Politics, US History

Working Knowledge

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Finished “Shop Craft as SoulCraft” last night. An interesting book on a topic that has long puzzled me: why don’t trades people, people who work with their hands get more respect?

The author, Matthew Crawford, has a Ph.D. in political philosophy from the University of Chicago. Crawford directed a think tank for five months before quitting to become a motorcycle mechanic.

The key idea in Shop Craft lies in practical knowledge gained through labor with one’s hands. Fixing a motorcycle or a leaky faucet requires constant attention to recalcitrant bolts and poorly plumbed kitchen sinks. Yet the end result, a vroom as a repaired motorcycle leaves the shop or a faucet restored to its function, guides the work from diagnosis to completion.

I like Crawford’s insistence on knowledge earned in direct contact with the soil, a block of wood, or an electric panel. I also take his point that knowledge workers (he doesn’t like this phrase) are as vulnerable as assembly line workers in Henry Ford’s auto plants. AI makes it so.

I don’t take his point that hand work has superior knowledge because it comes from direct encounters with the material world. I don’t think he does either since the book dotes on Heidegger, references Plato and Aristotle.

When I ate lunch last week at Elk Run, Miguel set me at a table. Marsha, a 90-year old former elementary teacher, talked about her husband, an industrial arts teacher. To give his students an education in the building trades he had them build houses. There are several in Evergreen. When I asked her if this project still existed, she shook her head, “Not anymore.”

The general decline in shop classes, vocational training serves no one, while it underlines the gap between manual labor and knowledge work in the eyes of our culture. I believe it should not be so.

Great Work

Rilke

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Mother Earth, isn’t this what you want
To arise in us invisible?
Is it not your dream, to enter us so wholly
there’s nothing left outside us to see?
What, if not transformation,
is your deepest purpose? Earth, my love,
I want that too. Believe me,
no more of your spring times are needed
to win me over — even one flower
is more than enough. Before I was named
I belonged to you. I follow no other law
but yours, and I know I can trust
The death you will bring.
~Rainer Maria Rilke~

Aging, assisted Living, Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Need

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Lasts. Last Thursday, Friday, Saturday on Shadow Mountain. Next to last visit from Melissa. Last meals. Joseph as the last guest. Ruth and Gabe coming up Sunday for their last visit here. Selling the last car I’ll ever own.

A change in address does not reveal the life change that made it happen. Shadow Mountain to Elk Run. Descending 1,600 feet. Permanently. But why?

In Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs, at the base of his pyramid, are the absolute necessities: oxygen, food, water. The second set of needs that come when those are met is safety: “The need for physical, emotional, and financial security, protection from harm, stability, and health.” Gemini

After my hospitalization I got shaken to my core. Weak and depending on others for essential activities, I lay in my bed in rehab. Nothing intruded except lunch, my next P.T. or O.T. session. No uncut grass. No need to make a meal. No worry about a wildfire forcing Shadow and me to flee. I liked that feeling, a decompression after five plus years managing on my own.

Maybe I don’t have to stay on Shadow Mountain? Before the pneumonia I wanted to leave Shadow Mountain in a hearse. Die in our bed. Remain in place until the end.

I never questioned this resolve. An expression of loyalty: to Kate, to Ruth and Gabe, to memory. A way of asserting my agency, my independence. Sovereignty over my life. A mountain man.

But then. Huh. I could live without that set of concerns? How would that work? In itself this insight about the option to live in a different way would not have jostled me loose. It was not the only motivator.

When I came home from rehab, I tripped and fell at the front door. Not a great start. As I lived into life at home after a full month in hospital beds, my level of weakness, of dependence on others added itself to my thinking.

I realized that once Joseph and Mary left, I would be alone. Something I had reveled in felt like a burden. I could no longer count on myself if I fell. Grew suddenly ill. What had been a mark of my aging, alone but not lonely, now had the feel of rationalization.

What did that mean? Projecting into life with only me in the house, I identified the source of dis-ease. Safety. I no longer trusted my physical safety, even with my Life Alert medallion.

That critical need could no longer be met alone. I did not feel safe, physically safe, living alone. No matter the memories. My living situation had to change.

On Wednesday, September 16th, it will.

 

Commentary on the news, Family, Politics, US History, World History

Disruptions

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Resonance. Vibrations. JFK in Dallas. Martin Luther King in Memphis. 9/11.

I was sick, resting at home, and reading Le Morte d’Arthur. I know. There it was, the open Lincoln convertible with Jackie holding a slumped over JFK. Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald. The Texas Book Depository. I watched until my eyeballs went dry.

Later, LBJ. Model Cities. The Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts. Then, sadly, Vietnam.

King on the Lorraine Motel balcony with Abernathy. James Earl Ray. A bullet severing King’s spinal column. Abernathy cradling his head. MLK had come to support striking sanitation workers. I loved this, seeing King make a turn toward economic justice issues.  He had also recently come out against the war in Vietnam.

In King’s place Ralph Abernathy, Jesse Jackson, Andrew Young, and John Lewis carried on his work, but MLK’s gravitas and personal power died with him.

Then. Look at this! What? I saw, along with millions, the hard to grasp scene of a passenger jet plowing into the World Trade Center. At first my brain had trouble accepting that scene as real. Later on fire, smoke, people plummeting to the ground. Flight 93. The Pentagon.

Bush’s declaration of a war on terror. Forever wars. Afghanistan. Iraq and Kuwait. Shock and awe. Twenty-five years later: Iran, Lebanon, Gaza all roiled up in the aftermath of 9/11.

Personal: Joseph. A freshman at the University of Minnesota. Pre-med after two trips to Guatemala with his step-mother/second mother, Kate.

A complicated emotion surged through him mixing pride in his adoptive nation and anger, yes, but more, surfacing a warrior  spirit perhaps prefigured in his skiing, his running. He felt the powerful call of a patriot determined to protect his country.

Soon he had visited a recruiter, switched his major to Astro-physics/Physics, and turned himself toward the military. Twenty-five years later he’s in command of Cobra Squadron on Osan AFB in South Korea.

Aging, assisted Living, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Health

A Morning at Elk Run

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Edging closer and closer to a new way of life. Assessment at Elk Run followed by a stack of legal documents requiring my signature. Lunch there, too.

Ginny and Janice got here around 9:15 on Tuesday. I was ready to go. Ginny brought up the walker, put it in their truck. They’re such sweet, kind women. Lucky to have them as chosen family.

At Elk Run Miguel, the executive director, met me at the door. Ginny handed my folders and phone to him and we went inside, the walker bumping on the metal riser, catching a bit. I felt odd using the walker again after so much time walking on my own.

Oops. Thought I finished this. Nope.

I imagined an infirmary setting, but no. He led me to the library. The library? My kinda place. Michelle, dressed in maroon scrubs pants and a cowboy/cowgirl themed top, smiled, offered me a seat in a wooden chair. She introduced herself as the director of health services.

She held a sheaf of paper. I have a lot of questions to ask you.

OK. The wooden chairs unforgiving seat ground against my bones. I’ll do my best. Post polio syndrome. Head drop. Metastatic cancer. Exercise.

We talked, too, about Shadow. The tattooed LPN who joined in just after we got started has an Australian Cattle dog, too. Name? Charlie. But wait. She changed his name to Charlie. His first name? Shadow.

After the assessment finished, Miguel came in and I signed a stack of legal documents and learned how to pay my bill. He offered lunch. Which I ate. Chicken Kyiv with a vegetable medley and pearled grain. Delicious.

Ginny and Janice came to pick me up. I slumped into the front seat exhausted.

assisted Living, Fourth Phase, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Wild Neighbors

Elk. Elk Run.

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A week from today is packing day. Yikes! Just kidding. I have confidence in Robin and in the work done up till now. We’ll be ready.

A week from tomorrow I’ll be outta here. Hard to imagine. Eleven years plus on Shadow Mountain. Living on a mountain peak. All downhill from here. Evergreen, for example, sits 1,600 feet lower at 7,200 feet. Should aid my O2 saturation.

Elk Run’s main road passes the Life Care Center and the synagogue before ending at the entrance to Elk Meadow Park. This huge open area remains an Elk dense area as it has, I imagine, for centuries. I’ve seen herds of hundreds in it. Not often.

As a result, the synagogue, Life Care Center, and Elk Run have numerous Elk Bulls, Cows, and Calves on their property. Eating grass. Lounging under a bright blue Colorado sky. I look forward to seeing them.

 

Over to Elk Run today for an assessment that will determine what services I’ll need upon moving in. Shower help. Light help dressing. Rides to appointments. A walker for Shadow. That’s what I think I’ll need. We’ll see.

I will also sign a contract for my stay and any other documents necessary. A full morning. Ginny and Janice pick me up at 9:30.

They came over yesterday. Luke was here, too. Great conversation, laughing. Leo, Luke’s 13 year old Belgian Malnois, creaked around on arthritic legs. In spite of them he wanted to play with Shadow. Great to see his inner puppy.

 

Meanwhile, Dopy Don breaks ground for his triumphal arch. Please let this be one that can be stopped.

assisted Living, Cancer, Family, Fourth Phase, Health

Tasks and Perennial Questions

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Organized money for the roof. Signing contract today. Work starts this week. Peak Window cleaning comes tomorrow AM. Getting the place in shape for listing this month.

Each day this month has tasks related to the Elk Run move. Yesterday and Friday address changes in addition to arranging the roof and the window cleaners.  Colorado DMV. Social Security/Medicare. Voter Registration. Fussy, often frustrating but so much easier online. Can you imagine doing this by snail mail or telephone?

More address changes and a first in a long time trip up to the loft today. Checking on the status of book pulling for volumes going to Elk Run.

 

Friday’s visit to the oncologist has me pondering existential questions. Death. Decline. Living fully. Where is my flourishing?

Philosophers talk about permanent questions. So do conservatives. “In philosophy and ethics, permanent questions (often called perennial questions) are the fundamental mysteries of human existence that never go away.” Gemini

These questions loom large during major transitions like moving to Elk Run. Getting a tough diagnosis. Death of a loved one.

Or when you enter your eighties. Charmingly known among some as the decade of death. Will be on my mind.

I miss talking with Mary over an early a.m. cup of coffee. She’s back in hot, humid Southeast Asia. In a week or so she’ll travel back to Melbourne where spring is springing.

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Health

The kids are ok.

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Ruth and Gabe came up yesterday. This September 4th, the third yahrzeit after Jon’s death in 2022, only a year after Kate’s. Glad they wanted to be here. They’re also sleeping over. Probably the last time.

They’ve been coming here for nearly eleven years. Ruth was 9 and Gabe 7 when we moved to Shadow Mountain. We wanted to be part of their lives. We were and I am.

A lot of good memories with them here. Sad ones, too. Family memories which include the full range of emotions. Grief over Kate and Jon’s death. Vega. Gertie. Rigel. Kepler. Joyful birthday and Hanukah celebrations. Thanksgivings. Just because weekends and sleepovers.

As they ate dinner, I said, “Wow. I have two college students here.” Yup, Gabe said. Gabe seems to have gained some traction at Regis. Smaller classes.

Ruth showed me the beautiful drawings she made of epithelial cells, muscle cells, cartilage. Study helps. They are beautiful, combining her first major, art, with her second, pre-med. Anatomy. Boring but necessary, heavy on memorization.

She’s also loving O-chem, a weed out class for pre-med students she says. Not for her. Kate loved organic chemistry and physical chemistry, another weed out class. Two bright women.

 

Forgot to say I walked into my oncology appointment. No walker. No cane. No stumbling or bumbling. Felt so good. Tiring, but not exhausting. I also got the seven vial treatment at my blood draw. Dark red blood pumping out of my left arm’s handy, findable vein. Into this vial, then the next.

Cancer, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Health

And you’re out

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Time for a Shadow report. Woke up last night and noticed that Shadow was up and, I thought, looking out the window. When I turned my head further I could see she was looking at me. Felt as if I’d intruded on a private moment.

Back to sleep. As I began to rouse for getting up I touched something. A paw. Shadow slept with her body tight against my pillow, her left hind leg splayed out upon it.

 

Back from then oncologist. I’m out of the trial. Too much time elapsed between today and my first (only) infusion of actinium. The irony. I went in six weeks or so ago, expecting to get my second infusion. My hemoglobin was too low at 9.5. Needed to be 10. Two weeks later I would have gone in for another potential infusion. Instead I spent 27 days getting over pneumonia. By then too much time had elapsed.

I’ll probably start on pluvicto sometime in the next month or so. It is similar to actinium but requires 72 hours of no human contact after an infusion.

Alan, a good friend, took me to the clinic.

 

 

assisted Living, Commentary on the news, Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Sad News

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Gloria Steinman. Dead. She taught me so much. Through her writing and organizing, but more through the women she inspired. The ones I knew well.

It’s been a sad couple of weeks: Dolly Parton, Tim Curry, and the actor who voiced Optimus Prime. Figures who stood out: music, quirky acting, Transformer movies, and now feminist organizing. Even the idols of our youth are mortal.

I have, since early seminary days, considered myself a feminist. Gratitude to Gloria Steinman, Betty Friedan, and others who pushed second wave feminism onto the national stage. The personal is political.

 

More sad news. When Carol, my p.t. person from Mount Evans Home Health Care, came yesterday, she told me they were being shut down as of September 30th. That leaves us mountain folk with no access to in home physical or occupational therapy. Would have made my recovery much slower, especially when I was just out of rehab and very weak.

There is still physical therapy up here, but getting to it requires a car, a driver, and sufficient mobility. Many cannot meet those criteria. A rural life problem. Not unique to us, rather shared by people who live far from urban centers. Health care for any who live in spots where economy of scale works against them. A tragedy. At the most personal level.

 

Robin and Connie spent three hours packing books yesterday. Move preparation. Had a guy come up yesterday to inspect my roof, too. More sad news, I’ve got to replace my roof on the house and garage. Making it worse. Not enough hail damage. Meaning this will be an out of pocket expense. Yikes.

Ruth and Gabe will finish pulling books on Friday. They’re coming up to be with me on the anniversary of Jon’s death in 2022. This is the hard date for them. Ruth in particular since she found her dad dead on his basement couch.

I’ve not gotten word on when his yahrzeit will be remembered at Beth Evergreen, but they will probably come up then, too. Say kaddish with the worshippers.

 

Melissa now makes me a hot meal every weekday evening. A real treat. Last night. Hot sausage with baked beans and coleslaw followed by a baked apple dessert. Until a week from Friday.

Gutters get cleaned today. All windows washed on Monday. With new roofs? What a fine sight to see.