Category Archives: Uncategorized

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The more I think about it, the more I realize how toxic this election season has been. It’s been going on for at least two years and the poison has been seeping into almost every area of our lives. Candidates are attacked not just for what they say, but also for their appearance, their spouses appearance and history, reputed misdeeds in the past and overall general character. There is continuing clamor about what a dire future we all face if either candidate for president is elected. The down ballot races are very similar in that the character of the opposing candidate appears to be the main focus of attack rather than their ideas.

Is this now going to be how we decide all of our elections? What a depressing thought. It can literally suck the hope out of the future. Thankfully there have been some events apart from the election that have offered some consolation. Baseball has helped. The sheer joy of Chicago Cub fans when their team wins is something to behold. Even though I am a die-hard White Sox fan, I admire the loyalty of Cub fans. They have gone thru so many bad teams, and so much disappointment, they deserve this moment. Even if the don’t win their final game, the season has been a great success. Despite all of the evil ripples caused by this election, the sight of Cub fans celebrating every small event seems to help and provide a small antidote.

The other was Halloween. I am not talking about all of the candy and marketing. I just mean the real joy of little ones in this season. We were fortunate enough to go along with our 5y/o grandson as he went “Trick or Treating”. He was a ghost, sheet and all. At time he couldn’t see clearly out of his costume, but he really didn’t care. He would go up to the different houses and say the magic words “Trick or Treat” and get a reward. He had a great time and so did we. He then went home and seemed to enjoy giving candy out to all the other children that came to his house. It was hard to say what he enjoyed more.

I remember what Halloween was like back when I was a child. We would be out all day and part of the night getting as much as we could. The costumes weren’t as important as the sheer amount you could collect. We would get home made cookies, brownies, and popcorn balls at some houses. We would pass on information on what were the best neighborhoods to go thru. No one had a thought about poisoned candy or dangerous items hidden in the treats. Parents rarely accompanied us and we were free to roam wherever we wanted. We would even “Trick” houses that didn’t have candy by soaping their windows or toilet papering their yards. It was definitely a more innocent time.

I think that is what I miss. Those days are gone. There are poisoned candy bars and dangerous homes. Even though those events are rare every parent is concerned. When we went out with our grandson, we saw almost every child accompanied by a parent. Later in the evening some groups of teen-agers were out but we didn’t see any one out alone. I think the fear of something awful happening is what drives this and probably what has driven the sheer awfulness of this election. I know that the media message has been about voter anger and desire for a change, but I really think each candidate has been trying to frighten us. There are people whose future is certainly at risk. Jobs in manufacturing, coal mining, even transportation are gone. The promise to retrain people for hi tech jobs is great, but the reality may be overwhelming. Some people have to work more than one minimum wage job just to get by. There is no easy answer for this. The promise of bringing jobs back may sound great, but what jobs will come back and what workers will have the kind of specialized training to do them? How many 45 y/o workers will go back to school to learn these new skills when high school is 30 years in the past?

When I grew up I trusted the government. Now that is certainly not the case. Whoever wins need to work on developing some sense of hope and trust and optimism. As hard as it is, I just have to keep believing that it is possible.

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Chance. Recently I’ve had a lot of contact with my extended family. One of my cousin’s granddaughters was getting married and this signaled a gathering of the clan. One cousin came in from the west coast. He and I were raised together until we were ten. His family then moved to California but we would still see each other periodically over the years. He was married in April of 1973 and we were married in June. He has three grown sons and I have two. He has been retired since 2008.

We talked about all the amazing variables in our lives. So many things have happened and we are still alive to talk about it. He could have been sent to Vietnam but thru an almost miraculous series of events, landed in Germany. He had a brother die in childhood of a rare cancer. Both of my parents died young. We both worked at the same places for many years. He stayed with his employer for over 35 years. I worked at two different places for 20 years each.

We talked about getting old. He turned 71 today. I did last month. He said that no matter how you feel about getting old, an awful lot of people never had that chance. He is really right about that. If I think of the classmates I had who died in the war, or those who died early of illness, accident or addiction, it is quite a large group. I know people who we all thought would be happy and successful who have ended up divorced and barely scraping by. I am satisfied with the choices I have made, but thinking back the least little thing could have made my life much different. I met a girl on a camp out and on a whim asked her to dance. Forty three years later we are still together. What if I hadn’t? I taught for three years and then went to graduate school and entered my career. I could have stayed teaching or ended up in a business career. I would have missed all the wonderful people I came in contact with. I never would have learned from them. I would have learned different things, but maybe not have had the same rich experience. I wouldn’t have had my two wonderful sons. Maybe I wouldn’t have had any children, or God forbid, had daughters. I have always said I don’t think I could have handled that!

The smallest events, the wrong turn, the mistake at work, etc, could have turned everything in a different direction. I would often tell my patients not to compare themselves to others. They would look at relatives, even movie stars, and lament that those people had no real problems—certainly nothing like what they were experiencing. No one knows the crises and forces of others lives. I know men who came back from the war and went right back to the lives they had, and others who came back so damaged emotionally that they never really returned. Some of the damaged ones didn’t even see much combat, but there was usually one event that they could never work thru. One man had a very successful professional career until twenty-five years after the war there was a unit reunion. When he went something made him remember one of his best friends who was killed in a mortar attack. What bothered him was that he had turned one way and his friend had turned another. He had buried that memory for all those years until it came back so strongly that he was unable to sleep or return to work. He was able to work thru much of it but he kept talking about his good luck and his friend’s misfortune.

So we are all products of chance and the variables of existence. This brings me to the wonders of the Chicago Cubs. The last time the Cubs were in the World Series I was six weeks old. I was born in August of 1945 and the Cubs began playing the Detroit Tigers in October of that year. I have seen all the professional Chicago teams win at least one championship except for the Cubs. Now I admit to being a rabid White Sox fan and in Chicago you cant be for both the Cubs and the White Sox. It is against the natural order-at least the Chicago natural order. However I hope the Cubs win for the sake of their fans so maybe they’ll start talking about something else. The Cubs were always the team of the rich kids while the Sox were the poor working relatives. It has gotten worse over the years with development of Wrigleyville and the deterioration of the south side. It is a good metaphor for all of us aging Sox fans. Now we are the ones saying, “wait until next year (or maybe even longer)”. Virginia McCaskey is George Halas’ daughter. She is the principal owner of the Chicago Bears. She is now 93 years old and is furious that her team has deteriorated so much. She always has hope, but “wait until next year” certainly doesn’t sound very hopeful to her. She might not be here. I think I need to continue to focus on being grateful for the “chances” I have had. I still need to work on being more positive about what I have than what I don’t and maybe I do need to learn how to celebrate this poem

These are the saddest of possible words:

“Tinker to Evers to Chance.”

Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,

Tinker and Evers and Chance.

Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon^[a] bubble,

Making a Giant hit into a double^[b] –

Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:

“Tinker to Evers to Chance.”

Franklin Pierce Adams

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This week I turn 71. Where is my walker and hearing aid? I can’t believe they are still letting me walk around. I should be strapped into a wheel chair and dripping urine. One of my wife’s relatives had Alzheimers and had an electronic bracelet to help find her if she got out. My family often jokes about putting a chip in me because I get lost so easy. Last week I downloaded Medscape’s Checklist for Dementia. I didn’t notice any significant changes, but I’m afraid to give it to my family. I still remember my youngest son’s threat to put me in a nursing home and not tell anyone where I am.

Gees !!

What the hell is going on that I am turning 71? When I was in my 20s and 30s, 70 seemed very ancient. Now I am past that. I still see people who are very active. Our two current presidential candidates are in this range. Trump is 70 and Hilary is 68. Bernie Sanders is almost 75. So why does this seem like such a strange birthday?

I keep focusing on a line that one of them said: “We have more yesterdays than tomorrows”.

I still need to focus on today. I think the more I think about getting old, the older I will get. Birthdays used to be a time for celebration. I often couldn’t sleep the night before my birthday because I was so excited about the presents I would get. When I was in second and third grade, a girl down the block would throw a surprise birthday party for me. Then we moved away from there and I never saw her again.

If you think about it , what are the important birthdays in your life? 13? Now you’re a teen-ager. 16? Now you can drive. 21 ? Now you legally drink. 30 ? Now you can’t be trusted, or at least you can begin to think of yourself as grown-up.

When I turned 40 my wife threw a surprise birthday party for me. Somehow she got hold of a wheel chair and I had to sit in it while I opened all the joke presents. One of her friends hired a belly dancer. I still remember this girl dancing in front of me while I was in the wheel chair. I think she thought I was disabled. At the end of her dance I stood up and she almost fell over and said, “My God, you can walk!!” I still wonder if she thought her dance cured me.

50 ? Your kids are getting older and really don’t need you as much. 60 ? My God how did this happen? 70? Now I am three score and 10.

71 ? —————————————–?

I keep thinking of all the wonders that have happened in my life. The atomic age, moon landings, a few wars, cures for Polio and other diseases, important elections, etc,etc. My parent’s generation was the greatest generation. My generation, the boomers, has been one of the most important in history because of our sheer numbers and because of the decisions we have made. 10,000 of us will turn 65 each day until the 2030s.

Now I have noticed that things that used to interest me don’t excite me as much any more. I keep looking for new things. Maybe this is the beginning of a second childhood. Recently I took a drivers education course. Our insurance agent said that it would give us a definite break on the cost of our policies. It was fairly interesting and I’m glad I did it. However about a week after the course I was driving and realized that I hadn’t turned off my turn signal for about two miles after I had turned it on to switch lanes. I rationalized that I didn’t hear it because I had the music on too loud. I’m sure the people behind me understood.

Maybe I’ll get a tattoo? Now that really might be an idea. How about “71 and still lost “? How about a heart with “71 and still pissing her off”? “71 and not Fu#+*#% Done !!” Yeah I like that. Now where would I get it ? On my arm ? Maybe—this is really something to think about. If anyone has any more suggestions let me know.

Of course this could be all the evidence my family would need to put me away.

Better look at the Dementia check list again.

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In 1969 I lived in San Francisco from December thru March of 1970. I was working in a hospital on an internship. I worked on a general surgery floor and had contact with all types of patients. It was a valuable experience, but what I remember most about that time was my experience in the city. I remember the people, the culture, and the music. It was still a very free time and San Francisco was the center of that universe.

People led very open lives with no real boundaries. Drugs were cheap and harmless until later when amphetamines and cocaine took over and people began to die.

The memory of that time was brought back this week when I went to a Dead and Company concert. This group is made up of three members of the original Grateful Dead band and two or three guest musicians.

Last summer all of the surviving members of the band had the Fare Thee Well concert in Soldier’s Field. The ticket price for that concert was ridiculous but even so it quickly sold out. The Band members are aging but were surprised at the response (and the money they made). Due to that they decided to continue with this version of the group.

My son had asked if I wanted to go and I agreed. I drove to his house and he drove the rest of the way. We stopped and ate at a McDonalds. I hadn’t eaten there in years. It seemed different and certainly more modern. Now we eat a lot of Chicken and Broccoli and healthy stuff, but damn that burger tasted good. I had forgotten how much I like fast food. The whole night was bringing back memories.

Now the last concert I went to was about 20 years ago. It was a Peter, Paul, & Mary Concert at Ravinia. This was certainly different. From the time we parked and began to walk thru the parking lot I saw scenes of the past. Guys were running around shirtless, showing off their tattoos, or wearing some tie dyed material. Women were breast-feeding their babies. People were partying, throwing Frisbees, drinking and doing whatever. There were a few people trying to sell clothing and many people asking for tickets. Once we finally got in the Band had started. The music was great and I really enjoyed it and I really enjoyed looking at the crowd. There were a lot of 20s and 30s there. There were also a lot of 50-70s. I saw a lot of guys I would stereotype as old bald guys with ponytails, but I also saw some well-dressed folks who really were there for the music. There were also an awful lot of people there for the alcohol and the drugs.

I hadn’t been around that group for quite a while. I knew this was going to be different when the guy next to me pulled out a pill bottle full of marijuana and casually began to fill his pipe. My son elbowed me and told me to be cool and not say anything. As the night went on the dope increased. By the middle of the second set you could see waves of smoke all thru the place. There was one fairly obnoxious drunk but he was gone fairly quickly. I looked around and saw everyone dancing. Age, sex, clothing didn’t matter. We were concerned that one guy was so far under the influence of something that his dancing approached the level of a seizure. Everyone seemed to be having a very good time. I know I did. I’ve been listening to tapes of the concert ever since.

I missed the music. It is an important part of my life and at times I have let it go. I did like the folk music of the 60s, but I also liked bands like the Dead, the Who, the Allman Brothers, etc. I think I stopped really listening when glam rock came in and then the whole rap scene, which I could never get into. I know there is a whole generation of alternative music that I am totally ignorant about.

Did you ever wonder what the sound track of your life would sound like? I once told my wife that I wanted the Rolling Stone song “You Cant Always Get What You Want “ played at my wake. I still remember the “Big Chill” and thought that would be a cool way to go out. I think I told her that in my late 30s or early forties. Now I probably want people saying rosaries but maybe they could still hum a little Stones? I think I’ll put that in my will. Maybe now I’ll change the tune to Jack Straw so folks can sing the chorus “Roll On, Roll On” as they carry me out.

Whatever.

I just need to keep remembering some of the important stuff I have forgot.

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So recently I’ve been throwing things out. This is difficult for me since I know I am on the hoarder spectrum. I will find clothes that I haven’t worn in years but still don’t want to get rid of. In any case I opened one of my dresser drawers and found an old watch in several pieces in the back behind old rubber bands and business cards. I showed it to my wife and she asked about it. I told her that my mother gave me that watch on my 21^st birthday. This was about three months after my father had died and both she and my father wanted to give me something special for that important birthday.

It is an old Hamilton watch and I hadn’t worn it in over 40+ years—maybe even longer than that. It was a dress watch and back in those days I was pretty casual. When I told my wife the story,  she said we should get it fixed because of the family history. I agreed and sent it off to a jeweler.

The strange thing is that it did trigger memories. I was given that watch exactly fifty years ago. I still find that number difficult to accept. Last fall I drove thru a university I had attended and realized that I had started there fifty years ago. Fifty is not that large a number but fifty years is a very long time.

I know this blog has a recurrent theme of aging, but maybe it’s not so much aging as time passing and memories surfacing. How many ticks does it take for a watch to measure fifty years?

Yesterday in church the priest began talking about his parents and how they helped him experience God. He asked what our memories of that were. I began thinking of my childhood and the almost magical view of God I had. I don’t think this was totally due to my parents. I think the nuns and priests I was exposed to then had a very large part in this. I remember when I was in 5th or 6^th grade I would have to wear three or four medals and two scapulars to bed. I would literally clank every time I rolled over. This was because I had been told that if you wore these things you were guaranteed entrance to heaven. So if I died overnight I had a lock on the pearly gates. My parents never tried to dissuade me from this type of thinking. My grandmother from Ireland lived with us. She prayed two rosaries a day for her dead husband and had many more prayers throughout the day. Our house was filled with holy cards given as prizes and rewards from the nuns at school. We also had countless holy cards from the many family funerals.

I remember my parents had this large crucifix hanging over their bed. One time I took it down and found it had secret compartments to hold candles and holy water. I was told that this was for emergencies if someone got sick and the priest had to be called. Apparently many families had these special crosses.

I think death was always a presence in our family. My grandmother’s first child died of complications from scarlet fever and pneumonia when he was nine or ten. My mother’s sister had a child who died of testicular cancer at eight or nine. My parents lived thru the trauma of WWII. My mother was sure my father was going to be killed. She couldn’t sleep and lost a great amount of weight during that time. She also spent much time praying.

I think there was always an expectation that something terrible could happen and we had to defend ourselves as best we could. Polio was a real fear for the parents of that time. I think the vaccine began to come out in the mid 1950s and everyone hoped it would work. One of my cousins told me that there was one day she came home from school and it was like a plague had struck the neighborhood. There were police cars everywhere preventing people from leaving because a few children had been diagnosed with the disease. Given the time, culture and our family history, it’s no wonder that I had such a magical view of spirituality.

So now we are in the second decade of the 21^st century. We are constantly exposed to new marvels of science and technology. However there is still a sense of uncertainty about the future. Instead of Polio, we have terrorists and lone wolf gunmen, and new strange viruses. Every day there is something new. Politicians are trying to get votes by focusing on this fear. The media pushes it because it sells “If it bleeds. It leads—etc.” There is an epidemic of anxiety, depression, and insomnia. It is difficult not to get sucked into all of this. I think I have grown beyond my medals and my scapulars, but I still gather comfort from small prayers. I think I always will.