"In me thou seest that time of day when yellow leaves, or none or few to hang about the boughs..." (WS)

.....I am convinced that aging is a ritual that elderly people, such as myself, are trapped into participating by the laws of geriatrics and gravity. First come the medications; when I was 56 I just took an aspirin in the afternoon and then went out and ran ten miles. Now that my 86th birthday is arriving just as it generally; no, usually, does on the 27th I take 19 medications not including the Tylenol and the Xanax I imbibe once in a while--when the spirit (or the laws) move me.

.....Then the aging phenomenon continues, One day You feel an uncomfortable flutter in your chest or like your heart is going to jump out of your ribs or that your heart is "flip-flopping around." Your pulse is irregular and/or more rapid than normal. like a motor idling too fast in your chest.You may feel lightheaded, very tired, have shortness of breath, sweating and chest pain, and sometimes a distressing need for frequent urination. You decide to get a check-up and the doctor tells you that you have Atrial Fibrillation or as they say, A-fib. (it isn't clear how A-Fib and frequent urination are related). So, now is the time to get a pacemaker in your chest. Reluctantly, or like the schoolboy "with satchel on back crawling unwillingly to school," you agree to the procedure. Of course, now you have to take the medication involved to keep your heart quiet.

.....Now that you have entered into the aging phase of your life you find that when you walk more than a few steps, your left leg bursts into pain. You discover that you have "intermiitent claudication" and so your son buys you a cane which doesn't do a hellova lot of good. But the doc gives you medication for your condition. Now the meds are creeping slowly into your life. As the aging continues, you realize that once you were 5'7" and now you are 5'6"! Gravity is doing its job. Of course, you are now a senior citizen and a member of AARP, and as such it behooves you to fall and break your hip--just like everyone else. So a hip replacement is in order, and afterwards you must purchase a walker. Now you have joined the Walkers Club. This event involves pain--and more meds--pain killers.

.....Reading a newspaper, you learn that the next Super Bowl in Florida will not arrive until 2015, a fateful and scary date because if you want to go, you'll be 91--if you ever get to be 91. By now you are thoroughly depressed and so you seek a visit with a psychiatrist. You discuss your situation with him--or her, and he--or she prescribes more meds. And now you remember Dylan Thomas's poem, "Do not go gentle into that good night" and the first lines, "Old age should burn and rave at close of day...", and the lines that burn your brain, "Rage, rage against the dying of the light." OK! OK! i GET IT!

"The worst thing that being an artist could do to you would be that it would make you slightly unhappy constantly." (J.D. Salinger)

This is another guest blog, by order of The Red Baron himself. Just after managing to escape from the rigorous regime of health and constant care at the rehab center, his Internet router apparently decided to need its own rehab and has abruptly shut down. I mean to say that The Red Baron is the one who manged to escape, not the router. The router, after all, is an inanimate object that routes things from one place to another. And when I write "routes", I am thinking in my mind that I am pronouncing it like it rhymes with "bouts" rather than "boots." Of course, if you are Canadian (and why, for God's sake, would you be?), you would pronounce "about" as "aboot." That would really confuse things, if you readers could hear me thinking the word, and if I were Canadian. But you can't, and I am not. Now, where was I, and why do you have me discussing Canadians?

Oh, I remember, the router. It seems that The Red Baron is not able to access the Internet. Since he cannot get to the Internet, he is unable to write his blog. Well, he can write his blog, but he is unable to post it online. In either case, his words cannot appear here until he fixes the router or buys a new one. By "fix," I mean to say that he would have someone come over to his place and undertake whatever repairs are necessary to get the router working again. It could be that the router is too old and needs to be replaced. By "too old," I mean to say that it's more than a few months old. The way that each "dog year" is equal to about (not "aboot") 7 human years, the lifespan of a router is measured in months. So, if you have a router that is a bit more than a year old, it probably fondly remembers having routed information packets about the Bush presidency and other ancient history (in router terms), including who won the last Major League Soccer chamipionship (something that no human is able to recall). When I say it "routed" packets, I don't mean that it "defeated" them; I mean that it "directed" them. Napolean, after all, "routed" his enemies, which is to say that he defeated them. I don't think I recall reading anywhere that he "directed" his enemies from one area of the battlefield to another. That wouldn't make any sense at all!

So, my point is that The Red Baron is unable to write his blog, and he was very concerned that his faithful readers (and his unfaithful ones, and you know who you are) would be too disappointed to see that nothing has been written here, and might even give up and go away forever. So, I am here on behalf of The Red Baron to let you know that he will be back soon, and that you should find a hobby or something to keep you occupied until his return. The Red Baron has told me about his readers, so if you do decide to start a new hobby, I implore you not to select something that requires you to use a sharp instrument. Or a rooter.

"No man in his senses will dance." (Cicero)

.....O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,How can we tell the dancer from the dance? ...William Butler Yeats.....

.....and sometime you can't tell the hip from the hipster. It's been an experience I would rather do without, but since I broke my hip, I've finally been discharged from the hospital and from the penitentiary where each day the care takers had me perform exercises that seemed to have very little to do with my injury, which befell me when I tried dancing with RH+ and my cane. While on the floor, peering at the ceiling, unable to rise, I couldn't tell the dancer from the dance, nor did I care to. I understand that the flight to Fort Lauderdale from St. Kitts cost $35,00 which I shall refuse to pay. Let Medicare do that chore. One novel event, among many, was being awakened at 5:30 a.m. while the room was pitch black, and a CNA asked if I wanted a shower. Is there anyone at all on the planet who showers at those hours? A CNA is a Certified Nurses Assistant who generally comes from a Caribbean island and who speaks English as though it were French. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I showered in the p.m.

.....Now, never in my previous life had I ever allowed a black or white woman shower me, but it was a new experience among many experiences in my life. I was dumbfounded as she helped me get undressed. For a moment I thought I would shower in my underwear, but who on this planet does that? Therefore I am now nude. To my knowledge, no woman would permit a male to shower her like I was being showered. Totally embarrassed, I stepped into the shower and the CNA washed my back and my hair, and then she put a little soap on a face towel--handed it to me and said, "You can wash your privates." I said I would be delighted if only I could find them--an ageing problem.

.....Naturally the food in that establishment was mostly inedible. Luckily, I had a care taker with the same surname, gracing her blessed soul, who brought me pastrami sandwiches and Chinese food. Without her, I cannot imagine existing, but fortunately I chose her over a plethora of others. I have always contended that she is an amazing woman with no faults at all, well perhaps a few--but who doesn't? When you progress to certain levels of mobility, they put colored bands on your wrist. Green is the ultimate reward; it means that you can use your walker without someone holding on to you. I'm not removing mine until I can return to walking merely with a cane; I never wanted to join the Walker's club, but now I am forced to become a member. Any questions?

"People say he's sage and deep; actually, it' just lack of sleep." (Anon)

.....Hi, this is RH+'s son, and the Baron has graciously allowed me to be a guest blogger. I spoke to him and my mom today, and he sounded rather well, apart from really wanting to get his rehab over with, and actually missing his blog. It is amazing how much his blogging has become a part of his life, as much as it has his faithful readers. He says he is sure that the Baroness misses being able to kick (nudge) him with her foot while sleeping. I am sure that he misses his Non-pareils and Mallomars, since I am sure those aren't standard rehab food. As I type this and reflect on my own problems in my life, I realize that if the Baron can be working hard on rehab with a smile (grimace) on his face, I can, too.

.....He hopes that his friends will keep him in their thoughts, and pray for his speedy recovery. I am sure that The Baroness will keep everyone posted on his recovery, and if I am allowed I will post more blogs in the future. However, I am only keeping this space warm, as I can not fill his literary shoes (nor do I try).