Category Archives: News

What’s going on with me & the family.

New URL

I decided to simplify my URL by buying the domain andysfo.com. Not that it really matters much; maybe it’s just a vanity thing. I had a webpage for a couple years at andysfo.net, but that was hosted through GoDaddy. I found GoDaddy’s website to be awkward, and I came to loathe all their advertising, so I decided to drop them. Even though my .net domain had expired, it seems GoDaddy was hanging onto it so they could get me to renew. Dot-net, dot-com: who really cares?

Seven years on…

It was seven years ago today that my unit began the convoy north from Kuwait into to our base north of Tikrit. It was not a great experience, but if I’m honest with myself I have to admit that I felt a certain sense of adventure over the subsequent three days. Perhaps that was what kept the fear away. (I really don’t remember feeling afraid in Iraq, though now I realize that was because it was buried too deep.) It turned out to be a relatively uneventful trip, at least for my serial in the convoy. One truck in another serial killed a person and wounded two others in a car that tried to get past the convoy, which was what we were trained to do (suicide bombers being a threat). Another serial had an IED go off shortly after it passed an  intersection. For us, it was simply a long, long drive in a completely foreign landscape.

As with most “anniversary” dates, today & the next couple of days are a challenge for me. I wish I could shut off the memory spigot, but that’s not really possible. There have been periods when I’ve not consciously realized that “on this day X happened.” The subconscious mind doesn’t forget, though, so I’ll begin having more intrusive thoughts, be more irritable than usual, feel the anger surge up again, and start isolating myself more often. When I realize what’s happening, I can start managing all the effects, so it’s probably for the best that I keep these periods in my consciousness. Still, I wish, really wish, that I could simply forget it all.

That’s not entirely true, though. Yes, I wish that these memories would stop haunting me, and that the difficult emotions that have become so much a part of them would simply dissipate. I don’t enjoy living with PTSD. Yet, it is who I am, now and most likely for the rest of my life. If I could somehow take a pill and make it all go away, I would have to re-create myself again. Over the past six years (it was also around this time, one year after going into Iraq, that I was diagnosed with PTSD), I’ve had to travel down another long, long road in foreign territory, although this one has been internal. I’ve had to re-collect the pieces of who I was before Iraq, sort those parts that were still “me” from those that were no longer. I’ve had to put those pieces back into something of a functional human being–once something is broken into pieces, it can never be made whole again. The best outcome is building something new out of what’s left. The person I am now is who I am now, not who I wish I was, nor the person I used to be. I can’t erase Iraq from my life, but even if I could exorcise it from my mind & heart, I would still be made up of the pieces that were left.

Another year, then, passes by, and another reminder of a short but intense & painful period in my life. Still, I am here, have a loving & supportive family, work to keep me busy (if uninspired), and a mind and heart with which to ponder deep things. I am not wise, nor believe that I ever will be; and my life speaks to fact that I’m not all that smart. But all of that won’t matter if, after having been a part of that which was so wrong, I can live my life simply being good. That’s enough.

End of January

This week was exam week–midyears and semester finals. The tests are done, the grading is under way, and somewhere over the next two days I get to put together my two second-semester classes. It’s almost as if someone sat down and asked, “how can we come up with a way to stress both students and teachers as much as possible?”

On the other hand, the school year is half-over.

The crazy winter weather continues, as in no winter weather. It’s been raining for nearly twenty hours; as a colleague pointed out today, if it were ten degrees colder we’d be buried. Mild temperatures continue for the next week, which puts us into February. Chances are it’s going to be a mostly snowless winter. Makes one very suspicious about climate change.

Anne & I are going to talk with a writer tomorrow; she’s been working on a book about returning veterans and their families. She interviewed us a few years ago, but has decided to include the issue of PTSD and its long-term effects. Neither Anne nor I have spoken about this with anyone bur ourselves for going on three years, so it’ll be an interesting exercise. Since then, I know Anne’s thought a lot about the secondary effects that my PTSD has had on her and the family. For that matter, I have, too. Recently, I’ve been trying harder to communicate to those around me where I’m at. I feel like I plateaued a little over a year ago; its not getting any worse, though not really any better. I’ve learned to manage the worst effects, so don’t have to struggle to keep the anger, anxiety, hyper-vigilance, etc. under control; however, that’s not the same as being free of it all. The self-care I’ve learned requires that I do certain things, and not do others. Those people who have to live & work around me, have to put up with me, need to have at least some idea of what’s going on so they don’t mistake my behaviors for anything other than what they are. For example, several times a day I really need to be in a quiet place by myself. Keeping all the effects managed takes a lot of energy, physical and emotional; if I don’t have time to relax a little, I become over-tired, more stressed, and less able to manage it all. It’s easy to assume that I’m alienating myself, upset with others, avoiding people, and so on, when in fact I simply need some space.

It’s not easy to talk about these things, of course. Not only is my inner life private, like everyone’s; it also leads to feeling vulnerable, which is a trigger for all sorts of reactions. I really dislike opening up like this. But, it helps others, especially those close to me, understand what’s up. So, I’m chalking it up to just one more of the unpleasant elements of living with PTSD.

January slump

I haven’t been writing much lately, in my blogs, journals, or anything else. About the only writing I’ve been doing is on student papers, school-related e-mails, and a sentence-or-two on Facebook. It’s been a long time since I was in the habit of writing at all, and that was while I was in Iraq. Maybe there’s some subconscious negative-association-thing going on.

I spent the weekend of the 14th in Philadelphia with a wonderful group of young women & men discussing the future of Warrior Writers. This organization hosts workshops & retreats for veterans to explore in writing their military experience. The focus is primarily on those who have served since 9-11, especially those who served in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. The purpose is primarily to add to veterans’ healing by giving them a written voice. A secondary but no less important purpose of Warrior Writers is to let those voices be heard. Pindar (and Desidarius Erasmus) observed that “war is sweet to those who know it not.” Hearing the words of the men & women who know it first hand cannot help but strip away the mask that hides war’s ugliness and horror.

On Saturday we held a release party for the third anthology of Warrior Writers work: After Action Review. Several of the veterans whose works are in the anthology were there and gave readings; it was an amazing and emotional experience–and I seldom resort to superlatives. I was proud to be in the same room as these young folk. Their works speak with more power than those of “professional” writers and poets because theirs come from not only the heart but the soul. And their willingness to share their struggles and pain speaks even more to their commitment to being voices for their still-silent comrades-in-arms. I can promise those who pick up these anthologies that they will be often disturbed but always moved.

This week (that of the 23rd) I haven’t been feeling well. Anne thinks I picked up the bug that is going around school, and she may well be right. But at least some of this is the “crud” that I’ve been carrying around since Iraq. Sweats, chills, whole-body pain, nausea–it’s all there. I had another flare-up in December, but there’s no real pattern so it’s no surprise that it came back so soon. Sometimes I can go a couple of months without symptoms, other times it’s an up-and-down cycle for several months. I’ve not been able to identify any single triggers, though I think stress plays a role, along with air quality and temperature. No doctor in the VA or in civilian world has been able to narrow it down to anything known; it’s just a collection of symptoms that recur again & again. I’ve accepted that it’s an ongoing part of life, but I still don’t like it.

January is in itself a stressor, & not just because of the end of first semester at school. It was seven years ago this Saturday, the 28th, that my unit began the convoy from Kuwait to Summerall. Even when I don’t think about it, the trip and events that followed seem to bubble up from my subconscious, making me feel tense, stressed, anxious. When I bring it all to the conscious level, I can manage it; but doing so takes energy, energy that I would otherwise use in my daily life. In other words, it’s just a crappy time. August is the big one, of course, November being the other anniversary that affects me. Just like with the physical “crud,” I’ve accepted that it’s going to be like this.

Maybe some of the slump has to do with the weather. Hardly any snow this year! It just ain’t natural. Although snow creates many problems, I still love snowstorms. It’s all the “blanketing the earth in whiteness” stuff. Snowstorms always lift my spirits, if only for a day or so. This year, though, it looks like that’s not going to be an option. We’ve only had two wimpy little snowfalls, hardly worth the effort of getting out a shovel. But then, the winter isn’t over. Maybe the weather patterns will shift for February.

And, January is nearly over–a week from now it’ll be February. I’m choosing to believe that it will be a brighter month than this one.

Goodbye, Winnie

Yesterday the time finally came for me to take our pug Winston to the vet to be put to sleep. It was difficult, as these things always are, I suppose. I haven’t had much experience with this sort of thing. I’ve only done this myself one other time (family will remember Phantom, the black cat that lived with us for several years before moving in with Nana); growing up, it was Mom & Dad who handled such unpleasant tasks. This time it fell to me, and I decided to stay with the little guy up to the end. He’d lost a lot of his faculties & was confused most of the time. It seemed right that he have a friend there with him.

We had to move Mom back east with us in 2002. Her health was failing, and she wasn’t always tracking very well. I’d decided that Winston would have to come along because she was so attached to him, hoping too that he would help lift her spirits during such a major change. What I hadn’t realized was that over the previous several years, the dog had lost any discipline he’d had (which wasn’t much), including his housebroken-ness. It took us almost a year to get him to the point where he didn’t leave messes in the house. Moreover, he was used to being the alpha-male, doing pretty much what he wanted. He had to be kept on a leash because he’d always run off (including into traffic), and would snap at all of us if he didn’t get his way. THAT took over a year to rectify. (The Dog Whisperer wouldn’t have approved of my methods, but he eventually ceded the alpa position to me.) He began to mellow after that, but was never a dog that one could take on walks off the leash, or even behave well while on it. And that was the case up until the last.Of course, Winnie & I had a complex relationship. I only saw him a couple times at Nana’s before we moved to Massachusetts. He was just a pup then, and like all kids had too much energy for his own good. I remember asking Mom, “Why a pug?” While growing up, my grandmother (who lived with

us) had a little female pug, Mahla. She was sweet, but like most pugs snorted and snuffled a lot, and (honestly) was not all that bright. Pugs are a breed not noted for being all that sharp, and their prolonged puppyhood is just as annoying as endearing. But Mom saw him at the local animal shelter and fell for Winston right away. The rest is history.

That said, Winnie also had his unique charm. Being a pug, he was always enthusiastic & playful, so he was often a lot of fun. He loved playing fetch with his little cloth footballs (he got a new one every Christmas), and in his later years he like to sit close & be petted. Even when I’d get so pissed at him that I’d seriously ponder pugicide, he could look up with his big brown eyes and “huh?” expression (he was never very deep) and soften me up. And that’s probably how I’ll remember him. Mostly.

Anne & I began thinking that the end was approaching last winter. It was harder for him to get up and down the stairs, and he sleeping for increasingly long periods of time. He’d pretty much lost his hearing by then, and his eyesight was going. By late spring we had to carry him up & down the stairs to go out, and he was increasingly uncomfortable (his ears bothered him a lot). Over the summer he began having problems with his hips & hind leg, to the point where he couldn’t stand for more that a few seconds. By last month it became obvious that he was going downhill fast. I found a lump on his side, he lost control of his bowels, and finally was so uncomfortable that he had a hard time just laying still. It was time.
The vet was very kind. She gave him gas that made him sleep, then gave him the injection. It only took a minute. I brought him home, and Anne & Mary had prepared a place for him. We wrapped him up in Anne’s fluffy bathrobe & put him to rest.

I won’t miss many of his behaviors, but I’ll miss him. Rest easily, Winnie.

Calm Before The Storm

Hurricane Irene is passing over North Caroline & takingwpid-thestorm-2011-08-27-16-10.jpg aim at New England. We’ve begun to get the leading edge rain, but the Saturday still remains fairly quiet. We’ve laid in several day’s worth of supplies, so there’s little to do but wait out the storm.

Weather has served metaphor duties as long, no doubt, as there have been humans. The violence of storms, the frozen depths of winter, the oppressive heat of summer–these and similar natural forces are frequently drawn upon to illuminate the drama of our individual and collective lives. We don’t often avail ourselves of nature’s calm and gentle side, however. Or, if we do, it’s as a contrast, as in (one of my favorite poems) Matthew Arnold’s Dover Beach:

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

I know there are poems and stories that use tranquil, serene weather to describe the better side of the better aspects of humanity. Still, we seem pulled more towards the opposite.

One can’t help but wonder if our penchant for using harsh imagery such as doesn’t reflect the unsettled nature that seems part and parcel of modern life. If we cannot find, or if we choose not to look for, peace within our hearts, it’s not surprising that we have a hard time seeing it in the world around us.
By this time tomorrow we will have been in the middle of Irene for several hours. At the moment, though, I don’t feel concerned beyond being simply prudent. There’s nothing we can do to change Irene’s course or intensity, and short of driving to Ohio there’s little else we can do to mitigate whatever effects she might bring. What will come will come. Acceptance is not synonymous with complacency nor denial.

In this we can draw understanding from our place in the world. One can exercise good judgement and reasonably prepare for the future, but ultimately we’re pretty much along for the ride. It’s best to enjoy the calm, even in the knowledge that a storm is coming.

The leeward side of summer

Summer seems to be passing. I’ll spend most of next week at school on a video project for the district, and the following week brings the before-Labor-Day meetings and workshops. Two weeks from Tuesday a new school year begins. As is true of most years, I’m more-or-less ready for the change. While I enjoy summer’s down-time, I’m restless by the second week of August. Today it feels as if the year ahead is poised like a race-horse in the starting gate, barely contained energy awaiting the bell so it can leap into activity. It doesn’t really care what the jockey feels; he’s only (the horse thinks) along for the ride.

This will be a transition year in several ways. The most obvious will be Mary starting her freshman year at CCHS. Four years from now she will (most likely) be out of the house, off to college, and beginning her life independent from Mom & Dad. It’s exciting to watch her, but also a little bittersweet, Mary being our youngest. The nest isn’t empty yet, but I can feel it coming.

Mary’s graduation from high school will more than likely mark the end or near-end of my teaching career, at least public-high-school part. From the time I started teaching until a couple of years ago, I had always thought of myself as being in the classroom well into my mid-60s or beyond. I love being a class with a couple dozen teenagers, and I know I’ll miss it very much when I do leave. However, the combination of a problematic school environment with ongoing health issues (thank you, again, President Bush) make an earlier transition more likely. Of course, one can’t tell what lies ahead: things can change in ways that would keep me in the classroom, or push me out even earlier. Insofar as anyone can make plans, though (“life happens while we make plans”), the end appears in sight.

Anne will be starting back to school sometime this year, too. The circumstances that brought this about have been unpleasant, but I’m excited in anticipating the new directions that will open up to her over the next year. She’s always deserved better, and I see those days coming.

On a more mundane level, I should be able to realize some changes in at least two project I’ve been nurturing for a couple of years. The school yearbook program will, I hope, take on a completely different look, drawing more participation and enthusiasm from the students. Also, despite some unfortunate setbacks over the past six months, I think our TV production project will finally get off the ground (although it may be more like the Wright Brother’s first flight that a launch of the space mission).

Financially, the past two months have not gone well; but that, too, should eventually yield some benefits. I’m optimistic that the next six months will make the last three, if not worthwhile, at least acceptable. Assuming, of course, that our political & economic leaders don’t bring about a complete economic & social meltdown over the next year.

So, I think I’m ready for summer to pass. In more ways than I care to write about, what is in the past should remain just that: in the past. It is by looking forward that we progress, and it is by progressing that we grow. And that, I think, is what life is ultimately all about.

The Devolution of American Discourse

I haven’t posted as much as I have wanted to over the past couple of weeks; I keep trying to bounce back from this chronic, upper-respiratory condition that I’ve had since Iraq. Aside from the annoying chills and sweats, it leaves me very fatigued and cognitively dull. I saw a doctor this week who specializes in toxicity, so hopefully over the next few months we may get some answers.

I wanted to write today largely because of a series of exchanges on a friend’s Facebook page. The English major in me can’t say in one sentence what I can say in a paragraph, so my posts tend to be somewhat long (if you’re reading this, you’ll understand). But even more, the topic under discussion was about the violent rhetoric that seems to permeate an unfortunate amount of the political discourse today. This is neither a simple nor an easily discussed topic; considering the amount of cliché, sound bites, and ultimately meaningless words and phrases meant to inspire emotional response (“liberal,” “conservative,” “communist,” etc.), I also think that it’s best to make oneself as clear as possible by steering away from such terminology. So let me recap briefly the issue.

I’m certainly not the first person to have noticed the incivility and outright hostility that currently passes for “political dialogue.” Not that I think that there’s ever been a time in American history when we’ve discussed differences in the marketplace of ideas as civilized, thoughtful, dignified human beings. However, it seems to me that we at least used to hold that as an ideal to strive towards. This is no longer the case. Neither side of the political spectrum–right or left–is innocent; however, the political right seems to be much more tolerant of harsh, even violent language in advancing its agenda. Case in point: the number of so-called “jokes” that circulate in which the current president or another political figure is harmed in some way. One or two such incidents can be dismissed, but when these go on for years at a time, and appear against a background of strident, hostile, ad-hominem attacks, we see a symptom of a much larger problem.

It would take a large number of sociologists and historians several years to tease out all the different threads that have gone into creating the current climate. Personally, I think it goes back at least to Ronald Reagan. I can recall very well comments he made which portrayed those who disagreed with his policies as un-American, traitors against the country and all it stood for. This began a 30-year process in which those who identified themselves with the political right felt it was acceptable to demonize those who held alternative beliefs. Over time, the appellation “liberal” lost its meaning and came to simply signify “a person set out to destroy America.” And, in true McCarthy-era style, terms like “communist” and “socialist”, also devoid of their original meanings, became joined to “liberal” to create visceral, irrational anger directed towards anyone on whom the label fell.

Along with the devolution of discourse, the hyper-emotional nature of right-wing rhetoric unsurprisingly came to employ references to violence. It’s understandable: if one perceives his or her home as being under threat, and if that person believes that violence is an acceptable means of resistance, then violence becomes a viable option. This is not to say that people who identify themselves as “conservative” or “on the right” advocate or will engage in violence; what it does say is that violent language and behavior becomes a part of a mindset that underlies one’s politics. And because this is based largely on emotions rather than rational thinking, as soon as a dialogue becomes emotional, out comes the violent rhetoric. I see this happen in particular when people are confronted with facts and logical arguments that call their viewpoints into question. Rather than arguing back with facts and logic, rather than having a dialogue, out come the accusations and threats.

I have personal experience with some of this. After I returned from Iraq, I was involved in several organizations working to put a stop to this illegal, immoral, and unjust war. I gave talks & speeches and participated in rallies & protests. Quite a few times, there were so-called “counter-protesters” who screamed–literally screamed–vulgarities, slurs, and threats at me. I particularly resented being called a traitor, as I had given 20 years of my life to military service, and deployed to a war that I didn’t believe in because I felt duty bound to do so. [An aside: I find it interesting, too, the hypocrisy of having been told one must always support one's president in time of war, until the president comes Obama.]

We also have to acknowledge the debt we owe to Fox News in having contributed to the erosion of civility. This is not simply because I dislike Fox News–although I do. Rupert Murdoch and his crony Roger Ailes make no secret of their conservative, pro-business bias, and their willingness to do anything to advance their beliefs. Now this in itself may or may not be a bad thing (although I still have this antiquated notion that news reporting should be as objective as possible, not biased). The problem is that Murdoch and Ailes have a long record of willingness to engage in distortions and outright lies to advance these beliefs. This was of course aided and abetted by the conservative Ronald Reagan who did away with “the fairness doctrine,” which from 1949 until 1988 required news broadcasts to be balanced in their reporting (another antiquated notion that an intelligent electorate could make up its own mind if given all the facts). Anyone who believes that Fox News is truly “fair and balanced” is remaining willfully ignorant of the facts. Murdoch made his fortune in sensationalist, tabloid news; it’s what he knows, and is what he uses.

Of course I can’t say that there is any one person at Fox News who openly advocates violence against “liberals”. However, by continuing to feed people’s negative emotions, by continually telling them that the people who disagree with them want to destroy their homes, their families, and their lives, such reporters, anchors, and pundits become part of this larger problem. While one cannot say that Glenn Beck or Sean Hannity encouraged a specific act of violence, their over-the-top rhetoric and demonization of others creates an environment where violence can happen. Sad but true: people can be pushed to behave in anti-social ways. It was none other than Hermann Goering, Luftwaffe Reichsmarschall, who said, “Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”

One of my professors in graduate school always asked the question, “who does this benefit?” The beneficiaries of the hyperbole-driven, intolerant, violent-laced rhetoric are those who seek to maintain the economic and political status quo. Economically, the United States has seen a decrease in the standard of living over the past 30 years, where the earnings of middle-class and working-class Americans have stagnated or fallen, and the wealth of the top 10% has risen. Additionally, corporations have been granted the same rights as human beings, even though corporations are political entities, some of which possess wealth in excess of many countries. Only a person living in a fantasy world would imagine that the American economy is a level playing field for all participants; the game is rigged in favor of the wealthy and powerful corporations. Politically, the divide within the American people along this arbitrary left-right, liberal-conservative spectrum serves to ensure that the majority of Americans spend more time questioning the sanity and patriotism of other Americans than they do pay attention to the laws and policies that continually erode their lives. The phrase “divide and conquer” comes to mind (see the Goering quote above).

One of the ironies in all of this is that there actually seems to me to be broad areas where so-called liberals and conservatives actually agree. For example, the rise of the “Tea Party” over the past couple of years shows the anger that many Americans feel towards their government. I and many of my friends on the left completely agree with this anger. The problem is that the justifiable anger becomes co-opted into a political movement which ultimately supports the interests of big business, as well as the political status quo. The American people, naturally, lose out.

So what’s the answer? I don’t know. There is an inertia that has built up over 30+ years that’s going to be hard to resist. However, I do have faith in the American people. I believe that most Americans are honest, hard-working, tolerant, and fair-minded, no matter what label one puts on them. I believe that most Americans are perfectly capable of setting aside bias in order to engage in meaningful discussions that can reach common ground. But this is going to have to happen at the grass-roots level; we cannot expect our political, social, or business leaders to bring this about. For my part, even though I’m still somewhat prone to anger (one of those things that war does to you), I try very hard to respond to those who attacked me with calm, reason, understanding, and compassion. I always hope that I will be accorded the same respect, of course; ultimately, it’s all I can do.

Finally feeling better–knock on wood!

I was sitting here at the computer thinking, “It feels like it’s been several weeks since I began feeling crummy.” Then I realized that it has been several weeks. It’s hard to tell, of course, whether or not this ‘condition’ is really going dormant for a while or if it’s simply re-energizing for another go. For now, though, I’ll be an optimist and believe the latter.

I started writing a piece about chronic illness which goes a little deeper into what I’ve been thinking regarding this ongoing cycle of feeling better/feeling worse. I’ll try to get that up in the next day or so. Suffice to say that I’ve been thinking about the tightrope walk between struggling against a chronic illness and finding a level of acceptance regarding the influence it has on one’s life. At least I have the luxury of having a quality-of-life threatening condition, not a life-threatening one.

So, today I cleaned up the kitchen, re-assembled our LARGE birdcage, which we’re going to use outdoors for our screechy little friends (my secret hope is that it will humble Terrance enough to lower the screech rate for a few days), and printed out the readings that I need to go over for my psychology coursework. Actually, in writing this I’m procrastinating on the latter, but I believe we all should practice our gifts (one of mine being procrastinating, in case that wasn’t clear).

Pollen!

Anne, Mary, and I spent the previous two days on the inside of hospitals. Mary had an allergic reaction, probably to tree pollen, Tuesday evening, so we made a flying trip to the Emerson emergency room. We’d given her Benedryl before we left, and the doctor there gave her more, plus some other antihistamines. A visit to Mary’s doctor today garnered us a prescription for an epi-pen, plus a referral to an allergist. My own suspicion is that her reaction was brought on by an overload of pollen; she and Anne had gone for a walk at Great Meadows a little earlier, and quite a few things were in bloom. Mary’s only had one prior reaction like this, over ten years ago, so I wonder the extent to which she allergic to a single type of pollen. Numerous blooming plants in a concentrated area could have overwhelmed her system. But, I’m an English teacher, no a doctor, so we’ll get her to an allergist & find out what’s going on.

Jamaica Plain VA Hospital

Yesterday was my turn, although it was a scheduled visit to the VA hospital. I have a hiatl hernia of the stomach/esophagus, and I want to see whether surgery might correct it. So yesterday was an endoscopic exam of my esophagus, stomach, and small intestine to see what’s what. Of course the first thing I did was to go to the wrong hospital, so when I finally figured out where I was supposed to be I got bumped back an hour. The whole procedure took two hours, which wasn’t bad for me since I was unconscious most of the time, but poor Anne & Mary had to spend their time in the waiting room. And, since it’s the VA, of course the TV has Fox on: my poor family.

I still have several projects that I have to get done in the next couple of days. Tomorrow morning is going to be devoted to getting the Yearbook taken care of–I need to get a mailing printed & out, and get the final supplement from last year done. After that, either tomorrow or Saturday, I have to finish the brake line on the Toyota. The Jetta goes into the shop next week to get the bumper fixed (someone hit it), so we’ll need the beater to get around. Once I get those done, then there are several other projects waiting, but we’ll take it one at a time.

More later.

“This is the way the summer begins…

not with a bang but a whimper.”  (With apologies to T.S. Eliot)

I’ve never run a marathon, and don’t plan to in this lifetime, but I can imagine myself crawling across the finish line, gasping for air between muscle cramps and heart palpitations. That’s only a slightly overstated metaphor for my last official day of the 2010-2011 school year. What a year it was.

Over the past five years I’ve learned the value of letting go of the past. While at times rather unpleasant, this past school year wasn’t as bad as some other years. Letting things go is a skill I’m still mastering, but I’m getting better at it. Out with old, etc.

So, summer lies ahead. I’m already in my post-school slump. There’s always been a two-week transition period between the frenetic activity of the school year and the laid-back summer months. Well, actually summer weeks; by mid-August I’m gearing up for the next round. I compare it to taking the lid off a boiling pot of water: the pressure gets released and for a time the water bubbles & seethes & spill all over the stove, then it settles down. By the end of next week I should begin enjoying the slower pace.

It’s going to be a quiet summer. Money’s tight, so no trips, & not too many outings. It’s going to be good for us, though. Anne & I have been talking a lot about simplifying our life–learning to be less hectic, taking more time to read & talk, go on walks, and so on. We want to keep Mary active, but we don’t have to always be rushing to & fro, spending money that we don’t have. This summer will be a chance to reset.

I do want to write more this summer. I surprised at how little I’ve written over the past decade. It’s not as if the flood gates have opened, but it’s gotten more comfortable. I can’t imagine I have much interesting to write, but I suppose we do these things more for ourselves anyway.