Giving

My wife, Muri, and I could hardly be called philanthropists, but we do our best to support charities.  We have been most fortunate in our lives and it only seems right.  Muri mostly takes care of the medical research organizations like the American Cancer Society and the American Diabetes Association.  We usually support research in areas that have affected us, our family and friends.  Monthly, she donates to one or two of our causes, using a rotation formula only she knows.  I donate monthly to several causes and donate, mostly online, to causes as the urge strikes me.   In addition to medical causes, I donate to animal causes like the ASPCA and Humane society and to environmental causes like the Sierra Club.   And political contributions.   I never made political donations until 2020, when Trump was threatening to get four more years.   I donated to anti-Trump organizations like The Lincoln Project, to the Democratic Party and to critical democratic candidates, quite generously for a mostly non-political guy.

Married, Fifty-Four Years

My lovely wife, the love of my life, is fast asleep in our bed.  There is an anniversary card for me on the table next to me.  When she wakes tomorrow, I will have left for Best Friends Animal Society to help care for rescued cats.  I will have left a card for her.  It will be our 54th wedding anniversary.  Cards can’t possibly describe how much we love each other, but still we search the greeting card rack for ones that come close.  We won’t be buying any expensive gifts but we have tickets to see Singin’ in the Rain, the musical at the Hale Theater, then reservations for dinner at an Italian restaurant we like.   It is a simple way to celebrate the most important thing in our life.

When we lived in California, we had a sign over our bedroom door … it said Grow Old with Me, the Best is Yet to Be.  We’ve never put it up in our home in Utah.   The things we’ve dealt with since we got here … cancer, COVID, arthritis, and gradual decline we’ve both experience as we move through our seventies … made hanging it seem dishonest.  But here is the thing.  There is no place else I would rather be than by the side of Muriel Steingard Reed and I know she feels the same way about me.   She is the love of my life and travelling this path together makes the difficult times easier and the good times, well, maybe the best of times.  So maybe the sign is right after all.

Playing Favorites 6/24/2022

It has been 5 weeks since my birthday.   It was a wonderful birthday … followed by what can best be described as a shit-storm.   Sorry if my choice of words offends you.   On the evening of my birthday, our son texted me with some legal issues he needed help with.  Never good.  The next day, my daughter told me they are moving to Texas, which is really hard to take, since to my recollection their promise not to leave Utah was one of the reasons we moved here.  The sense of betrayal that brings has been keeping me awake nights.  Then, we both came down with COVID.   A trip last weekend to Virginia to attend the Bar Mitvah of the son of our dearest friends left us exhausted but probably kept me sane.   It was a joyful occasion but seeing them surrounded by their kids and grandkids was also a reminder that ours would be moving away.  So, the last time I posted Playing Favorites, the song of the day was the saddest song I know, Shattered by Linda Ronstadt.

Memorial Day

This is has become my traditional Memorial Day Post.  I think it captures the spirit intended for the holiday.

I have traveled the political spectrum from fairly far left to fairly far right and back toward the middle in my seventy-six years.   But as I traveled that broad spectrum, I think I’ve always been a patriot in the sense that I love my country dearly and believe for any faults it may have, it is unique in the world.   When I was protesting the war and voting for George McGovern, I believed My Country Right or Wrong, but not America – Love It or Leave It or America, Fix It or &%$* It.  Every Memorial Day, I get to think back on my decision to seek a deferment from the draft based upon my employment in the defense industry, a decision that might lead some to question my claim of patriotism.   I won’t deny that my motivation wasn’t entirely selfless but I’d offer that some of the systems I helped develop for keeping track of Soviet submarines during the dark days of the Cold War contributed substantially to our National Defense.  Just watch The Hunt for Red October.  Still, sometimes I feel a little guilt that others served in my place.   At seventy-seven, I simultaneously abhor the realities of war (brought to us in gruesome detail by modern media) and resign myself to its necessity in what is, more than ever, a dangerous world.   Some of our military excursions have been essential, others have turned out to be unwise.  Both fall at the feet of our leaders, those of us that elect them and, sadly, those that don’t bother to vote.

Happy Thanksgiving

I got up this morning determined to post something for Thanksgiving,   I considered reviewing this year, then reflecting on the many things I’m grateful for.  But I am afraid that reviewing this year like no other would drown the spirit of the day.   SO.  I’ll simply say this … I am a lucky and thankful old codger.   And I want to wish everyone … EVERYONE … a happy and safe Thanksgiving Day.

Gratitude Under Pressure

Twenty years ago, the Love of My Life was diagnosed with breast cancer.  The tumor was small and could be removed with a lumpectomy (although it took two tries to get it all).  She was treated with radiation and hormone therapy and regular mammograms, and in spite of a few false alarms, she remained cancer-free.   It seemed to be common knowledge that if you made it through 15 years without recurrence you were home free and we began to believe it.  Fortunately my wife, Muri, was conscientious about annual mammograms because last month, she had a callback for something suspicious.  What a shock.  If you have ever been down this road that no one wants to travel, you know it can be a maddening series of hopes and disappointment.  You hope that the ultrasound will show that its nothing to worry about.  Then you hope the biopsy will show it’s not cancer and then that its small and you caught it early.  Then you hope its a good cancer and not a bad cancer, a notion that would be ludicrous if it weren’t so true.   The specific characteristics of the cancer significantly affect the prognosis and course of treatment.  It can be a process that sucks the gratitude right out of you.

Memorial Day 2020

This is has become my traditional Memorial Day Post.  I think it captures the spirit intended for the holiday.

I have traveled the political spectrum from fairly far left to fairly far right and back toward the middle in my seventy-six years.   But as I traveled that broad spectrum, I think I’ve always been a patriot in the sense that I love my country dearly and believe for any faults it may have, it is unique in the world.   When I was protesting the war and voting for George McGovern, I believed My Country Right or Wrong, but not America – Love It or Leave It or America, Fix It or &%$* It.  Every Memorial Day, I get to think back on my decision to seek a deferment from the draft based upon my employment in the defense industry, a decision that might lead some to question my claim of patriotism.   I won’t deny that my motivation wasn’t entirely selfless but I’d offer that some of the systems I helped develop for keeping track of Soviet submarines during the dark days of the Cold War contributed substantially to our National Defense.  Just watch The Hunt for Red October.  Still, sometimes I feel a little guilt that others served in my place.   At seventy-six, I simultaneously abhor the realities of war (brought to us in gruesome detail by modern media) and resign myself to its necessity in what is, more than ever, a dangerous world.   Some of our military excursions have been essential, others have turned out to be unwise.  Both fall at the feet of our leaders, those of us that elect them and, sadly, those that don’t bother to vote.

What To Do

In case you don’t know, as we get older we become more attached to our routines. In case you are new here, I am 75 … and VERY attached to my routines. Since we moved to Utah in December many of our routines have been shattered, in particular those connected to particular places and particular people. Now this, this being the COVID-2 pandemic and whatever degree of shelter in place (in my opinion a really dumb terminology) you see as prudent. Ours is probably not as strict as the most rabid would advise but it keeps us in the house much more than we are used to, particularly since we decided to limit our visits to the grocery stores. I had been using the stores to get my steps in each day when it’s cold (and almost all Utah days feel cold to this former Californian), so now I’m bundling up and walking outside. It’s actually better to be in the fresh air. But I get stir crazy being in the house and stir crazy leads to boredom and, for me, boredom leads to mild depression and depression leads to loss of interest in things I enjoy. Ouch. So it’s important for me to be conscientious in finding things to do. Here are a few that help me stay sane.

Thanksgiving #75

My 75th Thanksgiving finds us living in our daughters house in Utah, waiting for our new house nearby to be finished. It has been a long week. The buyers of our California house were slow in signing certain documents, making us concerned that they’d back out. As a result, escrow is 5 days late and counting. We are assured that the delay is a bank issue but I will feel better when the deal is done. Some $&@#(& in a Honda rear ended me on the 15 Freeway in Vegas then left the scene, leaving me to drive a damaged but drivable vehicle the rest the way to Utah. My daughter will undergo extensive … expensive … surgery after the holidays with a long recovery. So, Thanksgiving at 75. Can I not be in the mood?

Thanks

Last night on Erev Thanksgiving, I was looking through my posts from past Thanksgivings. After 9 years of on again off again blogging, I need to check the past before charging off on a new idea that might turn out to be an old one. For a number of years, I’ve featured a gratitude video I made back in 2011, photos of the many things I’m grateful for set to Louis Armstrong’s beautiful version Beautiful World. As such things do these days, it made me verklempt. As one ages, the good things in one’s past seem more and more precious. This is the video.

Seven years doesn’t seem like a long time at seventy four, but there are so many photos I’d add today but I am away from home with my grandkids, so that is not an option. Since made that video, my grandkids have grown and moved to Utah, we’ve sold our little house in the desert, and my business has gone into hibernation. There have been illnesses among family and friends, some with recovery and some not. we said goodbye to two cats we loved and adopted a handsome rescue named Claude. My wife and I have more aches and pains, but watching our contemporaries, we feel fortunate. Our small cadre of friends and family are more precious than ever. We celebrated fifty years of marriage and I love my wife more than ever. We have some big decisions to make that are making us crazy but they are decisions we are lucky to have at our disposal. So … I remain a grateful old coot. Sometimes the gratitude is a feeling that swells up inside me and brings tears to my eyes. Other times, it’s an action, assuming an attitude of gratitude that reminds me that even when I’m feeling down, I’m a lucky man. Isn’t that what Thinksgiving is about?

From Oldereyes