Category Archives: Aging

Just Another Miracle

Spring                                                         Bee Hiving Moon

Polio in the news.  This month’s Scientific American has coverage on the bid to eliminate polio.  That this can be a serious discussion represents a literally unbelievable leap from 1949 when I had polio to now.

(I was a March of Dimes baby.  March, 1950, I think.)

Polio before Salk and Sabin created even more generalized fear than H.I.V.  It devastated millions.  Some of us, like me, had it, recovered and moved on.  Others still wear a brace, have a withered limb, a curved spine.

I’m left with the fading memories of a forgotten terror, a time when a child’s chill could be the precursor to paralysis.  As it was in my case.

It’s strange to have been a victim of a plague most don’t even know ever happened.  Think of those high school seniors I toured last week who were born in 1994.  1949 was 45 years before they were born.  When I turned 18 in 1965 45 years before was 1920.  And 45 years back from my birth date of 1947 was 1902.  It’s as if I had the Spanish flu during the great epidemic and survived.

A miracle, really.

 

Go or Stay?

Spring                                                     Bee Hiving Moon

“Each of us must confront our own fears, must come face to face with them. How we handle our fears will determine where we go with the rest of our lives. To experience adventure or to be limited by the fear of it.”   Judy Blume, Tiger Eyes

I have a friend, he knows who he is, who loves to pack up and go.  Stay a good while.  Then come back.  He has tales to tell, too.  That time in the Caribbean when he thought he was going to die in a bad storm.  Selling art in the Greek Islands to make money.  Learning Fiji and Hindi while in the Peace Corps.  Tai Chi while living in Shanghai.  Creating an exhibit on safe sex for Thai kids.  Tango in Buenos Aires.  Gunplay in Mexico.

I don’t know about fear, but he sure loves change.  “Change is good,” he said, “I look forward to it.”

Since he began the pick up and go live in a foreign city idea a few years back, I’ve often compared my life choices to his.  It goes like this.  Am I too timid?  Stuck in one place?

I try to answer this question honestly because the answer matters to me.  Travel is part of my soul, too, and I love foreign travel most of all.  His choices seem to maximize the experience of being in another culture, being there long enough to sink into the culture, be part of it.  At least for a while, not just as wanderer from one place to another.

My answer to these questions goes like this.  I moved so much after I left home at 17.  Off to college, to a different college, back home for a quarter, then out for good.   Continue reading Go or Stay? →

Creating Self

Spring                                                              Bee Hiving Moon

“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” by George Bernard Shaw

Later today, beets blood, bull and golden and carrots, Nantes and one lone blueberry to replace a dead plant.  I think about it, this planting and nourishing, watching and waiting, then harvesting and preserving and eating, and I feel a part of my life being created.  This part gets its hands dirty, relishes the seasons and their graces, their vagaries.  This part looks at shades of green, knows this most important color as a friend and ally.

Another part, this one quiet and inward, wanders the halls of art museums, galleries, image collections on the internet and in books. Looking.  Seeing.  No dirty hands here.  Visual contact.  Delight in a curve, a color, an image, a remaking of tradition, new ways of perceiving.  This one knows the spread of art from Chauvet Caves to MOMA and delights in each creative moment.

Then the father.  And husband.  The family guy.  Cousins, aunts, uncles.  Grandpop.  One in a line.  A link between that great one-celled ancestor and the transformation of our species that is yet to come.  Love not abstract but concrete and timeless.  Walking with children and their children, walking on toward some unknown future.  Together.  That’s a part.

A noisy chunk, this one involved in struggle, voicing the cries of the poor, the victims, Continue reading Creating Self →

Trust Your Senses?

Spring                                                  Bee Hiving Moon

I’ve reached the age when hearing that I have mild cataracts counts as a good thing.  Eye exam today.  Playing space invaders (visual field), still good in both eyes in spite of the glaucoma (eye drops).

My ophthalmologist of 20+ years retired last year so this is only my second time with Dr. Brown.  She’s about 5 feet tall.  That’s with platforms.  She’s bright. “I see a stable eye today,”  she said.  A stable eye.  A good thing at any age.

Every time I to go the ophthalmologist (which I cannot spell) my thoughts turn to epistemology.  Today I got to thinking about medical specialties that focus on senses.  ENT.  Dermatology. (sort of) Ophthalmology.

Dr. Brown said to me today, “This visual field test tells me that your optic nerve is in good health.” A lot of ink has been spilled in philosophy over the degree to which we can trust our senses–since they stand between us and the world out there–but it occurred to me today that we never consider less than optimal senses.  What kind of information does an unhealthy optical nerve give me?  Does the degradation of visual stimuli correspond to a diminished or corrupted reality for me?  Ditto for olfactory, taste, touch, hearing.

I know my world is different from yours acoustically.  With only one ear bringing in sound data I cannot easily find the source of sound.  My aural world is less rich than yours.   I don’t know that it’s less real, but it’s different.  In some critical instances, very different.

Two examples.

Emergency vehicles.  When I hear a siren while I’m driving, I can’t tell where it is.  That’s different than the experience of a person who hears normally.

Vehicles approaching in a manner other than customary.  In England where they drive on the left I had to constantly remind myself to pay very close attention.  From the left is where I don’t hear.

Anyhow, I’m curious about sensory data.  And what it can and can’t tell us.

 

A Third Phase Entry: I Don’t Have Friends Who Knew Me When

Spring                                           Bee Hiving Moon

Sometimes realizations float up in conversation, product of a gestalt not possible without others.  That happened to me tonight at the Woolly regular first Monday meal.

Gathered at the Woodfire Grill in St. Louis Park, we began to toss around the topic of change.  Woolly change.  Some of us express excitement about change; some want to explore change, but do not want to lose what’s still valuable to them

At some point in the conversation I said, “Well, it’s not true for any of you, but for me, I didn’t go to high school here.  I don’t have those friends here who knew me when.  When I face down those final days, you’re those friends for me.”

Without even realizing what I’d done, I had laid a vulnerable part of me on the table, not a fear exactly, but a concern.  I don’t want Kate to have all the responsibility.  Nor do I want to have all of it for her.  Most of it, sure.  But not all.

Here then, was naked need.  A need for reassurance that these relationships will last.  Until death do us part.  That’s the realization.  I need to know that these guys will be there for me, as I will be for them.  It’s not often that an unexplored need strikes me, and rarely in public, but it happened tonight.

Let me quickly say that I don’t doubt these relationships.  It’s just that I didn’t realize how important, crucial even, they are for me.

Leave Taking

Spring                                                           Woodpecker Moon

At the dentist this morning I told them Kate and I planned to use a dentist closer to our home here in Andover.  This was what got me thinking about leave taking.  We’ve been with Centennial Dental for over 22 years and making the change was not a trivial decision.

In part we switched because our new dental insurance doesn’t include them, reason enough for sure; but, this was more a decision about not wanting a trip to the dentist to take three hours or so.  Centennial Dental is in Edina near the Macy’s Homestore.  They are great dentists.  That’s why we stayed so long.

After that, a nap, and then off to Champlain High School and my third and last, for now, class on the Adobe Creative Suite.  This class is on Adobe InDesign. I’m cranking up to sell my books on Amazon, through the Kindle store.  InDesign will let me format my books myself and save them in a file congenial with the Kindle operating system, perhaps others, too.

Then there’s the verdammt melancholy.  After the dentist I drove right at a car coming from my left.  I missed her, but my attention was not there.  Vacillating now between acting as if I’m fine and seeing if that will lift my spirits or biting the bullet, calling my old analyst John Desteian and my gp Tom Davis, take arms against this sky of clouds and by opposing them grow more cheerful.

 

The Argument Culture

Imbolc                                            Woodpecker Moon

Deborah Tannen was on NPR yesterday.  She has a new book out called The Argument Culture.  I listened to most of her presentation as I did my rounds to pick up the sub-woofer and learn more about the Great Scanning Project.  I just bought the book.

She made me stop and examine my own complicity in this culture.  Too often, she said, we escalate our arguments with war metaphors or dualistic thinking, seeing only one side of an argument or, at best, two sides when, in fact, some arguments only have one side and most have many.

As an example of an argument with only side, she cited the rage of holocaust denial that surfaced in the US a decade or so ago.  It happened, in large part, she said, because we believe every argument has two-sides and needs balance.  Especially journalists hold this view.  In this case established history leaves no room for doubt, no room for deniers, so there is, in fact, only side to this question.  The reality of the holocaust.  It distorts the reality of holocaust to have it “balanced” by the views of those who deny it happened.

Another example of an argument with only side, she said, is climate change.  I cheered here.  When 98% of scientists agree and the 2% are on the fringe, there is no argument to be had.

Here’s my admitted complicity.  When I enter the argumentative space, I set out to win.  Not to listen.  Not to consider the other point of view, but to beat it down, defeat it, send it limping, head-hung out of the arena.   Continue reading The Argument Culture →

Another Beautiful Day. Bah.

Imbolc                                                Woodpecker Moon

Another beautiful day. Yes.  But.  What dark forces work to push the boundaries of weather around like so many children’s blocks, a lego castle on wheels rolling north, careening over everything in its wake?  As I hope I’ve said here before, efforts to control global warming are NOT about saving the planet.  The planet will keep on whirling around the sun as long as gravity and spacetime remain.  Well, not quite, there is that whole red giant business, but it’s a really long time from now.

No, good ol’ h. sapiens will catch the fever.*  Of course, those with an eye to irony or just desserts might not see this a totally uncalled for solution; but, hell, I love our funny two-legged species, roaming around making babies, art, war, sport, roombas, nailguns and rainbow ponies.  What will the universe do for a laugh when we’re gone?

Fans of schadenfreude will rejoice.  Though whether one can be very schadenfreudie when you’re baking along with the ones responsible for delaying action, I don’t really know.

So, as a paid up member of the northern European gene pool, I’m tellin’ you it’s no wonder I’m melancholy.  The world is going to hell in a Hummer, not a handbasket.

 

*Scientific American

LONDON (Reuters) – Global greenhouse gas emissions could rise 50 percent by 2050 without more ambitious climate policies, as fossil fuels continue to dominate the energy mix, the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) said on Thursday.

“Unless the global energy mix changes, fossil fuels will supply about 85 percent of energy demand in 2050, implying a 50 percent increase in greenhouse gas emissions and worsening urban air pollution,” the OECD said in its environment outlook to 2050.

The global economy in 2050 will be four times larger than today and the world will use around 80 percent more energy.

But the global energy mix is not predicted to be very different from that of today, the report said

An Unlikely Flag Waver

Imbolc                                                      Woodpecker Moon

I remain unmoved by the current Presidential race.  The fracas swirls somewhere below the level of America’s current malaise.  No one, Obama included, looks like they have a clue.

There’s an old phrase I learned long ago:  how you define is how you solve.  That seems to be the problem.  How do you define the American weltanschung?  How do you define the root causes of our (apparent) decline?

Let me take a side trip while we consider those questions.  There have been two prominent books on child rearing of late:  Tiger Mother and Bringing Up Bebe.  One extols what the author defines as the Chinese way and the other, the French way.  These are seen as antidotes to the current state of child rearing practices here.

(Rearing children is a funny thing.  On the one hand my pediatrician wife thinks there should be a license exam before people get to be parents.  Plenty of evidence to support such a notion.  On the other hand there was my basic attitude to child rearing:  billions, literally billions of children, have been reared by people who had no formal knowledge of child rearing.  And the vast bulk of those kids survived into adulthood, so I figured I could do it.)

So, I’m waiting for the American Way.  You know, the book about raising an American child. Why?  Because we have an acknowledged knack for raising innovators, creators, scholars.  And you know what?  We got that reputation using the clunky, clanky old education system we had, even the one we had back in the long ago day when I was a student.

What I’m trying to say here is that we know how to do stuff.  Important stuff.  In our child rearing, in our educational system, in our economic system, in our political system.  In our military, too, for that matter.  We’re not world beaters at everything, no nation ever was, nor will ever be.

It is ironic in the extreme that this latter day radical critic of Amerika and our war in Vietnam would take up the banner of his country, wave the flag, not necessarily of our government, but the flag that represents this real place.  A place where we argue about immigration all the while we take in many, many immigrants.  A place where we argue about the failings of our education system while continuing to crank out the Zuckerburgs, Gates, Jobs types.  The David Wallace, Jonathan Franzen and Christopher Hitchens types. 333 Nobel laureates including:

  1. Christopher A. Sims, Economics, 2011
  2. Thomas J. Sargent, Economics, 2011
  3. Saul Perlmutter, Physics, 2011
  4. Brian P. Schmidt, Physics, 2011
  5. Adam G. Riess, Physics, 2011
  6. Ralph M. Steinman, born in Canada, Physiology or Medicine, 2011
  7. Bruce Beutler, Physiology or Medicine, 2011

The modern feminist movement had its European roots, of course, but look at what Betty Freidan and Gloria Steinham and that whole movement of women accomplished.

Consider the global impact of the US work of Martin Luther King.

Consider this, too.  All the people I’ve named here lived or are living during my lifetime.

Chuck Close, Siha Armajani, Mark Rothko (immigrant), Albert Einstein (immigrant), Morris Lewis, Andy Warhol, Claus Oldenberg, Robert Indiana.  You add the names that are meaningful to you.

Not to mention athletics.

I mean, come on, for a nation in decline, for an American psyche in freefall, we seem to be doing ok.  Not perfect, not our best, not all we could hope for*, (see the cartoon) but ok.

So, to get back to how you define is how you solve, I would ask this question.  Let’s look at those things that produced all these positive, good, extraordinary people and their life work.  Then, let’s do more of that.

Maybe it’s as simple as writing a book on how to raise an American kid.

*my sense is that we could move the whole public policy/state of the nation debate forward if we would analyze our country in terms of class, first.  That’s the point of the cartoon and I agree with it.  We are failing the working class, would-be middle class.  Badly.

 

 

 

Shadow Line Approaching

Imbolc                                                 Woodpecker Moon

Not sure how serious, but I can feel the clouds rolling in, a definite darkening of the inner horizon.  Missed a call tonight for the Sierra Club legislative committee through some technological foul up.  Maybe on my part.

Sorting through my fear about exposing my writing to the light of day.  I know this needs to change and change can trigger a melancholic episode, too.

Doesn’t have to be reasons when the light begins to dim.  I feel heavy, slow, molasses on the floor, thick curtains to push through.  Could be the unseasonable weather.  I know it seems weird, but I really like the cold and the gradual procession of seasons.  This tempering and sudden switching feels somehow wrong to me.

As I said the other day, I know I can’t change the weather, so adapting to it makes sense.  Enjoy the beautiful day!  Sunshine and warm weather.  What’s not to like?  But a part of me, a strong part, wants March back in late winter.

Or, maybe, I feel this way because I’m becoming melancholic.

The melancholy is a family thing, a genetic inheritance.  The bipolar gene runs in my family, I’ve said it before here.  I’m not bipolar, but I have these melancholic episodes from time to time, sometimes with little or no trigger.