(This is from a note Grandpa sent yesterday.)
Just finished watching HBO piece on Vince Lombardi. It reminded me when we were watching the final game of the NFL season Dec 31, 1967 at the Sandfield home on Wentwood in Dallas. The Cowboys were leading the Packers 17-14. The Packers were at the Cowboys goal line but tried twice to put it over without success. With seconds remaining on 4th down Bart Starr put the ball over on a quarterback sneak. As he did, I yelled, "Yea!" at the top of my voice. The room fell quiet; I had forgotten I was in a room of Cowboy fans and my hosts.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
A Point of view
(Keith rescued this entry from 'draft' status. It was originally created in 2009.)
Last night Yvette and I watched a movie. Afterward I turned the tube off and as I often do, said, "Let's talk." It's a way for her to talk about anything that comes to mind; it can be our children, the women who help take care of us, the next ballet program, or about how we met.
Last night Yvette and I watched a movie. Afterward I turned the tube off and as I often do, said, "Let's talk." It's a way for her to talk about anything that comes to mind; it can be our children, the women who help take care of us, the next ballet program, or about how we met.
We talked for a while and then I told her," I've been sweating. I need to shower. I stink." She sniffed me, then shrugged her shoulders, "I thought all men smelled that way."
Beaver County Times: Doc from area wonders about air
Gino Piroli has been corresponding with Grandpa and wrote an article about him. Check it out...
Beaver County Times: Doc from area wonders about air
Beaver County Times: Doc from area wonders about air
Monday, November 8, 2010
Your new (old) blogger
I’m Dr. Dan Jackson, your new resident blogger. Let me tell you about myself.
I was born 92 years ago in Aliquippa, Pennsylvania, a small steel mill town on the Ohio River. I went to school at Geneva College, then to St. Louis University Medical School where I got my degree in 1941.
After that it was an internship at the Allegheny Hospital in Pittsburgh, three and a half years in the Army, mostly in the South Pacific, and residencies at Cleveland City Hospital and the Veteran’s Administration Hospital in New Orleans.
Our family moved to Houston on June 30, 1949 where the Texas Medical Center was just beginning to take shape. I opened my practice of internal medicine in a small office at the corner of Rosalie and San Jacinto across from the old Methodist Hospital. I moved to the Medical Center in 1954.
In 1976 I was delighted to be joined by my son Dr. Richard Jackson; we named our new organization, Associates in Medicine. Shortly after that we moved to the Scurlock Towers where the group has grown to its present size. It has a fine reputation for outstanding medical care.
I retired in 1995. I spend my time playing bridge, writing, reading, and watching birds and squirrels in my back yard.
I was born 92 years ago in Aliquippa, Pennsylvania, a small steel mill town on the Ohio River. I went to school at Geneva College, then to St. Louis University Medical School where I got my degree in 1941.
After that it was an internship at the Allegheny Hospital in Pittsburgh, three and a half years in the Army, mostly in the South Pacific, and residencies at Cleveland City Hospital and the Veteran’s Administration Hospital in New Orleans.
Our family moved to Houston on June 30, 1949 where the Texas Medical Center was just beginning to take shape. I opened my practice of internal medicine in a small office at the corner of Rosalie and San Jacinto across from the old Methodist Hospital. I moved to the Medical Center in 1954.
In 1976 I was delighted to be joined by my son Dr. Richard Jackson; we named our new organization, Associates in Medicine. Shortly after that we moved to the Scurlock Towers where the group has grown to its present size. It has a fine reputation for outstanding medical care.
I retired in 1995. I spend my time playing bridge, writing, reading, and watching birds and squirrels in my back yard.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Readin' and writin'
When I was a student at Highland Elementary school in Aliquippa, one of my teachers was Ms Crawford, a tall, vivacious red-head. She taught us how to open new school books---hold the book with its spine on the desk and gradually strip the covers and pages away on each side till the pages and covers lie flat on the desk. And she said, "Light should come from the left on the book you are reading or on the paper where you are writing."
We did not question her wisdom; we were so excited to learn to read and write that we did as we were told.
About four years ago, I wrote a short story about my time at Highland and the business of making sure which side the light came from. Evy and I made a trip to Rosston, where the family lived when she was born and to Aliquippa where we had rounded out our elementary education. By then, of course, Highland was only a weed-filled lot. Still, the question about the importance of having light come from the left remained.
This morning, eighty four years after Ms Crawford and Highland, I got my answer. After breakfast, I began the crossword puzzle in the morning paper; light came from the window at my right. As I wrote (right-handed), there was an annoying shadow on the paper. I asked Lucy to turn the ceiling light on. The light went on in my head,too: WHEN THE LIGHT COMES FROM THE RIGHT, THERE IS A SHADOW ON THE PAPER MADE BY MY HAND AND PENCIL. That shadow makes it hard for me to see what I'm writing. So simple.
More new questions: why did it take me eighty four years to figure that out? And did the explanation for writing hold true for reading as Ms Crawford taught us? And what would left-handed children do?
We did not question her wisdom; we were so excited to learn to read and write that we did as we were told.
About four years ago, I wrote a short story about my time at Highland and the business of making sure which side the light came from. Evy and I made a trip to Rosston, where the family lived when she was born and to Aliquippa where we had rounded out our elementary education. By then, of course, Highland was only a weed-filled lot. Still, the question about the importance of having light come from the left remained.
This morning, eighty four years after Ms Crawford and Highland, I got my answer. After breakfast, I began the crossword puzzle in the morning paper; light came from the window at my right. As I wrote (right-handed), there was an annoying shadow on the paper. I asked Lucy to turn the ceiling light on. The light went on in my head,too: WHEN THE LIGHT COMES FROM THE RIGHT, THERE IS A SHADOW ON THE PAPER MADE BY MY HAND AND PENCIL. That shadow makes it hard for me to see what I'm writing. So simple.
More new questions: why did it take me eighty four years to figure that out? And did the explanation for writing hold true for reading as Ms Crawford taught us? And what would left-handed children do?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Brief encounter
Today I went to the 2nd Michael E. DeBakey lecture. The speaker was a charming Egyptian who does research in London, has been knighted for his work and also works to help certain African groups in their struggle to better themselves.He spoke about heart disease and its treatment with implanting a pump to help the heart pump better. It was more than that---dealing at a microscopic level, at a cellular level; in terms that I knew nothing about.
Before the talk began (the place was full) Mrs DeBakey came in; Rob introduced her to the speaker, then to most of us in the front rows, including me..
When the session was over, I remained seated till every one was streaming out. Mrs. DeBakey came over to me. She speaks with an accent (German), which made my understanding her much more difficult. When she asked me where I lived, I told her about our moving to Houston in '49 and how much her husband had done for Methodist, Baylor, the Medical Center, Houston, the field of medicine,and on and on. I said I was present when medical history driven by her husband was being made and I considered it a honor to watch.She thanked me.
Before the talk began (the place was full) Mrs DeBakey came in; Rob introduced her to the speaker, then to most of us in the front rows, including me..
When the session was over, I remained seated till every one was streaming out. Mrs. DeBakey came over to me. She speaks with an accent (German), which made my understanding her much more difficult. When she asked me where I lived, I told her about our moving to Houston in '49 and how much her husband had done for Methodist, Baylor, the Medical Center, Houston, the field of medicine,and on and on. I said I was present when medical history driven by her husband was being made and I considered it a honor to watch.She thanked me.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Memorial for Irv
Irv was my best friend. We first met when he, Sherry, and Karen visited us shortly after they moved to Houston in 1957.
That visit had an element of who was going to be the big dog in our relationship. Somehow, we got around to talking about anorexia nervosa. That was the kind of problem that a child psychiatrist would take care of; that was Irv’s specialty. So I asked him, “Have you seen the latest about anorexia nervosa in the Proceedings of the Mayo Clinic? ”
He paused and admitted, “No, I haven’t.”
I dashed back to my study, found the article, and showed it to him. The game had started. Score: Dan--one, Irv--zero.
That didn’t faze Irv: in fact, we developed a genuine friendship. When I saw all the books he read, all the magazines he subscribed to, all the journals piled up on his coffee table, all the meetings he attended, all the countries he visited, I surrendered. No contest.
Our friendship was nourished by the closeness of Yvette and Sherry. They talked every day by phone. Sometimes twice a day, week after week, month after month. Finally Irv asked, “What do they talk about? “
I shrugged my shoulders, “Beats me.”
Then came the two-for-one phase of our lives. Houston’s restaurants offered coupons giving two meals for the price of one. The four of us were children of the Great Depression, so we attacked the offer of 2 for 1 with gusto. The downside was that most of the restaurants were one star or less. No matter, we filled our stomachs and at ½ price. If the food wasn’t good, the price was.
At about that time Irv and Yvette went on diets to combat their coronary artery disease. Result; fish, vegetables, fresh vegetables, more fish, and more vegetables. But we were saving money and eating healthy.
Then came the event that literally changed my life. Irv heard that Paul Gittings Jr of the portrait photography studio was giving a 10-week course on photography. Irv invited me to go with him every Wednesday night for 10 weeks.
I had been mildly interested in the camera since I had been bar mitzvah. Most of you don’t know that many years ago Eastman Kodak gave every Jewish boy a box camera when he reached his 13th birthday. Clever marketing: the lucky boy got a camera but had to buy film, then pay for having it processed and printed- a gold mine for Kodak. The course by Gittings reawakened my interest in photography and ever since has been important in adding life to my years.
Irv and I often spent Saturday mornings doing nature photography. I photographed flowers and leaves; Irv took pictures of me as I photographed.
Irv was a profound source of advice for me. I knew he was wise about life and helping people. Through the years when I called him, no matter the time of day or a weekday or weekend, he made himself available. When I called, he would respond, “Come over.” He was never judgmental; he gave me solutions to perplexing problems. I knew I could trust him. And he enjoyed advising me about problems that he and I shared as aging males and good friends.
In a way I could never repay him for what he did for me. I tried laughing at his sense of humor; well, I really didn’t laugh, I groaned. And it wasn’t humor; it was puns, awful puns.
For his birthday I invited Irv to our house for lunch. We talked, ate a bowl of hearty soup, sipped red wine, and ate chocolate birthday cake. We agreed we still had all our marbles. As I dropped him off at his house, he glanced at his watch. He noted that he had stayed longer than usual. He asked, “What shall I tell Sherry?”
I suggested “Tell her we’ve been talking about her.” He thanked me profusely. Hey, what are friends for?
Who will I send emails to, who will I invite for lunch and conversation? Who will I sing Happy Birthday to? Who will I forward sexy e-mails to? Who will I talk to about my problems?
Irv, I do miss you.
That visit had an element of who was going to be the big dog in our relationship. Somehow, we got around to talking about anorexia nervosa. That was the kind of problem that a child psychiatrist would take care of; that was Irv’s specialty. So I asked him, “Have you seen the latest about anorexia nervosa in the Proceedings of the Mayo Clinic? ”
He paused and admitted, “No, I haven’t.”
I dashed back to my study, found the article, and showed it to him. The game had started. Score: Dan--one, Irv--zero.
That didn’t faze Irv: in fact, we developed a genuine friendship. When I saw all the books he read, all the magazines he subscribed to, all the journals piled up on his coffee table, all the meetings he attended, all the countries he visited, I surrendered. No contest.
Our friendship was nourished by the closeness of Yvette and Sherry. They talked every day by phone. Sometimes twice a day, week after week, month after month. Finally Irv asked, “What do they talk about? “
I shrugged my shoulders, “Beats me.”
Then came the two-for-one phase of our lives. Houston’s restaurants offered coupons giving two meals for the price of one. The four of us were children of the Great Depression, so we attacked the offer of 2 for 1 with gusto. The downside was that most of the restaurants were one star or less. No matter, we filled our stomachs and at ½ price. If the food wasn’t good, the price was.
At about that time Irv and Yvette went on diets to combat their coronary artery disease. Result; fish, vegetables, fresh vegetables, more fish, and more vegetables. But we were saving money and eating healthy.
Then came the event that literally changed my life. Irv heard that Paul Gittings Jr of the portrait photography studio was giving a 10-week course on photography. Irv invited me to go with him every Wednesday night for 10 weeks.
I had been mildly interested in the camera since I had been bar mitzvah. Most of you don’t know that many years ago Eastman Kodak gave every Jewish boy a box camera when he reached his 13th birthday. Clever marketing: the lucky boy got a camera but had to buy film, then pay for having it processed and printed- a gold mine for Kodak. The course by Gittings reawakened my interest in photography and ever since has been important in adding life to my years.
Irv and I often spent Saturday mornings doing nature photography. I photographed flowers and leaves; Irv took pictures of me as I photographed.
Irv was a profound source of advice for me. I knew he was wise about life and helping people. Through the years when I called him, no matter the time of day or a weekday or weekend, he made himself available. When I called, he would respond, “Come over.” He was never judgmental; he gave me solutions to perplexing problems. I knew I could trust him. And he enjoyed advising me about problems that he and I shared as aging males and good friends.
In a way I could never repay him for what he did for me. I tried laughing at his sense of humor; well, I really didn’t laugh, I groaned. And it wasn’t humor; it was puns, awful puns.
For his birthday I invited Irv to our house for lunch. We talked, ate a bowl of hearty soup, sipped red wine, and ate chocolate birthday cake. We agreed we still had all our marbles. As I dropped him off at his house, he glanced at his watch. He noted that he had stayed longer than usual. He asked, “What shall I tell Sherry?”
I suggested “Tell her we’ve been talking about her.” He thanked me profusely. Hey, what are friends for?
Who will I send emails to, who will I invite for lunch and conversation? Who will I sing Happy Birthday to? Who will I forward sexy e-mails to? Who will I talk to about my problems?
Irv, I do miss you.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
On the Dummy Line - with NEW lyrics
(posting by Keith)
For those of us who travelled any distance by car with Dan and Yvette, the song "On the Dummy Line" is well known. We've memorized three or four verses about Farmer Jones, my girl in Mobile, and some other characters. It gives us a warm and familiar feeling when we hear it or sing it. Somehow Rachael and I were talking about the song and we thought we should do some research to see if we could find more verses. Success! Rachael found a bunch. They are shown below for your pleasure, but I have to make a suggestion. I've found that they just don't work very well when read silently in my head. They were about eight times funnier when Rachael was reading them out loud to me. So I suggest printing this posting and finding a willing family member to share the fun of reading them aloud. I should also mention that some of them are rated PG, maybe even PG13.
Special thanks to Rachael for assembling the list.
On the dummy line,
On the dummy line,
Rain or shine
I'll pay my fine
Rain or shine
I'll pay my fine
Ridin' ridin' ridin' on the dummy, dummy line.
I saw a snail
Go whizzing past;
The guy beside me said,
"This train is fast!"
Said I, "Old man,
That might be true,
But the question is,
What's it fast compared to?"
I said to the brakeman,
"Can't you speed up a bit?"
Said he, "You can walk
If you don't like it."
Said I, "Mr. Brakeman,
I'd like to take your dare,
But the folks don't expect me
Til the train gets there."
There was a doctor
By the name of Beck
He fell in the well
And he broke his neck;
It served him right,
As you may own;
He should attend the sick
And leave the well alone!
Farmer Jones,
He went out in a boat,
The boat turned over,
And we threw him a rope;
Said Farmer Jones,
"Well, I can't swim,
But I'll be drowned first
Afore I'll be roped in!"
A little boy
On his way home from school
Saw a dollar bill
At the foot of a mule;
He stooped right down
Just as sly as a fox,
You can see him at the hospital
Till seven o'clock.
I once had a girlfriend
Down in Mobile,
She had a face
Like a lemon peel.
She had a wart
At the end of her chin;
She said it was a dimple,
But a dimple turns in!
Little Willy was a good Boy Scout
He gouged his sister's eyeballs out.
When his mother said, "Willy, stop,'
He jumped on them to make them pop.
Little Willy at a passing gent
threw a bag of wet cement.
Then Willy said, "when you dry
you're sure to be a real hard guy."
Little Willy was full of gore
he nailed his sister to the door.
Said Willy's mother, in a voice so faint:
"Willy, please -- you'll scratch the paint!"
Little Willy found some dynamite,
couldn't understand it quite.
Curiosity never pays –
it rained Willy seven days!
Little Willie Jones fell down the elevator
There they found him six months later
They held their noses and said, "Gee, whiz,
What a spoiled child our little Willie is."
I looked out my window so early one morn
There was a tramp who was munching the lawn
I said "My good man, if you're after a snack
The grass is much longer around the back."
I called on my girl, her name was Miss Brown
She was having a shower and couldn't come down
I said "Slip on something, you'd better be quick"
She slipped on the soap and, my word, she was quick
Mary the milkmaid was milking the cow
The trouble with Mary, she didn't know how
The farmer came out and he gave her the sack
So she turned the cow over and poured the milk back
I woke up in the morning and spied upon the wall,
The bedbugs and the roaches were having a game of ball,
The score was 19-20, the roaches were ahead,
The bedbugs hit a homerun and knocked me out of bed.
the other day i saw a bear
a great big bear oh way up there
he looked at me, i looked at him
he sized up me, i sized up him
he said to me, "why don't you run?
i see you ain't got any gun"
and so i ran away from there
and right behind me was that bear
ahead of me there was a tree
a great big tree oh lucky me
and so i jumped into the air
and missed that branch oh way up there
now don't you fret and don't you frown
i caught that branch on the way back down
the moral of my story is
don't talk to bears in tennis shoes
Little Willy coming home from school
Spied a half a dollar at the foot of a mule
Stooped down to pick it up, quiet as a mouse
Funeral tomorrow at little Willy's house!
Little birdie in the sky
Dropped some whitewash in my eye
Says I to me; says me to I
"I'm sure glad that cows can't fly!"
There was a boy by the name of Jack
Pitched his tent on a railroad track
Midnight express came around the bend
What kind of flowers did you send?
There once was a hunter, his name was O'Hare
He was chased by a grizzly bear
The people all thought he was out of his mind
Running down the street with a bear behind!
There was an old witch by the name of Nan
Who tried to pass as a good humor man
Couldn't fool the kids, they all stayed home -
They would not buy from an ice cream crone.
For those of us who travelled any distance by car with Dan and Yvette, the song "On the Dummy Line" is well known. We've memorized three or four verses about Farmer Jones, my girl in Mobile, and some other characters. It gives us a warm and familiar feeling when we hear it or sing it. Somehow Rachael and I were talking about the song and we thought we should do some research to see if we could find more verses. Success! Rachael found a bunch. They are shown below for your pleasure, but I have to make a suggestion. I've found that they just don't work very well when read silently in my head. They were about eight times funnier when Rachael was reading them out loud to me. So I suggest printing this posting and finding a willing family member to share the fun of reading them aloud. I should also mention that some of them are rated PG, maybe even PG13.
Special thanks to Rachael for assembling the list.
On the dummy line,
On the dummy line,
Rain or shine
I'll pay my fine
Rain or shine
I'll pay my fine
Ridin' ridin' ridin' on the dummy, dummy line.
I saw a snail
Go whizzing past;
The guy beside me said,
"This train is fast!"
Said I, "Old man,
That might be true,
But the question is,
What's it fast compared to?"
I said to the brakeman,
"Can't you speed up a bit?"
Said he, "You can walk
If you don't like it."
Said I, "Mr. Brakeman,
I'd like to take your dare,
But the folks don't expect me
Til the train gets there."
There was a doctor
By the name of Beck
He fell in the well
And he broke his neck;
It served him right,
As you may own;
He should attend the sick
And leave the well alone!
Farmer Jones,
He went out in a boat,
The boat turned over,
And we threw him a rope;
Said Farmer Jones,
"Well, I can't swim,
But I'll be drowned first
Afore I'll be roped in!"
A little boy
On his way home from school
Saw a dollar bill
At the foot of a mule;
He stooped right down
Just as sly as a fox,
You can see him at the hospital
Till seven o'clock.
I once had a girlfriend
Down in Mobile,
She had a face
Like a lemon peel.
She had a wart
At the end of her chin;
She said it was a dimple,
But a dimple turns in!
Little Willy was a good Boy Scout
He gouged his sister's eyeballs out.
When his mother said, "Willy, stop,'
He jumped on them to make them pop.
Little Willy at a passing gent
threw a bag of wet cement.
Then Willy said, "when you dry
you're sure to be a real hard guy."
Little Willy was full of gore
he nailed his sister to the door.
Said Willy's mother, in a voice so faint:
"Willy, please -- you'll scratch the paint!"
Little Willy found some dynamite,
couldn't understand it quite.
Curiosity never pays –
it rained Willy seven days!
Little Willie Jones fell down the elevator
There they found him six months later
They held their noses and said, "Gee, whiz,
What a spoiled child our little Willie is."
I looked out my window so early one morn
There was a tramp who was munching the lawn
I said "My good man, if you're after a snack
The grass is much longer around the back."
I called on my girl, her name was Miss Brown
She was having a shower and couldn't come down
I said "Slip on something, you'd better be quick"
She slipped on the soap and, my word, she was quick
Mary the milkmaid was milking the cow
The trouble with Mary, she didn't know how
The farmer came out and he gave her the sack
So she turned the cow over and poured the milk back
I woke up in the morning and spied upon the wall,
The bedbugs and the roaches were having a game of ball,
The score was 19-20, the roaches were ahead,
The bedbugs hit a homerun and knocked me out of bed.
the other day i saw a bear
a great big bear oh way up there
he looked at me, i looked at him
he sized up me, i sized up him
he said to me, "why don't you run?
i see you ain't got any gun"
and so i ran away from there
and right behind me was that bear
ahead of me there was a tree
a great big tree oh lucky me
and so i jumped into the air
and missed that branch oh way up there
now don't you fret and don't you frown
i caught that branch on the way back down
the moral of my story is
don't talk to bears in tennis shoes
Little Willy coming home from school
Spied a half a dollar at the foot of a mule
Stooped down to pick it up, quiet as a mouse
Funeral tomorrow at little Willy's house!
Little birdie in the sky
Dropped some whitewash in my eye
Says I to me; says me to I
"I'm sure glad that cows can't fly!"
There was a boy by the name of Jack
Pitched his tent on a railroad track
Midnight express came around the bend
What kind of flowers did you send?
There once was a hunter, his name was O'Hare
He was chased by a grizzly bear
The people all thought he was out of his mind
Running down the street with a bear behind!
There was an old witch by the name of Nan
Who tried to pass as a good humor man
Couldn't fool the kids, they all stayed home -
They would not buy from an ice cream crone.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Short story of my life
When I finished high school, Dad asked me about my plans.
I said, “I want to be a veterinarian.”
He said, “Why not be a real doctor?”
“I said, ‘OK’.” I went to college and medical school.
After my internship, I joined the Army medical corps. I served in the South Pacific as a general medical officer and a dermatologist and as an anesthetist with the 58th Evac Hospital. When I returned home, I knew I wanted more medical training. The experience as an anesthetist had been so interesting that I applied for a residency in anesthesiology. I was accepted at Charity Hospital in New Orleans, probably the best residency program in the States.
When Dad asked me what I was going to do now that I was home from the army, I said I was going to be an anesthesiologist. He said, “You ought to be a heart doctor and take care of people.” I said I would.
I canceled the residency in anesthesiology, took residencies in chest and medicine, and eventually became an internist.
Now, about fifteen years after I’ve retired from the practice of medicine, I’ve been thinking: What would my life have been as a veterinarian? What would my life have been if I had become an anesthesiologist?
Interesting questions.
I said, “I want to be a veterinarian.”
He said, “Why not be a real doctor?”
“I said, ‘OK’.” I went to college and medical school.
After my internship, I joined the Army medical corps. I served in the South Pacific as a general medical officer and a dermatologist and as an anesthetist with the 58th Evac Hospital. When I returned home, I knew I wanted more medical training. The experience as an anesthetist had been so interesting that I applied for a residency in anesthesiology. I was accepted at Charity Hospital in New Orleans, probably the best residency program in the States.
When Dad asked me what I was going to do now that I was home from the army, I said I was going to be an anesthesiologist. He said, “You ought to be a heart doctor and take care of people.” I said I would.
I canceled the residency in anesthesiology, took residencies in chest and medicine, and eventually became an internist.
Now, about fifteen years after I’ve retired from the practice of medicine, I’ve been thinking: What would my life have been as a veterinarian? What would my life have been if I had become an anesthesiologist?
Interesting questions.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Recalling musical history
My friend Joan and I were talking music. Somehow we got around to the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. I flashed to an incident that occurred about 50 years ago: Fredell Lack was performing that piece with the Houston symphony. They were near the end when Fredell stopped, the orchestra stopped, and Fredell, knowing they were not playing together, gave the conductor and orchestra instructions where to start again. This time they ended together.
Wondering if my memory was playing tricks on me, I wrote to Fredell who was a friend of many years. Here is her response:
"It was a nice surprise to hear from you.....Your memory serves you right. That concert you remembered that I played with the Houston Symphony and with Leopold Stokowski was a nightmare for me.The maestro got lost, the orchestra stopped playing, and I was playing alone. I suggested to his Imperial Highness that we return to the beginning of the last movement, and this time the orchestra followed ME. He was furious, and refused to bow with me. It's a famous story.
Fondly, Fredell and Ralph"
Wondering if my memory was playing tricks on me, I wrote to Fredell who was a friend of many years. Here is her response:
"It was a nice surprise to hear from you.....Your memory serves you right. That concert you remembered that I played with the Houston Symphony and with Leopold Stokowski was a nightmare for me.The maestro got lost, the orchestra stopped playing, and I was playing alone. I suggested to his Imperial Highness that we return to the beginning of the last movement, and this time the orchestra followed ME. He was furious, and refused to bow with me. It's a famous story.
Fondly, Fredell and Ralph"
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Day
So, another year rolls by and what have you done? Just drive me batty with all those awful, weird images. What is there to life? Just more of the same. Is it worth it? It's a question that keeps me awake, torments me, gets under my skin, makes my head spin, my stomache churn, my bowels rumble. "Relief", I cry, but there is none. No one hears, no one answers; am I to bear the taunts of my neighbors who call me Dr. Sisyphus? Dogs snap at me; cats claw at my legs, and crows fly overhead to drop pebbles on my bare scalp. (Ha, and your empty promise to send me two Light my Fire caps; they're probably still in Sweden lost in a snowstorm). But I digress.
So, you are now 43. That's my waist measurement, so at long last you caught up to me. Fat (sorry) chance; I have moved the large fridge into my study so I won't have to make the long trek to the kitchen to get badly need nourishment to sustain me during the long nights. And days. They never end.
Oh, I almost forgot, Happy Birthday! and thanks for making my life full of interesting faces and places and relations and relatives and memories. And thanks for your patience, endless patience, And your encouragement and your love---and your successes, and your Egg stories. You make ME happy, I am profoundly grateful.
Love you dearly.
Have a great day.
Have lots of great days , Keith
Gpa
So, you are now 43. That's my waist measurement, so at long last you caught up to me. Fat (sorry) chance; I have moved the large fridge into my study so I won't have to make the long trek to the kitchen to get badly need nourishment to sustain me during the long nights. And days. They never end.
Oh, I almost forgot, Happy Birthday! and thanks for making my life full of interesting faces and places and relations and relatives and memories. And thanks for your patience, endless patience, And your encouragement and your love---and your successes, and your Egg stories. You make ME happy, I am profoundly grateful.
Love you dearly.
Have a great day.
Have lots of great days , Keith
Gpa
Friday, January 29, 2010
Sharing joy
I am going through old slides; tonight they are about Bry when he was 15 months. In his high chair he was beautiful---cheeks full of baby fat, big wondering eyes, alert, curious. Several took my breath away, I just had to show them to Yvette, but her room is quiet.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Missing Gma
My therapist says, "You're fine."
My depression is better; my loneliness is unchanged. When Lucy is here, we talk and if not, at least I hear some one doing the dishes, running the sweeper, making my bed, making the noises of a housekeeper. When she is gone, my loneliness sets in; TV helps little, I tire of reading, I avoided snacking which only makes me more aware of my expanding middle. Nothing works.
Today's visit to Robert's party was a perfect example of what's going on. It was noisy as usual; when Gram was with me, she would stand next to me, chat with me, comment on the decor, the food, the attendees, so I didn't have to feel alone because I was unable to have a conversation with anyone else because of my hearing. Today, without her, the loneliness was double-bad.
I've started my campaign to make things better. I arranged for a bridge game every Thurs with Wilma. That with a game every Fri with Joan (Pleason) will help. And perhaps another weekly game will help. There is always the realization that I will always miss Gram no matter what, that I will always be lonely.
Stay tuned.
My depression is better; my loneliness is unchanged. When Lucy is here, we talk and if not, at least I hear some one doing the dishes, running the sweeper, making my bed, making the noises of a housekeeper. When she is gone, my loneliness sets in; TV helps little, I tire of reading, I avoided snacking which only makes me more aware of my expanding middle. Nothing works.
Today's visit to Robert's party was a perfect example of what's going on. It was noisy as usual; when Gram was with me, she would stand next to me, chat with me, comment on the decor, the food, the attendees, so I didn't have to feel alone because I was unable to have a conversation with anyone else because of my hearing. Today, without her, the loneliness was double-bad.
I've started my campaign to make things better. I arranged for a bridge game every Thurs with Wilma. That with a game every Fri with Joan (Pleason) will help. And perhaps another weekly game will help. There is always the realization that I will always miss Gram no matter what, that I will always be lonely.
Stay tuned.
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