If not for her, I don't know where I'd be right now.

I'm also grateful to the pharmaceutical companies that created the anti-biotics I'm taking now, as I was diagnosed with pneumonia on last Friday. It's the second November in a row that I've come down with this disease. I certainly hope it's not a permanent pattern. Although we had a pleasant Thanksgiving, my breathing was labored in a way I've come to recognize. So when I went to my family physician the next day, I wasn't totally surprised at the diagnosis.

I'm further grateful for the anti-depressants available to people like me. If there had only been this medication when I was much younger, I could've saved myself considerable grief. As I look back over the years and see how depressed I was at different points in my life, I can only shake my head.

I'm grateful, too, for several friends I've made over the years. Some of them go back over 40 years, which is hard to imagine when I don't believe my age. But these long-time friends keep in touch, and every time I talk to one of them, it's like we just left off yesterday. These relationships are pure gold.-

Finally, I'm grateful that even though I wasn't a great father, my son continues to care how I'm doing and checks on me regularly. He's come a long way. This is just a short gratitude list, but I'm sure I'll be able to extend it if I concentrate. In any case, I'm off to another medical appointment. Have a wonderful weekend.

Bring On the Holiday Season

We awoke on Thanksgiving today here in Bloomington, Minnesota, to a light blanket of snow and a very cool day. It was like a holiday card right outside my window. And as I may have said before, the end-of-year holiday season is my favorite part of any year. We spent a quiet day, and I did something I haven't done in a long time on a Thanksgiving day. I watched a football game on tv: Green Bay v. Detroit, almost a tradition by now in America.

Tomorrow is Black Friday, the day that all the pre-Christmas sales truly get started. There's one chain in this area that will actually open its doors at 4:00 A. M. Can you believe it!? Last year we did something that we've never done during our 27 years together -- we actually went to a mall on this infamous Friday. And it wasn't just any mall; it was the Mall of America. Yes, once was enough. I won't be up tomorrow for a trip to any mall.

Next week I'll prepare all my Christmas and Hannukah cards, as I've done for over 40 years. I try to get the Christmas cards mailed by December 1 each year, and I've been mostly successful. And I try to get my Hannukah cards out by the first day of the celebration, also mostly successful over the years. Sending out cards for me has always been a way to share the holiday spirit with friends and family, and most people really appreciate it. My holiday season is always enhanced by my card ritual.

Even when times were not so good, I've loved this part of the year. It's always been special to me, and it always will be. Let me send all of you peace and love for the coming year. And if you have someone in harm's way because of the foolish war we're engaged in, I pray that he or she returns not only alive but unscathed. Bless us all at this time of reflection.

Oh No! Not Again!

On September, 27, 2007, I turned 67 years old. On November 11, 2007, my wife turned 66 years old. Compared to earlier centuries, that's a lengthy life. Today, it's 10 years fewer than the estimated life span. I'm certainly hoping that she and I don't fall too short of the current span. But in any case, one's life certainly does begin to change as the years pass by, and another can't really understand these changes until it happens to him or her.

In casual conversation, I might mention how much more forgetful I am at this age. I've had people in their twenties and thirties say, "Oh, I know just what you mean. I do that all the time." Well, no, you don't know what I mean because unless you're suffering some some level of brain damage or disease, you can't possibly be as forgetful as I've become. So please don't give me some false palliative.

Also, I've dropped keys or billfold or some small item at a checkout counter and remarked that it happens often to me. The response has become almost predictable. The clerk might say, "Yes, I know." No, you don't know. I have trouble carrying a cup of coffee from the kitchen to my recliner know because I often suffer little tremors which cause either spillage or my losing cup, saucer, and coffee all together. I doubt if that's happened to many young folks lately. If it can be dropped, I'll drop it. My neurological deficits also include often not being able to stop my fingers when I finish typing and hitting some extra keys, like now. Damn!

As for forgetting where I put something, it's becoming nearly pathological. My wife and/or I "lose" our keys on a regular basis. There's a jar of mayonnaise in our refrigerator the top for which is made of aluminum foil. It's kinda funny, but how did that happen? Well, while I made some little concoction recently that required mayo, the top must've snuck out and run away from home. By the time I finished eating whatever it was and returned to put everything back into the fridge, I couldn't find the top. Yes, I lost it in this small kitchen in this small condo.

I rarely get out the door to do anything lately that I don't have to come back in here to retrieve something I forgot to take. Now we each of us tries to go over things with the other as we prepare to leave the condo, whether it's just for a trip to the store or a business trip of several days. Speaking of shopping at any kind of store, our mantra has become, "If it's not on the list, forget it" because we do. And worse than that, we sometimes get to the store and find we've forgotten to bring the list. We only hope, then, to get home with at least some of the items we came out for.

These kinds of things happening with this frequency was not a part of my younger years, even 10 years ago. But they happen often now, and they're very frustrating. And what's almost as frustrating is to have someone say with that youthful smile, "I know just what you mean" No, you don't know what I mean or how this feels. But if you live long enough, you will. Have a good weekend. Now if I can just remember where I put the peanut butter.

A Crisp November Evening

Last night was Nov. 3, 2007, and my wife and I spent part of it listening to Beethoven's Piano Concerto and his Symphony #7 in Orchestra Hall in Minneapolis, Minnesota. It seems as if this orchestra is getting better as the season, which began in August, moves along. In this case, it's been only two weeks since we heard them play Mozart's Symphony #41 and Brahms' Symphony #2. There seems to always be a shorter piece to open each concert, but so far I haven't recognized any of the composers.

In any case, they were wonderful two weeks ago, and they were exquisite last night. I said it before, but I'll say it again. The Minneapolis Orchestra is a world class group. They either recently finished recording (does one say CDed?) or are finishing recording the complete Beethoven symphonies. Years ago I owned the collection recorded by Arturo Toscanini and the NBC Symphony Orchestra, but I fully expect this newest set to be superior.

The pianist for the piano concerto was a young Russian whom I had never heard of, though I'm sure he's known in musical circles. He did a first-class job, and at intermission I heard patrons talking of how much they enjoyed his presentation. He looked so very young, and he was a wonderful combination of delicacy and strength.

Then my favorite Mozart symphony, the magnificent #41. To think that he composed this as he lived destitute says so many things about the man and music itself. If I were to guess, I believe Ludwig von Beethoven was a bit short lacking in the sense of humour department, but I believe that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart retained his as long as humanly possible. I used to be fashionably anti-technology, but that attitude has certainly changed. And not too many years ago, I would've probably been born into a social station that excluded me from the music I've grown to love. So, if I were a drinking man, I'd lift my glass to those who had anything to do with my being able to simply pop in a CD, lean back with my Diet Coke, and go on musical flights with Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Copland, Dvorak, Bartok, and so, so many others who have enriched my life beyond belief.

Enola Gay

The man pictured in the pilot's seat of the most famous B-29 in history is, of course, the pilot, then Col. Paul Tibbets. On August 6, 1945, the first atom bomb used in war, called "Little Boy," dropped from this airplane (named for Tibbets' mother) and exploded 1,890 feet above ground zero at Hiroshima, Japan. This one plane which dropped one bomb is said to have hastened the end of World War II, avoided an invasion of Japan, and saved hundreds of thousands (or more) lives of our young soldiers, sailors, and marines. Oddly enough, I had yesterday talked to a man who had participated in the atom bomb testing at Bikini Atoll in 1945.

As I am wont to do, I engaged a man in conversation while waiting for new prescriptions at Walgreen's in Bloomington, MN. The man was obviously quite my senior, and it turned out that he had served in the U. S. Navy during WWII. As we talked, he told the story of watching his father's farm being auctioned off during The Great Depression and subsequent years of itinerant living his family endured almost to the beginning of that great war. I then learned that he had served his country, had seen the U. S. S. Saratoga sink, and had been part of the testing of the a-bomb. He hadn't heard the news of Paul Tibbet's death, and it definitely had an effect on him.

He said something I've heard many times over the years. Dropping those bombs (a second, called "Fat Man," was dropped on Nagasaki on August 9, 1945)) saved more lives than were lost in the blast and its aftermath. Given the history of our government's lies to us over the last 60-plus years, one must be skeptical of all official versions of history.

However, I come down on the side of those who say the bombs should've been dropped. Invading a country of people who thought their leader was "divine" isn't a prospect I would relish, as their fanaticism and visciousness in the conduct of the war was almost beyond belief. One interesting fact I gleaned from my casual study of my favorite period of American history is that one had a more than 30 times chance of dying in a Japanese P. O. W. camp than in a German P. O. W. camp. Of course this comparison is primarily military, but the Japanese were truly viscious.

So, my conclusion has for some time been that we did the "right" thing, if you can call such a conflagration "right." One can't negotiate with a "divine" emperor or a leader who thinks he speaks to God.

In any case, I experienced yesterday afternoon something I've experienced a great deal over the years: people will tell you a lot about themselves if you'll just listen. And more often than not, what you hear is usually interesting and sometimes exciting.