Absolutely worth watching - about 15 minutes total. The president at the Fort Hood memorial today:
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Calisthentics
I joined boot camp again - something I did this past summer. With summer gone, the boot camp is now indoors. Still early. So yes, I'm paying money so that I can go to a workout room three days a week at 6 a.m. in the morning for an hour and - well, work out. Like a madwoman.
There were supposed to be 12 of us total in this month-long session. Usually about six or seven show up. It's separating the girls from the women, that's for sure.
What I like about it is that we each go at our own pace. So if it takes me twice as long as everyone else to do - say - 12 push ups, then that's what it takes. What I also like is the variety. I never know what the morning will bring. Well, I have an idea. A lot of exercise. But where will the focus be?
What I don't like about it is (a) it's really early, (b) it's a killer for the whole hour, and (c) it makes me sore all day - week - long.
But then anther thing I like about it. It really works. The old body gets in shape. Quickly.
Speaking of old bodies... One of the women in the class - young, it appears - is waaay ahead of me in skill and speed. The other day, she mentioned something about boot camp being new. "You've never taken boot camp before?" I said, pointing out how much further ahead of me she was, even without the background. Then I laughed and shrugged and started to say our instructor's motto: everyone goes at their own pace. But the young woman interrupted. "Well, I'm a lot younger!" she said. Just as I was trying to decide whether to be offended by her comment, she added, "I just hope I'm still doing this sort of thing when I'm your age."
Huh. How old exactly do you think I am? I wanted to ask. But then I thought, well, she's right. I am old. At least I'm older than her (I thought as I dragged myself out of the gym to get started with the day).
Later that same day, I was at a legal education seminar. I ended up meeting some lawyers who have been practicing in this region since the 1960s. They asked me how long I'd practiced law, one thing led to another, and suddenly I had announced my age. They were shocked - shocked! - that I possibly could be that old, and were skeptical that I had recited the correct age.
So there, young-woman-from-boot-camp. We don't always look as old as you think we do.
There were supposed to be 12 of us total in this month-long session. Usually about six or seven show up. It's separating the girls from the women, that's for sure.
What I like about it is that we each go at our own pace. So if it takes me twice as long as everyone else to do - say - 12 push ups, then that's what it takes. What I also like is the variety. I never know what the morning will bring. Well, I have an idea. A lot of exercise. But where will the focus be?
What I don't like about it is (a) it's really early, (b) it's a killer for the whole hour, and (c) it makes me sore all day - week - long.
But then anther thing I like about it. It really works. The old body gets in shape. Quickly.
Speaking of old bodies... One of the women in the class - young, it appears - is waaay ahead of me in skill and speed. The other day, she mentioned something about boot camp being new. "You've never taken boot camp before?" I said, pointing out how much further ahead of me she was, even without the background. Then I laughed and shrugged and started to say our instructor's motto: everyone goes at their own pace. But the young woman interrupted. "Well, I'm a lot younger!" she said. Just as I was trying to decide whether to be offended by her comment, she added, "I just hope I'm still doing this sort of thing when I'm your age."
Huh. How old exactly do you think I am? I wanted to ask. But then I thought, well, she's right. I am old. At least I'm older than her (I thought as I dragged myself out of the gym to get started with the day).
Later that same day, I was at a legal education seminar. I ended up meeting some lawyers who have been practicing in this region since the 1960s. They asked me how long I'd practiced law, one thing led to another, and suddenly I had announced my age. They were shocked - shocked! - that I possibly could be that old, and were skeptical that I had recited the correct age.
So there, young-woman-from-boot-camp. We don't always look as old as you think we do.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Great Movies
I went to the Sandpoint, Idaho film festival Friday night, called the Lakedance film festival. What fun! Interesting, fascinating, and funny shorts. Some winners were from my KNIFVES movie networking group, so I for sure had to attend that night in particular. (Hey, I'm on the board.)
The funniest film was "The SPAM Job." It was about a guy named Paddy who lost his mojo when someone stole the can of spam from his briefcase, and the notoriety that came to that can once the story emerged. It was a whodunnit mystery, really. Very funny.
Then there was a great short about frequent flyer miles and the crazy people who make a science out of getting as many frequent flyer miles that they possibly can, and included how they will just fly to some city and back in one day just to accumulate the 1,000 or so miles that they need to qualify (that year) for elite flyer status (which gets them double points). It was called, aptly enough, "Frequent Flyer." It went on slightly too long, but it was mostly entertaining and the creator of it was there in Sandpoint to take questions. (He flew in, of course.) I especially liked the part about the guy who got interviewed by the Drug Enforcement Agency after he hired homeless to fly a particular corridor overseas to build up miles. Apparently it's a drug corridor. Who could have known?
There was also a sweet film on foster care, and another deeply touching, longer film about music written by Holocaust victims, how that music is being performed in Seattle now, and the woman who has spearheaded the effort.
The short by KNIFVES people - showed in the second block of the night - was called "Started by a Mouse." Very sweet (though I don't really understand the title). The star of it is a young girl, so there were a lot of kids in the audience for its winning premiere. (It had been part of a contest earlier in the week.) They had to empty the theater of kids after it showed, however, as the remainder of that block of films was not particularly suited for children. I left with them, for the long drive back to Spokane.
I forgot to watch any of the films for transitions - my newest game - how the film takes you from one view to the next - but I'm going to get serious about my studies in that regard.
I was sorry to miss one of last night's films, called "My Movie Girl," especially since I had a chance to meet Adam Bronstein, the writer/director/actor of it. Interesting guy. He had flown up from California, though I easily pegged him as not-a-California-guy. I lived too long on the East Coast not to know he was from there, somewhere. Which is a compliment, actually.
I was also really disappointed not to make it to Wednesday night, as there was a showing of a documentary on minor league baseball called "Time in the Minors." (I was at the Interplayers theater that night in Spokane, watching "Doubt" - which is a totally different story.) Such is life.
Overall, a great night Friday.
The funniest film was "The SPAM Job." It was about a guy named Paddy who lost his mojo when someone stole the can of spam from his briefcase, and the notoriety that came to that can once the story emerged. It was a whodunnit mystery, really. Very funny.
Then there was a great short about frequent flyer miles and the crazy people who make a science out of getting as many frequent flyer miles that they possibly can, and included how they will just fly to some city and back in one day just to accumulate the 1,000 or so miles that they need to qualify (that year) for elite flyer status (which gets them double points). It was called, aptly enough, "Frequent Flyer." It went on slightly too long, but it was mostly entertaining and the creator of it was there in Sandpoint to take questions. (He flew in, of course.) I especially liked the part about the guy who got interviewed by the Drug Enforcement Agency after he hired homeless to fly a particular corridor overseas to build up miles. Apparently it's a drug corridor. Who could have known?
There was also a sweet film on foster care, and another deeply touching, longer film about music written by Holocaust victims, how that music is being performed in Seattle now, and the woman who has spearheaded the effort.
The short by KNIFVES people - showed in the second block of the night - was called "Started by a Mouse." Very sweet (though I don't really understand the title). The star of it is a young girl, so there were a lot of kids in the audience for its winning premiere. (It had been part of a contest earlier in the week.) They had to empty the theater of kids after it showed, however, as the remainder of that block of films was not particularly suited for children. I left with them, for the long drive back to Spokane.
I forgot to watch any of the films for transitions - my newest game - how the film takes you from one view to the next - but I'm going to get serious about my studies in that regard.
I was sorry to miss one of last night's films, called "My Movie Girl," especially since I had a chance to meet Adam Bronstein, the writer/director/actor of it. Interesting guy. He had flown up from California, though I easily pegged him as not-a-California-guy. I lived too long on the East Coast not to know he was from there, somewhere. Which is a compliment, actually.
I was also really disappointed not to make it to Wednesday night, as there was a showing of a documentary on minor league baseball called "Time in the Minors." (I was at the Interplayers theater that night in Spokane, watching "Doubt" - which is a totally different story.) Such is life.
Overall, a great night Friday.
Health Care Moves
What an amazing night for health care. I watched only a little, and then some highlights this morning. I'm sorry to have missed seeing the vote live.
It is just the one step. But I feel glad. And vindicated. And I think - I think - that the paper tiger of the Repubs is starting to look frayed. When John Boehner (R-Ohio) went on and on about how terrible it was that the bill had a provision that would make people pay a penalty if they don't get insurance (which comes with subsidies for people who can't afford the premiums, and is basically the way we already do auto insurance) - well, he just looked dumb. Especially since we all know that those who aren't insured will still get medical care in cases of emergency, which means we pay for their lack of foresight in failing to get insurance in the first place. Isn't that a Republican principle? No free rides? And he's against that provision? Hmmm. Something smells in the state of Ohio.
They also look silly in light of the fact that both the AARP and the AMA have come out and endorsed the bill now. I happened to see an AMA doctor talking in support of it. He was even-handed, but clearly advocated for the bill's passage. I figured he had to be some random doctor, so supportive he was of the bill. Then they flashed his title - head of the AMA. Wow. Really?
It is one of those great times, when people step up and stand for something. It started with Rep. John Dingell (D-Mich.), who hit the gavel to being the proceedings. It was his father who introduced health care legislation for years, and it was his son who took over that legacy for the past 54 years (and who started the proceedings for the Medicare bill back in 1964). Every year, he introduced a health care reform bill. Every year.
And then during the press conference after the vote, Nancy Pelosi made a point of calling up to the podium Rep. Patrick Kennedy (D-RI), the late Teddy Kennedy's son - another champion of this cause, up through his death. "My dad was a senator," Patrick Kennedy said. "But tonight his spirit was in the House."
I'm unhappy with the restrictions of funding for abortions. But it seems like a hollow victory for those who want it. At least, I hope it will be, in the end. As in, there's no guarantee it stays in the bill. And even if it does, it doesn't end abortion (though it does affect the poorest of women out there.) We'll have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, the bill has passed, 220 to 215.
And my brother made a great point last night. Why do they need 1,000 pages? The Medicare bill back in the 1960s apparently was 28 pages. I haven't read the current bill, though am very familiar with its concepts, but the number of pages does seem daunting. I suppose it's the evolution of the times, and the law. When we lawyers write "briefs," they hardly ever are anymore.
Politics. It's the making of sausage, isn't it?
It is just the one step. But I feel glad. And vindicated. And I think - I think - that the paper tiger of the Repubs is starting to look frayed. When John Boehner (R-Ohio) went on and on about how terrible it was that the bill had a provision that would make people pay a penalty if they don't get insurance (which comes with subsidies for people who can't afford the premiums, and is basically the way we already do auto insurance) - well, he just looked dumb. Especially since we all know that those who aren't insured will still get medical care in cases of emergency, which means we pay for their lack of foresight in failing to get insurance in the first place. Isn't that a Republican principle? No free rides? And he's against that provision? Hmmm. Something smells in the state of Ohio.
They also look silly in light of the fact that both the AARP and the AMA have come out and endorsed the bill now. I happened to see an AMA doctor talking in support of it. He was even-handed, but clearly advocated for the bill's passage. I figured he had to be some random doctor, so supportive he was of the bill. Then they flashed his title - head of the AMA. Wow. Really?
It is one of those great times, when people step up and stand for something. It started with Rep. John Dingell (D-Mich.), who hit the gavel to being the proceedings. It was his father who introduced health care legislation for years, and it was his son who took over that legacy for the past 54 years (and who started the proceedings for the Medicare bill back in 1964). Every year, he introduced a health care reform bill. Every year.
And then during the press conference after the vote, Nancy Pelosi made a point of calling up to the podium Rep. Patrick Kennedy (D-RI), the late Teddy Kennedy's son - another champion of this cause, up through his death. "My dad was a senator," Patrick Kennedy said. "But tonight his spirit was in the House."
I'm unhappy with the restrictions of funding for abortions. But it seems like a hollow victory for those who want it. At least, I hope it will be, in the end. As in, there's no guarantee it stays in the bill. And even if it does, it doesn't end abortion (though it does affect the poorest of women out there.) We'll have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, the bill has passed, 220 to 215.
And my brother made a great point last night. Why do they need 1,000 pages? The Medicare bill back in the 1960s apparently was 28 pages. I haven't read the current bill, though am very familiar with its concepts, but the number of pages does seem daunting. I suppose it's the evolution of the times, and the law. When we lawyers write "briefs," they hardly ever are anymore.
Politics. It's the making of sausage, isn't it?
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Scare
On Monday, I returned home from San Diego to three phone messages and a letter from Inland Imaging - the people who had done my mammogram the week before my trip to San Diego - asking me to make another appointment. "The results of your exam indicate the need for additional evaluation," the letter said. "This does not mean there is a serious problem in your breast(s); however, you should not delay followup."
Okay, I thought. It's fine. I'm sure it's fine. How can I have breast cancer? I don't feel like I have breast cancer. And - um - well, I'm just not naturally endowed enough for a lump to stay hidden. Right? (Right?)
It was too late to call the office directly. Instead, I called and made an appointment with their main number. The soonest I could get in was this coming Tuesday. Eight days later. A long time to wait.
I figured I would call the main office in the morning, and just wait everything out until then. Then the phone rang. It was my sister. She was calling about something else. But her timing was perfect. Having just decided to share my news with no one until the next day at the earliest, I told her my news. I read the letter out loud. We processed. Just talked. I processed, she listened. We remembered that they had brought me in for a second mammogram a few years ago, and everything had turned out fine then. By the end of our conversation, I was as calm as I was going to get. And I was going to be able to sleep that night. At least, sleep a little. Everyone should have a sister who calls at just the right time like that.
At 8:05 the next morning, I called the office directly. The woman, Jo, was really nice - she had a very soft, gentle voice - the perfect temperament for phone calls from people like me - but I was not lulled. I asked questions, prodding for information; she hesitated, was general...
"Look," I said. "I'm upset. I'm worried. The way I handle stress is to get information. As much information as possible. I know I won't get answers for weeks" - Not true, she said. The doctor would speak to me at the appointment itself. And it's all vague as to reasons for changes from past mammograms, she said. That's information, I told her, laughing. As my sister said later, information is different than answers. (Which has been my question with the movie front, too - can't I get more information about where things might be headed with my stories? But that's a different issue, I suppose.)
Then Jo said a beautiful thing. I know this is short notice, she said, and it's at a different office, but would you be able to make an appointment at 9:45 a.m. this morning? "I'm there," I said, and got directions to where I'd be going. "Jo, I love ya, and it will be what it's going to be - but at least I will know," I said as I told her goodbye.
As I drove to the north side of town, I thought about getting a negative diagnosis. I was all prepared. A biopsy would come next, if there was really something to worry about. So there would not be a cancer diagnosis today. I planned out my chemo and everything. I wondered if the doctor would agree with what I'd decided (not a full mascetomy, chemo and radiation...) And then I would lose my hair, I thought. (My hair! I thought, and realized how vain I really am. For as much as I don't care about things like that....)
So there I was, almost void of emotion (except way deep down inside, where I was like a volcano), walking into the office and taking all the exams... which are not fun exams, but I was too worried about health to worry about comfort.... Both technicians were reassuring. They couldn't diagnose - that was for the doctor - but they said such reassuring things that I thought, well, nothing looks too bad... It can't, if they feel so positive about it all.
I could see the screen on the sonogram (or whatever it's called). "Well, that does look like something," I said to the technician when she reached the one area that showed up as a dark spot. Yes, but it doesn't mean cancer, she said. (Then the thing on the screen got humongous, which scared me until I realized she had probably magnified it.)
She was done with the test, and went to find the doctor. She came back. It would be a little while - he was talking to another doctor. She laughed and said she gets so possessive - he's her doctor and he isn't supposed to be occupied when she wants to talk to him. I vehemently agreed with her.
So then she found him, and he walked in, and I liked the fact that he wasn't really young (so he would know what he's doing) but he wasn't really old either (so he still had his eyesight, which is more than I can say for my own tired old eyes), and then he said, everything's fine. Everything's great. See you in a year.
So I high-fived him, and I said are you sure? And he said, yes I'm sure, it's just a collection of cysts, and I quizzed him a little more (for informational purposes only) and he said again that he was sure. And I was so glad, so glad. I thought, thank you God, that it wasn't me, this time it wasn't me...
And then I felt bad. Because think of all the women around the country - the world - who, in that same moment, were having that same kind of conversation with their own doctors, and who were getting a wholly different kind of answer. No amount of information can erase the stinging, ringing words that they were getting, in that exact same moment. Or hour. Or day.
And I know it isn't wrong for me to get a good answer even when they aren't. All the same, I felt their angst and pain in the midst of my relief. Right in the very middle.
I have friends who have had cancer. They have been brave and extraordinary. One of my friends, Gay Edwards, took the illness and turned it into good for others in that she put together a series of healing meditative CDs that can be found at her website, www.bridgestohealingenergy.com. What a gift she is to the rest of us. If I ever got cancer, I'd look to my friends like Gay, who have gone through it, for guidance on how to get to the other side of it.
So that's my saga. It's part of the reason I haven't blogged this week. Between traveling and this (and a busy week overall), I've been completely wiped out. But happy. How can I not be happy? What great news. A new lease on life, as the expression goes.
And next year I won't wait the six months that I waited this year to get my mammogram. And from now on, I'll actually do those monthly exams that they tell you to do. And in the meantime, maybe there's something I can do for the women who had different news on Tuesday about the results of their exams. I don't know yet what that is. But I've been thinking a lot about them.
UPDATE: I emailed my friend Gay to let her know I'd made the preceding post. She emailed me today. Here's what she said.
Okay, I thought. It's fine. I'm sure it's fine. How can I have breast cancer? I don't feel like I have breast cancer. And - um - well, I'm just not naturally endowed enough for a lump to stay hidden. Right? (Right?)
It was too late to call the office directly. Instead, I called and made an appointment with their main number. The soonest I could get in was this coming Tuesday. Eight days later. A long time to wait.
I figured I would call the main office in the morning, and just wait everything out until then. Then the phone rang. It was my sister. She was calling about something else. But her timing was perfect. Having just decided to share my news with no one until the next day at the earliest, I told her my news. I read the letter out loud. We processed. Just talked. I processed, she listened. We remembered that they had brought me in for a second mammogram a few years ago, and everything had turned out fine then. By the end of our conversation, I was as calm as I was going to get. And I was going to be able to sleep that night. At least, sleep a little. Everyone should have a sister who calls at just the right time like that.
At 8:05 the next morning, I called the office directly. The woman, Jo, was really nice - she had a very soft, gentle voice - the perfect temperament for phone calls from people like me - but I was not lulled. I asked questions, prodding for information; she hesitated, was general...
"Look," I said. "I'm upset. I'm worried. The way I handle stress is to get information. As much information as possible. I know I won't get answers for weeks" - Not true, she said. The doctor would speak to me at the appointment itself. And it's all vague as to reasons for changes from past mammograms, she said. That's information, I told her, laughing. As my sister said later, information is different than answers. (Which has been my question with the movie front, too - can't I get more information about where things might be headed with my stories? But that's a different issue, I suppose.)
Then Jo said a beautiful thing. I know this is short notice, she said, and it's at a different office, but would you be able to make an appointment at 9:45 a.m. this morning? "I'm there," I said, and got directions to where I'd be going. "Jo, I love ya, and it will be what it's going to be - but at least I will know," I said as I told her goodbye.
As I drove to the north side of town, I thought about getting a negative diagnosis. I was all prepared. A biopsy would come next, if there was really something to worry about. So there would not be a cancer diagnosis today. I planned out my chemo and everything. I wondered if the doctor would agree with what I'd decided (not a full mascetomy, chemo and radiation...) And then I would lose my hair, I thought. (My hair! I thought, and realized how vain I really am. For as much as I don't care about things like that....)
So there I was, almost void of emotion (except way deep down inside, where I was like a volcano), walking into the office and taking all the exams... which are not fun exams, but I was too worried about health to worry about comfort.... Both technicians were reassuring. They couldn't diagnose - that was for the doctor - but they said such reassuring things that I thought, well, nothing looks too bad... It can't, if they feel so positive about it all.
I could see the screen on the sonogram (or whatever it's called). "Well, that does look like something," I said to the technician when she reached the one area that showed up as a dark spot. Yes, but it doesn't mean cancer, she said. (Then the thing on the screen got humongous, which scared me until I realized she had probably magnified it.)
She was done with the test, and went to find the doctor. She came back. It would be a little while - he was talking to another doctor. She laughed and said she gets so possessive - he's her doctor and he isn't supposed to be occupied when she wants to talk to him. I vehemently agreed with her.
So then she found him, and he walked in, and I liked the fact that he wasn't really young (so he would know what he's doing) but he wasn't really old either (so he still had his eyesight, which is more than I can say for my own tired old eyes), and then he said, everything's fine. Everything's great. See you in a year.
So I high-fived him, and I said are you sure? And he said, yes I'm sure, it's just a collection of cysts, and I quizzed him a little more (for informational purposes only) and he said again that he was sure. And I was so glad, so glad. I thought, thank you God, that it wasn't me, this time it wasn't me...
And then I felt bad. Because think of all the women around the country - the world - who, in that same moment, were having that same kind of conversation with their own doctors, and who were getting a wholly different kind of answer. No amount of information can erase the stinging, ringing words that they were getting, in that exact same moment. Or hour. Or day.
And I know it isn't wrong for me to get a good answer even when they aren't. All the same, I felt their angst and pain in the midst of my relief. Right in the very middle.
I have friends who have had cancer. They have been brave and extraordinary. One of my friends, Gay Edwards, took the illness and turned it into good for others in that she put together a series of healing meditative CDs that can be found at her website, www.bridgestohealingenergy.com. What a gift she is to the rest of us. If I ever got cancer, I'd look to my friends like Gay, who have gone through it, for guidance on how to get to the other side of it.
So that's my saga. It's part of the reason I haven't blogged this week. Between traveling and this (and a busy week overall), I've been completely wiped out. But happy. How can I not be happy? What great news. A new lease on life, as the expression goes.
And next year I won't wait the six months that I waited this year to get my mammogram. And from now on, I'll actually do those monthly exams that they tell you to do. And in the meantime, maybe there's something I can do for the women who had different news on Tuesday about the results of their exams. I don't know yet what that is. But I've been thinking a lot about them.
UPDATE: I emailed my friend Gay to let her know I'd made the preceding post. She emailed me today. Here's what she said.
Hi Kiddo,
I just read your Cancer Post. What an amazing story. This is a story every one, yes, man and woman should read. This crappy disease effects all of us in one way or another. So many people will face this first hand, as I did almost 4 years ago. Beth, I'm not glad I had cancer, and sometimes the possibility of a 'return' of this disease scares the beegeebers out of me. And, yet, my experience with this particular life challenge has left me a much better person than I ever could have become without the catapulting effect of the Big C. For You, My Sister, I am just so profoundly pleased that you will not face this. Stay healthy, and happy, my friend.
It was nice to read about MY STORY through your words. Thanks for the plug and your sincere words about my experience. You are a lovely, huge-hearted person.
I recommend these books for your reading on this topic:
Anticancer...David Servan-Schreiber
The China Study...T. Colin Campbell
Cancer Free...Bill Henderson
They are all excellent, and each author will give you his 'take' on how to remain cancer/heart disease free for life. Amazing studies! In-Joy...most you can get on Amazon.
Love you, Thank you,
Gay
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Another Beautiful Day in Paradise
So here I am, in beautiful San Diego - actually, north of it, and south of Escondido - feeling, as one of my sisters would say, that "baby steps" are the only way to go. It's been a great time, and fun. The trip to L.A.? Like I said, baby steps for my art, and enjoyable and interesting on its own merits. Love the weather here - I told the security guard at the Spokane airport, "I hope it snows while I'm gone." She said I better not make such wishes - "you're coming back here," she pointed out. Ah, yes. The dreaded "I shall return."
For as beautiful as the weather is in Southern California, and for as unique (in a good way) living here would be - there's the traffic. Such traffic. Everything takes forever in travel time. I got started back up north yesterday at about 4 p.m. after a visit in southeast San Diego, and hit that dreaded traffic. It ebbed and flowed, for which I was grateful (for the flowing, not the ebbing). But - man. In Spokane, I'm five - maybe ten - minutes away from pretty much everything. Sometimes 20 minutes. Sometimes 45, if it's in Idaho. But things are close in, and the traffic is almost never the reason for the length of time it takes to get from one point to the other.
Still - I don't know - there's something wonderful about being here. It's like a return to home. Which, for me, that's true, since I grew up in Poway (near Escondido). As I first arrived, and got my rental car (what an interesting fight that was - I won, btw), and was driving up I-15, I looked to my right and there was a car all painted up with "Go Poway" whitewashed on the windows. Must have been in preparation for an athletic event... I felt like honking my horn and waving. The set-up felt designed to be my welcome-home greeting.
And then there was watching my dad play tennis this week with his group of men that play tennis together every week. They were funny, and nice to me. Very Californian. I watched them play a few games. I was the only audience member, but that didn't stop me from applauding encouragement at particularly good volleys. One of the guys in the tennis office came out and told my dad and the others, "Don't get nervous. This is the biggest crowd you've had all year!" So, funny.
More to go, as I'm here through Monday... I've volunteered for a family thing tomorrow morning, totally forgetting about the Eagles game (egads!), so football is not on the horizon (although we might go to a sports bar in the afternoon, since the Vikings/Packers are not on TV). Baseball's good to watch too (except when the Yankees win). And it's another beautiful day. The sun's come out for the weekend it seems. Life is good on the coast.
For as beautiful as the weather is in Southern California, and for as unique (in a good way) living here would be - there's the traffic. Such traffic. Everything takes forever in travel time. I got started back up north yesterday at about 4 p.m. after a visit in southeast San Diego, and hit that dreaded traffic. It ebbed and flowed, for which I was grateful (for the flowing, not the ebbing). But - man. In Spokane, I'm five - maybe ten - minutes away from pretty much everything. Sometimes 20 minutes. Sometimes 45, if it's in Idaho. But things are close in, and the traffic is almost never the reason for the length of time it takes to get from one point to the other.
Still - I don't know - there's something wonderful about being here. It's like a return to home. Which, for me, that's true, since I grew up in Poway (near Escondido). As I first arrived, and got my rental car (what an interesting fight that was - I won, btw), and was driving up I-15, I looked to my right and there was a car all painted up with "Go Poway" whitewashed on the windows. Must have been in preparation for an athletic event... I felt like honking my horn and waving. The set-up felt designed to be my welcome-home greeting.
And then there was watching my dad play tennis this week with his group of men that play tennis together every week. They were funny, and nice to me. Very Californian. I watched them play a few games. I was the only audience member, but that didn't stop me from applauding encouragement at particularly good volleys. One of the guys in the tennis office came out and told my dad and the others, "Don't get nervous. This is the biggest crowd you've had all year!" So, funny.
More to go, as I'm here through Monday... I've volunteered for a family thing tomorrow morning, totally forgetting about the Eagles game (egads!), so football is not on the horizon (although we might go to a sports bar in the afternoon, since the Vikings/Packers are not on TV). Baseball's good to watch too (except when the Yankees win). And it's another beautiful day. The sun's come out for the weekend it seems. Life is good on the coast.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Hiatus
I'm off tomorrow to San Diego for a long weekend (with both Thursday and Friday now in L.A.), so will be posting intermittently, if at all. See you on the other side of Monday!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Pursuing the Art of Writing
Paul Castro came for a day workshop yesterday, to Coeur d'Alene. Paul is the UCLA prof, "August Rush" author who came up to Idaho last spring and gave a weeklong workshop from which my suspense screenplay has come. It's like a shot in the arm to have him here. And then I go to San Diego on Wednesday with an early meeting in L.A. on Friday morning and then a tour of the UCLA Film School (courtesy of Paul) after that. It was a great way to rev up for this trip - to have Paul here, and to hang out with the gang of will-be (paid) writers that we are.
In between the seminar and the evening event (a showing of "August Rush"), I drove back to Spokane for a soccer game. Now, here's a new twist: I scored a goal! I never score. For thirty years, I've played defense. I'm a little lost up front. But up front was where they had me play, and I was right in the right place when one of my teammates crossed the ball just in the right way, a little in front of me, so I could score easily and effortlessly. Gooo-aaaal!! Someone said I should a game ball for such a feat. It was a nice thought.
In between the seminar and the evening event (a showing of "August Rush"), I drove back to Spokane for a soccer game. Now, here's a new twist: I scored a goal! I never score. For thirty years, I've played defense. I'm a little lost up front. But up front was where they had me play, and I was right in the right place when one of my teammates crossed the ball just in the right way, a little in front of me, so I could score easily and effortlessly. Gooo-aaaal!! Someone said I should a game ball for such a feat. It was a nice thought.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Al Franken's Fun
and I don't mean that in an SNL way (though he's that too).
He's getting known as one of the most prepared senators on the Hill.
Here he is, skewering an arbitration lawyer for arguing against his bill (an amendment to a bill) to keep government contracts from employers who require employees to agree to binding arbitration on disputes, regardless of subject matter, before hiring them. This bill amendment, which addresses harassment/discrimination claims, is in response to the circumstance where a young KBR employee (a Halliburton subsidiary) was gang raped by fellow employees but could not get her day in court because of the mandatory arbitration requirements. Thirty GOP senators voted against this amendment (Jon Stewart did a great job of making them look ridiculous the other night). Here's the video - it's long, but worth it:
And here he is, catching flat-footed a physician from the Hudson Institute who knows not enough of which she speaks. Her line of attack prior to this clip was that the health care reform bill would increase bankruptcies due to medical care costs. Here's a part of the dialogue:
And, just for good measure (and to complete this trilogy), this is just fun because he reads the Fourth Amendment out loud to a Justice attorney who then says, "this is surreal." Thought the attorney held his own, actually, on this one:
He's getting known as one of the most prepared senators on the Hill.
Here he is, skewering an arbitration lawyer for arguing against his bill (an amendment to a bill) to keep government contracts from employers who require employees to agree to binding arbitration on disputes, regardless of subject matter, before hiring them. This bill amendment, which addresses harassment/discrimination claims, is in response to the circumstance where a young KBR employee (a Halliburton subsidiary) was gang raped by fellow employees but could not get her day in court because of the mandatory arbitration requirements. Thirty GOP senators voted against this amendment (Jon Stewart did a great job of making them look ridiculous the other night). Here's the video - it's long, but worth it:
And here he is, catching flat-footed a physician from the Hudson Institute who knows not enough of which she speaks. Her line of attack prior to this clip was that the health care reform bill would increase bankruptcies due to medical care costs. Here's a part of the dialogue:
AF: I want to ask you, how many bankruptcies because of medical crises were there last year in Switzerland?
DFR: I don't have that number in front of me but I could find out and get back to you.
AF: I can tell you how many it was. It's zero. Do you know how many medical bankruptcies there were last year in France?
DFR: I don't have that number but I could get back to you if you like.
AF: Yeah, the number is zero.
And, just for good measure (and to complete this trilogy), this is just fun because he reads the Fourth Amendment out loud to a Justice attorney who then says, "this is surreal." Thought the attorney held his own, actually, on this one:
Freedom and Equality - It's Who We Are
I saw this today on the Huffington Post. It is the testimony of Philip Spooner, 86, a World War II vet, a lifetime Republican, at hearings in Maine last spring about whether to pass a law permitting gays to marry. His words in part:
I am here today because of a conversation I had last June when I was voting. A woman at my polling place asked me, "Do you believe in equal, equality for gay and lesbian people?" I was pretty surprised to be asked a question like that. It made no sense to me. Finally I asked her, "What do you think our boys fought for at Omaha Beach?" I haven't seen much, so much blood and guts, so much suffering, much sacrifice. For what? For freedom and equality. These are the values that give America a great nation, one worth dying for.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
And Calling...
Yesterday began an onslaught of calls to Congress from supporters of health care reform, organized through the Organizing for America website. I wrote about my own experience of making the phone calls here.
And the numbers keep rising. People called other people all throughout the country yesterday, to make these phone calls again today. The number, at this moment, of calls made is 319,279. Apparently the president joined up with the people in New York who had been making the phonebanking effort.
And then there were the stories, as people talked to each other about how important it is to make these changes. Here is a sample of a couple of those stories:
And here's a message from Mitch Stewart, director of OFA, where I got the above quotes.
And then here's the president from last night. Really great speech. He starts at about nine minutes in. He starts to get funny at 28 minutes, and then really funny at about 30 minutes.
And the numbers keep rising. People called other people all throughout the country yesterday, to make these phone calls again today. The number, at this moment, of calls made is 319,279. Apparently the president joined up with the people in New York who had been making the phonebanking effort.
And then there were the stories, as people talked to each other about how important it is to make these changes. Here is a sample of a couple of those stories:
This evening I and three other volunteers got together and made calls. As I was calling, one of the women I spoke with told me that she was inspired by my story -- shared in the email earlier that day -- to get her entire family to call Congress. She didn't know it was me on the phone, but she said she just couldn't stop saying "this isn't right" when she heard my story. It gave me so much hope -- during the evening we made 213 calls and got 64 commitments to call tomorrow.
-Jenny U., Missouri Volunteer
Seeing the tally go up, hearing voter after voter agree to call, and listening to the real excitement people have about finally fixing this broken system, I was reminded why we do this. Each of us can only give so much -- but when we all do it together, we move mountains. Health insurance reform, here we come.
-Sean Knox, California New Media Director
And here's a message from Mitch Stewart, director of OFA, where I got the above quotes.
And then here's the president from last night. Really great speech. He starts at about nine minutes in. He starts to get funny at 28 minutes, and then really funny at about 30 minutes.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Calling All Legislators!
So I got a couple of phone calls today, asking me to call my congresspeople and urge them to support health care reform. Sure, I said. Happy to do it. Apparently there were some details I didn't get - like, after I made the phone calls, I was supposed to record that fact at the Organizing for America website, etc., but I figured that out too. I watched to see if my name came up at all on the OFA website - "Beth B. from Spokane, WA, just called Rep. McMorris Rodgers," but after half a minute I let it go. It'll show up or it won't, but I'll never know...
It was an interesting process. I made my phone calls before realizing that I was supposed to ask if they support the health care reform plan. I did of course explain nuances of why it mattered to support the public option in particular. Probably went on too long for some of the folks answering the phones! But then I went to fill out the form that said I'd made my phone calls and realized I hadn't asked the congresspeople's position on all that I was talking about. Oops.
I knew my senators supported it (Cantwell and Murray), so I marked "yes" that they did without calling back. And I mean, for the love of all that is good and right, I was sure Rep. McMorris Rodgers did not. But hey, before checking the "no" box, I should ask, right? So I called back (the D.C. office instead of the Spokane one) and asked that burning question: what does my congresswoman actually support?
Now, I didn't phrase it "does she support the Obama plan," because that would necessarily receive a "no" answer and - besides - I'm mostly concerned about the premium-supported public option anyway. So I asked about that. The nice young woman on the phone (they are so nice at McMorris Rodgers' offices - she hires well) wasn't exactly sure, and offered to have a legislative aide contact me at some point. Great, I said - because I write about this a lot on my blog, and I want to know what she thinks, and where her concerns might lie...
I cannot imagine there will be a meeting of the minds here. But - and to her credit (and I give her this credit), McMorris Rodgers was one of the few Republicans who urged people to stop scaring each other with talk about death panels (which do not exist), and talk about the real issues instead. Have a dialogue. So I guess that's what we might be doing. One way or the other.
Just checked the log of phone calls this afternoon, on the OFA website. 182,774 - and counting.
It was an interesting process. I made my phone calls before realizing that I was supposed to ask if they support the health care reform plan. I did of course explain nuances of why it mattered to support the public option in particular. Probably went on too long for some of the folks answering the phones! But then I went to fill out the form that said I'd made my phone calls and realized I hadn't asked the congresspeople's position on all that I was talking about. Oops.
I knew my senators supported it (Cantwell and Murray), so I marked "yes" that they did without calling back. And I mean, for the love of all that is good and right, I was sure Rep. McMorris Rodgers did not. But hey, before checking the "no" box, I should ask, right? So I called back (the D.C. office instead of the Spokane one) and asked that burning question: what does my congresswoman actually support?
Now, I didn't phrase it "does she support the Obama plan," because that would necessarily receive a "no" answer and - besides - I'm mostly concerned about the premium-supported public option anyway. So I asked about that. The nice young woman on the phone (they are so nice at McMorris Rodgers' offices - she hires well) wasn't exactly sure, and offered to have a legislative aide contact me at some point. Great, I said - because I write about this a lot on my blog, and I want to know what she thinks, and where her concerns might lie...
I cannot imagine there will be a meeting of the minds here. But - and to her credit (and I give her this credit), McMorris Rodgers was one of the few Republicans who urged people to stop scaring each other with talk about death panels (which do not exist), and talk about the real issues instead. Have a dialogue. So I guess that's what we might be doing. One way or the other.
Just checked the log of phone calls this afternoon, on the OFA website. 182,774 - and counting.
Monday, October 19, 2009
I Hate Football
Or is it just the Philadelphia Eagles that I hate?
I've finally caved. I'm watching Eagle games even with Michael Vick in the lineup. Indeed, I've resolved myself to not just "live and let live" but to actually root for him. This is how far I've gotten.
So yesterday afternoon, having just finished my most recent edits on my screenplay, I thought - what the hey - I'll watch the Eagles. (And don't buy that casual tone. I planned the whole day around that afternoon game.) So I rambled on down to Heroes and Legends, our downtown sports bar, to watch the game. Got there late - score was 10 to 3, Raiders ahead of the Eagles ... huh? What? Oh, the Eagles have the ball. Oh, this will be fine. No problem. March on down... um, "March," I said. Not meander. Not backtrack. Not... heaven forbid it... kick a field goal!!! Well, it's David Akers, and he's as reliable as salt, so at least we'll get points on the board.
And that's when things went from bad to worse. Including two missed field goals by Akers (!!). Long ones - but not over 50 yards - and that's just not like him. Just. Not. Like. Him. And it shouldn't have come down to that. Yes, had he made them the Eagles would have won. But they should have won anyway. They should have played the game, and not wasted time on the past.
The one shining light - I think the problems with the Eagles defense are problems of execution and not design. As I mentioned a couple months ago, beloved defensive coordinator Jim Johnson passed away this summer. But his legacy is living on, through his assistant coach (now coordinator), because the Eagles defense looks pretty good from a structural standpoint.
But the game itself - and the offense??? - I was there to enjoy myself - I said enjoy myself, people - not throw my back out again from tension. (And nothing in baseball made me feel better. I've been rooting for the Dodgers and the Angels to make it to the World Series. Sigh.)
It's enough to turn you into a Vikings fan. Which, I've always liked Brett Favre, and all he wanted to do last year was play one season with the Vikings, and the Packers wouldn't let him (yes, I understand why), so he went to the Jets and then came back this year for the season that he wanted last year. A season with the Vikings...
I remember the 2007 season, when the Eagles did so poorly, and I'd try to watch the games... When people asked me (and they asked me, yes they did) how I felt about the Eagles' season that year, I'd say, well, they're not playing football. I don't know what sport it is that they think they're playing - must be tiddlywinks or something - but that is not football.
This year was different! Was supposed to be different... But how do you lose that way? To the Raiders? grump grump grump
I've finally caved. I'm watching Eagle games even with Michael Vick in the lineup. Indeed, I've resolved myself to not just "live and let live" but to actually root for him. This is how far I've gotten.
So yesterday afternoon, having just finished my most recent edits on my screenplay, I thought - what the hey - I'll watch the Eagles. (And don't buy that casual tone. I planned the whole day around that afternoon game.) So I rambled on down to Heroes and Legends, our downtown sports bar, to watch the game. Got there late - score was 10 to 3, Raiders ahead of the Eagles ... huh? What? Oh, the Eagles have the ball. Oh, this will be fine. No problem. March on down... um, "March," I said. Not meander. Not backtrack. Not... heaven forbid it... kick a field goal!!! Well, it's David Akers, and he's as reliable as salt, so at least we'll get points on the board.
And that's when things went from bad to worse. Including two missed field goals by Akers (!!). Long ones - but not over 50 yards - and that's just not like him. Just. Not. Like. Him. And it shouldn't have come down to that. Yes, had he made them the Eagles would have won. But they should have won anyway. They should have played the game, and not wasted time on the past.
The one shining light - I think the problems with the Eagles defense are problems of execution and not design. As I mentioned a couple months ago, beloved defensive coordinator Jim Johnson passed away this summer. But his legacy is living on, through his assistant coach (now coordinator), because the Eagles defense looks pretty good from a structural standpoint.
But the game itself - and the offense??? - I was there to enjoy myself - I said enjoy myself, people - not throw my back out again from tension. (And nothing in baseball made me feel better. I've been rooting for the Dodgers and the Angels to make it to the World Series. Sigh.)
It's enough to turn you into a Vikings fan. Which, I've always liked Brett Favre, and all he wanted to do last year was play one season with the Vikings, and the Packers wouldn't let him (yes, I understand why), so he went to the Jets and then came back this year for the season that he wanted last year. A season with the Vikings...
I remember the 2007 season, when the Eagles did so poorly, and I'd try to watch the games... When people asked me (and they asked me, yes they did) how I felt about the Eagles' season that year, I'd say, well, they're not playing football. I don't know what sport it is that they think they're playing - must be tiddlywinks or something - but that is not football.
This year was different! Was supposed to be different... But how do you lose that way? To the Raiders? grump grump grump
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Editing Again...
...and this time I'm adding this thing called "transitions." Apparently they're fairly well known in the screenwriting world. So I watched a bunch of movies to get a firmer grasp on this phenomenon. I will say, I believe they've created a monster. Turns out, I love transitions... I'd been doing them already a little bit by accident, and now am adding them on a conscious level. All of this means to say that my suspense/mystery screenplay is getting that much closer to its final draft.
And, as (nearly) always, when I write, I disappear. Not literally, I'm still in Spokane. But it's like I don't hardly exist on this earthly plane, when I get deep into writing. And then I come back, and eat dinner, and think about the next day, and go to sleep, and wake up, and it starts all over again. I wonder if this is a form of heaven. Or perhaps it is a form of hell? I'm opting for heaven. After all, heaven, hell - it's all a matter of perspective anyway. Might as well choose to define this as heaven.
And, as (nearly) always, when I write, I disappear. Not literally, I'm still in Spokane. But it's like I don't hardly exist on this earthly plane, when I get deep into writing. And then I come back, and eat dinner, and think about the next day, and go to sleep, and wake up, and it starts all over again. I wonder if this is a form of heaven. Or perhaps it is a form of hell? I'm opting for heaven. After all, heaven, hell - it's all a matter of perspective anyway. Might as well choose to define this as heaven.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Four Who Died
I just posted an entry, saying I want to at least know about the people dying because of a lack of health insurance. I did a quick search - and found an article by Deb Richter, a physician in Vermont, who says that she sees this often, where her patients die of preventable diseases. She then speaks of four of her patients who died that way. Three were from the same family - unable to keep track of their diabetes - and one had cancer symptoms for years, finally got the insurance to treat it, but died two weeks later. It was too late. Dr. Richter thinks that 44,000 dying a year like this is a low number, given her own experiences. As she says, take her dozens of cases and multiply them by the 700,000 doctors in this country, and what do you get? A lot of people dying.
Who Are They?
Rep. Al Grayson (D-Fla) cited to this Harvard study when he stated that 44,000 Americans die every year because of a lack of insurance. That's one every 12 minutes. And although the study is one of correlation and not specific examples, the numbers are there. Mortality and lack of insurance are inexorably tied.
Who are they? Who are the people who died? I want to know.
What I really want is for my country to provide health care to them, preferably in the form of affordable health insurance, so that they get care early, and not so late that it's too late. Barring that apparent miracle, however, at least I want to know who they are. Who has died? Who have they left behind?
On September 11, 2001, we all sat in horror, helpless, watching our televisions. Doctors rallied to health care centers, waiting for the injured. But there were no survivors. So no one came.
For that week, I watched what I could, when I could. For as much as there was nothing I could do, I could do that. I could witness. I could cry. I could let my heart break for those left behind.
So it is the least that I can do now. The very least. And if I have no names, no faces, if they remain statistics in a study - at least I can have my intentions.
Who are they? Who are the people who died? I want to know.
What I really want is for my country to provide health care to them, preferably in the form of affordable health insurance, so that they get care early, and not so late that it's too late. Barring that apparent miracle, however, at least I want to know who they are. Who has died? Who have they left behind?
On September 11, 2001, we all sat in horror, helpless, watching our televisions. Doctors rallied to health care centers, waiting for the injured. But there were no survivors. So no one came.
For that week, I watched what I could, when I could. For as much as there was nothing I could do, I could do that. I could witness. I could cry. I could let my heart break for those left behind.
So it is the least that I can do now. The very least. And if I have no names, no faces, if they remain statistics in a study - at least I can have my intentions.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Al Grayson
In the midst of all the health care reform angst and anger - real, imagined, and manufactured - I had started to tune out. I'm sure I'm not alone. I had sort of given up on Congress doing the right thing.
Then on Friday, when we heard that President Obama has received the Nobel Peace Prize. I started wondering: is it time to shed the crap and insist, really insist, that Congress move?
Parallel to my personal feelings has come several times in the news recently the name of one congressman from Florida: Alan Grayson. A week (or two) ago, he gave a speech where he said that Republicans' plan for health care reform was, don't get sick, and if you do get sick, die quickly. Republicans were angry at this first-time congressman, and insisted he apologize. So he got on the floor of the House this past Friday and said absolutely not. The following clip gives a lead-in from Lawrence O'Donnell and then Grayson's speech on Friday. He is also the one who has said that the way to beat a Republican is not by being a Republican. It is time for our elected officials to stand up and deliver.
Then on Friday, when we heard that President Obama has received the Nobel Peace Prize. I started wondering: is it time to shed the crap and insist, really insist, that Congress move?
Parallel to my personal feelings has come several times in the news recently the name of one congressman from Florida: Alan Grayson. A week (or two) ago, he gave a speech where he said that Republicans' plan for health care reform was, don't get sick, and if you do get sick, die quickly. Republicans were angry at this first-time congressman, and insisted he apologize. So he got on the floor of the House this past Friday and said absolutely not. The following clip gives a lead-in from Lawrence O'Donnell and then Grayson's speech on Friday. He is also the one who has said that the way to beat a Republican is not by being a Republican. It is time for our elected officials to stand up and deliver.
The Whirling Dervish
Five days with my two-year-old nephew... I've needed three days to recuperate!
He never stopped. Except for his nap and his bedtime, and those events only came immediately after his newest game, "Chase Me Around The Crib First." He earned those naps. And I slept very, very soundly at the end of each day.
But it was absolute joy. Between going over letters and identifying animal figures and coloring around stickers, we had the best of times. We went to the library and the toy store, the grocery store and the mall's indoor playground. We took a series of four photos at a little photo booth in the mall. (Two of the photos, he was too busy looking at himself in the image on the screen to release into my tickling and smile, but the other two photos came out great.)
And then there was the pumpkin. One of my uncles had brought an enormous pumpkin the week before, in honor of the current season, and it has been sitting on the kitchen table at my sister's house ever since. Each day, for five days, about four to five times a day (and always at mealtime), my nephew would look at the pumpkin, his eyes would light up, and he'd say, "Apple." (Well, he'd say his equivalent of apple, which likely is spelled more like "apuhl.") "No," I'd say. "That's a pumpkin." He'd squint up his face, appearing worried for me and my low level of intelligence. "Apuhl," he'd say, a little slowly this time, so I could hear it better and understand the truth. "No. Pumpkin," I'd respond. Apuhl. Pumpkin. Apuhl. Pumpkin. Until he'd say, "Pie."
I never did figure out if that was his version of the word pumpkin, or if he was asking me to bake a pie. (I don't bake, I felt like I should warn him.) "Right, pumpkin!" I'd say instead, and we'd be done. Until next time. And it would start up all over again. I said it was like being around an Alzheimer's patient. No, my brother-in-law told me, it's like being around a Bollinger. Oh. Do Bollingers insist on our version of events, even when everyone around us is telling us that we're wrong? We don't do that, do we? (Or, if we do, and I'm not conceding the point, have you ever considered that we are right and you all are wrong?).
Apuhl.
Well, and then the highlight - absolute highlight - was when I said to him, "Can you say Aunt Beth?", and he could. Right off the bat. No hestitation. He said it without the "n" and the "t" and the "t" and the "h," so that it sounded more like "Au Be," but it was loud and clear and music to my ears.
He never stopped. Except for his nap and his bedtime, and those events only came immediately after his newest game, "Chase Me Around The Crib First." He earned those naps. And I slept very, very soundly at the end of each day.
But it was absolute joy. Between going over letters and identifying animal figures and coloring around stickers, we had the best of times. We went to the library and the toy store, the grocery store and the mall's indoor playground. We took a series of four photos at a little photo booth in the mall. (Two of the photos, he was too busy looking at himself in the image on the screen to release into my tickling and smile, but the other two photos came out great.)
And then there was the pumpkin. One of my uncles had brought an enormous pumpkin the week before, in honor of the current season, and it has been sitting on the kitchen table at my sister's house ever since. Each day, for five days, about four to five times a day (and always at mealtime), my nephew would look at the pumpkin, his eyes would light up, and he'd say, "Apple." (Well, he'd say his equivalent of apple, which likely is spelled more like "apuhl.") "No," I'd say. "That's a pumpkin." He'd squint up his face, appearing worried for me and my low level of intelligence. "Apuhl," he'd say, a little slowly this time, so I could hear it better and understand the truth. "No. Pumpkin," I'd respond. Apuhl. Pumpkin. Apuhl. Pumpkin. Until he'd say, "Pie."
I never did figure out if that was his version of the word pumpkin, or if he was asking me to bake a pie. (I don't bake, I felt like I should warn him.) "Right, pumpkin!" I'd say instead, and we'd be done. Until next time. And it would start up all over again. I said it was like being around an Alzheimer's patient. No, my brother-in-law told me, it's like being around a Bollinger. Oh. Do Bollingers insist on our version of events, even when everyone around us is telling us that we're wrong? We don't do that, do we? (Or, if we do, and I'm not conceding the point, have you ever considered that we are right and you all are wrong?).
Apuhl.
Well, and then the highlight - absolute highlight - was when I said to him, "Can you say Aunt Beth?", and he could. Right off the bat. No hestitation. He said it without the "n" and the "t" and the "t" and the "h," so that it sounded more like "Au Be," but it was loud and clear and music to my ears.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
