Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis. (Emerson)

.....I'm really angry at my computer, and I am seriously thinking about doing something other than working at it. It seems to do what it wants whenever it wants, but the latest prank is to lose my Word program which I use to print a book, with the comments. Since there is no longer a Word program, I can't move this blog anywhere.  And insofar as comments are concerned I keep getting one from someone named "Anonymous" on a Feb. 26, 2009 post.  It comes to my email every day and I cannot find how I can delete it--and finding how is another problem. It is always from a commercial firm and I don't publish it.

But not only have I lost the Word program, but also Quicken. I have used Quicken to record all my financial information such as a bank balance, a CD, and my expenses.  I need go no further; my computer has gone back to when I bought it naked.  I dressed it up, and now it's naked again.  Or is it "nude"; and what's the difference? I guess "naked" is more pejorative. Well, read the poem "The Naked and the Nude by Robert Graves.

 

.....90 year olds should not be subjected to these problems. I'm beginning to feel like Job. I got a letter last week from the insurance company that has paid claims to me for skin cancer that I've been getting from them since I bought the policy in 1978!  Then of a sudden I get a letter from them excluding skin cancer from that policy and rejecting a claim I sent to them recently.  When I bought the policy in 1978 I thought it was a good deal with premiums $46 a year which in today's economy seems even a better deal.  However, I don't know if they can change the benefits of that policy any time they want even after 36 years.  I've already paid them $1656 in premiums.  I mean to find out from the proper government agency.

 

.....And now poor RH+ is not so plussy these last few days.  She has a very mean cold, cough, and runny nose.  I can't drive her to the doctor because I gave her my car keys, and I don't drive anymore.  I have always believed that once you turn 90, you should get off the road, and I have.  I don't drive and I don't fly--and I have found that even cruising is dangerous considering the fact that I broke both hips on cruise ships. However, I may consider flying for the right reasons some day; but only if the hotels & busses have the facilities for a scooter as they do here when we go by bus.

"I shall not cease from Mental Fight, nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand..." (BLAKE)

.....Sorry that it has taken so long to write another post, but I was busy doing other things of importance--like making a will.  That is a very tough exercise if your spouse is a second marriage.  I am doing it on the internet at a web called "Total Legal".  For $19 it's pretty neat.  I spent $19 on "Tax Act" and my return, made online, was sent electronically to the IRS and I got a $5330 refund in one week. (I think I was taking out too much withholding!). 

.....To completely change the subject before I forget, I got a call from the French Consulate yesterday.  They want to pin a medal on me.  They're somewhat more late than the Navy with my medals.  The pin ceremony is to take place in Boynton Beach on May 8th.  I guess I earned it chasing the Nazis out of France shooting down their Dorniers, Junkers, and Messerschmitts. The Luftwaffe of the Third Reich officially existed from 1933–1945; training for a German air force had been going on as early as the 1920s, before the Nazis came to power.  I was so busy in that tail turret that I felt like Snoopy in his Sopwith Camel.

 

.....Well Passover has come and gone again--for the 90th time I may say.  And what's the big deal about eating matzoh?  I eat it all year round; I prefer it over white bread.  And I learned that sixth graders have described the matzoh that Jews ate in the Exodus, as "unleavened bread without any ingredients."  And to get the ten "condiments" Moses had to climb Mt. Cyanide.  I hope he brought some Matzoh for God with onion and chicken fat to rub on it; although RH+ claims that combo is a cholesterol induced heart attack.

 

.....I've written a lot of posts for this blog since I published "Of Time and Destiny".  The last posted date published in that book is August 7, 2013.  However, and unfortunately, my computer somehow lost the Word Program that I used for the book. It also lost Excel and Quicken.  All of these programs are very important for my mental health, and I don't know where they disappeared--probable to the hard drive and I don't know how to get them back.  If only I was living in the 21st Century instead of holding my place in the 20th, perhaps I'd be able to retrieve them with the techie knowledge required.  Well, like Socrates said, "All I know is that I know nothing."

"War is a very high price to pay for maturity"

"I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying."

 

.....Yes. I agree. And I did a lot of nine-year old crying and yearning for the seashore that I was used to in Long Branch.  The South Bronx was an entirely new universe for me--another "error" in my life.  One cannot control an event, but one can at least control the meaning of an event.  Our little family's move was life-altering, and I knew that the Bronx was where I was to grow up.  For my mother's sake (she did not like to see me brooding), I determined to do well in school, to make friend's there, and to make friends with the kids on my block--and I succeeded.

 

 

.....I began in the sixth grade, and after a batch of tests, I was put in the Dalton program which supposedly was only for kids who got high marks on those tests.  The school was up at the corner of the block where I lived which was good, but pupils had to wear uniforms and I had to wear a white shirt with a red tie which was bad!  I had bright red hair, and I never wanted anything else on my body that was red.  James Monroe HS was about a half mile walk.  I did get some good grades and some bad grades.  Some of my teachers bored me--they had no acting ability.  I joined the soccer team, the swimming team, and the track team.  I became sports editor of the Monroe Mirror, the school paper.  That brought me a modicum of fame. On Kelly St., I made many friends--male and female, largely because I was a three sewer hitter in stickball.  Now that I'm in Florida, they are all dead, and that part of my long ago life is also dead.  It was an event I could not control, but I embraced its meaning; it made me stronger. 

.....I was 21 when WII ended.  It was another error or event, if you will, that could not be controlled.  But three years in a war had to have some meaning besides giving something to your country, and in combat facing a time every day with running out of time to a time when your family did not get to hold you, but did embrace a folded flag.  The fact that the flag is folded has an axiomatic meaning in itself.  They called it "battle fatigue" when I was in the VA hospital for six months, and I spent some time writing poetry (which eventually got me into Columbia).  I heard that the male nurses had a softball team and their games were played on the hospital grounds.  My competitive spirit took over my mental spirit, and I got together a patient softball team. We played the nurses about twice a week, and we even won some games.  I settled for nothing less.  I didn't have to work and I was in a leadership role where I generally flourished.  My girlfriend, Thelma, came to visit twice a week, as did my mother--and the social worker, Lucille Cusick, took a great interest in my poetry.


.....Mrs. Cusick changed my life.  She insisted that I go to college, and urged me to register at Columbia University.  I laughed at her, said she was crazy, told her I had only commercial courses in high school.  Nevertheless, she insisted that I take the entrance exam.  I thought she was only trying to urge me to get dressed, wear a tie, and get away from the hospital. So, I thought it might be an interesting adventure.  I took the entrance exam and broke the record for the lowest score ever recorded.  It didn't bother me a bit.  I enjoy breaking records. But one day, I had one of my poems printed in a very prestigious magazine, "The Saturday Review" edited by Stephen Rose Benet.  It wasn't I who submitted it.  However, the front cover happened to have a picture of Lenora Speyer, a poet, and professor at Columbia.  Lucille schlepped me back to Admissions at Columbia, showed the poem to the admitting officer and the rest is history.  I fixed the WWII error.