“It’s very liberating”
- Former President George W Bush after receiving his second vaccine injection.
After Flash’s passing things started to accelerate here at home.
Spring came with a spectacular display of cherry and apple blossoms. Only to be followed by a bizarre late April snowfall.
Such is life in Indiana.
Here are some postcards from our lives over the last several weeks.
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In 2004 John Barry completed his best seller “The Great Influenza”. The 900 plus page book documented the 1918 Spanish influenza pandemic from its origins in Kansas thru the savage path of destruction it wrought around the globe. It is a sobering tale.
In 4 successive waves it infected one third of the Earth’s population and killed 675,000 Americans. At the time we did not know what was the cause. The science of virology was in its infancy.
President Bush, who was then in office, read the book and was so moved by the story he created a pandemic task force that would later develop the playbook to handle such a crisis.
It was discarded by President Trump.
As of today 571,000 American have died.
However, America is still unique among the world’s nations in its ability to harness capitalism and great resources towards a single purpose. We developed vaccines that appear safe and effective against the disease in record time. After months of relative isolation we are at last emerging into the sun.
Colleen completed her second injection recently and both of us feel lucky. Liberated is a good word to use.
We are starting to discuss traveling again. It is a slow process but it feels like once again the sun is shining. The ‘Road to Bali’ calls.
We had a dinner party with some vaccinated friends the other night. The first one in months.
I hugged them a little too long. How good it felt to be with people again.
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I have always been a little suspicious of the whole “rescue” dog thing. It seemed to me more a way to make people feel guilty for purchasing a puppy of your choice. I would hear friends swoon over there mixed breed dog and I would smile politely and pretend to understand. They would talk about their “rescue” as if they personally braved the darkest regions of the Amazon jungle and picked the poor animal from the jaws of death.
It always seemed such a risk to me to take on an abandoned animal. Why were they abandoned in the first place? What secrets do they hide? I’ve read ‘Cujo’.
Then, the shelter staff would interview you to make sure your not some terrible child predator trying to take the abandoned dog off their hands.
Is your home safe? How may walks will you do a day? What kind of food will you feed it and why? Wet or dry? What television shows do your watch? Will its bed sheets have at least a 500 thread count? Do you have any references?
“This is a stray dog!”, I thought.
Then, to add to the entire process, you cannot just go and look at the various dogs. You have to make an appointment and preselect what dog you want to see from a picture on the internet.
Invariably, almost all your choices are pit bulls or various combinations of that breed. Any other breed is swooped up by “The Rescues” organizations for that breed and sold for a much higher price and an even more stringent selection process. Apparently blood and urine testing is involved.
So I felt the whole enterprise was a dubious exercise at best. But, Colleen was on a mission. Our youngest son, Stephen , lives alone in a small apartment in Palo Alto California. He has been feeling isolated, like many others, during this pandemic. Recently he got to take care of a friend’s dog while they were traveling. He loved it and the companionship really helped boost his spirits. .
Colleen wanted to find him a dog. So, not only were we going into local shelters looking at Pit Bull variants but we were doing it for someone who lived 2300 miles away. This was not going to end well.
But, Colleen was on a mission.
Off we went in the winter cold to visit local shelters. We tried to pick a dog, from a picture, that we thought looked cute and Stephen might enjoy. We knew we didn’t want a small toy breed nor could we get a large dog because he lived in a studio apartment.
Due to Covid, we were not allowed in the shelter to greet the animal. We were given a once over by the staff and told to waiting a pen to greet our perspective adoption.
It was cold and the play pen was littered with frozen dog poop. We didn’t know what to expect. Almost always we would mention a dog, from the picture, and the staff member would exclaim, “Oh he’s a sweetheart”.
While we waited in the cold, there was a pit bull in the pen hear us pacing back and forth. I am convinced he had a gang tattoo. He didn’t bark much. He just start of stared at us.
The staff led out the dog to meet us. Almost always they were larger than we assumed from the picture. He was indifferent to us and uninterested in playing with the frozen toys in the yard. The first three were like that, just different variations. It felt like I was meeting ex cons of the dog world.
Then came the merle Aussie Shepherd mix. I was drawn to him because he was different than the ubiquitous muddy Pit Bull variants. His coat was striking. However, he too was a disappointment. He clearly had a cocaine habit. The dog was a frenzy of movement and barking the entire time.
“He’s a sweetheart”, the staff person said.
“Maybe to his drug dealer,” I thought.
Colleen and I began to resign ourselves that this may be a fruitless endeavor. We took a few days off. Colleen steeled herself for another try. You see, she was on a mission.
She found a picture of a dog named “CoCo’. She was at a different shelter. The picture was a little odd. It showed a chestnut brown dog with a long slender nose, yellow eyes, and floppy ears. It was not a pit bull but it was hard to determine the size of the animal.
We drove to the shelter where we went through the usual finger printing and photographing intake exam. At least at this shelter we could greet her indoors.
After a few minutes of adjusting to the cat smells, they brought her out. She had a long slender athletic build that resembled a retriever. Her coat was so soft. It was like petting velvet. She was timid and sat with odd splayed legs. Yet, despite her timidity she would come to you and lay her head right in your lap in the most adorable, coy, and feminine way possible. She made you notice her.
I was concerned at first that she was too timid. She was found on the street as a stray. She either ran away or someone cast her out. Was she abused? it didn’t seem so. She looked healthy and after a few minutes you began to see her perk up and play. They thought she was around a year old and you could see the puppy in her come out. She was alert and looked at you when you talked to her.
We took a lot of pictures and videos and sent them to Steve. Somehow, through the internet, he seemed to know that this was the dog he was looking for as a companion.
We went back the next day and completed the adoption. They asked for a urine drug test but I felt confident that we would pass. We bundled her into the car, before her handlers changed their minds and hurried off.
Stephen was delighted with the news and plans were made for him to come home. This was a double win for us because . due to the pandemic, we have not seen him for over a year. I have since been vaccinated and Stephen had a negative test, so we felt good about the reunion.
CoCo’s shyness melted away almost immediately. She was much younger than our two other dogs and immediately infused the house with puppy energy.
To my surprise, it became apparent that we had won the dog lottery. Not only was she bright, attentive, and playful, but she would calm down and jump in your lap to be petted. We thought she was perfect for Stephen.
Coco is now a canine version of Oliver Twist. She was found on the streets on Martinsville Indiana and now lives in Palo Alto California blissfully peeing on the wheels of all the Teslas.
Stephen is happy and has a loving companion.
That is all that really mattered.
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So I tore my rotator cuff muscle in my right arm. I really do not know how.
I would like to think I did it fighting an evil King in an epic sword fight. I played Macduff in a summer production of Macbeth 2 years ago. I gave the sword fight my all and imagined I looked very much the avenging hero. When I saw the tape, it looked more like two old men fighting over a shopping cart.
I think it happened later. Most likely loading chicken food into the truck from Tractor supply or some other ignoble task.
I tried to ignore it. My right arm felt like someone punched it and my range of motion was limited. No matter how much Motrin I would take, it didn’t improve
Finally I was sent to an Orthopedic Surgeon. He was a energetic short man (They are always short) with a slight athletic build. He was brimming with self confidence which worried me a little.
In medical school I did rotations in Orthopedics and hated it. None of the patients ever seemed to do great afterwards and their recoveries were prolonged and looked painful.
If you are curious - click here to see how it is done
He recommended an MRI study of my shoulder. An MRI is a very sophisticated, large, noisy, torpedo tube you lay in for around 30 minutes that can render highly detailed images of your anatomy. It was loud, uncomfortable, and claustrophobic.
After the ordeal was over, I asked the technologist is they saw anything. These health care workers are highly skilled and do dozens of these procedure a day. They read the films as well as anyone.
“Yes”, she said, “But, I am not allowed to tell you”.
I was furious.
“Well, I know you know, is it a tumor?
They both looked at each other, paused a moment and together said, “No”.
I knew then I had reached the other side of the wall.
I used to live on the doctor side. It was a place of privilege. I could find out medical information quickly and easily. If I needed to speak with a neurosurgeon, I just picked up the phone and called one. My various medical needs were handled quickly and efficiently.
Not anymore. I was on the patient side now. What an illuminating experience!
No doctor’s office answers the phone anymore, medical insurance is a dense labyrinth of hallways that often lead nowhere, medications cost a fortune.
And I have learned I have to wait. Just like everyone else.
I don’t like waiting.
Days later, I saw the doctor again and he told me the result.
“You have a 90% tear of the anterior one third of your right supraspinatous ligament”
(I have a torn rotator cuff - The supraspinatous muscle is what helps you shrug your shoulders)
With a demeanor a little like Gepetto in his toy shop, he recommended surgery to repair the tear.
This is how it’s done. Essentially , tent poles are drilled into the top of your humerus and the ligament is lashed down to the bone.
Then you get to hear a large sling for 6 weeks and endure weeks of physical therapy.
Sound like it’s a good time? It isn’t.
My memories from medical school were not wrong. It hurts.
And I have discovered that Percocet is a wonderful drug.
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Colleen and I met 40 years ago. In all these years she continues to show how deep is the well of her talents and abilities. I have learned she has an intense curiosity about how things work and takes real pleasure in figuring it out on her own.
I am more than a little jealous of her talent. I remember I once went with her to the hardware store for one of her projects. The salesman, seeing that I was the man, assumed I knew what I was talking about. When I quickly demonstrated that i did not know, he smiled slightly and turned to Colleen and said, “How can I help you?”
She is a rare woman.
In the last few weeks she proved that again. When we purchased the home, the previous owner had built a large movie theater room upstairs by taking out two bedrooms. We found out over the years that we did not use the entertainment room as much as we thought we would and Colleen wanted to remodel.
We asked a local contractor for an estimate and he came back with a ridiculously high number.
We backed off and reconsidered.
Colleen came to me a couple of days later. “I think I could do it”.
I (as the supportive husband I am) scoffed. This was a big job! It would involve tearing down walls, reframing rooms, sheet rock, mudding, painting.
“Ridiculous!" , I snorted, and went back to my video game.
Colleen was not deterred. She reasoned she could see how far she would get and quit if she got over her head.
Over the next few weeks I would hear hammering and saws. She would emerge from the room covered in sheet rock dust and go to Your Tube for an informational video. Then return to the fight.
I would offer to help, but she would always say, “I got this.”
(In the midst of all of this she had to pause to deal with her chronic abdominal pain. She had a gallstone removed the size of a golfball! )
I am terribly proud of her.
And she did have this. Below, after a lot of hard work and creativity on her part, is the final product.
She is a rare and remarkable woman.
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In 2007 the computer world was turned upside down. Steve Jobs would take the stage in California and declare they had invented a device that was a complete computer in your hand, took pictures, allowed you to text , and play media!
The iPhone was introduced to the world. It was a revolutionary product. All the other phone companies quickly abandoned their plans and rushed to develop their own.
Flip phones were gone. Blackberrys were dead. We would forever stop walking with our heads up. We would all be gazing down at our screens.
And in the midst of his glorious presentation Jobs declared, “You know what the killer app is with this device? It makes calls!”
These days I spend a lot of my spare time organizing a Shakespeare Festival. Often, I need to speak to several people a week.
Here is the thing - no one will take a phone call. They would all rather text.
Jerry Seinfeld once wryly observed, “That’s the thing about texting. I am only interested in MY side of the conversation.”
When you are trying to put together large projects, it makes communication a real chore.
In this time of plague, sociologists have written about the effects of prolonged isolation. Despite the proliferation of social media, people are increasingly lonely. We crave human contact.
Here is an idea.
Answer the phone! You carry it with you everywhere, why not speak with a person?
It might help.
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Our chickens have grown and now we have a consistently producing flock. We get 6-8 eggs daily.
We have learned everything from how to treat “wry neck” to “Bumble-foot”. We have expanded our coop with a corral which allows the girls to free range to a degree while still protected from a local eagle that flies overhead.
We actually look forward to going to Tractor Supply and eagerly consume YouTube DIY videos.
We are chicken farmers! So what frontier is next to conquer?
Bees. In the video he is carrying the Queen in his hand.
This Thursday we will set up our first beehive.
I am terrified.
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