HOME of the RED BARON

"It is the nature of a political party in this country to avoid a great change." (Trollope)

2012-02-15T12:17:00.000-05:00

.....I don't understand the American government at this point in the history of our country. Nothing gets done because of an outdated political system fomenting a chasm between two parties with two different agendas. We have a president who is of the Democratic Party and a Congress with a Senate and a House who bicker and spar with each other like Ali and Forman at the "Rumble in the Jungle". That's what our Congress is--a jungle with politicians swinging like apes in the trees going nowhere. This is the year 2012, 236 years removed from the "founding fathers" who were old men with white wigs, and who wrote a constitution establishing a government which ostensibly was good for that time...but apparently not for this time because it isn't working. If it were not so egregious, it would be laughable. It is time for a new kind of government that will work for the people of the 21st Century. It is apparently time to forget the founding grandfathers and to find some new founders.

.....We are still ten months away from the next presidential election, and the two parties are bickering and inflaming the electorate about each other with derogatory and insulting commercials on television, print media, Facebook, Twitter, iPhones, and what-not--technology that did not exist in 1776. The Republican Party's would-be nominees for the Presidency are even defaming each other. There will be ten wasted months of no legislation that will move this country forward. So, lf the American people elect a President on the basis of their trust in him to do what he says he is going to do, then give him the power to do it in his first four years in office. Let him have the power to order Congress to pass the legislation he has promised, without his having to depend upon them to approve of it. Let these members of Congress continue to represent their constituents by advising the president of their own ideas for moving the country forward. The American people have had their say at the polls. Let their president have the necessary power to do their bidding. That's a step forward for a new kind of Democracy for our times. Call me crazy, but that's my vision for a government that will not make me feel like calling 911.

Speech to reunion 55 of the North Shore H.S. Class of 1957

2012-02-14T17:28:00.001-05:00

.....Phil, my soul friend has suggested that my speech to the class of '57 at North Shore H.S. in Glen Head, Long Island. And I always follow what he so wisely suggests; so here it is. (And don't forget to read the blog I wrote today that succeeds this)

REUNION ADDRESS—CLASS OF ‘57, North Shore High School,Saturday Feb.12, 2012

…..Where’s the teleprompter, Wally? I thought there would be a teleprompter for a 45 minute speech. Well I suppose I have to use old fashioned paper…so this address will take no longer than 12-15 minutes. Less if I speak fast.

….. Well boys and girls Welcome to Homeroom…You’re 30 years late…you should Get to bed a bit earlier…I’m sure most of you have not met my wife, Rhoda. (She gets up). We married a year after I retired in 1982 & moved to Florida. She is an amazing woman. So here we all are…far from Sea Cliff and Glen Head and NSHS, a school for the ages…no, Wally, not for the aged…I said for the ages…. Speaking of ages, I’ll be 88 in a couple of weeks. People have told me I look young for 88…. In these days I’d rather be 40 and look old. What I would be interested in learning from you this evening is in what ways did your education at North Shore impact and shape your lives…If it did.

…..When I received Ned’s email with an invitation to be a guest at your reunion I was delighted… and honored. Amazed that finally there would be a reunion of NSHS grads that would meet in Florida, and… delighted that I would get to meet once again all grown up students from North Shore whom I recognized immediately tonite… by reading your name tags I was also invited by Wally Kaufman to come loaded with words of profound wisdom. Indeed he suggested that I be “wise, profound, and funny…”a daunting challenge. I don’t know how wise I am at this point in my life. I’ve forgotten 3/4s of it…— Although, fortunately, I did recall enough to publish an autobiography…which you can buy on Amazon. I can use the royalties. …Now I think I have started trying to be funny, and I will evaluate my success if I heard a few giggles; so wisdom will have had to wait.

….Well enough of that. Now comes the wisdom part and you can be the judge of its profundity. .….. I was 33 years old when I met your shining morning faces in class, in the hallways, or in the smoke filled bathrooms. And as the years changed… the aroma of the smoke also changed. As you are, no doubt well aware. Of course, for some of you I did not enjoy the pleasure of having been your teacher. No matter, I miss teaching & I miss all of you. High school has to be one of the most exciting and happiest time of your life…and also, perhaps, the most frustrating…and boring. I don’t know how you could sit for 45 minutes hearing Mr. Matthews spouting Latin, or Dr. Hartman teaching something called Social Studies which probably presaged Facebook. In high school the priority is that you get an education. And learning is something you should be doing all your life. The more you learn the greater the quality of richness and joy of living .

…..Now, I suppose that when you first spied me wandering the hallways in bewilderment, trying to find my classroom in a new building, you wondered what species I claimed to belong to and what planet did I drop from. I could read the curiosity in your eyes. Who was this guy, anyway?

…..Well when my students were well seated in class, I told them who I was, and that I was a warrior, and I made it quite clear early on that you were there for an education & that I would accept nothing less from you in that regard than ruthless personal standards of excellence, and for the most part that’s what you gave me. And I learned that precept in order to survive combat in WWII; in war, neglect excellence at your peril; It was Aristotle who said, We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit." When we returned from a combat mission, we had an immediate debriefing, and each member of the crew had to stand up and tell what mistakes he had made. The goal of any mission was flawless execution. So if you had to write a paper, that should have been your goal as well. I stayed the course and made my classes understand that.

…..At one time some student who no doubt heard me read exerpts from Milton’s “Paradise Lost” placed a sign above my doorway reading, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here”. (There was some truth in that.)I demanded excellence and challenged you to provide it. Four years passed quickly & some of you went off to college and some of you simply joined the work force or went to Viet Nam. And you raised families and had your careers. And here you are. As for myself, I committed myself to inspire you and mesmerize you with Chaucer, Byron, Shelley, Keats, and Shakespeare. But some of my students weren’t so much mesmerized as they were sleepy in class.

This is all good and natural and another stage in your life. Mine too. I’m a teacher and I will never stop teaching. You can do more to enrich your life; take a hiatus from the tv and the pc—if excellence is a habit, so is learning and only the things above you can lift you up. Florida has some excellent museums & theaters…you can learn something from them. You can read books about historical events and about ancient pagan eras. You can read about WW1, WWII, the Civil and Revolutionary wars, and biographies of great men and women such as Ben Franklin, Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton our first treasurer and Helen Keller and Eleanor Roosevelt and Anne Frank. You can read about Einstein and how he has affected science and the world. Here in Florida as you get older, you are doing things that entertertain you, but what are you doing to exercise your brain? If Aristotle says that excellence is a habit, I say so is learning. I have written and published 11 books in my eighties, I have taught Shakespeare classes to senior students, I have performed in leading roles in several musicals from Gilbert & Sullivan to Broadway classics, like Fiddler on the Roof, and My Fair Lady as examples. I am not sitting around degenerating.

…..But.....Make no mistake--I am no Don Quixote tilting at windmills, nor Gulliver confronting the Yahoos; nor Sir Gawain seeking the Green Knight, nor David confronting Goliath. But what I am, I am--like Ulysses, who facing old age, yearned once more to explore worlds he'd never seen, and do things he had never done…this despite his reunion with his wife, Penelope, after 20 years. (Poor Penelope, I don’t think they had divorce lawyers in those days). But as I have said, learning is a habit. It should be for you to seek; after all you are North Shore graduates=and I consider you still in my class.

…..Ulyssey’s goal was “To follow knowledge”…wherever it could be found. And that’s what education and life is all about. Striving, seeking, finding and never yielding to its pain and disappointments, and as Hamlet calls them-- the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” which surely will come in every human life. Learning helps to survive anything.….. The Pierian Spring in pagan times was known as the source of knowledge, and Alexander Pope said ”…a little learning is a dangerous thing; drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.” My friends it is an honor to be here and I am greatful for the opportunity to see you once again. Stay well. And God bless you.

"I will drink life to the lees" (Tennyson)

2012-02-14T16:24:00.001-05:00

.....I am still basking in the experience I had at the reunion of North Shore H.S. Class of '57. Before and after my speech people I had in my classes whom I failed to recognize, mostly because they were from RH+'s generation, (...she was the only one I recognized) told me how I had affected their lives by my teaching of English literature and Creative Writing. They told me how I had inspired them to pursue excellence in everything they did, and how their college education was a snap compared to what they had learned from me. I knew I had an affect on a few former students...but not so many as I learned from the reunion. Now, I had only been teaching for four years so what can I say about the students in my classes as I began to improve as the years rolled on? I am fascinated by what I have learned about my teaching, and I am humbled by it.

.....Now, to change the subject, for I have nothing more I can say about it; I don't know the words to describe it. Today, I have graduated myself from the three-wheel walker to the cane that Bobby bought for me a few years ago. I plan only to use a cane from now on. It's one of the goals I vowed to reach if you've been reading this blog. But it's not the last goal. I am eventually going to ditch the cane and train for the marathon I will run when I'm 90. After that, I have no plans. I've been asked by a few students and friends to send them a video of the speech I made. I haven't the equipment needed for a video, and I no longer take pictures. But I still have an old fashioned camera and a roll of Kodak film which lie unused. Nor do I have a phone to take pictures. A phone is used for talking, I learned. Nor do I use Facebook or Twitter or Linked, though I believe I signed up for them at one time. But, as you know, I do use a computer which I love.

.....I am happy about where I have gone so far this year; the last was a horror, and I'm about all over it and as Hamlet would say ...who would these fardel's bear; and the Baroness is about over all her issues from the past year. And who knows what the next chapter will be about? Will have to check our Kindles.

"It requires more courage to suffer than to die." (Napoleon)

2012-02-12T13:18:00.001-05:00

.....Last night I went to the 55th Reunion of the class of 1957 of North Shore H.S. in Glen Head, NY which was held in Atlantis here in Florida. Of course, all of the former students who were in my class were in their late '60s or early '70s and it was kind of weird. I was the honored guest and Rho and I were picked up and brought back by a couple of ex "students" who now live in Boynton Beach. When I was invited to be their honored guest I was stunned and amazed that I had been remembered as their teacher after 55 years! (I can't remember a single teacher from my high school.) Naturally, I had to write a speech, and I was asked by Wally Kaufman (a brilliant student and the author of several books) to address the group by being "funny, wise, and profound," a challenging command. I found it daunting to write something to a group whom I only could remember by reading their name tags...except that they weren't wearing their name tags. But many of them introduced themselves, and I remembered some but not all by their names.

.....We had a fine dinner; the choices were a chicken dish, mahi mahi, and prime rib. Rho and I ordered the prime rib. There was a cash bar before the meal and Rho ordered some wine and I a Pina Colada. The waiter said, "Fifteen dollars." As I had the cash in my hand at my seat, one of the gals came up and said, "No, no you are not to pay for anything." I thought, well indeed, I'm an "honored" guest. We had a salad before the main dish, and dessert and coffee or tea afterward. I was given a sterling introduction most of which I didn't think I deserved. But I got up anyway to the lectern and complained that there was no teleprompter. The speech was very well received, and took about 12-15 minutes...too long to print here. If anyone would care to read it, send me an e-mail at norrho1@comcast.net and I'll send it out in an attachment. RH+, the Baroness and I really enjoyed the evening and the many compliments I received. I must have been very good in the classroom to deserve this kind of attention.

.....Well, the good news is that I did not need to use my walker last night. Especially under the circumstances. I was able to walk with my cane to the car and when I was dropped off at the restaurant. I've been in pain ever since I broke my hips and took a couple of bad falls, and also suffered severely with a sore on my foot which refused to heal because of the poor circulation in my legs. Because of it I had to use the hyperbaric process for about seven weeks. The first time I broke a hip I spent five weeks in rehabilitation in Whitehall; the second time about seven weeks. We're still paying off for that one. After each occasion I had therapists coming to the house a couple of times a week. And I had an aid driving me to the wound care center each week so that Rhoda would not have to do it. She had her own agenda. and the aid then helped both of us live our lives the way we needed to. But during all this misery, I vowed to myself that I was strong enough to get through it as I survived a war. I wanted to rid myself of the scooter and the walker as best I could and get back to simply use a cane, and I did it. Of course, I can only use it now for short distances--but still I can use it. It was my goal, and I've always been pretty good at reaching my goals. I'm ready now for the next chapter whatever it may be.

"Education commences on the mother's knee". (Anonymous)

2012-02-08T21:40:00.000-05:00

....For dinner tonight I had a cup of chicken noodle soup, two crackers with butter, two mallomars and a glass of water. The day was kind of busy. First the cleaning ladies were to come at 2:30 and we had to get away from them. Luckily we had some things to do. First I had an appointment at the Wound Care Center and we were not there two long. Since my 9 month ordeal with a painful hip and a painful heel sore, I now am pain free. The hip has healed as well as the sore. I'm able to wear shoes now. So, in light of the situation I was "discharged" from the wound care center, and I do not intend to go back. After leaving, we went to The Brooklyn Bagel restaurant; she had lunch and I had breakfast. It was relaxing, and we had a nice chat. From there we went to the post office to mail a pair of slippers that I bought online and I sent them back--too small. Them on to the Men's Wear store to pick up two jackets that fit me, and I have to wear one of them on Saturday night. Then on to the flea market where RH+ had to buy some lipsticks or something like that. Then to home.

.....We were going to have blintzes for dinner, but that didn't work out because we were invited to a party that a neighbor was giving in light of the fact that Gary had his last chemo treatment for cancer and so he is cancer free. We had some franks in a blanket, chopped liver on crackers, and champagne. And because of our late lunch at 2:00pm, and the party we didn't feel very hungry for the blintzes. So that's why we only had the soup, crackers, mallomars, and ice water. I really don't care; I enjoyed my dinner.

.....Right now, I am writing a speech which I have to make on Saturday night, for the reunion of the class of '57. Students from other classes from North Shore H.S. who reside in Florida were also invited. I suppose these "students" must be in their late 60's and early 70's and I am finding it difficult to know what I can say to them. But when I finish it and read it on Saturday, I will tell you what happened and how the speech was accepted, and then I will print it in this blog next week. I will tell them that education made us what we are.

"Life is a bowl of cherries" Let's dine.

2012-02-06T17:48:00.000-05:00

.....Here it is--Feb. 6 and I didn't realize that my last posting was Jan.31. I can't even tell you what I have done since then because I can't remember. Don't forget that this disability comes with the latter stage of one's life. I'll just chat with you about what I can recall. I do recall that Rhoda had a bad time last week and had to be hospitalized for sever leg cramps. It turned out that she was dehydrated. But she is home now and doing fine. As for me, I am getting around pretty good I would say. It's been a very long hall to get to where I am now. I do need a walker to get around; it's one of those three wheelers. I'm hoping that in due time I can ditch it and use a cane. I'm pretty slim now, and the clothes that I wore before my disability do not fit me. I've gone done three sizes, but I feel pretty good about that--except that it will cost me to buy a new wardrobe with pants that fit.

.....On this coming Thursday Robin will be coming in for the day. I have to go to the VA to get new glasses, so we'll chat while driving there. It's about 3o miles but on the Florida Turnpike it is only about 35 minutes away. We'll have a good time, I'm sure. I do have some mementos which she might like to take home with her.

.....I'm about finished with the speech I will make at the 1957 class reunion. I've been asked by Wally Kaufman to be wise, profound, and funny...a daunting challenge. I have to recall all the wisdom I may have had, the profundity, and some good parent-teacher-student jokes. Here's one: Mother: "What did you learn in school today? Student: Not enough I have to go back tomorrow." Well, of course, when you read it it probably will not invoke laughter. Sorry. I got an email comment today for a blog from Wallie and I'd like to share it with you:

I should add that students at Sea Cliff were so wrapped up in being teenagers that we didn't investigate our new English teacher/soccer coach. We didn't know he had just been fired, and we never knew till a few years ago that he had also spent a few years firing upon our WWII enemies. What concerned us was the rather concentrated flak we received from his intellectual guns and his no-nonsense coaching. He was one of those young teachers who came to Sea Cliff in the early 50s and whom art teacher Kitty Strohe called the "cocktail teachers" as opposed to the "cocoa teachers."
For the first time we had classes in World Literature and in creative writing.
Pundits have called our generation "The Silent Generation." After doing a 422 page history of our class (1957) and school, I realized that what we could more aptly be called the Creative Generation. That began as it had for most Americans with creating our own games, competitions, and hobbies out of what we had at hand. Sandy Gleichmann's brother Alan organized a coed tackle football team, The Backyard Terrors and we played in his backyard. Dave Schweers and I made a trampoline out of discarded bed springs and put it over a hole in the sand at the end of Maple Ave. So we were ready for the real creative release came with the influx of new young and different teachers. Doc was one of the important ones.
He says in a recent blog he is always ready for a new challenge. His primary value as a teacher and coach was that he was always ready to issue a new challenge and demand that we meet it.

.....Sure does make me feel good. Things like this work to take a guy out of depression.

Will there be a Life to Come?

2012-01-31T18:37:00.002-05:00

.....I know that Joel and Barbara had gone to see a B-24 Liberator & I wonder if it was the same as the one Rhoda and I went to see at the Boca Airport (where Robin lands & takes off when she comes here). I think the name on the plane was "Witchcraft" or something like that. There was also a B-17 and a P-51 Mustang. I'm pretty sure the the bombers were the same that JR & Barb went on. We got there late afternoon so there was no big crowd. People were being charged $12 to get to see them, and if you wanted a ride, it was only $425. Just think--I flew on a B-24 for two years for free! Because I'm a vet, we were not charged to get in. Rho climbed a small ladder and got inside the B-24 and she got a first hand look at my WWII main venue. I did not venture to follow her.

.....Now, I must continue to review my years in retirement in Life #7. I certainly don't want readers to be "confused" about which life was which. I'm doing the best that I can at trying to recall some of the events which are not in my memoirs and this attempt is not scientific. One life sometimes ran into another life. I thought about it and to clarify, I will adjust them a bit for your and my better understanding...although keep in mind that I am doing this review mostly for my own benefit...I want to see where I've been and try to learn where I'm going--although I have a pretty good idea about that. Let's just consider for the sake of easy chronology that Life #1 was my childhood in Long Branch until I was nine. Life #2 would then be my growing up in Fort Apache, ergo The Bronx. Life #3 would be my experiences in WWII. #4 would be my college days--(which I said was a life of its own). It came within what I will now call, for the sake of easy reading, Life #5--my marriage and my raising a family and my teaching career. Life #6 would then become my single years (after my ex kidnapped herself) and my trip around the world. And then Life #7 when I met and married Rhoda and retired to Florida.

.....Besides teaching poetry and Shakespeare to the seniors in my community, one day I read in the Huntington Lakes' newsletter that the Theater Arts club was going to produce "HMS Pinafore", the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. One of my early goals was to become an actor--but marriage and kids vetoed that idea...until I auditioned and won the lead role as Sir Joseph Porter, and the show ran four nights in 1992 in our 600 seat theater. Eventually, my new career landed me leading roles in "The Mikado" (1993) as Koko; as Prez in "Pajama Game" (1994); Captain Andy in "Showboat" (1995); "The Music Man" as Harold Hill (1996); as Tevye in "Fiddler on the Roof" (1997); "Pirates of Penzance" as Major General Stanley which I also directed; and "My Fair Lady" as Henry Higgins (2007). I also directed that one and Rhoda & Sally Forman did a terrific job as Producers. Then age, illness, & debilitating accidents to my body caught up with me, and my career as a thespian came to an end. However, I was not finished trying to achieve all my goals; I became computer literate and since I always wanted to be an author, I started to write my "Memoirs of a Tail Gunner" which was published in 2007. But I was not finished writing; I started a "blog", chose a persona as the Red Baron von Zorro, (Check me out in the photo) and I've been working on the blog--which really has served as a journal of my life for the past five years, reaching over 3000 pages--more than Tolstoy's "War & Peace".

So, I have finally, at the age of 88 become a famous unknown author! Have I achieved "greatness"? Now, it doesn't really matter; I am what I am--and what is, is.

....

"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together" (All's Well)

2012-01-29T16:45:00.000-05:00

.....We have lived for the last 29 years in a gated senior condo community in Delray Beach called Huntington Lakes. I first saw it in 1982...there were three four-story units and a long staircase going nowhere. I supposed another building was to be erected, this one to be eight stories. I think it would have been much cheaper for me to buy the staircase. The attraction at this venue was a $6 million dollar clubhouse replete with a 600 seat theater, a gym with all manner of equipment, a beautiful lobby with a fountain, a pond, fish, and a six lane indoor swimming pool, a sauna, and a jacuzzi...or whatever you want to call it, a huge ballroom, classrooms, a billiards room and card rooms. Early on I was the only one in the place. Of course, now there are about 44 buildings--and several of the eight-story variety. Each four-story condos has 32 apartments. And this is how Life #7 began.

.....For the first two years I was here, I taught in a private high school & was selected to coach a very poor soccer team. Florida then was like Texas--football country. Rhoda also found a job in a doctor's office and retired in 2000. When she first got here, she was dismayed that she had no friends and most of the women were much older than she...But now she fits in here like a bee fits in a hive. (Definitely not a cliche!) When I left the school after two years, I taught a six-week course in our clubhouse called "Fun With Shakespeare". I never suspected that I would get so many seniors to register for that class. I would pick a play that I enjoyed and I used to get from 30 to 60 "students". I have to say that it was great to teach those seniors who were obviously hungry for some education that they somehow had missed. I'm a professional so I didn't teach pro bono...I charged $30. I taught this class for many years with unsuspected community interest.

.....While here I played golf almost three or four times a week with neighbors who also moved here eventually from East Meadow where we had first settled in NY. We bought a small ranch house there. My golf game got steadily better, and there were many courses available to play. I was proud that I got to be a 7-handicap player. Early in the 80s, our Board established a "senior olympics." In the first year I won a gold medal in the 3-mile walk, racquetball, golf, and in swimming--for the 50 yd. freestyle and the 50 yd. backstroke. (I was a swimmer since I was 5 yrs. old). I won an awesome "MVP" trophy. I no longer am able to play golf or any of the other sports. However, if they held a walker or a scooter race, I might enter. I love a sporting challenge. After all of this, I still couldn't decide if I was "great". I finally decided that the proper thing to do was to let other people make that determination.

Life #7 has gone on now for 29 years. So, it has to be continued. A lot more to come!! My books, my blog, my musical and acting career, my medication, & etc.

"Greatness knows itself" (Henry IV)

2012-01-28T16:47:00.001-05:00

.....As promised, Life #5 typically began with a traumatic event sometime in 1976. All four children had left the nest empty. Well, not really completely empty; my wife and I were still inhabitants, as well as a dog whose name I have forgotten. I was never too fond of dogs ever since I was confronted by two enormous St. Bernards who lived with our neighbors in Long Branch. They were really harmless, and neither had a canister of brandy dangling from their necks. However, my daughter, Bonny, was very fond of dogs and other four-legged beasts; so it seems we always had one in the house--as well as a white cat we called Simba, if I recall. But to get on with it--we had been married for 29 years at the time, but the marriage just seemed to have lost its excitement and its joy. Bonny had gone to California to seek her fortune--or whatever, and Thelma became severely depressed; I guessed that she wanted to go out west so see how Bonny was faring & so I bought her a ticket and away she went--never to return, as I have said in a previous blog posting. So, I was left alone and lonely with a four bedroom house, a load of furniture, silverware, dishes, a dog...and lots of memories. We were divorced after 30 years.

.....And now, after a fashion, I was single again. I had no inkling as how to go about living a single life--what with the war and the hospital and college, and the marriage, I never really led the normal single life. However, I decided that it was time to put down the dog, sell a whole lot of stuff in a lawn sale, and then take a sabbatical leave from school after selling the house. This time I took a whole year at half pay. I bought an Around the World ticket from SAS for a ridiculously low fare. I flew to England, France, Holland, Denmark, East and West Germany (great beer!), India, Indonesia, Israel, Iran,Turkey, Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti, Bora Bora, and on the island of Morea, a Club Med. And then I returned home and back to school where I had been Chairman of the English Dep't. as well as the Varsity soccer coach and coach of the Track team. The Board did not want me to coach anything while I was in charge of the English Dep't. So, I resigned that job and continued my coaching. I simply could not abandon all those kids on my teams to someone they did not know...or trust. When I got back to the States, I bought a blue Mustang, rented an apartment in Syosset, and filled it with furniture of my choosing.

.....Then I went about learning how to lead the single life. It started by going to bars where I could meet women...and this venture was a huge success. I met and dated about a dozen of them, and it became a dazzling, awesome life. However, on New Year's Eve, 1978 I went to a house party sponsored by B'Nai Brith where I met RH+. And I stopped dating all but her. She was 39, but about to turn 40 on Feb.2. I made her a birthday party in my house. She lived in the same development. From that time on we became...shall I say, enamored of each other? Of course, and our relationship as singles lasted for five years. She came to all my games and waited at the finish lines for me while I ran two 26 mile marathons in my fifties. By this time, I began to believe after all I had accomplished in my life, that if I hadn't achieved "greatness", I was pretty damn close. But as Shakespeare said, "Greatness knows itself." However, there were still some mountains yet to climb. When I retired in 1982, I went to Florida and bought a condo in Delray Beach. In 1983 Rhoda and I were married in New York, and she joined me in Florida where we have lived for the last 29 years.
......And that's about it for Life #5. It began with trauma and ended with trauma; I understand that marriage and retiring and moving to a new environment are considered traumatic events. And so they were...but they were fun traumas...if there is such a thing. Life #7 has some surprises. Be there.

Life #7

"Variety's the spice of life that gives it all its flavor" (William Cowper)

2012-01-25T17:56:00.000-05:00

.....As 1952 rolled around, I feel by that time, after surviving a war, being the first in my family to graduate from college, getting married, raising children & continuing my studies from Columbia's Teachers College toward a doctorate degree, (which I achieved in 1962) I have been better than "good". In fact, I have to give myself a "good +". But still yearning to reach my goal--of being "great"; to "...follow knowledge like a sinking star. At Columbia, I had some of the very best teachers--poets, writers, Pulitzer Prize winners...including Mark Van Doren; and if I recall--his older brother, Carl for a class; and Lenora Speyer and Padraic and Mary Colem.

,,,,,College to me was like being in a different universe. I took almost every course available in English Literature, in Drama workshops, in creative writing in Shakespeare--and I believe this kind of loading up in subject matter like that helped me when I began to be a teacher.

.....Going to college was a life of its own. To me it was Life #4. By this time, it seemed that for me a "new" life always began and ended with some kind of traumatic event that changed the course of my existence. My tenure at Cranford HS ended in 1954 when I was fired for "incompetence"; the real reason being that I had volunteered to become the teachers' union representative...how do I know this? Because all of my evaluations written by the principal were exemplary. So, I had no trouble finding employment at the high school in Sea Cliff, NY where I taught ninth grade and was also the junior varsity soccer coach; double duty for $4100 a year. I even was able to buy a car...a Chevy DeLuxe. We were able to find a ranch house in East Meadow at a VA 4% loan interest. A year later, the twins, Bobby and Bonny were born. Now we needed additional equipment for them and that made money a scarce item...so, I earned some extra cash by refereeing club soccer games for $10 on weekends. And in 1956 the new high school's construction in Glen Head was complete and grades 7-12 moved to "North Shore H.S. where I taught until I retired 28 years later in 1982.

.....And so ended Life #6. I skipped #5 for another time for a good enough reason; but that will be set down for the next blog posting. Be there.

"The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." (Ecclesiastes)

2012-01-24T17:56:00.000-05:00

.....When I was about 14 year's old, I met a girl from Brighten Beach in Brooklyn whose Aunt and her four cousins lived in the building next to ours on Kelly St. in the Bronx. She was a very pretty blonde...the only kind I was ever attracted to. She was 12 and we became quite close--even kissed a few times; but I think that was a case of cheating on a game of "Spin the Bottle." At any rate, we did correspond while I was in the Navy and when I returned, we picked up where we left off. Only by this time, I was 21 and she was 18. Very significant changes, I believe. I spent an hour every weekend on the BMT subway just to get to her home in Brighton where she lived with her parents and two older sisters. We decided to get married, invitations were printed and mailed just about the time I was incarcerated in the VA hospital in 1946 suffering from battle fatigue.

..... (I may get some of my dates wrong, but it's not that important; this examination of my life is primarily for my own satisfaction. When I was younger, I did not want merely to be "good"--I wanted to be "great"--as I mentioned in a previous blog. At this time that particular goal seemed dismal and improbable, if not impossible.)

.....Of course our marriage was delayed, to say the least--but we did get married in June, 1947; we were divorced in 1977. Our marriage after 30 years simply got stagnant. She ran away to California one day and never returned--she wanted "to find herself"; but before that stunning decision, we raised four children; I didn't I fully understand her compulsion, but I thought what she did was courageous...I couldn't do it. I wanted to find myself also, but I didn't know where to look. After our marriage I spent the next five years in college, having time only on the subway to study for my courses. My daughter, Robin Lee was born in December 1950, and my son Joel Michael in 1952--the year I got my MA degree. The twins, Bobby Lou and Bonny Sue came into this world in 1955. By that time I had my first job teaching English in Cranford, NJ. I took to teaching English Lit. like a duck takes to water, like a bird takes to flight, like a hot dog takes to a bun.

.....I was in the middle of Life #3.

.....God! I've had a long life! How can I finish this?

"Every man's life is a fairy tale..." (Hans Christian Andersen)

2012-01-23T16:38:00.005-05:00

.....So to continue: I usually refer to my life from birth to age 21 as Life #1. You can read all about it in yesterday's blog posting. My Life #2 began after I was discharged from Naval Air November 19, 1945. After high school, I worked for awhile in the Public National Bank as a "pageboy"; when I went back there, they made me a teller. I learned to count money faster than a speeding bullet, and little did I realize that paper money is like mining coal--your hands become black. Believe it. However, I found it impossible to adjust once again to civilian life. I felt guilty that I survived, and my friends did not. I could not work in a cage, so I became depressed...and even suicidal. This was not the life that I envisioned for myself. My mother noted my mood and behavior and insisted that I present myself to the Kingsbridge VA hospital in the Bronx. It seemed to be the right move to get out of the banking business. I spent the next six months in that hospital with what my shrink there told me was "battle fatigue"...now known by the fancy name of PTSD--"Post traumatic stress disorder".

.....While I was serving my time at the VA hospital, I began to write some poetry and shortly a social worker named Lucille Cusick came to see me and began to read my work. She was impressed by it and demanded that I go to college. I told her that in high school I did not take any college prep courses--only secretarial stuff. She said, that it won't matter and that after I was discharged she would accompany me down (or up?) to Columbia University's Admission Office. I thought she was out of her mind, but I thought, "Why not?" Actually, Lucille put me on the road to the rest of my life. At Columbia I was asked to take the admission's test--and I did--and a week or so later I got a letter from Columbia suggesting that the result of the test indicated that I could not do college level work. This really pissed me off and I vowed that I would get a degree or two there---somehow.

.....But Lady Luck was on my side--Lucille had sent one of my poems to "The Saturday Review of Literature" a very prestigious magazine edited by William Rose Benet. The poem was published in a section called "The Best Poetry of WWII". On the cover was a picture of Lenore Speyer, a poet and teacher at Columbia. Lucille Cusick dragged me and the magazine back to Columbia and on the basis of that publication I was admitted conditionally by taking a few makeup courses and getting no less than a B average before they would allow me to matriculate for a degree. I spent the next five years there--from 1947 to 1952 for my B.S and Masters degrees. I graduated "Magna Cum Laude". So much for their letter saying I could not do college level work.
.....And so ends Life #2 #3 tomorrow if I'm up to it.

"It matters not how long we live, but how."

2012-01-22T14:58:00.001-05:00

…..You need not read this particular post on my blog because I am writing it to myself trying to assess what I have accomplished in this long life. Ever since I was a little waif, I never wished to be merely “good”…my aspiration was to be great. Well, I don’t know if my aspirations actually reached fruition, but the time has arrived when I need to evaluate the meaning of my life. So, to begin, my first venture into the world of action…apart from just eating candy and playing with girls when I was 9, was to get down to the beach in Long Branch, NJ, and sell newspapers. It was a lot of fun, and I met some very interesting people…but my feet were burning because of the hot sand. My most prolific financial day was the day after the steamship “Morro Castle” burned right off the coast. So, at the least, that became a “great” day.

…..After Dad died in 1933, my mother, sister and I moved in to mom’s parents’ apartment in the Bronx. I graduated there from selling papers to becoming a shoe-shine boy. I made a shoe-shine contraption out of cheese boxes, bought brown and black shoe wax, and ventured into the streets to shine shoes for for 25 cents. However, it took all day just to make $1.75… in those days a largess of awesome proportions. I was now a successful entrepreneur… and I was my own boss; that was also not merely good—but finally something great! And to think I was only 11 years old.

…..So, Baron, let’s skip ahead a few years to high school. I wasn’t particulary great in school, although I did manage to get good passing grades in all my subjects…particularly English, steno, and typing. Mom thought I should become a court stenographer; but I wanted to be a journalist--a sportswriter. Little did I know that in my 80s I would become a “journalist”…but not the newspaper kind…On my PC I began to keep a “journal” of my life in Florida on a column called a “blog”….so there. I was a “journalist” after all…one of the vagaries of life...and somewhat of a disappointment.

…..It wasn’t very long after I graduated high school in 1941 that Pearl Harbor was bombed and America went to war again…WWII. I was 18 when I joined the Navy in November of 1942. I spent three years as a combat aircrewman, flew 60 combat missions and eventually was awarded two Distinguished Flying Crosses and eleven Air Medals. However, that accomplishment did not make me a hero…the real heroes were those who didn’t make it back. Regardez…(I learned a bit of French during the war such as “Voulez vous cigarette? O chocolat?”, and “Voulez vous couche avec moi?”.) I wasn’t too sure what that meant—but eventually I found out.

…..This blog is now getting too long. Readers might lose interest, so I will continue this, perhaps tomorrow, and I guarantee it will be exciting reading…good enough for kindles, iPads, iPods…and whatever.

"There's no business like show business..." (Annie, Get Your Gun)

2012-01-21T14:01:00.002-05:00

…..One of my favorite shows is “Kiss Me Kate”, based on Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew.” And my favorite song in that show is “Where is the life that late I led” sung by Petruchio after he marries Kate. I do remember all the lyrics which I recreate here for your entertainment and enlightenment, and I find this number particularly appropriate for my current station in life:

FROM "KISS ME KATE"

“Where is the life that late I led; where is it now?—Totally dead!

Where is my Becky, my Becky-Weccio; still selling pizza by the slice

In Ponte Vecchio?

And where’s Rosellio, that fierce virago, who fled to me from

Trinidad-Tobago?

Where is Carmen, from Venezuela? Still sleeping with that

Alcoholic sailor?

And where is Ruthie, my English cuzzin? Still favoring

Her suitors by the dozen?

Where’s Alfonsina from sweet Firenze, whose flirting

Always put me in a frenzy?

And Sister Carla, also from Florence, whose kisses

Rained on me in torrents?

Now there was Rhoda--beneath the cover. So voluptuous

I still cannot recover.

And Filomena, from friendly Venice, who played me

Like she played a game of tennis.

So, now, where is the life that late I led? Where is it now?

Totally dead! Come—kiss me, Kate

Not bad, eh. I told you that I remembered all the lyrics. Now, who was it that wrote this show? Where is he now? Oh! Cole Porter? Forgive me, Cole, for changing the lyrics a bit.

"What a sigh is there. The heart is sorely charged." (Macbeth)

2012-01-16T21:54:00.000-05:00

.... Today was a very frustrating day. At an evening event in our clubhouse on Friday, Rho won a man's watch from Macy's in a raffle. I have a watch and don't need another. Today, we decided that we would go to Macy's at the Boca Mall to trade the watch for credit. Of course, to go to the mall I needed to take the scooter...because I can't get too far with a walker. Soooo, about 1:30 from our apartment I drove the scooter to the car, put the key in the lift (by the trunk) lowered it, and drove the scooter onto it. However, when we tried to raise the lift with the scooter on it, the lift simply refused to rise. Soooo, I had to drive the scooter back to the app'tment and traded it for the walker, hoping that the Mall had scooters available which they sometimes do.

.....When we got back to my car, we noticed that someone had stolen my license plate! So, anyway, we persisted and we went in Rho's car. The mall had one scooter left! Yea! But the person who had used it, went off with the key! Sooooo, we had to rent a wheelchair which Rho, with difficulty, pushed me to the food court, because at this time (2:30) she was very hungry...she's big on lunching. We got to the food court and found that there were only a few food vendors open because the food court had undergone "reconstruction".... To make a very long story short, Rho went to Macy's and exchanged the watch for a gift card while I waited for her in the main lobby watching the world go by on MLK day.

"Ode to the West Wind" (Shelley)

2012-01-15T17:08:00.004-05:00

.....Since I have been called upon to say a few words at the North Shore HS reunion of the classes 1962-1970, I was their teacher & I recall lines from some of the greatest poetry of the Romantic Period in England. I have already extolled the virtues of Tennyson's "Ulysses" which I taught to many at this reunion. Now, I would like to have you consider some of the most passionate and emotional lines ever written by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) and I quote (with some editing) from "Ode to the West Wind". Keep in mind that in a long life...and Shelley only lived until he was 30...most everyone cannot fully escape from illness, debilitation, or depression. And that includes the Baron who has lived 58 years longer than Shelley. I have had my share of most everything life has to offer, and I am most grateful for it. It's the last line of this poem that offers redemption...and hope.

O wild West Wind, thou breath
of Autumn's being, make me

Thy lyre even as the forest is...

O uncontrollable! if even

I were as in my boyhood, and could be

The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,

As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed

Scarce seem'd a vision—I would ne'er have striven

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.

O! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd

One too like thee—tameless, and swift, and proud.

Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth;
And, by the incantation of this verse,	65

Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

"Ulysses" by Alfred Lord Tennyson

2012-01-10T17:33:00.003-05:00

Since I extolled this particular poem as spiritual, motivational, inspiring, and rife with yearnings, I think it only wise to place it here in my blog for all to read...and wonder. Everyone ought to feel the emotion and the passion that it evokes. I wish I had written it...but, nevertheless it speaks to me. In this poem, Ulysses (the Roman for Odysseus and the hero of Homer's Iliad and the Odyssey), now an old man, having returned to Ithaca after twenty years absence and much adventure, has grown restless, and is now contemplating setting out with his crew again. Reading it aloud will bring you the best experience!

Alfred,Lord Tennyson : Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

 This my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

 There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought
 with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Alfred,Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Tell me...was I wrong?

"I have immortal longings in me." (Antony & Cleopatra)

2012-01-09T19:54:00.001-05:00

.....You know...when you reach my stage in life, there aren't too many...if any, ventures or adventures that do not take a whole lot of energy to accomplish. About the only things left where you do not have to stand up are Facebook, Tweeter-dedum, Links & any other social sites that I'm not aware of. I haven't time enough to consider using those offerings. And I'm not having much of a good time on the PC any more...I just entered a whole bunch of information on Target's web site...3 times...for a credit card...and they still did not accept my zip code which I've used here for the past 30 years. So after spending a half hour on the phone with an "agent" nothing got accomplished. She said I needed to put my wife's "security code" online. I told her I'm tearing up the card & gone to Walmart or Dunkin' Donuts.

.....Make no mistake--I am no Don Quixote tilting at windmills, nor Gulliver confronting the Yahoos; nor Sir Gawain seeking the Green Knight to get his head cut off. But what I am, I am--like Ulysses, perhaps, facing old age. He yearned once again to explore worlds he'd never seen, despite his reunion with his wife, Penelope, and his son Telemachus, "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." Try reading Tennyson's poem, "Ullysses". It's a lesson in grandeur, in resilience, in ventures beyond the seas. I re-read it now and then for motivation, inspiration, mystery and even joy. There must be some joy left in this life...you think? Oh, yes, the new mattress is a joy...as simple as that seems to be.

The Baron is extant!

2012-01-04T13:34:00.000-05:00

.....Yes, yes...I know; I've been delinquent. Last post was Dec.24...unacceptable. But, as happens once in awhile to everyone, I was under the weather, so to speak. I hadn't eaten anything for five days. While in the hospital, I definitely ate nothing...hospital food, yecch!
Actually, this will of necessity be very short. I'm still not ready to go blogging. We are expecting delivery of a new mattress on Saturday and I'll probably be sleeping on it for days. I've been sleeping on this one, now for about 20 years. This new sleeping thing will be a real treat. And...O' yes...I have to write a speech for the reunion celebration of the Class of '57. Fortunately, the reunion will be held here in W.Palm Beach...scheduled for Feb. 11. Hopefully, I'll be fully recovered from this malady by then.

.....So, my good friends, once more I wish all of you a very happy New Year. Now for my nap...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz or is it ZZZZZZZZZZ?

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

2011-12-24T20:01:00.000-05:00

.....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)

2011-12-18T16:52:00.000-05:00

.....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)

2011-12-17T15:00:00.005-05:00

.....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)

2011-12-14T12:32:00.003-05:00

.....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)

2011-12-12T20:51:00.006-05:00

.....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)

2011-12-03T10:44:00.001-05:00

.....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'

2011-11-27T15:08:00.001-05:00

.....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

2011-11-24T13:28:00.001-05:00

.....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."

2011-11-23T16:46:00.000-05:00

.....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)

2011-11-22T17:26:00.001-05:00

.....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)

2011-11-20T19:22:00.000-05:00

.....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)

2011-11-19T17:10:00.001-05:00

.....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?

2011-11-12T13:48:00.000-05:00

.....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)

2011-11-06T16:45:00.000-05:00

.....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)

2011-10-25T13:20:00.000-04:00

.....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"?

2011-10-13T18:58:00.000-04:00

.....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)

2011-10-09T14:34:00.000-04:00

.....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"

2011-10-05T17:58:00.000-04:00

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"

2011-10-03T16:54:00.000-04:00

.....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.

2011-10-01T18:27:00.020-04:00

.....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)

2011-09-28T17:46:00.001-04:00

.....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?"

2011-09-26T16:25:00.000-04:00

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.

2011-09-24T13:52:00.002-04:00

.....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.

2011-09-08T16:41:00.000-04:00

.....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.

U-271 built by the Bremer Vulcan-Vegersacker Werft.

2011-09-07T18:23:00.001-04:00

.....After having been asked several times over the years by several people to describe action in WWII that resulted in my receiving 11 Air Medals and two Distinguished Flying Crosses, I've relented a couple of times already on this blog, and for me suffering from PTSD (battle fatigue)it is very difficult to recount events and battles that happened to me and my crew. I am also reluctant to do so for fear of being viewed as a "hero" when the only heroes are those who never came back. I truly believe this. However, for the sake of history, I will write of one event eerily similar to one or more of my own experiences--and of others in FAW7, VB110.

.....A PB4Y-1 (B24 Liberator)named "The Bloody Miracle" of VB-103, Fleet Air Wing 7, found the U-Boat U-271 on the surface in the Atlantic,east of Limerick, Ireland. The boat carried a crew of 51 and was captained by Kapitanleutnant Curt Barleben, 34 years old and a native of Oldenburg who had captained U-271 since the boat was commissioned in 1942. Based presently at Brest* in France it was operating as part of the Hinein Wolfpack and had yet to experience success.

.....The Liberator was flying at 800 feet to rendezvous with an American convoy approaching the south coast of England when the U-Boat was seen. Diving steeply and turning, the aircraft closed on the submarine, receiving some damage from defensive fire. At about 500 yards, the bomb bay doors were opened and six depth charges dropped as the plane flew over the boat at a harrowing 50 feet, the depth charges straddling the submarine with three falling near to the port side. The fourth fell so close to the port side as to almost hit the submarine while the fifth and sixth fell to the starboard. The charges had been set to detonate at 30 feet and the sub seemed to be almost lifted clear of the water as they exploded.

.....U-271 began to slip beneath the waves and being unsure if the sub was fatally damaged, two sonobouys* were dropped. When a positive contact was made, a Mk.24 Zombie aerial mine was dropped, the reply coming a few seconds later as a massive explosion indicated that the Zombie had found its target. The area was searched for survivors without success. When I learned of this event it saddened me for the death of about 50 German sailors. The fact is that after boot camp, I never asked to become a combat aircrewman. My object was to be a desk clerk, (I took typing, bookkeeping, and stenography in high school)but since there were no schools open for clerks, and since I loathed washing pots in the mess hall, I agreed to go to the real war; the rest is history.

*(A sonobouy is a device with a microphone and a parachute inside of it so when dropped the chute opens and when the sonobouy hits the ocean the microphone drops below the surface and a crewman tuned to the sonobouy frequency with earphones he can hear whether or not the sub has been destroyed or its position)

*(One Liberator was named "Brest or Bust" by its crew).

"Hence! home you idle creatures get you home!" (Julius Caesar)

2011-09-06T20:32:00.002-04:00

.....Good news; son Bobby and new girlfriend, Michelle arrived for a brief visit on Labor Day and today until 5:30. Yesterday went for a drive through "Lion Country Safari". It was quite expensive, even with our coupon of $6 off for each one in the car. We were supposed to see lions, but I didn't see one; they were lolling in the shade of a large boxlike construction and hardly visible. I saw one rhinoceros and one hippo. Then there were a lot of different animals I can't name with large horns; an ostrich or two, a few zebras and a couple of giraffes. I thought the whole thing was a huge waste of my meager funds. Rho and I had gone to this place about 20 years ago, and as I recall it was a more satisfying experience. Of course, back then I was able to walk and we took in some of the other exhibits featuring animals such as monkeys; then we went on a paddle boat ride and had lunch in the restaurant. Fortunately, our guests were fascinated and Bobby took a picture of everything with his camera. We left the fair grounds about 5:30 and went straight to dine at the Chinese Kingdom Buffet which they thoroughly enjoyed. Michelle thought she would taste every morsel in the place!

.....Today, the two youngsters came here about 12:30pm and we all went to the bagel place for brunch. Michelle opined that she was hankerin' for some lox and cream cheese on a bagel, and so that is what she ordered. After lunch we went across the road to Home Depot and bought some corner molding to protect the corners on our walls. My scooter made a couple of nicks on them when I was locomoting with it. Now, I use the walker exclusively. Other chores for Bobby while we had him here was to turn over the mattress in our bedroom, to adjust an a/c vent in the den so the cold air would not blow on Rho's neck while she worked at her desk. He also fixed some problems I was having with my computer. Bobby is very adept at computer tech. He brought a beautiful laptop here, but had some problems because we don't have wi-fi. The two left for the airport about 5:30 which would give them sufficient time to return the rental car and have a bite to eat before their 8:15 flight on Spirit Airlines. It was really a joy and a blast to have them here; they are so young.

Phil, my friend forever; he can do no wrong."

2011-09-01T18:59:00.000-04:00

.....It's been a while since there has been a comment to this blog from a loyal reader whose name is Phil. But do not be fooled by that name; he is of royal blood but lately a little under the weather to be bothered with blogs; and that is understandable since I had the same aversion several months ago. Right now, I too, am confronted by one of the remaining issues I have to deal with every day--and that is the sore behind my heal whose pain I keep battling. The sore has become even smaller than a dime, but the pain persists and who knows what will become of it? I can use my walker without pain because the sore does not interfere with my walking. And today I am going to walk to the Theatre Arts class where I act like a judge on "America Has Talent".

.....I have not been to Hyperbarics for a month now, but my ears are still stuffed from the experience. I believe I will have to find an ENT doctor who may be able to clear me up, because when I talk it feels like I'm in a tunnel. O, yes--something good to mention is the new chair which Rh+ urged me to buy. It's one of those reclining chairs which also goes down to where it helps you to get up. It's in our living room and great for watching TV. Problem with it is that it's too easy to fall asleep on it, therefore one can miss NCIS.

Well, I'm back from the Acting class. I did two readings; the first was "Send in the clowns" The idea was to act out the song without singing it. The second reading was a monolog about a guy who reminisces about his mother. Both readings wowed the group. There will be an "inhouse" show next March and I'd like to perform in it, but I don't think the walker would go over. When I was growing up in the Bronx I always dreamed about being an actor, but I wound up being an English teacher--but I did a lot of "acting" in that position.

"...One gets so bored with good wine." (Disraeli)

2011-08-30T18:19:00.000-04:00

…..I”’m having a helluva time adjusting to this desultory life. I get up every morning (thankfully) use a gripping device to help me dress, another device to get a sock on my right foot. The left foot has a sore so I cannot put a sock on it; well, I’ll spare you all of the details. I get hold of my walker, go into the kitchen, take my morning medication, then read the sports page. Right now, nothing but football; boring. My breakfast usually consists of coffee and three Oreo cookies, or an Eggo with some syrup on it.. Finished with that chore, I idle into the den and turn on the computer. I go to read my e-mail, but there isn’t any, except some notice from a bank about a CD maturing. I keep my financial matters on the internet, and I wonder if Rhoda will ever be able to get all that’s coming to her if she can’t find the information on my computer. I keep showing her, but she doesn’t appear too interested to write it down. Then, I have the inclination, I will write a post to my blog. I don’t want to write too many, because then I”ll have to publish them in another book which no one will ever read. That blog has five year’s worth of reading. I think that one who has never read the blog would find it quite interesting in book form.

.....I think I had better see if I am able to drive my car; it would solve a lot of problems, not the least of which Rhoda would not have to drive me to the VA for a doctor’s appointment.. “The world is too much with us, late and soon. We lay waste our powers.” Man I wish I could also stand upon a pleasant lea like Mr. Wordsworth and have Proteus rise from the sea and hear old Triton blow his wreathed horm. What a relief it would be from this world to live like the Pagans, at least for a couple of days, in order to be introduced to all the Gods and Goddesses and Heroes. That would certainly relieve the boredom of these days of illness.

"O God of battles! Steel my soldiers' hearts" (Henry V)

2011-08-29T16:59:00.001-04:00

.....The fonts I’ve been using are getting boring so I’m being adventuress and now for this posting I’m using Verdana and it looks very nice. I’ve been very bored in another way; I am housebound and I cannot go anywhere by myself. Haven’t yet tried out the car. I will, though; as soon as I can get down there. I’ve been asked to describe my events in WWII and since VJ Day is coming on September 2, I’ll describe one of many leading to my DFC award. I do have a log book, but we were forbidden to put them there; only facts about the mission such as the number of hours involved and possibly our destination. I did fly 60 combat missions and for that I received 11 Air Medals & perhaps one DFC; I don’t know if that qualified for one of my two DFCs; I’d like to think so.

…..On one disastrous mission our plane was loaded with a full tank of fuel and armaments such as depth charges and sleeves of 50 caliber machine gun bullets. We were halfway down the runway before taking flight when a right front tire blew and the plane skidded and careened about a 100 yards before stopping with the right side of the aircraft tilted on its side. We all quickly abandoned it before it blew up with the exception of Gordon who was stuck in the nose turret. I could not leave him there to die alone, and so I rushed back into the plane, and forced open the door to his turret. And since the plane had not blown up as yet, we decided that we, too, had better leave, and so we did. Luckily the plane never blew up, and our crew was given a week’s leave to London. I am fairly certain that I left two or three ladies to carry my offspring, and so now there may be some 60 year olds who are carrying around the Ross genes.

However, I am sure that this was not one of the events for which I received the Distinguished Flying Cross.

OK OK I'll tell a story!

2011-08-25T15:53:00.001-04:00

.....Number one son sent the following email to me today.

"Got this note from a guy I work with who saw your medal ceremony on Utube some time ago." Some time in the distant past Joel means. And I will share that guy's note with any reader who has an interest in history.

These are fascinating. He’s a true national hero. If he is ever interested in recounting war stories, I hope he lets you record them for archiving purposes. Rarely, do we encounter men that put boots on the ground in so many different lands, that serve their country as noble patriots, and that give of themselves as much as your father has given. We may meet teachers that have taught for decades. We may meet veterans of various wars. But it is the combination of the two -- think of all the people he has helped mold into citizens because of his influence -- that is what’s truly extraordinary about him. And the selfless manner with which he has done it all is most remarkable. I’d pop a crisp salute to him if I ever get the opportunity to meet him. You should be proud.

.....Joel did not include the man's name, but I do appreciate his comment and if I ever meet him, I'd return the salute. But I don't know if Joel is recording, for "archiving purposes" my stories. Speaking of teaching and wars, right now I am returning to my acting class for the first time in five or six months. Not that I'll be doing any acting--just commentary of others' monologues in the manner of Piers Morgan on "America has talent." For me, it would be very difficult to act on the stage with a walker--unless of course there's a role for a man with a walker.

"Time and the hour runs through the roughest day" (Macbeth)

2011-08-24T20:17:00.001-04:00

.....There was a time when I could tell anyone what day it was. There was a time when I was able to drive my car. There was a time when every day was unique. There was a time when I was motivated to write. If I don't write something, I get depressed. I'm depressed anyway. I want to burn my walker. My ears are all stuffed up from the time I went to the Hyperbaric's. I don't go there anymore, and I don't plan to do so in the future, although I do miss the silent, peaceful time I spent inside the tube. The only pain I have to deal with now is the sore on my heal. I have an appointment with the Wound Care Center doctor. We'll see what he has to say. If he tells me I should hyperbaric it, I'll demur. The wound has gotten a lot smaller I will admit. Now it's about the size of a dime--actually a little smaller. I have come back a long way battling the issues from my hip surgery. And during this time, I have written many posts on my blog and turned them into published books...eight of them. The latest is titled "Condo Capers" for no good reason. One of the "capers" I suppose is the early bird. As far as sex is concerned, as a caper, this is Huntington Lakes; no one has sex here.

.....Today, RH-- and I went to the Festival Flea Market to sell the sterling silver flatware she's been saving for no good reason. Silver was $40 an ounce today. The newspaper has ads all over the place asking to buy gold, silver, and a bunch of other things. I often wonder whether or not these vendors know something. Anway, I imagined that her silverware would garnish about $150. I didn't know how much silver was in sterling. It's pure. She got $1880 for it. I was stunned! When I first got engaged to my ex, I ought to have asked people to give something in silver to us. Who knew?

"La plus grande chose du monde, c'est de savoir etre a soi" (Montaigne)

2011-08-20T15:19:00.000-04:00

.....I just realized that my car is about as old as I am--that's in car years of course. It's 12 years old and next year you'll all be invited to the carmitzvah. Right now it has 86 thousand miles and I will try my best to get it to 100,000. I never have driven a car for that many miles. It also has a lift on the back which gets my scooter up and down--or more accurately, on and off. I only use it now in the house cause it gets me where I need to go more quickly. Can't dawdle with a walker. Incidentally, I hate both methods of transportation; I want to be the only 100 year old man to run a marathon. Think I can't do it? Don't bet on it. Save your money if you have any left in this economy.

.....Speaking of money, gold is now up nearly to $9000 an ounce! It's really amazing. Unfortunately, I sold a few of my gold one ounce coins when gold was $1640 an ounce. I did not believe gold would go any higher. Shows you what kind of financier I am. Yesterday, the cleaning crew arrived here at 12:30 so we and the Strumlaufs took off on a drive to The Isle, our favorite casino to visit our money. On the way we had a rainstorm that came down in buckets, and with Lou driving, it was a very scary situation. Neither Rhoda nor he has the best of eye sights. I took my walker and strolled around until I saw a slot that beckoned me to play. Well, at 4pm (our meeting time) I was ahead $25, so I took a gamble and played one for $20 and lost it. Anyway, I was still ahead five bucks.

.....I have to stay in the house by myself most days now when Rhoda has errands to run. We pay for a "guardian alarm" now which if I fall, I can call 911 with a button on a chain I need to wear when she leaves. I don't like it, but Rhoda says she feels better when I wear it. Well, right now she forgot to put it around my neck, probably because she can't find it. I just happened to hang it in my closet which I must go to get it now. So, I'll see you all again sometime. Bobby and Michelle, of course, on Labor Day.

"The miserable have no other medicine but only hope." (Measure for Measure)

2011-08-16T15:25:00.003-04:00

.....Hello again friends of The Baron. I want you to know that I now have a new good-looking bookshop...and here's the link http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/norrho1.....I don't know if you can get there by clicking the link on this post; if not, then copy it into your browser address bar atop the page. After 30 days, the shop I have now will disappear into cyberspace. (I tried clicking on the link and it works)..I don't expect anyone to buy a book, but you just might be curious enough to check out the new shop. If any two books look alike, one is paperbound, the other hard cover. My books are being sold at many internet bookstores such as Amazon. The down side of all of this is that if too many books are sold, I'll have to pay tax on the royalties, so be careful.

.....Like all other days, there's not much for me to do or what I able to do. I'm not very happy about that. I'm not now in a condition to drive my car, so Rhoda has to drive me to Drs. and/or the VA. However, the upside of this is that I don't have too many appointments anymore. I do have one this Friday at the Wound Care Center for the doctor to examine the sore on my left foot. I don't expect that he'll have much to do there, except to say that I should continue with the hyperbaric treatments--which I'm not going to do while my ears are all stuffed up. I haven't been there in a week now and my ears have not improved. Even so, Val would not be driving me there every day; she drives a school bus, and I won't allow Rhoda to do it. I'm not thrilled about spending an hour and a half in that tube every day. I don't have much pain in my hip anymore; all the pain I have is on my heel--and if anyone touches it, the pain shoots up past a value of 10. Right now I have the walker to use when we go out and the scooter in the house. I guess I can live with that.

.....On more or less mundane goings on, my cousin Gary from Chicago sent me a DVD of the 25th Anniversary of "Les Miz". I truly love that show, and I find it amazing beyond belief how two guys could come up with a masterpiece like that?? One to write the music and the other to put lyrics to it?? I cannot imagine how they can do that, and I'm rather miffed that no one has offered to write the music to my blog. So, right now I'm only a famous unknown author. ........The most exciting thing today will be the delivery of a chair with a remote that will allow my to get it in any position, and even get me to the point where I can almost just step out of it.

What next in this world?

WWII Ends

2011-08-14T17:51:00.001-04:00

Today, 66 year's ago (probably too long for people to remember), the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and WWII ended for me. (People probably forgot alot about the Civil War 66 years later in 1930+). Anyway, forget about that; it only means something for me today. Now about Uncle Phil and Cousin Ruth. They have been adopted into the family pro bono (Just sounds official) and I've been thinking that there ought to be some kind of documents or ceremony that would make their titles legit. I would like that; I love those two. Phil was brilliant scholar, athlete, coach, teacher and winner on Jeopardy. Ruth is a famous poet in the UK and she has a brain in the top 10. She should be a legit cousin, especially if she can show that she has not participated in the late riots or looted any of the stores during that unrest.
Any ideas? (I realize, of course that this could be written as a blog, but...). Right now I am thankful that I can get around in my walker without pain and without the need for an aide. By the way, today I published a paperbound copy of "Condo Capers"--and I have a new shop where any of my books may be purchased. Here''s the link in case you missed it: http://lulu.com/spotlight/norrho1... I don't mean that you guys need buy a book; I'm referring to other customers. I gave you the link so you could see that it's "cool". After all, I don't have an album of pictures of Costa Rica so all I have is a stinkin link! (Here it is
By the way, the photos from Costa Rica are very pretty. Now what? (Damn; this could have been a blog post. I think I'll put it up there. What can I lose that I haven't already lost?)

"There is a history in all men's lives." (Henry IV II)

2011-07-29T18:50:00.001-04:00

.....Well, today was a wonderful day--there were no hurricanes, floods, tsunamis, or snowstorms. However, I left my bed at 9:30 with severe pain emanating from the sore on my foot. You know--you see a sign in the ER that allows you to make a choice--choose the level of your pain from 1 to 12. I would venture to say my very own pain was about a 9. In school lingo that's supposed to be a grade of honor, so I was very proud of the pain in my heal primarily because the pains in my groin and hip were only an 8. I then went from the walker to the scooter, looking forward to sitting on it and alleviating all the pain in my body. And so, it came to pass.

.....I felt sick and had no plans to eat breakfast, but Val arrived and an English muffin with cream cheese suddenly appeared accompanied by some Swiss and coffee. So, I ate them. It turns out that Val, the aide, had arrived while my head had been covered with my arms, and she was the culprit (or Genie??) who provided the early morning repast. While I was eating my breakfast, Geri, the wound care nurse, who appears every other day arrived to dress the wound on my foot--and so she did. I informed her about the pain in my leg, but she didn't seem impressed. After dressing the wound on my leg, she took my right arm and dressed the wound there. You really don't want to know how it got there.

.....And now, dear readers (if you're still there) it was time to go to the Hyperbaric/oxygen treatment the wound doctor ordered EVERY DAY! It's rather comical that I get to nap in a glass bubble for an hour and a half when I could easily do that at home--except for the fact that I have no oxygen which the bubble nurse provides in doses three times greater than I breathe normally. But I still don't know if it's effective in getting rid of the sore on my foot--or if it's a jolly good way to make a few bucks. Well after this experience, I'm sorry to say it was not the last today. I had to make a stop at the dermatologist's digs.

And dig it was; his assistants stuck needles in my face and back, and I rightly guessed they were taking out some cancer cells; or, at least, I think that's what they were doing.

They planted about 7 or 8 bandaids where they had been working--on my nose, my cheeks, and my back. If your head has been turned, and your brain assaulted perhaps you need to read this post over again.

"Life is just a bowl of cherries--maybe popcorn."

2011-07-24T13:53:00.000-04:00

Let’s try something here. I’m feeling creative…and “elderly”…and admiring Shakespeare’s sonnet 73. Understand this—I don’t feel sorry for myself, I’m simply seeing what is—and what is, is. I love my life, and I love my wife—a treasure that keeps me on an even keel. But in this sonnet, I see that Will was writing about me and he didn’t know it.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves or none or few do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold

Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.

Well, yes. That time of year in me is 87, and the yellow leaves (which soon will fall) represent all the things that I once was able to do and where none or few am I now capable of. The bare ruined “choirs” where the birds once sang sweet music for me represent the life that has passed me by, and where all the abilities that once I had are now shaking against the cold; no longer are they burning bright with fire. What is left for me is writing, and perhaps that’s the last leaf on the bough—but stubbornly is holding on although all the others are gone--my teaching, my coaching, my jogging, my golf, my stage performing, etc., etc.

In me thou seest the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death’s second self that seals all in rest.

If the passing of the day into twilight represents the passing of life into the twilight years, then I find myself now in that twilight zone that comes after the sun fades in the west—and which, inexorably turns into black night—or the last light of life. (But my last yellow leaf still has not fallen).

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire

Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

So, my dear, there remains in me, a glowing fire, Which feeds on the ashes of my youth and all the experiences that are allowed to one before the yellow leaf falls. If you see all this, and you understand all this, according to the Bard, it should make your love more strong to love that well which you will betimes lose when the last leaf falls--and who knows when that will happen? Aha! The Shadow knows.

.....Incidentally, I received an email today from Ned McAdams a student from the class of 1957. They are going to celebrate their 55th at a reunion in Atlantis here in Florida in February. Rhoda and I have been invited as guests of honor, so I better write something wise, profound and funny before we get there.

"I will drink life to the lees" (Tenn)

2011-07-21T20:10:00.000-04:00

.....Well, I'm still being treated in a hyperbaric chamber--or bubble as I call it. The Mayo Clinic describes this treatment as breathing pure oxygen in a pressurized chamber. It is commonly used to treat serious infections, bubbles of air in your blood pressure, and wounds that won't heal. In a hperbaric oxygen chamber, the air pressure is raised up to three times higher than normal.Under these conditions, your lungs can gather up to three times more oxygen than would be possible breathing it at normal air pressure. The increased oxygen dissolves in your blood during this therapy and circulates throughout your body.Oxygen-rich blood stimulates your body to release substances called growth factors and stem cells which promote healing. I've had a sore on my heal since March which refuses to heal. Hopefully this therapy will help because the wound is very painful.

.....Val, our aide, who at this time we cannot do without, drives me to the facility about 11:30 every morning and I spend an hour and a half in the bubble. There's nothing I can do in the chamber but nap or watch TV at a set placed outside the chamber. Let me tell you, it's really quiet and peaceful in there. I kind of like it. There's no one to bother me. When I'm released, Val usually drives us to lunch at a local deli. Rhoda often comes to join us. At home I have to contend with a wound care nurse who comes every three days to dress the wound, and then a physical therapy nurse who comes to give me her version of therapy which includes torture. So, in other words, I'm a physical wreck.

.....I've been enjoying the banter on the comments to this blog, and the chatter among my readers mostly of whom are Phil B, JR, EllenJ, and Ruth, my compatriot and new cousin across the ocean. Recently there's been a dialogue involving why and how medals are awarded, and it has been of great interest to me. I only hope there is no rancor developing because of different theories by different participants. All is past, anyway, I have the medals and they're hanging on the wall and one of my four will get them when I'm past. Actually, the medals aren't there at all. They are in a briefcase in my closet. The ribbons representing them are on the wall. The medals are beautiful, and you're allowed to wear them on your tux at bar mitzvahs and weddings. Since there are no bar mitzvahs in the near future, perhaps there will be a wedding. The grandchildren ought to stop fooling around and look for a partner. I did--and look what I found!

"Be wary then, best safety lies in fear" (Hamlet)

2011-07-18T17:28:00.000-04:00

.....One day we were on submarine patrol in the English Channel. Our mission was to protect the convoys that were shipping armaments and supplies to England from the United States. Subs had attacked and torpedoed and sank two ships to this time. I was on the radio and navigating the flight for two hours before returning to the tail guns. Suddenly, flack began to appear in our path. Unfortunately, I had mistakenly navigated us over Guernsey and Jersey which we were told to avoid, and we were the target of the German guns on those islands. The flack was all around us from Nazi guns, which were very accurate. The flack tore a hole in the plane near the bomb bay doors and also wounded Norman England in his right leg as he manned the waist guns. Blood was pouring out from this wound, and so immediately I tore my skivvy shirt and applied a tourniquet to England’s leg while he grit his teeth in pain Our plane was hit so hard by the flack that it rendered us unflyable; we had to ditch into the English Channel. England did not know how to swim and his leg needed much more attention than I was able to give him, but at least the tourniquet stopped the bleeding. We were going down into the dark water, but strangely I had no fear. When something like this misadventure occurs defenses come to the fore. I was 17 and I would not, could not die. The plane landed with a thump, thump, thump and when it came to a stop, and before it sank I grabbed England by his collar and swam out of the plane’s waist hatch.

…..Luckily, I was a very good swimmer having lived a block from the Atlantic Ocean in my younger years. I knew I would have to keep England afloat; and I was able to do that for a while, and feared that I could not do it for much longer in the freezing water. But what I saw coming directly at us, made me hysterical with joy, tearful though it was. An English rescue boat fished us out of the freezing water in a second or two and supplied us with warm blankets. Norman was brought to the medical room where he was attended to by a couple of RNs. I did not see any other members of my crew, but when we got to Plymouth I met them all in the hospital. It was a fearsome thing to be shot out of the sky, but the skill of our pilot, Lt. Noehren, made our ditching easy enough for all of us to escape into the water and await rescue by the English, and so it came to pass.

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." (Henry V)

2011-07-16T15:18:00.001-04:00

.....Several readers have indicated that they would like to know a little more of my experiences in WWII that would warrant the award I received of the DFC, (Distinguished Flying Cross.) I have been reticent about writing or speaking about anything I had done because the memories of these events are painful, and have required the need for therapy; for the PTSD that evolved, although in WWII it was called “battle fatigue”. But in deference to my readers, most of whom are former students-- during my years in the classroom they never really knew too much about me. In deference to them I will recount one of the more dangerous acts that occurred in mid flight in the Bay of Biscay—not too far from the shores of Spain and France. Our mission this day was to hunt and kill enemy submarines that were causing havoc to the shipping of weapons across the Atlantic to our allies. But first let me bring to your attention the criteria for the award of the DFC.

. Criteria: The Distinguished Flying Cross is awarded to any person who, while serving in any capacity with the Armed Forces of the United States, distinguishes himself by heroism or extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight. The performance of the act of heroism must be evidenced by voluntary action above and beyond the call of duty. The extraordinary achievement must have resulted in an accomplishment so exceptional and outstanding as to clearly set the individual apart from his comrades or from other persons in similar circumstances.

…..Let me tell what I encountered this day as simply as I can. We all had to check our turrets and the 50 caliber machine guns that were operated hydraulically. Don Fraser was busy in the nose turret when his guns jammed. He had problems getting them into working condition. I volunteered to replace him in the turret to see whether or not I could fix the problem. Down on the ground, during training, I was pretty good at getting jammed guns unjammed.The working condition of the nose turret guns was of extreme importance in the event we were attacked by enemy aircraft. As I lowered myself into the turret-- ,just at that moment two Junkers 87 Stuka German fighter planes swooped down at us out of the clouds; I was swiftly able to get the turret and guns in working condition and I notified our pilot, Lt. Noehren to that effect and he took evasive action even though he never saw the planes. But then I witnessed these two fiersome aircraft flying directly toward me while I occupied the turret. With great good fortune (or was it skill?) I was able to hit, with my bullets, one of these planes and severely disabling the other.

.....My condition was not of the best; I was shaking uncontrollably. I never had occasion to kill anyone, never fired a weapon in anger at anyone,and I was suddenly saddened by the fact that I killed, most likely, a young man who had his whole life before him, and now he was dead because I had the good fortune to hit my targets as quickly as I did. I witnessed a thin plume of smoke emanating from one aircraft and then a great flame that caressed its whole body as it plunged into the sea. Perhaps this man left a wife and kids back home; perhaps parents who would grieve endlessly at their loss. I found these thoughts very unsettling; I left that turret as quickly as I could and I found an empty pineapple juice can and promptly threw up into it. Now, dear reader, study once more the criteria for the award of the DFC to see for yourselves whether or not I deserved this medal, and whether or not I was totally remiss in not recounting this event—or others—in the classroom during my years as a teacher.

"There's many a good tune played on an old fiddle."

2011-07-12T19:43:00.000-04:00

.....Well the bottom line is this--I am happy to report that I am pain free. I don't know when it happened or where or why, but the only pain that remains is the sore on my heel, but that "pain" is bearable. I am going to that hyperbaric treatment every day and that is supposed to bring oxygen to my heel, and by some magical event--heal the heel. I don't know what it does or how it does it, and I am anxiously awaiting whatever result results. I still am having a wound care nurse coming to the house every three days, and a physical therapist also comes every three days. Val, my aide drags me to the hyperbaric therapy every day.

.....Enough already with the medical history as it goes along; right now, I feel like writing about sports. Tonight is the All Star baseball game, and I will be watching it for sure. I have to root for the National League because I am a Marlin fan, and they are in the National League. Perhaps we'll witness something extraordinary just as the last minutes of the girls' soccer game. I'm a coach, and always will be, and I marvel at the speed these girls have carrying the ball. They are just as fast dribbling the ball as they would be without it. And it's exciting to see them speeding down the wings and crossing the ball. Maybe Amy Walmbach(SP?)will put a header in the goal tomorrow as the US team plays France. I wonder at the French team; I thought French girls were more interested in fashion displays than they are kicking a soccer ball. If the US wins, I believe they will win the World Cup. Well, enough of sports; don't want to lose my English cuzzin for lack of interest.

"Be near me when the sensuous frame is racked with pains that conquer trust..." (Tennyson)

2011-07-11T16:22:00.000-04:00

.....I just got home from a hyperbaric session which sessions are getting to be very boring even though ESPN is available for viewing without audio. I'm concerned about Wednesday when the girls are playing France in the semi-final of the World Cup. The game is scheduled for 11:30 so since I will by in the big tube at that time, I should be able to watch at least the first half. These gals are terrific soccer players and I love the way they get down the wing to cross the ball. Sooner or later someone is sure to get a header goal. Speaking of heads, it appears that the great one, Phil B, eschews aid from doctors for his head wounds. God forbid that he should forget all he knows that is registered in that magnificent head. In one of his communications he says that, "...until a few years ago, I never fell. ." This appears to mean that he fell a few years ago?? As for myself, I plan never to fall again; I only have two hips to lend to the remainder of my life. And who can tell how many years are left to me. I spend my time now mostly at this blog and then converting them into book form. And who knows who will be reading these books in the future. It has been going now since August, 2007, four years ago, and the result has culminated into the publishing of nine books. Perhaps I am wasting my time, and should be doing something else; but what?

.....At the present time, I can ambulate either with a walker or a scooter, depending upon how far I have to go. Before my accident I was able to walk using a cane. I don't know if I can ever get back to that condition. I do hope to. It would at least allow me to audition for a show if there is one, and I believe there will be one next winter. I doubt very much if there will be much call for a man with a walker...unless in "The Producers". All of this concern, now, for a guy who used to run 10 miles every day and two marathons. Gosh, do I miss those days! I do believe I might be able to get 10 miles out of my scooter without recharging. I could race someone. Might get on TV as the ultimate scooter race restricted to those over 85.

This is what is, is. (2)

2011-07-09T15:03:00.004-04:00

.....I am sitting here at the computer, alone, with the alarm button around my neck just in the event that I might fall or get caught in a hurricane; or a gator might come up from our lake with the intent to devour me. The chance that I might need to push the button on this device to summon the medics is nil to nada. I have now gone into the hyperbaric oxygen tank 20 times, and the pain doctor has prescribed 20 more times for me. I really do not know how much good it is doing me--if any. I'm told that the sore at the bottom of my foot is getting "smaller" whatever that means. Then there is the wound care nurse who comes here every three days to dress the wounds on my leg and the physical therapy nurse who also comes here every three days to give me physical therapy. The pain that I have suffered in the past month still haunts me, but I have mounted a defense against it, so it can pain me all it wants; it won't affect me in the least.

.....The truth is, that I am getting really tired of the routine I find myself in with doctors of every ilk and kind; that is, ilk doctors and kind of doctors. I would like very much to stop taking every single pill I have and stop seeing doctors. I'm afraid, though, that this option is not currently viable. RH+ would definitely not allow it, and at the current time I am under her control. So, the facts of life are these: I can't do anything about the situation I am in with the residual effects of my hip surgery. The pain is what is, is and will remain so for no one knows how long. The only thing that has brightened my days has been the visit of Bonny, Sean, Joel and Barbara. They helped me to forget my woes. (See second blog this day)

The Newhall Visit Caper (1)

2011-07-09T14:36:00.002-04:00

.....Unfortunately, the Baron was not able to blog the Newhall visit becaused at the time, he was in no condition to blog anything. It is true; Bonny, my adorable daughter, and my grandson Sean appeared out of the blue on Fathers' Day and made their brief stay a golden one. Bonny was a great help in unpacking boxes here and putting stuff where they belonged, and getting our house in reasonable condition. Sean helped whenever we required a strong hand. One night we went out to a Japanese restaurant for dinner and we enjoyed a nourishing and thoroughly fulfilling dinner. A couple of us downed some lobster and filet mignon with fried rice. Then on a following night we came down from the gourmet stuff, and stuffed ourselves on baby back ribs. On another night Bonny cooked dinner; she is quite the gourmet kid.

.....Bonny now has had her shop for over 20+ years. She always loved animals and after high school I sent her to the New York School of Dog Grooming. I am in awe at what she has accomplished; she is an extremely hard worker, and I simply adore her; when she was here, I couldn't take my eyes off of her; she is the delightful little twin that I relish and remember. I am also proud of what Sean has accomplished. He is now Sean, BFA and that is something. (I'm not sure of what surname he uses--probably Tully after his dad) Sean is a real California guy, a surfer and an artist and so he carries some of the Ross blood! And so, now, Baron apologizes to the Newhall kids for not recognizing their visit in my blog as timely as it deserved. The reason for such neglect has been duly documented and so now they are now immortalized in these pages. (See second blog this day)

The Virginia Visit Caper

2011-07-07T17:46:00.001-04:00

.....For the first time in several years, we were treated to a visit by my son, Joel and my daughter-in-law, Barbara. They stayed only for three days, but it was sufficient for us to enjoy each other's company. The first night they were here we went out to have dinner at an Italian restaurant. Unfortunately, it was closed and we wound up at Bonefish. I don't cotton to fish, so I ordered a filet mignon and a crab cake. Barbara seemed to enjoy "bang, bang" shrimp. I tried one and it was very tasty. Next time I'm in Bonefish, I'll probably order that dish. The following night we dined at Massimo's. I had lasagna which was thoroughly filling and enjoyable. The others appeared to enjoy their own dinners. Meanwhile we were able to chat and catch up on what each of us were doing. I could not walk, but I was able to ambulate with my walker. When we got back to the house we all watched "America Has Talent" which was very nice--only I did not notice any act that had talent. The three judges appeared to be passing every act on to Las Vegas. We did the same thing on the following night after we returned from a Chinese buffet; we did interrupt the viewing for a while discussing what will be left in my will. I've been collecting coins lo these many years and I gave Joel my entire collection. I hope he doesn't get a back ache from loading the books on his back. Now, I don't have much more to leave to him, and I'm trying to think about what I can leave to his siblings. I'm sure I'll come up with something that they'll treasure as a memento from their father. It was a sad farewell when they left here last night. They are a delightful couple, and who knows when they will return?

.....They both had an opportunity to see that in order for me to get around, I need my walker and my scooter. As a matter of fact, Joel had to drive me to the VA Hospital one day and I did have to take my scooter there where I had some dental work done. He learned how to drive that scooter himself and how to load it onto the lift on my car. That was helpful. Now, I think he may go out and buy his own scooter. I am still taking hyperbaric oxygen treatments every day, and I'm not convinced that they are doing me any good although the wound care doctor thinks otherwise and prescribed twenty more of those treatments. Nevertheless, in spite of all the physical problems and pain I am coping with, I have a spark within me that will never burn out. It will sustain me, as it has so many other times in my life. So, friends need not be concerned about my giving up; that cannot happen.

"I could be well content to entertain the lag end of my life in quiet hours.." Henry IV

2011-07-01T18:15:00.000-04:00

.....Tomorrow should be my last day to be stuffed into a big glass tube that they fill with oxygen. I'm talking about the cyberbarack treatments. I'm required to be there every day at 11:30 am. But I'm used to sleep until that hour. Before I get in I feel like an astronaut; they take my blood pressure, they look in my ears, and for some reason they test my sugar level which is quite low. Meanwhile I'm lying on a bed just in front of the tube; a bed where they give you pillows and shove a couple under my knees. When all is ready the bed slides into the tube, and you're there captured for an hour and a half.

The bare facts are these: I'm completely immobile. I have great pain in my left leg whenever I get into or up from something, be it chair of a car or a car. We figure maybe the rod that is in my leg from the hip surgery may be rubbing against bone or something else. The doctors give us zip. We do have an appointment with a pain manager doctor next week,,,I'm 87 year's old; why do I have to deal with this problem at this stage of my life? Oh well, this too shall pass. As my aide and I were driving to the hapabaric place, I thought of my father, who died on July 2, and I didn't get a chance to have fun with fireworks. My father was completely immobile also. Like father, like son.

"O I have passed a miserable night." (WS)

2011-06-29T20:20:00.000-04:00

.....It''s been awhile since I have written a post to this blog, and I hold myself accountable for this omission. I know I have a few loyal readers who like to tune in upon occasion and I would not like to lose them. The fact is that I am injured and have not been inclined to writing. In order to cure one of my problems I have been submitted to hyerbarack oxygen treatments every day. Hopefully it will be successful. The other day I had a weird dream which resulted in a fall. I dreamed that I was in the clubhouse ballroom and Iwas locked in and all the lights were turned out. It was pitch black and no knocking the door was successful. Still dreaming, for some odd reason, I decided to go to the bathroom, so I picked up my walker and promptly fell because the walker collapsed. It wasn't a real walker you see! Then the action took place in another part of a room, and I was crawling on the floor to find a way to get home.

.....This was a dream, but in reality I was crawling on my bedroom floor trying to get to my walker. I was completely unsuccessful. I spent the night sleeping on the floor and when I woke, there were blood stains all over the carpet. I was wary that Rhoda--when she returned from New York would turn the lights out when she saw this! My aide said we have to call 911, and so we did. When the rescue guys came they promptly brought me to the hospital where they dressed the wounds I had on my knees and took tests to see if there was any problem as a result of my fall. I came home the same day. I was mortified by this dream. It isn't often that I "walk" in a dream. While I did sleep on the carpet all night, failing to get to the bathroom, I could have used a pillow and a blanket, but the dream provided no such thing. In the real world I could have had what I was dreaming about. Oh hes, my aide cleaned up the bloodstains with peroxide. Amazing.

"Weary sev'nights, nine times nine shall he dwindle, peak, and pine" (Macbeth)

2011-06-17T22:05:00.000-04:00

.....It's been really speedy here. Before I knew it, I had an aide to drive me each day to the cyperbaric oxygen treatment so that Rhoda might have the time to do the things she had to do. The first time I met the "aide" I knew she was the one I wanted to handle all my needs; and I have a slew of them. She's a pretty tall black gal with a gracious personality. She knows what I need, before I even know what it is. She's the one who will be staying overnight here while Rhoda is in NY. Rhoda has been very insistent about having her stay all day with me so that I would not be alone. She said it would make her feel better, so what could I do? Well, the truth is that I really need an aide. I am mostly dependent upon my scooter. Walking with the walker is really painful. I have two things which are a problem for me; the sore on the bottom of my left leg, and the pain emanating from my surgery. There's nothing much more I can say except to apologize for Rhoda if she "lashed out at you". She was a lady at the end of her rope, not knowing what to do about her husband's ailments, and hopeful that the Baron's children might offer to help. But of course, they had no way of knowing the true situation here.

....Bonny and Sean are coming here on Father's Day. She has offered to help by doing some cooking. I guess she has learned how to cook. I don't think her sister has gotten to that stage as yet. Joel's anniversary is on June 17. He's been married a long, long, time so I guess that marriage is one made in heaven. The anniversary of my marriage to Rhoda occurs on Fathers' Day. You do the arithmetic; our marriage is surely made in heaven. The Baron could never ask for a better Baroness. When she had to drive me me to the hyperbaric treatments she was driven to her wit's end having also her own doctors' appointments. My doctors had better know what they are doing. As for me, I know there are several lapses in publishing some blogs; at this time it cannot be helped, so please bear with me.

"The patient dies while the physician sleeps" (Shakespeare)

2011-06-05T21:55:00.000-04:00

.....I'm feeling a bit better today & in a better mood; we had visitors. My sister, Betty, my brother-in-law, Mickey, and my nephew, "Z" (for Zaldor nee Jeffrey). Z was of great help in clearing out all my record albums...and there were a lot of them. He will probably try to sell them at a record store. His work was part of a general overhaul of our apartment. Although the music was once a great part of my life, it's been a very long time since I played them--since we played them, so why clutter up the house? Z also hung a picture over our bed which I had knocked down in my sleep. Of course it fell on Rhoda and me, but it did no damage--although it is large, it is very light. My sister also brought me a couple of black and white cookies which I shall devour tonight before I go to bed. Tomorrow, I again go through the oxygen treatment. I still don't know if it will do any good.

..... The wound care nurse came today in order to dress my wounds (I've three of them). However, before she did that chore, she had me lie down in bed so that she could check out my groin in order to see why there was pain there. However, unexpectedly, she pulled down my shorts and my underwear and got a first row orchestra seat of all that I hold dear. This action made me speechless, a rare condition for the Baron. After feeling around my groin, and elsewhere, she found nothing to indicate why I have pain there. Finally, she bandaged my wounds and when she left, I took my walker and Rhoda and I went out to Applebees for dinner. Tomorrow afternoon, we are making an appointment to see our primary care doctor. Perhaps he'll be able to find the source of the pain I am having.

.....On the 24th of this month Rho is going up to New York to see Ilana graduating from high school. I had bought two tickets awhile ago, but I will not be able to join her. Right now Rhoda is down to a frazzle, what with her having to take care of me and my needs, and the rest of her life that is free. Right now she has no life of her own. While she is in New York, she wants to have someone stay with me. I also have an alarm button which I wear around my neck in case I fall or something while she's away. And if I press the button, the medics will show up. All of these things are costly, and since I'm your dad, and I am in need, and since you cannot come to help, some financial assistance will be welcomed.

"Into each life some rain must fall" (Longfellow)

2011-06-04T14:04:00.000-04:00

.....Well, I'll tell y'all the truth. Yesterday was the third time I was subjected to the "Hyperbaric Oxygen" procedure. I have a wound on my ankle that has not healed, and this treatment is supposed to help it to heal much quicker. What happens is that you are placed in a large tube on your back, and the tube is then filled with oxygen. You are left there for an hour and a half--which is a pretty long time. There is a television set outside of the tube, and the sound is piped in somehow. I don't usually watch TV in the afternoon--the treatment occurs at 11:30am--but I told them to put it on ESPN on the chance that there is something of interest to watch. Anyway, I fell asleep for the entire time. It's nice and peaceful inside that tube with no one to bother you, and you can do whatever you want. You must go every day for as long as the wound doctor decides.

.....The other problem is that I can't walk at all. Whenever I get into a chair or out of one, or get into a car or out of it, I have a fierce pain in the groin, and it's not pleasant. I don't use a walker because I can't put full pressure on the leg where the hip operation took place. The doctor says that it is all healed, but I still have the pain in my groin. I have pain now, 24/7, and the pain medication doesn't seem to help. The problem with my lack of mobility puts a great deal of pressure on Rhoda which I am not happy about. She has to drive me whenever we have a doctor's appointment and also drives me to the Hyperbaric treatments. Also, since it's hard for me to get to everything I need in the house, she is the one who has to get it, whether or not it's an item of clothing, or of food. I don't know how much longer I will need to suffer from these problems, and I don't know why it's happening to me in my golden years which at the moment are mostly brass.

"The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body" (Syrus)

2011-05-30T14:00:00.001-04:00

.....I'm really confused. I am suffering pain from a sore in my heel at the same time I have pain in my groin. Not just a little pain; but a whole lot of it, and neither problems seem to be getting any better. Tuesday I go for the oxygen treatment, but as I've said, I don't believe it will do me much good. Joel wrote that if Rhoda said to do it, then I ought to do it. Phil B. asks what I have against oxygen. Both boys appear to be optimistic. Well, OK; I'm doing it and we will see what happens. According to me, nothing will happen. Right now I can't even lift my left leg; someone has to help me.

.....Ilana will be graduating from high school at the end of June. I've made air and hotel reservations, but right now it looks as though I'll lose the money involved. If I can't go, Rhoda can stay with Renee, he daughter. Rhoda does not want me to be alone in the house and wants to get someone to stay with me and help with the things I need. So, I'm afraid I won't be able to go to New York; it won't work with the condition I am in. Ruthie thinks I may have "given up"; well I have been pretty close to that--and worse. I'm willing to try anything now and so tomorrow we are going to the place for the oxygen treatment. I don't have much faith in it, but I'll give it a try. They put you in a "tube" and pump in pure oxygen for an hour and a half. That is supposed to help you to heal faster. We shall see.

"Make War breed peace" (Timon of Athens)

2011-05-28T14:22:00.000-04:00

.....Here's the latest. The sore on my heel is yet to heal. (Good example of homonyms). The doctor has recommended something called "Hyperbaric oxygen therapy." It's a procedure where they put you on a table and wheel you into a contraption and blow in oxygen for a full hour and a half. It'supposed to make wounds heal faster. It's something that I believe will do me no good and I will have wasted all that time breathing pure oxygen. I fluffed it off, but Rhoda was fiercely adamant about it. I will spend the hour and a half just thinking. There will be a tv set, but I don't watch tv in the afternoon. I could bring a book, but the only book I read now is one that I have written. Wouldn't it be fun to read about what happened to me in 2007? At any rate we are trying to get that wound to heal. It distributes pain.

.....There's nothing really going on these days besides boring stories of my affliction. I was really "down" the other day when I got an email from a student of mine who graduated in 1965. It made my day.
I have told anyone and everyone who would listen that you were my favorite and most valued teacher! I've taken multiple classes in my education career and have had many excellent teachers but none captured my interest and excitement for learning the way you did. So....after all these years I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
..... I can't even remember if I was smoking pot that year--or any other year for that matter. Maybe it was that which made me a teacher like the one she remembers. I never even suspected that I would become a teacher; I was just a kid from the Bronx who knew nothing.

.....Every year at the end of May comes Memorial Day. Greeting someone with "Have a happy Memorial Day" just doesn't make it on that day. It's a time to reflect and to remember those who gave their lives in the service of our country. Those like the eight boys in my own aircraft who never had the chance to enjoy their grandchildren. It's a day to honor our soldiers and sailors who were young and who never came back.

"The knight of the doleful countenance." Man of La Mancha

2011-05-23T13:43:00.001-04:00

.....An update on my "condition": First of all, I believe that I have neglected to mention the ulcerated sore I have on my left heel. This sore is painful and doesn't seem to be going anywhere. I've had to deal with it for five or six weeks now. So, what with that problem and the problem I"m having with my left leg which produces pain in the pelvis whenever I try to take a step. I feel that I have been in a Royal Battle. In the least, the pain I have might be alleviated if the Queen knighted me; Sir Baron d'Ross knighted to honor all the Ross clan in Scotland from whence Sir Baron emanated. In addition, Baron was reminded of how his Sopwith Camel plane outdueled the Fokkers. So what's a little hip fracture compared with that? Eh?

.....The renovation of our place is complete now and very beautiful. All the floors are created with wood, except for the master bedroom. RH+ did not want wooden floors in there in case she got up at night and put her feet on the cold wooden floor...so that's where we still have carpeting. So that the Baroness would not get cold feet in the event she got up at night to go to the bathroom, we still have carpeting in there. Our pantry has been remodeled and we now have tile on the terrace. Finally got rid of that awful green covering. Of course, all of this cost us a pretty penny, and along with the $6000 bill we got from Whitehall, I may really have to go back to a casino where I will be very careful in all my movements. I refuse to stand by the entrance to the turnpike with a cardboard sign saying, I will work for food.

"Vanity of vanities; all is vanity." (Shakespeare via Ecclesiastes)

2011-05-22T19:58:00.000-04:00

.....The other day during a meeting of the Theatre Arts Club, I was trying to have a conversation with a friend, but he is slightly hard of hearing and almost everything I said drew a response of "What? What?" Now it is very difficult to carry on a conversation when you have to say everything twice. Thus the conversation is done almost as quickly as it started. When you tell my friend that he ought to see about getting hearing aids, he claims that he hears perfectly well, and that you are just whispering. A classic case of vanity here which certainly may be corrected. There must be a million people wearing hearing aids that are not ashamed to be wearing them--and relieves you of answering to "What? What?" Come to think of it, there are other examples of vanity that you see or hear every day. What about the teenager who refuses to wear a certain dress because she thinks it makes her look fat? Or the kid who grows a beard thinking it makes him look macho and older? Or the old guy who refuses to use a walker rather that a cane because he is not ready to join the walkers club whom he considers elderly and decrepit. Hey, wait a minute; I refuse to join the "walkers club" because they are elderly and decrepit and that description might fit me! Actually, at this point in my career, I have to use a scooter, because I can't walk at all. I try using a walker, but it's a lost cause. I just cannot put any pressure on my left leg at all. Hopefully, time will work this thing out. After all, I'm a marathon man!

.....Speaking of marathons, at my age a man looks back on his life to see and enjoy his accomplishments=vanities of vanities. Well, maybe some men don't, but I do. The first thing I accomplished was fighting a war in combat. When I returned I spent six months in a V.A. hospital after which I enlisted in Columbia University and eventually earned a doctor's degree. I consider that rather a great accomplishment--more than combat because I had to use my brain, and there is so little matter up there with which to function. Next was the 30 years of teaching English and coaching sports. It's an accomplishment which I miss severely. My teaching career was hugely satisfying. An accomplishment which differs somewhat from the others is helping to raise four children; they are all well employed at the present time, and that makes a parent proud. The next was running those two 26 mile marathons. It took months of training to prepare for such an event. But finishing was a memorable feeling. In our theatre arts program, I played several leading parts in the productions; The Admiral in "HMS Pinafore", Koko in "The Mikado", the Lord High Executioner in "The Pirates of Penzance", Henry Higgins in "The Music Man", and not one cigarette in "My Fair Lady." My favorite role, though was Tevye in "Fiddler on the roof", and finally in my list of accomplishments was the publication of my book, "Memoirs of a Tail Gunner". Holding it in my hand was mind boggling. I never even thought about it as I was writing it. But it came to pass.

" I am cabin'd, cribbed, confined" (Shakespeare)

2011-05-19T21:39:00.000-04:00

.....I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined. What I mean by that statement is that I cannot go anywhere because I can't drive. It also means that I cant walk. I have to depend on a scooter to do that. The doctor says that my hip is completely healed. When I ask him why I have so much pain, he says that he doesn't know. So what do I need him for? The truth is that the pain that I have prevents me from walking. Rhoda drove me to the clubhouse where I attended the theater arts class. No one appeared to want to learn how to act. They started out by saying "a,e,i,o,u." Then they did tongue twisters, a useless bit of fluff. Finally, everyone had to read a monologue, and that's exactly what they did, they read it. No attention to diction or acting at all. They simply read their monologues and that became really boring, So, I left early.

Unfortunetly Rhoda is tied down having to care for me. She refuses to leave me alone in the house, so we bought one of those alarm mechanisms that you hang around your neck or on your wrist, so that if you fall down, you press the button and soon the medics show up. And that's the situation here. What is exciting is the change our apartment has undergone. The carpet in the living room and den was pulled up and wood replaced them. In fact wood had been installed in every room except in the master bedroom and the two bathrooms. It's a different look and I have to get used to it. I have a different look, also, and I have to get used to it. I cant walk and I have scorpions in my brain; this too shall pass and perhaps too late.

"...if only we could wear jewels;as symbols of pain rather than wealth."

2011-05-16T21:16:00.000-04:00

.....I know it's been a few days since I posted this blog, but I'm certain that my loyal readers will understand the reason--I've been battling the pain that accompanies my hip surgery and the sore I have on my left heel that brings up the pain level whenever something touches it. Far be it for me to complain; it does no good. I told the doctor about it, but his answer was that everything has healed. When I asked why the pain now, his reply was that he didn't know. If the doctor has no answer why complain?

.....At the moment, I am fairly immobile; assigned to a walker or a scooter. With the scooter in the house, I fail to understand the formula for avoiding bumping into walls. I am grateful that a license is not a requirement for scooter driving. Nor can you get pulled over for DUI; I occasionally imbibe a beer. One event here involves my wearing a necklace at the bottom of which contains a button. If you fall and hurt yourself and can't get up, you press the button and all hell breaks loose! The police are alerted and the medics arrive with full siren blasting even unto the parking lot so that neighbors are alerted and thus lured away from the television. I agreed to wear this alarm button for Rhoda's sake; she says she'd feel much better about me being alone. The button is hung around my neck with a string--which is a cheap way to be wearing a necklace. Next time I go to a flea market, I'll get a chain of gold. Not real gold, of course; it' $1500 an ounce! And maybe I'll have that button engraved with the symbol of a lion, the representation of Columbia U. If I am forced to wear an alarm button around my neck, at least it will have some class.

".....there shall be no more crying...neither shall there be any more pain." (The Bible)

2011-05-11T12:23:00.002-04:00

.....Well, I took my oxycodone and it doesn't appear to be doing much good. I still have pain emanating from a sore just behind my left heel. It's the size of a dime. Whenever it comes into contact with anything--like a thumb or the floor, you can hear my hollerin' from here to Tripoli. I hope it does them some good; at least more than it does me. Then, of course, there's the problem with the hip surgery. It's been two months now since then and I still have pain in the pelvis when I try to use the walker. Today we have an appointment at the wound center, and perhaps they have some solutions to these problems. I don't intend to spend the rest of my life in pain. Actually, I have no idea how I will spend the rest of my life. Perhaps one of my former students has a plan--or Phil or Ruth or Emry or Anonymous or Ellin, or anyone else who reads this journal. It might be that 10 aspirin is the answer to my affliction and can alleviate my sufferance. I don't believe that I deserve this torment, but who can say that anyone deserves anything?

.....I can now understand when a student comes in, confronts me, and claims that his essay does not deserve a C-. That's a pretty flunky grade and he insists that his paper rates a C. Well, that seems to solve the torment he experiences but what about me? I think the paper deserves an F or something worse, and I tell him so--and I tell him to go home and rework it. That solves the problem for both of us. He gets another chance and I'm off the hook.

.....Just got back from the wound care center and the doctor thinks the sore looks infected, so he has the nurse x-ray it and has me give blood. I have no idea what these two procedures will prove. And not only that, but he prescribes an anti-biotic pill after which I have to drink 8 ounces of water and continue to drink water throughout the day! Problem is, I'm not a water drinker, and if I do what is prescribed, I'll have to remain by the bathroom door.

"...to cease upon the midnight with no pain." (Keats)

2011-05-08T13:44:00.000-04:00

.....Robert Browning wrote, "...Grow old along with me; the best is yet to be." Well, I'm not too sure about that;in fact, if my current situation is "the best" then I am opposed to it. Shakespeare complains in 'The Comedy of Errors' "By misfortunes was my life prolonged to tell sad stories of my own mishaps." And this comment appears to contradict Mr.Browning. And considering my own current existence, I can offer a sad story of how I broke a hip for the second time in my life, and my own careless ineptitude is causing me unrelenting pain. Not just tickling pain; that is,Homeric pain. Now, so what can I do about this? Not very much. I use the scooter to get around most places in this house. The renovation is very nearly complete--wooden floors everywhere except in the main bedroom. Makes it easier to scoot. Where the scooter can't get to, I resort to a walker, which I use with pain in the pelvis. So, that's the situation. I plan to write Mr. Browning an email and if this is "...the best that's yet to be" and is already arrived it is a huge disappointment.

.....Since the arrival of old age along with accompanying medication is inexorable, let's get on with something else. Osama Bin Ladin, for example. Listening to some newscasters is becoming very confusing because they, themselves, are confused; they can't get the idea that 'Osama' is the terrorist and 'Obama' is the President. I am also confused by the fact that Navy Seals were employed for this mission to outsource this guy in an operation that was totally land based. And no one asked me where this guy could be hiding out. Took them nine years? Do these security men think that a millionaire would be hiding out in a cave!! Would you? No. Just like him, I'd build a beautiful hotel ringed with barbed wire, and I'd sleep with a different wife in a king sized bed every night while reading Playboy and all about Hugh Hefner and is baby wife. Well, it's time for my oxycodone.

Home? Give me a break. (I hate that word!)

2011-05-06T17:08:00.003-04:00

Ah, So this is home? Everything here is maxed out complicated. Tom, the genius constructionist; the man whose great, great grandfather,Michael Angelo must be the artist who supplied Tom's genes. Tom is a true artist; he comes and goes as he sees fit--like a butterfly. While Tom is flooring the apartment with wood, Rhoda is catering to my every need--and I do have a few of them. Her genes certainly must come from Florence De Nightingale, so gifted is she as a caregiver. She sees that my sox get on my feet, as needed; she lines up my medication from Sunday to Sunday, and I must have about 30 different pills of various shapes and colors. When I take them at various times in the day, I haven't got a clue as to what they are supposed to cure in my aged body. I am amazed that she knows which pill goes on which day and at which time. I am a man who is blessed with two different walkers and a scooter. I cannot manage to walker around Tom's machinations, so I use the scooter to get me through them more speedily. Rhoda is truly exhausted--but I don't know what to do about it, except to do as much as possible for myself so as to take the burden from her.

.....Well, now it has been decided that I wear an "Alert" button on my wrist and a lock box on the door. The button will summon the emergency guys if something should happen to me while she's away, and the lock box will contain a combination lock to the door so that they won't have too use an axe to get into the apartment. Whoopee. Now I have to have someone holding my hand whenever I make a move. So, I imagine all of this is good for Rhoda as well as it might be for me. The time may come when I can go back to using a cane. Being home now is a lot better than being in Whitehall--the rehab facility. Even the name "Whitehall" sounds Dickensian. The first time someone came around to take my blood it was five in the morning. I was awakened from a sound sleep. I asked the nurse why 5am and she said "...it was on her schedule". I told her to remove it from her schedule and come around 8am from then on. And that was what was done.

.....Then, strangely, an ANA came around at 4am and asked if I wanted a shower! I asked her if she showered at that ungodly hour for waterworks. I told her never again to bother me for showering at that Dickensonian hour! And that was done. I had to correct every ungodly procedure so that it served my benefit--not theirs. After seven weeks, I managed to escape that institution and continued my rehab at home.

This is adding insult to injuries...(Moore)

2011-05-02T13:39:00.000-04:00

Good evening my dear friends, as you can surmise by the disjointed colors of the text--I too am disjointed. I went on holiday aboard the Oasis, a ship containing 5000 passengers, and I was the one who fell and broke his hip in four places. What are the odds of that eventful hubris? I was on a stool by a slot machine and I slipped while discharging myself, but only my hip was "discharged"! I do hope that all my readers will return to this blog and receive some joy from this colorful text. The first thing I saw in this rehab institution was a behemoth surging out of the mist who looked somewhat like the letter "B" (capitalized) Also this dreadnought (described in Job 40:15-24) was rather dark--end somewhat like the Dove chocolate ice cream pop. I soon discovered that this colossus was of the female persuasion and one who spoke creole mingled with checkerboard English for which she seemed proud. She greeted me with this strange unintelligible musical Caribbean language a word of which I could not comprehend. She however continued to check out my vitals, after which I was assigned to a cell--pardon, a room. I had a dear friend who was also roomed and I asked that I be quartered with him--and so I was. And we both derived some cheer from the arrangement until he was discharged. After he left I transfered to a solo room. I did not care to speak to anyone under the dire circumstances. I believe someone out there can imagine my mood of distress...and like Janus...relief .

.....After thinking about the letter B looking like someone who could get a job at Hooters or the Miami Dolphin's cheerleading squad I wondered how humans could communicate with the alphabet that existed a millennium ago and how they might be able to write this column. The letter "A" could stand for a tent; the letter "b" could represent a pregnant woman; the letter "I" could stand for a skinny rabbi; and the letter "Y" could stand for a rosebush with one thorn. Thus my blog would read "Hey, be careful of those roses, there's a skinny rabbi wedding a pregnant woman in that tent."

.....The food was vile, (not at the "wedding" in the tent")but I was fortunate enough to see a small "cafe" in the main lobby. And so I existed on hot dogs with mustard and onions most of the time with a root beer float for dessert. When I had breakfast in my room I had the nurse trained to bring me a Maxwell House coffee bag, two Sweet & Lows, a dairy creamer, and two mallomars.

Well, there really is no place like home.

Same old, same old

2011-03-18T16:08:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all your comments. I always visit The Baron and read them to him. His private room is only 2 doors away, and since I’m mobile(walker certified) it’s easy to keep in touch.

I hope that my ramblings do not convey any disrespect to these Angels of Mercy, the staff at our Rehab Center. They are fantastic and work hard to help us heal for our eventual discharge. I would not demean them for the world. I write this, because an anonymous writer sent us a non denominational prayer extolling the healers of this world and I am very grateful to receive that note. If I teased these marvelous caring, folks, it was an act of love.

I expect to trade my walker in for a cane in the next therapy session. There will be no stopping me then. No corner of the house of healing will be safe from my visits and comments.

The Honeymoon is over

2011-03-17T12:51:00.000-04:00

The above title refers to the loss of my roommate to another room, which will be solely occupied by him, our Revered Baron. No, this is not the consequences of my bizarre dining habits. (I’ve seen people who eat with their hands, but soup?) I will be discharged this coming Wednesday. After fulfilling the minimum requirements of being able to walk, (with a cane) bathe by myself, (where’s the fun in that?) and all that’s required to get the necessary papers signed.

Most of the rooms house two inmates, thrown together in a random fashion, so one never knows who will share your haven. This can lead, to a scenario from the movie, “The Roommate from Hell,” Since one has to put on a waiting list for a private room, and one, became available yesterday, at the same time that I was told my departure date, the Baron thought it prudent to take the room, rather than wait for one to become available after I leave. (Don't tell me about run on sentences.) There was no guarantee that next Wednesday, a private room would be available.

Each person reacts to the therapy differently. It’s painful teaching your muscles and limbs to react, after the trauma that sends you to a Rehab Center. Hopefully, Norman will heal quickly and with as little pain as possible. I will look forward to continue our early bird dinners and activities that we share at our Senior Asylum. OK, senior condo .

Cuz Ruth, I’m honored that I can consider you as a cousin. Since The Baron and I share a particular history, there has to be a link between us. My first wife’s name was Thelma also. Not Thelma Also. Just Thelma. Now, how’s that for coincidence?

For those readers who expect the wit and intelligence associated with the Baron’s Muses, I apologize. If I didn’t waste my youth by hanging out in a pool room in Brooklyn, New York. I might have amounted to something. I would have quoted from the world’s great literature. All I know are Dirty limericks. (Burn’s Who?)

This afternoon, Norman and I are picketing with our new sign, "Dirty Old Men are Nice People too."

2nd day at the Cuckoo's Nest

2011-03-14T16:46:00.000-04:00

It's me, Mike Herbstman again. Norman is not up to dictating the latest news, and is leaving it up to me. Nurse Rachitt should be around shortly with our meds, which keep the occupants compliant enough to handle.
For a while, I thought the 3:AM blood collection was cancelled, but I was awakened this morning, where I accepted my fate, while The Baron chased the nurse away and told her to return at a decent hour. She obliged, since the Bill of Rights for hospital patients, allow for this decision.
I'm alone in the room awaiting the return of the Baron from his first physical therapy session. When a hip is broken in a few places, any body movement is a horror and I'm, sad to post that placing my friend in the wheelchair for transport caused him extreme pain not completely alleviated with pain pills. I feel for him.
When unincumbered by pain, to keep our reputation intact, we are trying to organize a mass escape with a run to the wall with knotted sheets.

First day together

2011-03-13T11:17:00.002-04:00

What a romantic title. That's what the Baron remarked, when I read him the title of this latest blog. I realize it reads "The Baron says," but it's me, Mike Herbstman, who will faithfully be his Sancho Panza to my very dear and close friend. Unfortunately, I did not take my book of Passwords, in order to sign in with my name. Since the Baron allowed me to pen in with his credentials, I will announce that it is me.
I found out that I am the befeficiary of one act, by rooming with Norman. It seems 3:00 AM in the morning is the time we are awakened to have blood drawn. When I warned my companion to expect that "assault", he said he would not allow that to happen at suxh an ungodly hour and they are aware of his instructions. Surprise, last night was the first time in the 2 weeks that I am here, to have a good nights sleep without being awakened. Kudos to my mentor, for that added bonus.
Will keep you all apprised of any new abnormal developments.........Mike Herbstman

Unforseen Development

2011-03-12T10:02:00.001-05:00

This is Mike Herbstman, the Baron's good friend. (At the least, he's a good friend to me) The Baron, I am sorry to report, broke his hip on the Cruise Ship Oasis...(second time) and is now in the same Rehab facility as I am, with my replacement knee operation, performed 2 and a half weeks ago. He and I will share the same room, tomorrow, when my present roommate will leave.
Since I have my trusty laptop with me, I will glad to accommodate him if he would like to add to his blog. In payment, I will have him pay for any extra early bird charges, we incur for the next 5 years.
The next few days should be interesting.

The Red Baron Is Temporarily Grounded

2011-03-11T23:54:00.001-05:00

This is written by a guest blogger.

For those who have not heard: On Monday, the Red Baron fell during a cruise and fractured his hip in four places. He was airlifted to Ft. Lauderdale, and then taken to a hospital in Del Ray, where he underwent surgery on Tuesday. Today he was transferred to a rehab center, where he is expected to spend the next few weeks. He will eventually return to this blog, but it probably will not be soon. He requests that his loyal followers remain calm, don't do anything rash, and try to be patient for his eventual return.

He is doing well, under the circumstances, and the pain pills are keeping him comfortable.

This guest blogger will monitor any comments that are sent, and will publish those that are not too rude or do not violate the terms of use. We expect that some will attempt to blame this situation on Obama, or perhaps as an indirect result of Bush's tax cuts. Those comments will be published, even if facts or logic are ignored by the authors.

Health updates will also be provided.

MOOSE

2011-03-04T20:59:00.000-05:00

The Great John Moose Reardon has gone to that big football field in the sky. He was a giant to a whole millennium of boys. In his honor, there will be a week of silence on this blog. But the Baron will return.

Judge not, Crazies, Lest Ye be Judged

2011-03-02T20:12:00.000-05:00

.....The Supreme Court today ruled that Fred Phelps, the alien minister from outer space, has every right to carry signs, vilify gays, shout hate slogans, and burn American flags at the funerals of fallen soldiers under the protection of the First Amendment. As much as I respect the Constitution and our Supreme Court, I'm not quite certain that the Founding Fathers would go so far as to allow this to happen at the funerals of those soldiers who died in the Revolutionary War. Of course the American flag back then had only thirteen stars, so perhaps that would have made a difference--and I suppose there were no gays. This guy and his humongous family--the pastor has 13 children, at least 54 grandchildren and seven great grandchildren--spew hate around the country because America refuses to tar and feather all its homosexuals. Considering the fact of his large family, it seems he ought to have been too busy to be standing with a sign or bullhorn in a protest line. There are certainly enough individuals in his coterie to begin his very own country. Isn't there an island somewhere in the world where we can dump this guy? Antarctica could be a start. We could supply them all with Bibles to comfort them should they happen upon a gay penguin.

.....Perhaps I'm wrong again, but was it not God who said, "Go forth and multiply"? While Phelps remains here, he continues his multiplication as well as his division. And he has, no doubt, received text messages from God prodding him to hate Islam, Israel, India, and more Islam. For him, anything with an "I" is hateworthy. He probably believes Ishmael from Moby Dick was a fag. Just examine the title. Right now I believe that most people believe the First Amendment only guarantees free speech. Not too many Americans can claim to know that it also guarantees several other rights. The Bill of Rights part of our Constitution is a remarkable document, and the Supreme Court's function is to see that those rights are not infringed upon. Lucky for Pastor Phelps who in a lawsuit against him required that he pay several million dollars to the family who were trying to bury their soldier son without the virulent protesters on the sidewalk.

Who's "sui generis"--one of a kind? Not me (or is it "not I"?)

2011-03-01T17:35:00.001-05:00

.....It's important for me to clear up a couple of things. First of all, I do wear replicas of the DFC & Air Medals that have been awarded to me. I am honored that the Distinguished Flying Cross was first awarded to the civilian fliers, Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart by President Roosevelt. Since then, only airmen who have seen combat can wear those medals. I have been awarded two DFCs for my experiences in WWII. According to the document that accompanied the medals, they are awarded for "valor and extraordinary heroism in aerial combat." I am not prepared or interested in recounting what I, myself, did to earn these medals, and I never will care to discuss it--I wear the replica pins on my hats and on my suspenders (whose primary use is to uphold my pants) solely in memory of my friends who lost their lives in battle. I do not wear them to glorify my own wartime record; but I do understand why people may believe so. They can believe whatever they choose to believe, but the pins I wear help me to remember those that I lost, and to glorify their deeds, not mine.

.....And the second concern that I have is in regard to my PhD. The last time our theatre arts class put on a show for residents of our community, I had a monologue that I was to read, and our leader showed me a copy of the program which listed my name as Dr. Norman Ross. I asked her not to use my title because it was not appropriate in that context; that is, in a playbill. The title Dr. should only be used in conjunction with a medical degree. Neither do I wish to be addressed by my title if not in an academic environment--for example, if I am teaching a class. I do not want people to address me as "Dr. Ross" around here, although there are a couple of residents with that title who have no objections to being addressed as "Dr." As for me, I cannot cure a cold or a disease or deliver a baby, or do hip surgery--if someone around here wants help from me, I can help them with their spelling--and that's about it.

.....So, let it be known and broadcast that I really do not go around patting myself on the back, nor do I think I'm the bees knees or the cat's pajamas. If I am--that's for others to say, not me (or is it "not I"?)