Category Archives: Friends

In the Company of Old Men

Spring                                                                            Planting Moon

A full moon tonight.  And good cards.  Fortuna walked with me throughout the evening, giving me winning hands including one lay down.

Ed, a regular, came in tonight and said he’d made driving mistakes twice, once on his way to his house and once on his way back and wasn’t sure he would make it through the evening.  He did, but I thought it was brave of him to acknowledge his anxiety, sharing it rather than fussing about it the whole evening.

Dick’s PSA, after 37 radiation treatments, is 0.0.  A good report at the same time his wife, on a recheck for a nodule on her thyroid, was told it was no longer there.  A good day all round.

(trump in sheepshead)

Bill continues to walk straight in his life after Regina’s death, acknowledging her absence and the profound effect it has had on his life, yet he reports gratitude as his constant companion.  He waits for a clear signal as to what comes next in this changed life situation.  He says, like Ram Dass, Still Here.

Cartography and Snow

Spring                                                                                       Planting Moon

Spent the morning redrawing a map of the Winter Realm and Summer Realm on Tailte.  Tomorrow I’ll work on detailed maps of both separately, the islands and the Dark Range.  This was a constant among the beta readers and I agreed.  Doing them now will help the rewrite.

This afternoon I hit a wall on the next four verses of Book I, the Metamorphoses.  My mind seized up and would go no further.  So, I went upstairs and took videos of the dogs play in the already 5-6 inches of new snow.  And, it’s still snowing.  Supposed to get heavier over night.

Worked out, aerobic only because my back still complains from my lifting the hive box with honey on Tuesday.  I could have done without this, but I caused it so what can you do?

Sheepshead canceled.  With the snow coming down heavy now and predicted to be heavier still we decided to put it off.  It was a wise decision, but I will miss the conversation and camaraderie.   Wanted to hear what the Jesuits thought about the new pope.

 

Being. Together.

Spring                                                                   Bloodroot Moon

The Woolly Mammoths met tonight at the Red Stag.  Stefan, Lonnie, Bill, Scott, Frank, Warren, Mark, Tom and me.  We talked of grandkids and blood sugar levels, the first days of retirement and the career of Teddy Roosevelt.

Some time ago I learned that these kind of gatherings are therapeutic in and of themselves.  By that I mean there is no particular therapeutic strategy in play save the most ancient one of a gathering of friends, yet that one, the ancientrail of friendship in a group, has curative powers.  My shoulder feels better.  I have a smile lurking just around the corner of my mouth.

Here we are seen by each other.  Our deep existence comes with us, no need for the chit-chat and polite conversation of less intimate gatherings.  The who that I am within my own container and the who that I am in the outer world come the closest to congruence at Woolly meetings, a blessed way of being exceeded only in my relationship with Kate.

Now over 25 years of being together.  Then, in the second phase of work and nuclear family, now mostly in the third phase.  What will we be to each other as this life change gradually envelopes us all?  We suspect it will be more than it has been up to this point and up to this point it’s been very good.

Getting My Kicks

Imbolc                                                                             Valentine Moon

Woke up, saw fluffy white snow outlining the trees, shrubs and fences.  A beautiful way to start my 66th year.  Spoke with brother Mark, Mary kept off by technical issues.  A new hard drive.  Always a good way to lose a program or two.  As they say in the Old Testament, blessings and curses.

I’ve been motoring along this morning finishing up a lengthy session in Ovid.  Or, I should say, several one hour or one hour + sessions that equal a lengthy one.  I’ve translated 21 verses and I’m confident of most of what I’ve done.  There are still hitches in my git along, but at least for right now I seem to have a flow underway.

Almost finished with the Eddas.  Then I’m going to put pencil to large format desk pad and start roughing out Loki’s Children.  I want to get it thought through to some extent before I start my revision of Missing.  That way, if I have to change things in Missing (and I think I will) I can do that in the upcoming 3rd revision.  I hope #3 is what will make me ready to start the search for an agent.

As I said the other day, I’m cruising into the third phase of my life, which I count as having started with the arrival of my Medicare card, with clarity of purpose, emotional support from family and friends, and good health.  Here we go.  Charlie, the final chapter.

Healing Friends

Winter                                                                          Cold Moon

The healing power of friends.  Not a big thing in the flow of life, but I felt a little down today.  A function mostly of my 1:00 am vigil beside our ailing furnace and its attendant physician.  Being tired translates into some negative self-talk, feelings.  They relate to that long, long time in my life, say from 19-30 and, to some extent, beyond that, when anxiety dominated my life, when I went to sleep with a small, glowing chunk of metal in my gut, often waking and unable to return to sleep.  Now these feelings return only with long intervals between and often only briefly.

Tonight though I went into Minneapolis feeling achy and out of sorts, not really wanting to drive the 40 minutes into Christo’s, a Greek restaurant.  [interesting side note here: 1827, from French restaurant “a restaurant” (said to have been used in Paris c.1765 by Boulanger), originally “food that restores,” noun use of prp. of restaurer “to restore or refresh,” from Old French restorer] I met for supper with Warren and Scott and Tom.

We talked, we listened, we saw each other.  When I left, two hours later, I felt refreshed, restored.  Dining with friends.  Healing.

A Good Week

Winter                                                                                     Cold Moon

This has been a good week.  Woollies Monday night at Mark’s.  Good food, intimate conversation with friends of many years.  A solid base to life outside the home.

Tuesday night Kate and I went to see the Hobbit.  Ate dinner at Tanner’s afterward.  Going out together is part of the glue that holds our relationship together.  The movie itself reinforced my writing, excited me.  The movie together puts another memory in the common memory bank.  Like South America, the Aegean, Europe, Hawaii, Mexico, Denver.  All part of our mutuality.

Yesterday dinner with Bill Schmidt, then Sheepshead with Roy, Ed, Bill and Dick.  Another base outside the home.

Then breakfast this morning with Mark Odegard.  He’s reading Missing and offered some very helpful insights.  We talked about life, art, how do we work in this third phase of our lives?

Weave into those social events a few Latin sentences translated, more of the Edda’s read, a bit of thinking about how to continue my love affair with art and the art world.  Steady exercise and a sensible diet.  The dip that showed up early has begun to disappear.

The Card Gods Have Not Died

Winter                                                                             Cold Moon

Tonight was a Sheepshead night.  The cards ran my way all evening, evidence, Bill Schmidt said, “That the card gods have not died.”  I owe them a joss stick or two.  It was a good night for me.  And fun.

(Beham, (Hans) Sebald (1500-1550)  Fortuna . Engraving, Representing Fortune)

Bill and I ate at the St. Clair Broiler before hand.  It’s a joint from the 1940’s and still has that 40’s feel.  A neighborhood place with neon flames on its sign and just plain nice people working there.  Our waitress was sweet, a gentle, caring vibration about her.

We talked about life, about his transition to life without Regina’s physical presence, and he noted that, “We’re all always in transition.”  So true.

Roy Wolf, in whose home we play, said, “I’m 78.  The median age for white men in America.  Half are younger, half are older.”  Amazing.  Heartening to this 65, soon to be 66 year old.

On that front.  I had my brush with a blood glucose level of 112, in the above normal range for the first time.  Tom Davis, my doc, said I needed to watch my intake of sweets and starches.  I have.  I took it one step further and have begun counting carbs.  Not quite as seriously as a diabetic, but pretty seriously.

Result:  blood glucose this morning of 101.  Very reinforcing.  I’ve lost a little weight, too.  Not much, but some.

Leaving

Winter                                                                  New (Cold) Moon

And so.  Had lunch with Allison at the Walker.  “Elvis has left the building,” she said when we met.  Today at 1 pm I said good-bye to Jennifer and Paula, turned in my badge to the guard, picked up my coat, the attendant found it before I put my number on the counter, that’s how much I’ve been there of late, walked out the door and left the museum behind.

Not forever.  Just till July 1st.  But it felt like a definite parting, an end of something and the beginning of another.

It was time, too.  I found myself impatient with kids on my first tour, 9 year olds, half of whom flocked to benches to sit down while the tour moved around them.  I was short.  Not helpful, but my toleration level for young indifference had reached a peak.  Time for  a rest.

When I saw Allison, we talked about the MIA, about touring, about her absence.  She mentioned that no one made any to do about Tom Byfield, who resigned last week.  Folks leave and neither the docent corps or the museum acknowledges the time and love they’ve put in over the years.  Often, many years.

Something to consider.

We also walked through the Cindy Sherman show.  Allison made an interesting point.  “Who is Cindy Sherman?  I mean, she’s about our age.  Has she had work done?  What’s she really like?”  A Walker guard said she’s unremarkable in person.  58.  It’s an interesting question.  As a sort of performance artist, wondering who she is raises questions of the nature of reality and the ability of artists to manipulate it.

After lunch, I drove home through the mist and grunge off the highway kicked up a filthy spray onto the windshield.  In January.  In Minnesota.  Guess we gotta get used to it or move.

It Was A Very Bad Year

Winter                                                                     Moon of the Winter Solstice

2012 has begun to fade into the past, most of its days now tailing off behind, most lost from memory, all passed into history.  It was, as all years are, a bad year.  The death of Regina Schmidt in September marked the first incursion of this finality into the immediate life of the Woolly Mammoths, that is, our spouses and ourselves.  While no death can be said to be bad, since death is a part and a necessary part of life, still it contains the pain of loss, the unsettling reminder that our life, too, will end and opens a hole in the social structure of family and friends.  We will miss her.

Warren and Sheryl lost, in relatively quick succession, three parents, having lost the fourth not long before these.  Sheryl’s father died first, then her mother, then Warren’s mother, then his father.  In the case of the Fairbank’s and Wolfe’s families this left both with sudden needs to reassess, reconfigure and learn how to live without their oldest generation.

Yin lost her mother, Moon, this year, too.  Moon emigrated from China with the young Yin, so they had not been apart for all those years.  The last several years Moon lived with Scott and Yin.

My cousin Leisa continues to mend from a stroke last year and Ikey, the oldest of the Keaton cousins, died this year.

Then, too, there were the guns.  The shootings.  More of the continuing madness, our embrace of the things which kill us in such senseless, brutal, unnecessary ways.  I happened to be in Colorado, staying only three miles from the Aurora theatre where movie attendees at a screening of the Dark Knight Rises were shot.  And, like you I imagine, the shootings in Newton left me weak in the knees.  Children.  Young children.

And the NRA solution?  A cruel satire, armed policemen in every school or, another alternative offered by gun rights advocates, arm teachers and principals and school psychologists.  Yes, we need more guns to prevent more gun deaths.  Can none of these guys see the serious flaw in this argument?

The country stumbled through the sort of end of the Great Recession, re-elected a middling President and saddled him with a congress unable to act.  These are not good things.

 

And Back Again

Samhain                                                      Moon of the Winter Solstice

Home again, home again.  Back from the doctor, back from the lunch.  Home again.

I’ve seen Tom Davis now for several years.  He’s thorough and personable, helpful, too.  When my labs come through, I’ll find out more news, but right now, I’m looking good.  No new maladies or ailments or dysfunctions.  Good news though what I expected.  I don’t anticipate any bad news on the labs either.

Lunch with Margaret Levin, executive director of the Northstar Chapter, Sierra Club.  She’s become a friend though I no longer volunteer there.  She and her partner hope to start a family and we talked about kids.  My writing, too.  Organizational matters with the Sierra Club.  All normal stuff, but frustrating.

Woollies tonight. I’m blessed with good friends, diverse friends.  Makes the holidays meaningful for me.