"The grave's a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace" (Marvell)

.....Yesterday I drove to the VA Hospital by myself even though Rhoda volunteered.  I didn't want her to give up her freedom for the day, and she made good use of it going to get her nails done and shopping for groceries at Publix.  It's not a bad ride on the Florida Tpk; takes about 35 minutes and I get $19 travel pay every time I go there. PB asked for a health report, and so I shall oblige.  I had to have blood work at 11am and then I saw my primary doctor at 2pm.  I never had to have a wait like that at a VA facility.  When I finally saw her we went over all my medication and she was very concerned about the fact that my liver enzymes were at least 10 times more than the normal and she wanted to put me in the hospital.  At first I didn't understand that desire, but when I did, I asked why she wanted me in the hospital right away.  She said that my liver enzymes had to be monitored or I would become in very serious condition.  I told her I couldn't stay in the VA Hospital because my wife would not be able to make the trip back and forth in order to see me, as I assumed she would want to do; and secondly, I wanted to get a secondary opinion from my private primary doctor.  So, that's the current situation with my health.  I have to admit that I was shocked when Dr. Ducille told me she wanted me in the hospital RIGHT THEN!  There was no way I was going to do that.  

.....I'm beginning to think that the only sane people here are the one's who are writing the comments.  I know I'm not. So the thing to read are their comments, not my blog.  If you do that you will maintain your sanity; mine is under pressure.  This past year was a horror; I could not prevent the things that happened to me.  I had no control.  Now, I have even less control.  I am confessing to you that I take no joy in anything I do, and there are very few things that I can do.  Foremost in the joyless category is the inability to help my wife even it's for the little things like emptying the garbage or cleaning the dishes from the table.  I can't even walk the mall anymore to buy my wife a present.  You can't do much with a scooter, but look like a damn fool.  I have a dozen things that I would like to do but can't.  And so where do you think that puts me?  Read the comments; they define sanity.

"I could be well content to entertain the lag--end of my life with quiet hours." (Henry IV)

.....One of the enduring problems in my life right now is deciding what color to use when writing this blog.  There are simply too many colors to choose from.  It's like being in Macy's with RH+ as she is deciding what color to wear on a blouse that she needs to buy.   It is quite fascinating to be sitting in the aisle on my scooter and making a mind wager on the color she will finally select, and in how many minutes.  I don't consider this a waste of my time; it is a legitimate attempt to come up with the color she will select and in how many minutes it will take her to make a decision.  It only gets boring when I lose her as she goes up and down the aisles and she is too slight  and too quick to keep track of.  Macy's, like UPS, should supply tracking numbers to husbands who accompany their wives as they shop.


.....Speaking of keeping track of wives as they shop, it's difficult keeping track of former students, of colleagues, and of friends.  Recently, Harold Mack and Jane sold their house in Virginia and moved to Connecticut--I believe.  Hal is the last living member, besides myself, naturally, of my flight crew.  Also, today, surprisingly I got a phone call from Bob Fox, a  former student.  He also sold his house and moved to Vermont as well--to be closer to his children.  I don't know why these guys moved to Vermont; they are both good golfers, but in Vermont they need to learn how to ski.   I'm not so sure about Hal; he's older than I am so he better stick to Scrabble.  Bob, surprisingly, is now here in Florida and refereeing high school basketball games.  We have a breakfast date on Wednesday, and I'll have a few questions for him.  Bob had a great teaching career and recently retired.  I don't know what to think when I learn that a former student is retiring. It simply confirms the fact that little kids consider me old.  But little kids should not speak unless they are asked.


.....I certainly do not dispute the fact that I have passed puberty successfully.  And now, when I think about it, I don't have any life threatening diseases.  My health is excellent; my cholesterol is about 116, my blood pressure is always what it should be, my clothes fit me very well.  My problems are not health problems, they are physical problems.  I've had two hips broken since March, I've had a gash in my ankle that required stitches and staples (sounds like a good song title), but they have been removed.  The only thing that I have is pain--since March; and now I'm getting used to it.  Maybe I should wish myself a Happy New Year.

"I have seen a medicine that's able to breathe life unto a stone." (All's Well That Ends Well)

.....If you have been reading the comments lately, there is a medicinal conspiracy afoot to have me switch from my Warfarin treatments for A-Fib to Pradaxa, a relatively new drug--and an expensive one at that. Changing one drug for another when the one you are using is doing the job is not an easy choice--as I have found out on several occasions in the past with the VA medicines. Since I knew nothing about Pradaxa I checked it out on Google. This is just one of the articles I found.

I have atrial fibrillation.  How do I know which medication is best for 

me?  Whom should I talk to if I want to take dabigatran? (Pradaxa)

Talk to your health care professional to help decide.  There are many factors to 

consider when determining if warfarin or dabigatran is the best choice for you – 

stroke risk, bleeding risks, kidney function, personal and family factors, and 

financial considerations are just a few.  Each person should be evaluated 

individually to decide which blood thinner is best for them.  Some people with atrial 

fibrillation do not need to take a blood thinner at all.  Others may only need to take 

aspirin, while those with high enough stroke risk should take either warfarin or 

dabigatran. Kaiser Permanente health care professionals generally agree that 

people who are stable and well controlled on warfarin should continue with warfarin 

therapy.

.....Now, after reading an evaluation like this--especially the last sentence--it starts tremors in Baron's

 body; nevertheless, I promised I would discuss this with my doctor--and (as promised) I will--and that should make some of my readers happy for me. And I will pass my findings on to the Baron and his merry cohorts! (And I, myself, will be enthralled as long as I don't fall down).

"Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere." (Twelfth Night)

.....I've been engaged in this sublime activity since August 2007, along with the medication that has been accompanying it; so, at times I point my index finger out from a cloud in order to see who would reach out to touch my finger with their finger---or is this only done in bars, or in movies, or in the Sistine Chapel?  I keep hoping that the medication would work its wonders and have someone like Jane Fonda, Marilyn Monroe, or Whoopee Goldberg be at the other end of this phantasmagorical inane episodic word play.  Doesn't usually happen--actually, it doesn't happen at all.  

.....What should happen and which hasn't is that Jon  (my stepson) should be able to get a job which is steady and long lasting and which pays well for him...he is deserving. He did have such an arrangement with some airline which moved away from Norfolk and left Jon behind.  And he loved that Job.  Today is Jon's birthday and he is several years' old.  And the good news is that he is going back to school...The school is on the internet but it's still a school which gives degrees.  I believe that Jon will be going on to study business courses.  Maybe someday he will be a stockbroker after he learns how to break some stocks.


DECEMBER 16, 2011


.....Funny thing happened today.  I had received a Citizen's watch as a gift at my retirement party last 1982, and I never had to put a battery in it.  I was so proud that I went all the way to 2011 and never needed a battery.  What I didn't know as I was bragging about the longevity of that watch is that Citizen makes watches that need only light -- not batteries.  Well, it broke down, finally, and I sent it away to California to be repaired.  I received an e-mail stating that the watch did not have the proper parts to fix it--and no wonder--it was 29 years old, and I'm sure the repair guys lost all the parts by 2011.  I was offered the choice of a new watch at half price and I grabbed at the opportunity.  I bought a new watch and I watched the tracking at the UPS web site.  I learned that the watch would be delivered yesterday afternoon.  It was never delivered!  Citizen requested UPS to ship the watch back.  So I called Citizen and learned that the reason they requested that the package be returned was that the package contained my old irreparable watch--not the one that I bought!  Can you believe that?  The repairmen are not Harvard grads, I imagine.  Well, I will just have to wait for the new watch to be on its way--I don't know when--the old one is probably still on its way back to California.

"This fellow is wise enough to play the fool..." (Twelfth Night)

.....I imagine that everyone (Ha! Everyone? How many could there be? Count them on the comments--that is, if you can find the comments for the previous blog posting.  It's like a treasure hunt.)  Any hooo--I expect that all the treasure hunters (I count about five) are concerned about my recent stupid accident.  I cannot blame myself for it because I happened to see my degrees hanging on the walls (like MDs do) so I figured I was smart enough not to fall off the scooter.  So, who can I blame, if not myself?  The engineers who put that monstrosity together are to blame.  The slightest movement of the driver's body to the right or to the left would cause the scooter to flip over--along with the driver.  It's been two weeks now since that unfortunate, unexpected surprise.  Yes, a surprise.  As I lay upon the ground in the parking lot with part of the scooter resting on my ankle, I asked myself, "Why are you falling again?"  Surprise!  I had no intelligent response, therefore I had no choice but to remove all the degrees from my  walls.  So, now , instead of just pain in my left foot there is now pain in my right foot.  This time, however, it took several stitches and a few staples to bind the wound.  For this indignity I cursed Office Depot.

.....However, I was used to being stitched like an Afghan quilt because only a few weeks earlier I had stitches put in my face after the dermatologist extracted whatever little cancer happened to have taken up residence there.  But I'm bearing up under all of this painful activity, because I've had much worse "wounds" to carry around with me for much longer periods of time.  Now, I have to admit that if not for Rhoda, my life would be much more difficult now.  Unca Phil hit the nail on the head or is it "...hit the fly with the swatter"?  She is a caregiver to me, at the same time that she is having serious medical issues of her own which is taking an unfair toll upon her life in these "golden years".  I can't begin to write of the help she is to me, as Hindy is to Phil, and I am mortified at having to depend upon her for some things I cannot do for myself -- at this time.  Yes, I have to use a walker, but I hope to graduate to a cane sometime in the future.  It is much more "genteel".  And if I grow a beard on my chin, just think how professorial I would look.   Oooo Haaah!

"Who can control his fate?" (Othello)

.....Why does this happen?  Is there some mysterious force at work attempting to send me a message--which, as yet, I haven't interpreted. We were supposed to have brunch with "Eliza" and Dick, and then go on a boat ride on the Inter-Coastal along with about 30 other people from the Ping Pong Club today; but we couldn't make it.  Obviously, and predictably I fell from the scooter in the parking lot; of course the scooter fell mostly on me and the pebbles, tearing the skin from my right elbow, both knees, and my right ankle--which at the moment appeared to be fractured, or broken.  
.....Of course, since I have been taking Coumadin for A-Fib, I spewed blood all over my sandals and over the pristine ground.  Fortunately, a young lady jogger appeared and proceeded to call 911, which number I detest.  When the medics arrived in their beautiful red truck, neighbors appeared--almost like osmosis--the last thing that I wanted--to be gawked at.  Shortly thereafter I was loaded onto a gurney, then into an ambulance, and then to the ER of the local hospital where I was expeditiously bandaged like a mummy.  Both knees, right elbow, and right ankle--which took six staples and four stitches to close up.  I needed that right foot to step on and off curbs, and in and out of cars. 


.....I can't continue this for a few days--until the pain subsides to the point where I can remember what it is I want to say; but keep checking.  


     ok Just to clarify, I did not say that I broke my ankle. It was very painful and what I wrote was that it appeared to me that there was a break there, but when I got to the hospital, they cleaned the blood from my knees and my right foot & my elbow, but x-rays showed no break.  However, there was a deep gash on the foot which required stitches and staples. They will be there for a few weeks before they can be removed.  (The stitches and staples, Joel, not the ankle.)

"...youth's a stuff will not endure." (Shakespeare 'Twelfth Night'

.....There used to be two locations where I could get a couple of hot dogs and fries from Nathan's--one in Boca Raton and one in Boynton Beach and then the one in Boca closed down.  Oh, yes, and there was a Nathan's venue in the Lake Worth plaza on the Florida Tpke., but it closed down also. Sadly, then the one in Boynton Beach closed down, and I was devastated and had severe withdrawal symptoms for lack of a Nathan's hot dog and fries. This lack went on for a whole year and was severely exacerbated when I also broke my hip back in March and both of these events led to a depression unalleviated and painful. Yes, having to endure a Hebrew National hot dog did not help either the pain or the depression. However, I became my old cheerful self once again when I discovered a Nathan's venue very recently inside of a K-Mart store just east of I-95 and Palmetto Park Rd.!  It was rather strange to be eating Nathan's hot dogs inside of a department store, but that did not affect the delicious experience.

.....I was reminded of the zeitgeist days that I used to go to Coney Island when I was a kid and ate at the ORIGINAL Nathan's.  Hot dogs were a nickel back then, but the high price did not matter to me.  Along with the hot dog, I also used to opt for a chow mein sandwich which Nathan's offered at the time.  Coney Island was a long way from the Bronx on the el, so I had to make the most of it as far as having fun was concerned.  Of course, I was always with a girlfriend and we went on the Cyclone roller coaster, of which there was no equal in the world.  Then what was called The Steeplechase, where you sat on a horse--not a real one, but almost-- for the ride was on rails and you rode that horse as though it was Seabiscuit; although it was way before that horse was born. Then there was the Spooky House which led you on a scary ride, mostly in the dark.  That gave the girlfriend an opportunity to scream and grab me around my neck; and gave me the opportunity for other things a guy might do in the dark, driven by raging hormones--and also a bit scary, depending on how well you knew the girl.  

.....After the rides, it was wonderful just to walk on the boardwalk and smell the ocean and watch the seagulls. We would stop and get some salt water taffy or some cotton candy or some chocolate fudge and then stop for awhile to play some miniature golf.  Sadly, it was dusk by this time and I had to get the girl back home before it got really dark. The experience cost me about $1.35--almost all of my weekly allowance, but I had to admit it was worth it; especially Nathan's and the darkness of the Spooky House.  There is no fun like that anymore; not anywhere. Not even close. Why is it that by the time you get your head straight, you're too tired or too ill or too immobile to do anything about it. I have no regrets about youth being wasted on the young; I guess I wasted my youth having fun and eating hot dogs, but who cares?

THANKSGIVING DAY

.....Today is "Turkey Day", although I suspect that not everyone is going to eat the traditional food.  Those who are financially secure may be grilling steaks in the back yard, or simply chicken, or hot dogs and hamburgers...or even, perhaps, lobsters.  But there are millions of people in this country now who are living in poverty.  I believe the latest figure are those whose income is below $22,000 a year.  Now, this doesn't merely apply to families who are living in run-down, crime filled urban areas; it also applies to people who live in well-to-do suburban areas of big cities who have lost their jobs, and perhaps their homes, and who have to change their lifestyle with food stamps in order to feed their families.  It is truly tragic that people have to suffer this way...and Republican congressmen oppose any tax on the wealthy 1% of this country.  The fact is that many of them are wealthy themselves. There is one way, and one way only, I believe to escape a life of poverty--and that is education.  There is no reason that I can think of that funds to improve run down schools, and funds to attract good teachers, and funds to send poor kids to college cannot be legislated.  FDR sent thousands of veterans to colleges under the GI Bill--and I am one of them.  Why not the same type of program for the children of poverty stricken families?  Oh, well, I'll get off my soapbox now.  I may not know what I'm talking about, but what I am thinking is a whole different matter.

.....In yesterday's posting, I included a stanza from a lengthy poem by Swinburne called "The Garden of Proserpine" which seemed to inspire a few readers. It was a stanza which stood out for me when I first read it.  But it was not the only inspirational stanza that I read when I was in the process of being educated.  There are couple by George Gordon, Lord Byron that stand out in my mind.  Like this one which touches upon Nature, something in life that we should be thankful for.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.-

.....To mingle with the universe!  Man, how lofty is that?  Try mingling today, Thanksgiving Day; believe me it is "cleansing," cathartic--and if it works for me, it can surely work for you.  I've written some poetry myself, but it is all put to shame by such lines as "There is rapture on the lonely shore."  Rapture, indeed.  And today, one must give thanks for all that nature provides, and Byron manages to tell us what it is.

"Heap high the board with plenteous cheer, and gather to the feast."

.....Finally, I decided to write a novel; it will become known as "the great American novel" depending on whether or not I finish it.  No fair comparing it to anyone under the age of 80 who has written a novel--like F. Scott Fitzgerald or Ernest Hemingway, or Mark Twain, et cetera.  Now, you might be curious as to the subject of this novel; well it's a novel subject which at the moment I am not able to divulge.  I have a few pages already, and I have no idea where this thing is going, but I'm going to plod along until I have as many pages as "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." (Is that a novel? I never read it.) Or perhaps as many pages as Tolstoy has written in his novel...I don't think he was over 80.  I did read somewhere that his wife copied his edited versions of "War and Peace" 13 times!  She had to have had writer's cramp.  And she never had the use of Paper Mate Ink Joy 300 RT Retractable pens.  If I ever finish this novel...and it might be when I hit 90...I will probably send it to Oprah, if she still has a show.  Otherwise I will give it to an agent to publicize and sell a million copies like Sarah Palin. You never know.

.....I will write this book in spite of the fact that I have had a sore toe for almost nine months, and I still have to go to the wound care center.  And in spite of the fact that my hip surgery has not healed to the point where I can ditch the scooter and the walker and get by with a cane that Bobby bought for me; and in spite of the fact that I have had stitches in my cheek from Moh's surgery for a couple of weeks now.  The doctor does not have to remove the stitches because they will dissolve themselves and most likely  will leave a scar on my face so as to spoil my looks.  I will write this book in spite of the fact that I have watched RH+ unhappy about her weight loss; and in spite of the fact that she has had some serious medical issues herself, and I don't like to have things like that happen to her.  If these medical problems continue, then these are not the "golden years"; more like the tin years.  The novel may have to wait until I'm 95, and by then I'll only be able to write about five words at a time before I need to take a nap.

.....Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, and I suppose we ought to remember all those things we ought to be thankful for.  I am thankful that I am still living and have all my "marbles"; I am thankful that in these times, my house is free of debt; I am thankful for the full life I have lived and I believe none can match; I am thankful for the amazing four children that I have brought up; I am thankful for the amazing woman that is my wife; I am thankful for the books I have published; I am thankful for the health that I have in spite of my misfortunes; I am thankful for my good friends, and when the need for thanks comes around I am reminded of a poem written by Swinburne:

From too much love of living,

   From hope and fear set free

We thank with brief thanksgiving

   Whatever gods may be, 

That no life lives forever, 

 That dead men rise up never;

That even the weariest river

   Winds somewhere safe to sea.

"...and damned be he who first cries 'hold', enough!" (MacBeth)

.....Our cuzzin, Ruthie, from the UK has been so angered and frustrated and nonplussed, and nonminused, and furious about being kept on "hold" on her telephone calls that she was inspired to write the following poem.  This is a UK poem on the subject of "hold" , not a USA poem.   The author is Ruth Grimsley an English poet, and her poem is now immortalized.

OTHERWISE PLEASE HOLD

I telephoned the Council   to get some information

And heard a recorded message   that caused me great frustration

“Press 1 if bankruptcy is looming: press 2 if your ferret needs grooming

Press 3 if you want to catch cold: otherwise please hold!” 

I held on as instructed    for 60 minutes – an hour!

Until near-fatal boredom   did me quite overpower

2 .  I telephoned the company    that sells us all our gas

And got a recorded message    that made me feel like an ass

“Press 1 for the complete works of Trollope: press 2 for some corporate codswallop

Press 3 to buy or sell gold: otherwise please hold!”

I eventually spoke to a person   but she was just a minion

She sympathised with my problem   but couldn’t pass on an opinion

I telephoned the DWP      to query the administration

Of my pension, and their message   caused me great perturbation

“Press 1 for cheap offers amazing: press 2 for double glazing

Press 3 to stop growing old: otherwise please hold!”

I held on for a solid hour   without any sensible reasons

Because I found I was listening    to Antonio Vivaldi’s “The Seasons”

I telephoned the company    that gets our water drained

And sat amazed to listen to the message it explained:

“Press 1 to know how Catholics   and Protestants do differ

Press 2 to find out how to make   you or your partner stiffer

Press 3 to feel that heavenly love   does your soul enfold

Otherwise, would you      please just kindly hold.”

I sat there idly wondering   where these ideas came from:

Then another message said   “see our website

www  dot idiocy dot com”

If I’d wanted an hour of boredom    I could find it easily

If I’d wanted to get nothing done, I could have done that for free

If I’d wanted to hear Vivaldi    I could have done it on my own

And if I’d wanted to view a website    I’D NEVER HAVE PICKED UPTHE PHONE!

.....I would not deign to ruin the effect of horror as one finishes reading this poem (must be read aloud conversationally in order to feel the horror) on the chance that any of my readers has experienced the same onphone experience that Cuzzin Ruthie has achieved so artfully in this, her madness poem.  The worst thing, besides being put on "hold" is to have someone speak English to you in a foreign language. Perhaps that will be her next poem. (And notice the erotic line RG snuck in which makes this an R rated piece and her a limey to be desired.)

"Animals are such agreeable friends..." (George Eliot)

.....I always knew--well, maybe not always-- the collective nouns referring to certain groups of animals.  For example, a herd of cows, a flock of birds, a school of fish--what fish is educated?--a gaggle of geese.  Aha, what about a group of lions, crows, doves, owls and baboons?  It will not be fair if you google them.  If you know, just put it down--and it has nothing to do with your IQ. I'll give the answers at the end of this article.

.....Today, I literally spent hours attempting to change my IDs & passwords on a few websites, and getting routing numbers from online banks so that I could transfer funds when I need to.  The damned websites battled with me over giving me access to my accounts, and several times I had to call customer service on the phone.  That's where I got an automated person telling me which numbers to press according to the information I wanted.  To speak to a real live person, one has to wait about 10 minutes most of the time. Screw that.  I'll start all over again manana.  Perhaps things will have changed.

.....Things are getting better with me.  The sore on my heel is almost closed.  I am free of pain now most all of the time--unless of course I bang it against something.  Insofar as my hip is concerned, the doctor tells me it's healed after looking at the x-rays.  I have my doubts because I cannot walk without the use of my walker--which, incidentally, has Harley-Davidson stickers all over it--courtesy of Bobby when he was here with Michelle. I don't know what is going on with them now.  Did get exciting news from Katrina, my granddaughter, telling everyone that she has a very special man in her life who has proposed to her. She is now engaged to this sailor named Max Hudgins.  They have tentatively set the date for September--depending on their schedule with the Navy.   So I suddenly have to start saving for the wedding.  But I do have my tuxedo ready!

Answers: A murder of crows, an exaltation of doves, a parliament of owls, and last, but not least, a Congress of Baboons!  Most appropriate, don't you think?

"Can'st thou quake and change thy color, murder thy breath in the middle of a word, and then begin and stop again, as if thou wert distraught and mad with terror?" (RichardIII)

.....69 years ago today, November 18, I joined the Navy. Should I celebrate this anniversary or not?  If I celebrate now how should I go about it?  Go out to dinner? A movie?  Or just treat it like any other day. .....I remember that day vividly.  Mom took me to the center where all the enlistees were.  I had a helluva time getting my mother to agree to let me join the Navy.  I told her I wouldn't get hurt because I would sign up to be a Yeoman...who, basically was a clerk.  I could type and take stenography. A Chief Petty officer took me to a room where I took all my clothes off and he went back to give everything to my mother.  In this room  I had a thorough physical exam.  Then another room where they took off my curly locks and made me look like a plucked chicken. When all this was done, everyone got into line and made an oath to serve the country. In a few days we boarded a train, and we were on our way to boot camp at Great Lakes, Illinois--close to Chicago.  

.....This morning the wound care nurse changed the dressing on my heel wound.  She comes twice a week. On Wednesdays I go to the wound care center where the doctor looks at it.  I asked him when the heel would heal and he said about the end of the year.  I have to admit the thing feels a lot better. I can even get t sock on my foot.  After the nurse left, I left to go to the dermatologist where another nurse took the bandage from my cheek and I walk around with my stitches open for anyone to see.  Then I met Rhoda at Bagel Tree for her brunch and my breakfast.  Some celebration.  Weeeee!  I had two eggs over medium, bacon and home fries well done, coffee, and a plain bagel with cream cheese.  My anniversary breakfast.  When I got back home, I went to the Theatre Arts Class which I have been attending ever since I got home from my rehab.  The "students" put and a show in the ballroom for residents to attend free.  They did skits and monologues.

..... The showcase performances were disappointing.  Some in that show forgot to get into their character; forgot the motivation involved in the skit or the monologue; forgot the emotion of the character; spent too much time holding their papers for dear life; forgot to use decent diction and elocution; forgot facial expressions, and several other facets of acting. (See title). Sadly, no one asked me for some help.  I don't bite.  I don't intimidate.  In short, I teach.  So, I see no reason to continue going to that class; there are no roles for a guy with a walker.

Sturm und Drang? Sui Generis?

.....Yesterday, I had mohs surgery on the squamis cell carcinoma on my left cheek which only added to the sturm und drang of this year.  (No, Joel...not that cheek). See, I have interrupted your obvious attempt at a bon mot. I simply cannot wait for this year to be over so that I can get a new start with everything cured and healthy.  And that also goes for RH+ whose health lately has made her RH-.  So, at the moment I am relegated to the use of a walker-- and mine compared with the others' around here looks as though it's custom made.  There are Harley-Davidson stickers all over it (courtesy of Bobby) accompanied by such stickers as "Been there.Done that"; "Why is it that everything my wife gets mad about have to be fun?"; and "Bikers have more fun than people do.".  I also have stuck a miniature flag on a stick to the walker.  And, finally, (for the decorative nonce) RH+ bought lamb's wool grips for me.  Thus, I am the pride of Huntington Lakes.  No one has a walker like mine in any other South Florida community. In that respect I am surely "sui generis".

.....Last evening in our clubhouse, the "Boomers' Club"  held a Veterans' Day party in our ballroom, although I doubt that many of our members are real Boomers.  I know I'm not. I'm a Greatest Generationer, and I did observe several other guys in my category. At any rate, there were about 250 members there enjoying a concert by the Boca Singers who delivered several patriotic tunes. One of them was "God Bless America" when most everyone stood up with hands across the heart.  To me, that was the song that Kate Smith sang at Philadelphia Flyers' hockey games and it became known as Kate's song. But it is obviously not our national anthem, and I don't know why everyone stands for Kate Smith.

.....Yesterday was Veterans' Day, and since I am a veteran I got a few telephone calls of recognition. The best surprise came from Katrina (24), Bobby's daughter, who is making the US Navy her career it appears.  She spent four years in Hawaii and came back to Maryland recently where she works of aircraft engines. We spoke to her for about a half hour.  Of course, we invited her to come here for her leave to get away from the snowy north. Then we got a congratulatory call from her Dad who does call us often. And finally, Sean (28), Bonny's son, called from California to wish me a happy Veterans' Day. However, I for one, did not consider it to be "happy"--why happy? I could not help remembering, all day, those we left behind who never will have the opportunity to be happy. But, I do understand the reason behind wishing friends & relatives a happy day on all of our holidays--except Memorial Day, when I don't think it would be appropriate.  Well, I guess I did have enough to say on Veterans' Day...check out the comments!

"Tis ten to one this play can never please all that are here..." (Henry VIII)

.....Judging from the spirited comments on my October 25th blog, it seems to me that there is some interest in figures of speech.  Consequently, I shall shamefully cater to those who wish to do some writing, and whose sentences often contain these figures without the author knowing that he has used them.  However, those who do write for fun or profit would do well to know some of the important figures of speech so as to make his/her writing more interesting.  For example, there are litotes, oxymora (plural for oxymoron), hyperbole, & aposiopesis--something you might want to look up... and if you don't do it I'll...  (The last type of threat is rarely used in writing, but often used by parents in speaking to their children.)  Speaking of writing, and figures of speech, I have just published a book of poetry in full color which is a hard cover version of "Addenda" (the paper-bound); I must say it is a thing of beauty...something that would do well to be displayed on your living room's cocktail table...or something similar...so that guests might casually pick up and read some.  Unfortunately, it comes at a fairly high price of $24...but of course I think it's worth it, and I could use the royalties.

.....Speaking of high prices, with the help of son, Bobby, who has an account on eBay, & with the help of his expert advertising, we sold a gold coin of mine for $3100.  I bought this coin a few years ago from the US Mint for $1200.  I've been collecting coins for as long as I can remember, and put each denomination in coin folders.  Recently, when son, Joel was here with Barbara I gave him most of the collection...as a part of his inheritance...he should make a good sum of money if he ever decides to sell.  I have already given each of the "kids" a cash part of their inheritance.  I can't believe I'm using the word "inheritance".  I never believed I'd have anything to leave as an inheritance, but I invested well and I decided, along with Rhoda, to give them their share of inheritance before I die...so that I could see them smile.  Unfortunately, I don't have "skype" so I could not see the smiles.  (I think it's called "skype")

.....about the health issues: I've given up going to hyperbarics (the oxygen treatments) because it has made my ears stuff up as sometimes occurs when flying, and secondly, I got tired of spending an hour and a half in the tube.  Extremely boring.  I still have the sore on my heal, but I've been going to the wound care center and it's gotten very small.  There is a lot less pain involved now.  The other issue is my hip; my leg is still not mobile & so I have to use a walker.  I hate it, but I can't do anything about it.  As for RH+, she has her own health issues which are not up for discussion here.

.....about theater issues: Once a month the "Acting" class which meets every Thursday puts on a "Showcase" in the ballroom & usually about a hundred people come to be entertained by the monologues and skits which people in the class perform.  A friend who attended said it was "fun".  Oh, I totally agree about the fun part, not so fun about the performing part.  Probably not so much fun for those in the audience who left at intermission.  The frustrating part for me, however, since I studied at the Columbia School of Drama, and the NY Conservatory, and I have 30 years experience performing in the theatre here and in NY, and that I am a PH.D in English, is that only one or two in this class appear to be interested in getting some help with their ACTING!  I thought that is what the class was supposed to be about, but disappointingly, it doesn't appear that way.  Whatever people are told about the importance of projection, of diction, of movement, of facial expression, and  emotion & etc.,  they completely ignored in this showcase--including what instruction they were given on Thursday's rehearsal about the proper use of the microphone.  Perhaps the latter was due to nervousness or stage fright or both. As for my part in the show--it was to sing "Rich Man" with a harmonica player's accompaniment.  Oh, I'm no Zero Mostel, or Hershal Bernardy, or Topol, or Richard Burton, but I do know a bit about the theatre and about performing.  It amazes me that those who have put on "in-house" shows in the past few years have never asked if I would care to direct a show.  They surely could use some direction-- and profit by it.   I suppose now I'll be known as the Piers Morgan of Huntington Lakes.

"Blessed art thou among women" (Bible)

.....RH+, unfortunately has been ill of late.  She is quite frail, having lost weight without knowing why or how.  She has no appetite and has no energy to do the things I have seen her do.  Her nephrologist called one morning and told her to go to the hospital because she was dehydrated and her kidneys were not functioning properly and she needed to take care of that.  She was in the hospital four days and while I was alone in the house I was reminded of an article and a book by Ashley Montagu titled "The Natural Superiority of Women."  And I agreed with him.  He maintains that women by nature & biologically, are superior to men. Scientific tests indicate that the female brain is more highly developed structurally and functionally and it is capable of  thinking more soundly and intuitively than the male brain, Montagu says. The end result is that women are more insightful and have greater stamina and longevity--or, in other words, women stand the test of time.

.....According to Montagu, women are the carriers of the true spirit of humanity, as best captured by the love of a mother for her child.  It is the preservation and diffusing of that kind of love that is the true function and message of women. While I was alone in the house I got a somewhat different view of the superiority of women.  I realized all the work that RH+ does in our home.  She takes responsibility for our meals; she does all the grocery shopping; does the laundry--and there is a lot of it; she folds--neatly--anything that needs folding; she cleans the table of dishes, cups, and silverware when we finish our lunch & dinner; she tends to making the bed after we rise in the morning; she takes care of the pillboxes of our medication--no easy job; she pays the medical bills; she goes to the board meetings; she just finished four years of her presidency of our City of Hope chapter; she does cleaning when needed; on holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries no one goes without getting a card from her; and when I need help, she is there for me. And the final proof that shows how superior women are to men is when she shows her love and kisses me.  No man can do that for me.

What is this thing called "Love"? This funny thing called "Love"?

.....We had some good news the other day when we went to Hollywood so that RH+ could have a scheduled UltraSound on her thyroids.  She had been told by a local endocrinologist that her weight loss and kidney & loss of appetite problems were due to parathyroidism and that she would have to have surgery.  However, the ultrasound found nothing wrong with her thyroids & RH+ was overjoyed...well, maybe not "overjoyed", but at the least, "joyed".  The bad news is that no doctor, with confidence, has been able to tell her why she had such a weight loss. But now she has to go through a battery of blood tests which various involved doctors have ordered. The result of the ultrasound took a big load off my back, so to speak.  Why?  Because I couldn't tolerate seeing her so ill and so depressed. When we got back home on Tuesday, I sent her this poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

   How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
    I love thee to the level of everyday's
    Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
    I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with the passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
    I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
    With my lost saints,–I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life!–and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.


Pretty powerful stuff, don't you think?

.....Well, I did find something else to do with myself besides lounging in my lounging chair and watching the boob tube. I apologize for the use of the word "boob".  I don't want my hard drive to be impounded by the FBI. For as long as I find it interesting and fun, I'll be playing poker on Wednesday nights...that is, until the regular seventh guy gets back from up north.  My first crack at it I lost $5. That makes me furious. While I was on the job I had a weekly game with my colleague teachers & I hardly ever lost anything because those guys were such bad poker players.  In fact. BD, handed me a $5 bill even before the game started!  Of course, I did not want any money for free, but he did lose $5 most of the time, if not more. Gee, I really miss him.  Come on down, buddy.

"Here comes the Sun...let the Sun shine in". (Whoever)

.....Today was a wonderful day...I mean for certain--full of wonder.  The wind blew open our front door.  A mystery how it got unlocked.  We were going out for Sunday breakfast and as I got onto the catwalk with my walker, the breeze couldn't but help to soften, and even alleviate, my depressed mood.  I looked up to the blue sky laden with white and grey clouds which were being swiftly wafted along by the atmospheric winds.  They moved through the sky like great white whales in the sea.  The palm trees all bent in the wind along with all the other green life, and all in the same direction, and all at the same time---it was all like music-- a phantasmagoria of a green symphony of nature.  It was simply poetry in motion--and an ineluctable approach of winter.  I never lost my awe of the fact that we are on a whirling planet somewhere in a vast and endless, constantly expanding universe.  And in the midst of the terrible times we are living in with millions of jobless Americans, with the foreclosure of people's homes, with the fear of terrorism, with the bickering of our government, we have grown out of touch with the nature that is all around us.

.....It was Wordsworth who wrote, ".....the world is too much with us, late and soon, getting and spending; we lay waste our powers...little we see in nature that is ours; we have given our hearts away, a sordid boon.  The sea that bares her bosom to the moon, the winds that will be howling at all hours, and are upgathered now like sleeping flowers.  For this, for everything we are out of tune...it moves us not.  

.....He goes on to say that he would rather resort to Paganism  believing that it would help him to get back to appreciate the wonders of the natural world as pagans apparently did...to see Proteus rising from the sea; or hear old Triton "blow his wreathed horn".  Well, I don't have to be a pagan...but every once in a while when the world is too busy on my back, I crawl out from under and once again turn my attention away from the issues that assault me and I feel in my soul the earthly wonders of this planet...and it heals.  It heals.

"The Second Coming"

    William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
       THE SECOND COMING
    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.
    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?



,,,,,Well, we are now done with, I hope, discussions of what is appropriate dress in a trendy restaurant and also a debate as to whether or not Hannah is a good girl.  I know that one of the blogs dealing with dress codes had a new record of 23 comments...each reader apparently struggling to have the last word. I believe it was Unca Phil who won that contest.  Anyway, we each had a go at it.  Who knows, there may be another  juicy family or political problem that would break the comment and last word records.  I know son, Joel, is very good at having the last word even though it might be rationale thin. 


.....The "Second Coming" was written by Yeats in the aftermath of the first world war.  At the time  the economy was sluggish and the Great Depression was coming.  Hopefully the "Second Coming" does not refer to the situation in our country and in the world at the present time.  So many people have lost their jobs and their homes.  Fortunately, I am not one of them.  The money I receive each month from my school, from the VA, and from Social Security is sufficient to allow Rhoda and I to live a good life.  We can afford to go out to dinner a couple of times a week; and we can go to a movie anytime we choose.  Also, should we desire, we can go on a cruise each December.  However, Rho has second thoughts about my cruising inasmuch as I broke both hips on two different cruises!  Cruises are not very hip friendly.  And hopefully, though Yeats writes "...things fall apart, the centre cannot hold..." his vision of "the rough beast" will not materialize in these years.

"Beware the Ides of October"

.....In the last post, I mentioned that I had sent a congratulatory electronic card to Hannah on her new job.  Today I received her reponse...to wit; "Thank you.  That's a very sweet gesture to send me a note."  Actually, I was of the opinion that we sent something a little more than a "note".  But, at least it was a response.  Our sweet gesture consisted of the card and the accompanying note: "Congratulations.  We are very proud of you. Now go out and celebrate, girl!"  I was somewhat disappointed in Hannah's response which I thought was rather terse. One more sentence would have done the trick.  

.....Today, I went back to the hyperbaric treatment which is supposed to hurry the healing process of a wound that is taking its time to heal.  I don't have too much faith that it is going to work; it didn't appear to me that it did much good the last time I entered their oxygen chamber; but who knows? I'm desperate to try anything at this point.  I'm really tired of the pain that this wound comes with.  I have endured it for seven months now.  AND I'M TIRED OF IT!!

.....New subject.  Son, Bobby, who is an experienced member of e-Bay, who, in his 50s, is still playing the demanding game of soccer, who is a crack salesman of Harley's (a bike salesman, not a salesman of crack), and who has a new girlfriend named Michelle -- who was here about a month ago and who is a very personable young lady...and what I mean to say is that Bobby sold a gold coin for me on e-Bay to a buyer in Indiana.  I bought the coin from the mint a couple of years ago for $1189 and this guy bought it after a high bid of $2850.  So I packed it up and sent it to him by UPS.  When it was delivered to him, he had a "change of mind" and refused the delivery...which is now on its way back to me.  The guy must be a little loony because there is no way he can get his money back...so Bobby and I are going to sit tight and see what his next move is going to be.  The bottom line is that I can keep the coin if I choose to do so.  More to come...stay tuned.  This is weird!    (Signed: King & Emperor of all I Survey...nee Red Baron)

"Life is good"???? Really???? Not at the moment.

.....I am wearing  a t-shirt that, on the front, claims "Life is Good".  It's 100% cotton which is required when entering the hyperbaric chamber.  I'm not at all cognizant of why that is a necessity.  I am also not at all cognizant of whether or not life is good. It used to be good--at least 100% better than it is now.  (This blog is sort of a biographical journal, so I have to be honest--just in the event that it at some point it is entered in the Congressional Record...or on the editorial page of the Jewish Journal).  My life right now is overrun with a tsunami of medication.  I take pills in the morning; pills in the afternoon; and pills at night.  It's depressing and not a little humiliating for a nobleman like the Baron).  Then I have a wound care nurse coming to the house every other day to dress the wound that never heals on my left heel.  In addition to her efforts, I have appointments every two weeks or so to report to the Wound Care Center so that a doctor can look at the wound that never heals...at least not since last March when I broke my left hip. (The right hip was broken about two years ago and is trouble free).  Not so the left hip which was fractured on the cruise ship Oasis back in March.  It is still giving me problems.  I am relegated to the use of a walker...along with a few thousand other people in the area.  However, I am the only handicapped guy with a Harley-Davidson walker.  At least that's what a sticker claims on it.

.....I am thankful, however, that I no longer have to depend on Val, my former aide, to drive me to wherever I need to go.  I now can drive myself...very carefully.  It appears, however, that I do not need to drive anywhere else, but to doctors' appointments.  I have an internist whose Indian accent I cannot understand; so when he says something I just shake my head as though I can comprehend him.  I also have an orthopedist, a urologist, a neurologist, a pulmonologist, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a dentologist and an audiologist and, no doubt, a few other --ologists that, at the moment, I can't recall.  I am not convinced that any of them had decent grades in med school. As for Rhoda, I'm not convinced about her view of life at this point...she is in need of thyroid surgery which probably won't happen until the end of October.  She will remain depressed until that is over with.  Oh, yes...nothing in her closet fits her.  But two good things about her life--her four years as president of the City of Hope chapter here is over and has set her free!  And, she still picked herself up and went to Rosh Hashanah services, as she does every year.  Well, that means Happy & Healthy New Year to all of you out there.


.....An addendum to the blog about the importance of the family; Hannah Ross has just landed a prestigious job as a fashion photographer. To wit;

Skye Associates, LLC, a fashion e-commerce solutions company, has named fashion photographer Hannah Ross as their Director of Production and Studio. Ross will supervise the launch of Skye’s new production studio and will manage all model casting, photography and video. Owner Adam Hanin wanted to enhance the in-house production of his burgeoning company.

“Hannah is artistic, fashionable and has a fresh eye. She will be able to pinpoint the creative needs of our Skye properties as well as our ever growing brand management business,” Hanin says. “Our business has reached a point where it is now about optimizing the traffic that we have built. Hannah will be able to immediately raise the quality of our visual presentation, an obvious and important feature of e-commerce. I have been searching for this level of talent to deliver what our customers are looking for. Hannah is the one," Hanin concluded.

Ross is quite well-versed when it comes to fashion, celebrity and photography. With degrees from New York University and the University of Arts London, Ross is also the recipient of multiple awards and her works have been exhibited at galleries and museums around the world. Her photographs have also graced the pages of The New Yorker, Harper’s Bazaar and Rolling Stone. High-profile subjects include Perez Hilton, LMFAO and Lauren Conrad. 


Rho and I sent her an e-card congratulating her on her appointment.  Thus far we have received no e-response.  This omission must be owing to the fact that Hannah is of a newer, different generation.  We acknowledge that fact.  Nevertheless, we are proud of and happy for her.


Baron & RH+ atop the family tree.

"The family is more sacred than the state." (Pope Pius XI)

.....Let me just say a few unsolicited words about my family: I have four wonderful, intelligent, sensitive children, and four very accomplished grandchildren.  Robin, my eldest had a highly honorable military career, retiring as a Lt. Colonel. She has held some very important jobs; at one point she worked as an assistant Secretary of Labor. When she retired she was appointed by Gov. Jeb Bush as Executive Director of the Florida Dep't. of Veteran Affairs.  When George Bush was President he summoned her to Washington to serve in his cabinet as the director of all the national cemeteries in the country.  Robin's brother, Joel, had a distinguished career in the CIA & after he retired, he became Vice President of a software company; he's as bright as a star.  Then, there are my twins: Bobby Lou & Bonny Sue.  Bobby is a crack salesman of Harley Davidson bikes.  (That's bikes, not "crack"). Bonny has had a dog grooming shop in California for over 20 years. I love all of them dearly and equally...well, maybe not equally...that's not possible according to the latest issue of Time Magazine.  I suppose I have a favorite, but that changes from time to time, accordingly.

.....Now, about the grandchildren. There are also four of them: Bonny's Sean, Bobby's Katrina, & Joel & Barbara's Adam & Hannah. Three of them have a college degree, and each of them has distinguished themselves in their chosen careers. Katrina is a Navy petty officer and she works on jet engines.  Sean and Adam are artists and Hannah is a professional photographer.  Unfortunately, and sadly, they all grew up elsewhere than Florida and we never had a really healthy chance to get to know each other.  Consequently, they don't know their grandparents very well.  In spite of that situation, they are grandchildren and, naturally, we love them.  And another blessing is that my children have bonded, and each sibling is proud of and loves every other sibling.  Not many families can say that. Mine can.  The Rosses are at the very top of every and any 10 best list, and that includes Unca Phil and Cuzzin Ruthie. (Also RH+ & me).

"Sir, is it OK if I just leave now?"

FIRST COMBAT MISSION

(Bay of Biscay)

Flying along at two hundred ten

     High in the clear cold air,

Don't look like much from the ground

     But were you ever there?

I'll tell you just how you would feel

     Or what your thoughts would be

With just the sky above and

     Below, the roaring sea.

You're looking out your plexy hatch

     Watching the props spin through,

You think, "What if they konk out now?"

     Good Lord, "What would I do?"

You look down at the roaring sea,

     The waves are ten feet high,

I hear you say, "This ain't the place

     For a guy my age to die."

Just then, the plane begins to dive

     Your heart, it skips a beat--

Your stomach winds up in your throat;

     Your ass flies off your seat.

The plane pulls up just off the sea,

     You sink right to the deck.

Your legs are made of rubber and

     You think you broke your neck.

You're now again at level flight,

     You sit relaxed and sigh.

Who was that guy who one time said,

     "It was a cinch to fly?"

(Written by Ed Trybala, Radioman VPB 111)

If This is the New World, send me to a different planet.

.....Back again.  Sorry it's been a while...medical issues for both me and RH+.  I'm still having problems with the sore on my heel which is painful if someone touches it or if it comes into contact with anything...like a mattress, and that's why I need to have two pillows under my knees at night.  I saw my doctor at the wound care center on Wednesday, and he wanted me back on hyperbarics every day.  I told him "no way".  I did make an appointment for three times a week.  This time I won't need Val to drive me...I can drive myself which, for me, is a huge step forward.  I even drove to the VA last week.  Rho's problem is a different story.  She suffers from parathyroidism and needs surgery which she is very antsy to get it over with.  She does need to go back to Hollywood for an ultra sound test on her thyroid so that the doctor can see how to operate.  She needs to feel better, have more energy and an improved appetite; perhaps surgery will help.


.....The progeny and I have been having a bitter debate via email lately as to what is proper manners in matters of proper wear to trendy restaurants...or any restaurant for that matter.  My claim is that t-shirts and tank tops are OK for dining at Wendy's, MacDonalds, Burger King, Shake & Bake, and IHOP...but not for a fine restaurant.
We had a vote and  most all voted that t-shirts and tank tops were perfectly OK...It's a new generation, and they live differently, and blah, blah, blah.  My claim is that every generation needs to learn good manners and civility.  JR sent me a photo claiming that Simon Cowell was at a "trendy" restaurant wearing a t-shirt.  To me, it had little or no resemblance to that TV moderator, and his "t-shirt" had long sleeves, and it appeared that he was in the men's room, and perhaps he had his meals sent in.  He really needed a good tailor to shorten his pants for they were hanging over his shoes like a circus tent.  In other words he was dressed like a slob.  But I suppose JR thought it was a fine outfit and appropriate for a man of his stature.  The only positive vote I got was from Rhoda.  Oh...maybe Cuzzin Ruthie and Unca Phil might have a viewpoint??

B24 Liberators in Battle Mode. Courage was a Requirement.

.....This was the second time the U-271 had encountered an aircraft of VB103, although the result of the previous action was rather different.  On June 24th, 1943 a PB4Y-1 encountered U-271 on the surface about 700 miles northeast of Argentia, Newfoundland.  This was VB103's base at the time.  As the aircraft attacked the submarine turned hard to port and opened fire at about 800 yards range.  The B24 which was approaching from astern was hit, strikes being seen in the cockpit and the nose area. Nevertheless, the crew managed to drop four depth charges before the aircraft crashed into the sea in flames about a mile from the sub.  The 10 crew members perished instantly, being the first casualties suffered by VB-103, but not the first suffered by my squadron VB-110.

.....Some facts about the B24 Liberator; 19,256 were made by Vultee, Ford Motor Company, Douglas Aircraft and North American Aircraft between 1939 and 1945.  More were made and flown than any other four engine bomber in WWII.  A fully armed and comat-ready B24 had a crew of 10.  Its gross weight when loaded was greater than 60,000 lbs.  It had four movable turrets, each with two 50 calibre machine guns and two .50s in the waist, a total of ten. It was powered by four 1,200 horsepower Pratt & Whitney radial piston engines and had a maximum speed of 303 mph.  It carried 2,750 gallons of fuel and had a flight duration of 1,500 miles.

.....The bomb load was usually ten 500 pound bombs or five 1,000 pounders.  Depth charges were used when in the anti-submarine role.  Liberators are recorded as having dropped over 630,000 tons of bombs.  It's operating environment was between 18,000 and 28,000 feet.  It was not pressurised or heated; crewmen wore oxygen masks on high altitude missions and were exposed to temperatures that reached -30 degrees F and below.  

.....I trust that I have given my readers a good account of my aircraft and of the battle dangers we faced.  Our missions almost always lasted 11 0r 12 hours. But I was 18 and invincible.