Rain vs. Snow

   

Tuesday morning I walked to work-- rain coat, umbrella, Portland clogs-- in a soft but steady rain. Tuesday evening I drove home from a dinner party through tracks of fast falling snow.  Tuesday morning I woke up to the sound of rain drumming on my bedroom roof and windows. Tuesday night I went to bed in the deafening silence of a snow muffled world. Waking to a rainy day makes me want to rollover and stay in bed all morning; just lying there listening to the rain. Waking to a snowy morning makes me want to get up an hour early to avoid being late. Rain is for couches and blankets. Snow is for floors and fireplaces. Rain is a watercolor world of headlights, taillights, streetlights and buildings reflected as water washed streaks of color. Snow is a heavy pastel of thick white punctuated with the lines and dabs of the brown and black of exposed branches and bits of buildings. Rain asks you to stay home and attend to neglected projects-- pick-up, clean-up, organize. Snow asks you to come out and play. Rain is schools filled with kids kept indoors-- playtime in the gym. Snow is schools emptied by snow day-- kids playing on saucers and sleds in the park. Rain is the dark of overcast, gray and gloomy. Snow is the brilliance of reflected light, white and alive.

I can't say I have a preference. I spent many years in Oregon soaking in the rain and many more here in Michigan waking to another snowy day. I look for the things I love about both rain and snow. I've learned that weather almost always offers an opportunity to appreciate the world in a different way. Like everything else about life, sometimes I have to look for it but there's good to be found in most everything.

A Holiday State of Mind

I'm not sure I have ever, or will ever again, witness pre-holiday excitement as I am seeing it explode here in our home. Last year there was a little build up but this year, hang on to your socks, our 4 year old is unable to contain himself. It seems to have started on November 25th. Overheard on the telephone with his Grandma: When she inquired if he had a nice Thanksgiving his emphatic response was, "Thanksgiving's over! That was yesterday. It's Christmastime!" Allllrighty then.

In an effort to diffuse some of the excitement we have begun to set out some preliminaries, especially the kind that will engage him. The big Lionel train set is out and cruising along the living room floor. And Ev actually has his own little table top train set out and up next to his bed. We've even brought out the Rankin and Bass holiday staples Rudolph, Frosty, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town. It's early for all of this but I'm thinking this is probably not the time to introduce the discussion as to how the holidays have simply become an over played commercial exploitation of the American consumer in a well coordinated immersion campaign designed to boost U.S. year-end retail sales figures. Probably not this year.

For now, we'll stick with Lionel and Animagic and hope the house and all its occupants hold up 'til December 26th.

Fix Your Divot

A few years back I thought I should probably try my hand at golf. Historically I'm a pretty fair athlete and golf seemed like it would offer me years of enjoyment long after my rotator cuff, back and legs start to fail. I bought the clubs, took a few lessons, got the junior club membership.  We have a very nice country club here in my neck of the woods. A good course, inexpensive membership, no battles for tee times. Seemed like a good idea.

It took about a year for the good idea to morph into a pretty bad idea. I'm impatient, too competitive, and wholly intolerant of the necessary learning curve. I just figured it should be easy which, if you play golf, you know could not be further from the truth. So, with significantly less than 40 hours total time on my clubs they were retired to the basement down at the office. And there they stayed until my 4 year old decided he wanted to play golf. Ev has his own miniature set. I reclaimed mine from the basement and over the course of the summer we would go out in the backyard and hit soft foam balls.  I actually thought I was starting to rekindle my interest. Until this weekend.

This weekend we enjoyed unseasonably warm weather. Ever the involved Dad, Ev and I headed out back to take a few more strokes at the elusive white ball before the snow flies. That's when it happened: My second swing I shaved just a fuzz ball's worth of grass off the surface. As I began to walk away toward the ball I hear this little voice say, "Golfer's fix their divots." Next stroke I wiff the ball. "It's a club, not a bat."

I stayed with it for a few more minutes before hanging it up-- hopefully for the year. I seriously doubt our weather will hold to the point I'll be golfing here in Michigan any time before May 2012. It's just as well, too, as I'm not sure I will ever recover the confidence needed to return to the game. Not after the berating I received from my 4 year old coach. Let it snow.

Black Thursday

It's been uncountable years, certainly most of my life, since Christmas had significance other than a wannit, gemme, get-it retail event. Some Christians have been vocal in their resentment of this transformation of their high holiday into a marketing and sales extravaganza but that's where we're at: Santa trumps Jesus.

That's why I have always enjoyed Thanksgiving. No gifts, no sales, no marketing blitz. Just family and friends calling a one day time out to gather and take inventory of all the good we enjoy in this American life. Lincoln first took the advice of Sarah Josepha Hale and proclaimed the holiday in 1863 during a monstrous bloody Civil War. In spite of all the national turmoil, Lincoln recognized the value in Americans taking a day to acknowledge the wealth we have in this homeland, even in the face of an on-going crisis.

Well, so much for good intentions. In a testament to the contemporary American spirit, the heart and soul of this nation and its people, Thanksgiving has been devoured, the holiday picked clean as a holiday turkey by the American retail marketing machine. Black Friday sales now start at midnight. News sources report that many Americans now forego the traditional family dinner preferring instead to line up on a sidewalk on Thursday in order to be among the first in the door of one of the many big box retailers: Best Buy trumps Lincoln.

I find it all pretty sad. Do you want to take a day-- one day-- and spend it with family and friends to acknowledge what good fortune we have enjoyed in the year? Can you find it in you to spend a day-- one day-- perhaps serving meals to those with none?  For more and more Americans the answer is "no." They'd rather go save some bucks on an X-Box or Play Station.  The abandonment of Thanksgiving-- a day devoted to acknowledging good fortune, taking a moment to count your blessings-- all sacrificed on the altar of self-indulgent retail is an indictment of just how shallow and selfish we've become. Rememeber, you read it here first.  We'll live to see the Dollar Deal McTurkey Meal: "Just the thing for the bargain hungry holiday family on the go this Thanksgiving!" Can it really get that good??

The Worrier

I'm a worrier. The worst kind. Like a smoker who continues with their habit in spite of the risks, I continue to worry in spite of recognizing the emotional and physical cost and the fact that, statistically, the concerns that generate one's worry rarely materialize. I try to keep that in mind but find little comfort in the fact. When I have a patient who is not doing well I worry. Was it me? Was it something I did? Are they getting better? Will they get better?

It's not just me. When I ask around of colleagues they tell me the same: They are affected to a similar degree. I think a lot of docs are in healthcare because of a need to please, to do right. "Performance based esteem" in the words of psychologist Terrance Real.

At any rate, and for whatever reason, I worry about when things don't meet my expectation or that of my patient. For example, Tuesday I saw a name on the patient list for Wednesday that made me fret. I replaced the hip of this man in his 50's earlier this year. He has been frustrated by post surgical pain, weakness, and slow progress. Frankly, I too am frustrated when this occurs-- and fortunately it's infrequent. So, Tuesday I started to wonder, to worry, how is he doing?  Is he disappointed? Is he sorry he had me do his surgery? Have I injured this man? As often happens, I woke up at 4:30 Wednesday morning and lay in bed awake, resuming this agonizing dialogue in my head.

Of course, as happens 99.8% of the time, when I saw him Wednesday afternoon he was doing well. He could golf pain free where he could not golf at all just last year. He could walk without crutches or a cane where he could not in the past year or two prior.  He was still having some pain after walking about a mile but, he reported, he was continuing to make steady progress. Whew!

Like most all worries, this one turned out to be unfounded: He's doing well and he's satisfied with his surgery. And, like all worry, my concern, distraction, and loss of sleep did not affect the outcome and it did nothing to make me feel better.

Worry takes, it never gives. You should remember that. I know that and, next time-- I'll probably still worry. Dammit all anyway.

For All That I Do Not Have...

Today I am taking a moment to reflect on the things that are missing from my life:
 

                       Poverty

                       Hunger

                       Failing health

                       Exposure to the elements

                       A child in trouble

                       Loneliness

                       Fear
                       Hatred

                       Need

                       Want

I am truly grateful to be without so many things in my life that others have and do not want, have and do not choose. I hope you enjoy the same bounty in your life. And, I hope you will take a moment, at least today, to recognize your very good fortune. If you find the items on my list are missing in your life as well, you may number yourself among the most fortunate on earth.  Happy Thanksgiving

Super? Leadership

As our economy continues to struggle, the nonstop artillery fire between Republicans and Democrats obscures all efforts at peace, quiet, and common sense. Like a lot of people these days I have concerns for where we may be headed: The loss of reserves to fund Social Security, the approaching perfect storm of aging Americans, healthcare costs and inequities, the loss of meaningful employment. Each of these is a huge issue and each carries the potential for dire consequences.

Of our catalog of troubles the one issue I fear most is the loss of public minded leadership.  It seems more and more the elected are concerned only with staying elected. As ever, the way to remain that way is to surround yourself with like-minded individuals and do their bidding. This is nothing new, it's democracy. The part I fear, however, is the lack of decisions being made with the lessons of history in hand and the absence of decisions made with the intent of building from the social bottom up.  Decisions intended to procure a safe and sustainable earth and society seem to have little stock and less voice with many contemporary leaders. At a table where we need healthful foods and a well balanced diet our leadership is consumed with the fight over who gets the most candy and how do we get more.  Much of American leadership has become rude, bloated and self-absorbed—like much of the American public.

I saw a series of conservative responses to the Congressional super committees’ refusal to come up with a plan to reduce the deficit. The speakers were warning that, although the Republican members had done a good job resisting the Democrats desire to raise taxes, if they didn’t hold to the course of reduced taxes, less government, and reduced spending they would not get re-elected:

   “I will make this prediction now: If Republicans compromise with any tax increases, they will suffer the same fate. They will be out next November.

Today, ForAmerica joins with Americans for Prosperity, Citizens United, Family Research Council and Tea Party Patriots to again issue a stern warning our elected representatives: Create a budget that cuts spending, cuts the deficit and cuts the debt. Do not raise taxes. Do it now.” L. Brent Bozell III, Chairman, ForAmerica.

The U.S. political machine is well aware of American greed at large and uses this to advantage. As long as there is a steady diet for too much, our elected leadership will be safe. As long as the “haves” continue to want more the agenda can continue to focus on creating wealth rather than reducing poverty and need. 

I’m among the first to admit our country is polluted with the stench of entitlement and infected by an attitude of dependent helplessness. Nonetheless, there is a very large and very rapidly growing population of people in need of healthcare, food and shelter. These aren’t welfare bums driving Mercedes. A great many of these are our parents, grandparents, and others of their generation, people who have seen their retirement investments evaporate in the current economy. Others are people who have seen their jobs exported overseas under the banner of corporate stimulus/economic growth. Can someone tell me how we meet the needs of this growing population of people in need, many of whom have paid their dues, many of whom have spent a lifetime working toward a secure retirement, how do we provide by reducing revenues and cutting services? Cutting government waste is a critical step but it is not a free pass to ignoring our civic responsibilities to care for one another and provide basic services. Services cost money. There is nothing about the current “tax reform” movement that leads me to believe any individual, group, or corporation is going to step in and fill the void in lost services…. unless there’s another buck to be made. Genius! Let’s “privatise” social welfare.  It works so very well with health insurance.

Time to Go to Work

I woke up this morning ready to get going when I realized I start today a little later than usual. Thursday is Thanksgiving and so there are not too many people lining up to have an operation this week. So, yahoo, I have an extra hour to get stuff done!

Back in school I remember sitting there during some lecture on parasitology or something, looking out at a beautiful sunny day from inside a lecture hall and thinking, "when I'm in practice if I don't feel like going to work I'm just going to call in and re-schedule everyone." It made for a good dream but an impossible goal. I've been in practice over twenty years and I've never done it once.  The fact is, like any project that has to get done, you can do it now or you can do it later. And when others are depending on you getting it done, sooner is definitely much more considerate than later.

I won't have time until this evening but, in as much as I'm having a Thanksgiving dinner here on Thursday, I should probably heed my own advice, sit still and figure out a menu. I should probably get to the market tonight as well. After all, people are probably expecting turkey and gravy and stuffing and, well, food for Thanksgiving dinner. I really doubt my sister and family would understand my calling in Thursday to reschedule.

Service With a Smile

On a recent trip to Disneyland we stayed at the (almost complete) newly refurbished Disneyland Hotel. The trip was great fun in many ways and the accommodations were pretty nice. But there was one facet which I found of particular interest: Service.

Disney is renowned for its service. So much so they even offer instructional courses on providing service. Our hospital is one of Disney’s clients and we are subsequently in the process of becoming one of the hap-hap-happiest hospitals on earth. Yahoooo!

At Disney the one thing that stood out most about service was the fact that people said nice things even when you were not receiving anything approaching good service. For instance, when I complained it was crazy one paid to valet a car when there was no phone service for retrieval, the front desk told me, very nicely, that I would have to walk out front through the ongoing construction area to get the car and, yes, they were sorry they didn’t have a phone. And in the Tiki bar-- it was like one of those old comedies where the American makes a request of the Japanese guy who smiles, nods enthusiastically, backs away bowing subserviently, and then nothing happens. But this staff was white and spoke english!

Disneyland is not alone in this. The b.s., uh, service mantra is everywhere: "Your call is important. Please stay on the line." "Service is our first priority." "You're not just a number with us." Or how about the person who returns your credit card and says, "Thank you, Michael."-- usually after pausing for just a beat while they glance down to make sure they have the name right.  I always want to say either, "That's doctor Michael to you" or "Wow. Good job with your reading skills!" Either way, I never come away feeling like I've really established a warm and endearing bond with the business or their employee.

I don't think Disney really cuts the mustard when it comes to service training. For businesses that believe faking it is an important service skill they should go straight to a pro. Not Disney. A grown up: A high-end hooker. They look beautiful, they tell the customer exactly what they want to hear, they do exactly what the customer wants done, and they make the customer believe they're enjoying it every bit as much.  For the "service provider" it is simply a well learned and convincing performance designed to maximize revenues and establish customer loyalty. 

On second thought that’s not such a good model. I think the hooker actually meets the client's every expectation.  Few businesses are in a position to match that performance. No pun intended.

One More Thing

I don't want to seem like I'm working on the Imelda Marcos Shoe Award, but I have found one more thing to be happy about in Michigan: Boots, made in Michigan.  Just like they always have been for 120+ years.

When I was a little kid I used to get a pair of "summer boots." I don't remember too much except that they had hooks, leather soles, and I would get them at the end of the summer, presumably to break-in for the school year ahead. I'm pretty sure, however, I was no more than 5 or 6 when this transpired. If memory serves me, the trip to the Buster Brown shoe store would follow a trip to see Uncle Earl. Uncle Earl was my Mom's brother-in-law, a dentist who did more to set back pediatric dentistry in Portland, Oregon than Stalin did for free speech in Russia. Hitting, screaming, threats-- and that was the dentist! Our Mom would wait in the lobby while we squirmed, bit, and kicked. But if we survived and had not committed felonious crime in the dental chair, we went to the shoe store.

My new discovery is of Wolverine 1000 Mile Boots made in Rockford, Michigan. These babies are, to be sure, my old summer boots re-incarnate. The price is probably 40 times what my Mom paid but, boy, are they nice. If you get an urge to buy that one great pair of everyday boots for dress up or dress down, consider sending a portion of your 401K to the crew in Rockford, Michigan. It's an indulgence but it's good to keep the really good things going.

Games People Play

I contacted a friend of mine Friday evening. I wanted to discuss the current problems we face in healthcare. (Bitch session is more like it.) He said he'd call me the next evening. He said he would be busy this Friday night, playing Bridge. Bridge! He's my age.

I didn't think I knew anyone who played Bridge. It requires patience, intelligence, and a stable and durable attention span. I possess a modicum of at least one of those but fall far too short in the others. I'm not sure I know many people, of any age, who possess all those characteristics. (True story: I know an E.R. doc who had an ambulance admission to his ER the other day: An 18 year old brought in for anxiety, shortness of breath and severe headache... after playing Call of Duty, a video war game.)

Growing up last in a family with 8 kids my parents didn't spend a lot of time with us developing our gaming skills. Needless to say, I'm not a big card or board game guy.  As it turns out, however, my 4 year old son seems to have it in mind to change that. Anywhere from 2 to 4 nights a week now we spend 30 minutes or so assembling puzzles, playing UNO, or a game of Go Fish. Incredibly, I'm enjoying it. It's not Bridge but it's a start. And I'm finding there aren't many better ways to spend time with a child; time when you can actually witness the evolution of their mind, their reasoning, their understanding of competition and fair play. Even if the little bastard is beating his Dad 3 hands out of four. I LET HIM WIN. My patience and sense of fair play are coming along nicely as well.

Loving It

Speaking with a friend recently we were discussing what the most important steps were in determining one's future. Mind you, we were talking about high school and college students and not mid-life crises. Giving it a bit of thought, however, one might benefit from this discussion at any point in life.  That's because I think we really came up with a universal truth: Follow your passion.

It's an old adage and one that's probably brought more than a few dreamers, idealists, students, and drifters to a dead end.  That said, I still would argue the same: If you start by pursuing what you love, you will find yourself in an environment that will welcome you and allow you to set off on your journey. Heads up, eyes open-- watch and listen.  An engaged student may find themselves on a happy and familiar course or sent off in another direction entirely, related or not. But, paying attention, following your heart, the doors open and you move along, curious, hungry, and anxious to find what comes next. It's the very opposite of approaching life and learning as a scripted story. Thinking you have no choice, waiting for someone else to give direction, working to meet the expectations of others, hoping to have the plan placed in your hand: These paths take you nowhere. Fast.

I think a lot of adults face the same difficulty later in life. As their lives slow down and they transition to an empty nest or retirement they are fearful of what comes next. The lucky ones, however, never miss a step. They listen to their heart and find themselves moving along life's path without so much as missing a step. They remain fearless, busy, and engaged.

It's never too late. And for the person who says, "I'm not really interested in anything," try this: Make a list of 3 or 4 things you enjoyed when you were 10. Children seldom lie about what they enjoy. Dig something out of your old toy chest or pull from your old wish list. It's kind of like just letting yourself be happy for a change.

Switched at Birth

DNA testing has become one of the greatest advances in criminal science and paternity disputes. Where in years past there could be only hearsay, speculation, and circumstantial support, now one's guilt/innocence/heritage can be established with authority-- for better or for worse.

We are considering DNA testing here in our family. Serious questions have been arising over the course of the past year as to the heritage of the small boy we call our own. Crazy preferences which make no genetic sense: Grapes over gum drops, cantaloupe over candy. Our most recent case in point: this evening after dinner I went to the cookie jar, removed one scrumptious chocolate chip cherry Toll House cookie and stood in the kitchen eating in plain sight of the boy we call our own. Initially he ignored that big beautiful disc-- very unlikely given his alleged heritage. Then he noticed and asked for a cookie. Better. Then he returned it saying, "I don't need a cookie. I already had one in my lunch today." Whaaaat?? Call the lab!!

Somewhere, probably in this state, there's a kid walking around with a couple of health-food parents, driving them crazy as he begs for candy, cookies, Ding Dongs and Twinkies. I'm pretty sure we can obtain the information we need with just a simple oral swab. It won't hurt him a bit and it will certainly answer a lot of questions my wife and I are struggling to understand. And if it does turn out we're living a "switched at birth" scenario?  We won't trade him in; we like him too much. It'll just be easier to accept what we can't now understand.

Happy Song

A friend's wife recently asked me how my sister was doing. She asked in reference to my sister losing her husband about 3 years ago. I told her she was doing well but still missed her late husband. My friend's wife, responding with a sigh,  said something to the effect of, "Isn't it amazing-- all those years you live with 'em-- you could just kill 'em and then, when they're gone, you miss 'em."

After getting my lower plate back in contact with my upper I explained I didn't think my sister had that kind of relationship. I told her they actually really liked each other and enjoyed their lives together. She looked surprised, as if it weren't possible. "Really?"

I know this couple pretty well. They've been together close to 30 years and I know they've had their battles. For one reason or another they've persisted in their marriage. Unfortunately, I think I've chosen the right word: Persisted. The sad thing in the case of my friend's relationship is, although his wife's comment was facetious hyperbole, knowing them as a couple, it had the ring of truth.

I like to think my next career could be as a marriage counselor. I've been married 3 times. (It's like rehab: Who wants an addiction counselor who's never had a problem with substance abuse?) But, since I haven't hung my shingle yet, I'll be brief and leave it at this: If I felt my spouse drove me to the point where "I could just kill 'em," I would have to seriously rethink how, and with whom, I'm spending my time.  I see too many couples where the partners give every appearance of simply being stuck with each other. I realize every day can't necessarily be a hot date-- but every year should be a good one. Marriage should be a happy song, not a somber fugue. Life's too short for second best, distant thirds, or maybe laters.

Healthcare: The Right and Left Of It

I had dinner with an old medical acquaintance the other evening. Seated to my right, were together at a fund raiser for medical scholarships. He graduated a year ahead of me and our paths seldom crossed while at school. Now he is, he tells me, in family practice. Seated to my left was another doc, one I had not met previously and also a graduate of my school, also in family practice. Both docs work in low to low middle income areas of Los Angeles within just a few miles of each other. Both docs are non-white. But it is there all similarities end.

On the one hand, to my left, the doctor and his wife run a busy family medical practice in which he provides care for patients from early childhood to late-in-life elderly. Over 70% of his patients are welfare or no-pay. He works 6 days a week in order to provide care for his large and needy patient base.

On the other hand, to my right, the doctor runs a busy family practice. Frustrated with low re-imbursement and administrative hassles he has created a niche practice helping patients with weight loss and "wellness." Only cash paying patients are seen in this practice. He and a partner have 3 clinics, one of which is his sole domain. He works 3 or 4 days a week. He does not see diabetics or hypertensives or children. He sees overweight people and people interested in pursuing "wellness."

On my left I saw a physician who was obviously dedicated to his oath as a provider of services to the sick and those in need of healthcare. On my right I saw a man who was obviously interested in providing for himself and had found a clever way to accomplish that goal using his medical degree and license.

On my left I saw both the best and worst in U.S. healthcare:  A provider who is dedicated and who places the needs of the community first. His life is consumed, six days a week, working to meet the healthcare needs of his patients. For this he receives about $14 per visit almost 70% of the time. He is capable, available, and committed. At the same time he is overworked and underpaid.

On my right I saw the worst we have to offer: A provider who has elected to use his skills and station to place himself before the needs of the community, his needs before the needs of patients. He is convinced he is offering an important service and is helping hundreds of people, but it is only the population that needs rescue from their own excess. And, it is only that population which can afford to pay the cash price per visit, a price which is many times beyond a paltry $14. He bursts with pride at his comfortable hours, his high re-imbursement, and his hassle-free life.

I left that dinner amazed that one could find so much of what defines, and undermines, healthcare in the U.S. embodied in just two doctors. They sat within a few feet of one another, worked within a few miles of one another, but practiced a world apart. As JFK once said, so pointed and plain, "We can do better."

Four Amigos

Sometimes the best made plans turn out better than imagined. This weekend is a case in point.

Owing to a fundraiser I try to attend each year, I had the opportunity to introduce my little guy to Disneyland. That has been fabulous experience and a story to be told another time. The other thing that took place was a reunion I had with three old friends. It's great when you find yourself sitting and talking with people you once knew well (as a kidlet- we're talking grade-school here) and realize that you still like them. Not only is it fun, it's kind of a real confidence builder to find your personal judgement in friends has withstood the test of time.

I think as a person moves through life you can count yourself among the fortunate if you have your health. If your children are growing and showing the ability to think for themselves and care for themselves and others, your are also very fortunate. Likewise, if you have succeeded at meeting and making more friends than enemies in your busy life, you have done well. To all of that I would add being able to cherish and find joy in the oldest of one's friends is also one of life's great pleasures.

You can't live in the past but I'm always glad to discover it's not a bad place to visit. Better yet, it's great to find out the cast of characters play just as well in the present as they did in the past. For now I'm home and back to business as usual. It promises to be a busy week and I'm happy to have the joy of old friendships rekindled to keep me company.

Indulge Me

I know there are all sorts of philosophical statements that relate to the true measure of one's wealth. I also know it's politically ill-advised to discuss one's neediness when it comes to matters material. So kill me.
As I stepped back to the mirror after dressing the other morning I took a good look I saw I had missed a spot or two. I have one of those cleft chins, a dimple if you will, and it can be a real challenge-- electric or manual. In fact, as we enter the season of electric-razor-as-gift-for-him advertising perhaps I have missed an acting/modeling opportunity. I can live with my loss.

If I were among the reasonably, needlessly, recklessly wealthy, however, there are two indulgences I would want: As much as I enjoy cooking I'd like a personal chef so I could always eat healthy. I find time is the greatest impediment to eating really healthy meals. The second is a professional shave every morning. Come to think of it, I remember an old cover shoot that illustrates just what I'm talkin' about.... Tam? Any chance?

Wet Toothbrush Test

I did something this morning I haven't done for quite a while. About 48 years. I checked a toothbrush to see if it was wet.

When I was very young and had been given responsibility for brushing my own teeth my Mom used to periodically check my toothbrush to see if it was wet as a sign of compliance. The technique has very limited usefulness. Once a kid realizes what's going on it becomes a no-brainer to go in and give the toothbrush a quick bath rather than the teeth. Of course, that too is short lived as the attentive mom starts to watch the clock as well as checking for use. Such a struggle. In spite of a sometimes difficult learning curve, my toothbrushing compliance is really quite good these days. There are times when the mid-day brushing gets missed but, by and large, I'm quite faithful with my sonic brush and various flosses.

So this morning I followed the same routine as ever: I floss, I brush, I rinse, and then I spend about 15 to 20 minutes doing stretching and balance and core strengthening exercises. Frankly, there's not a whole lot of thinking going on as I move through my morning routine half asleep. But, somehow, today was different. I was thinking about an up-coming family trip and then I was thinking about a difficult case I'd had recently. I must have been distracted because, as I turned the corner toward the shower I looked at the toothbrush rack and I wasn't sure. Had I or hadn't I? There's only one way to be sure-- the brush was wet. Job done.

It's hard when you first start to lose your mind. I thought it might help me come to terms with it if I went public. So far I'm okay with what happened. Now, if I start wetting the toothbrush just to trick myself into believing I've brushed...

Such a Gift

A few days ago I saw a mother with her 40 year old son. He has severe mental impairment from birth. Nonverbal and physical deformities as well. His mother, a single woman in her late 50's or early 60's, is a saint-- an angel-- for the care and concern she provides her adult son. One week later another couple is in my office, they in their 60's, their daughter in her 30's. Again, the daughter severely impaired, non-verbal with physical and mental involvement. Again, the parents involved and fully attentive to the adult daughter who appeared obviously well cared for. Another day a mom is in with her toddler child. A healthy child, bright active and alert-- dirty, poor grooming, clothes disheveled. Fully disrespected if not disregarded.

My mother used to always tell us kids that we didn't realize what a gift it is to have good health and a good mind. She'd say it and I'd be annoyed as hell: just a guilt trip to stop me from watching TV when I should be outside playing or inside studying. Once again it turns out Mom was right. My mother would make sure our clothes were clean and we were well groomed and appropriately dressed before we headed off anywhere (other than the backyard to play in the dirt). I think Mom recognized she had a responsibility to raise good citizens and prepare us to step into a life of significance.  Neglect is just not a strong enough word for failing to recognize and cherish the gift of a healthy child. Neglect is just not a strong enough word for failing to uphold your responsibility to nurture and raise a child.

I have never seen this responsibility more clearly demonstrated than in the examples above; in the obvious commitment of parents to the care and keeping of children who will never be able to do so for themselves-- and in the obvious neglect of a child with the potential to lead the world. A healthy child is a immeasurably precious gift. To neglect that gift, a crime.

Whata We Want, Anyway?

I've been reading a couple of essays discussing the 50's in America. It was a decade that many regard with great nostalgia, even those of us who never experienced the decade. Elvis, fins and chrome, Donna Reed and Father Knows Best. It was what some people consider a time when life in America was great. Golden years when we knew who we were, what we were about, and got what we wanted.  Certainly it was a sentinel period as the US transitioned from a "primitive" labor driven society, simultaneously strengthened and compromised by the sacrifices imposed by a world war. We were becoming the society that could relax in the knowledge that we had just completed a successful international ass whoopin', one for which a large part of the globe held us in high regard. We had generated and saved billions of dollars, deferred our material gratification, and it was the decade when payment could finally came due, rewarding our collective sacrifice.  And it was all great, and it all worked, and we were all happy until events of the 60's proved we were no safer, had no more substance in our lives, and didn't really feel as great as we had imagined.  To make matters worse, by the time we closed out the decade of the sixties, every source of inspiration, every great voice calling us to move forward as a nation, to achieve greater and better things, every voice that asked us to believe and build on America's coming of age had been murdered.

Now we live in a time when the United States doesn't make much of anything any more. Well over half of our domestic product is generated within the financial industry, making something out of nothing-- and often to the detriment of the American worker. A large population of Americans are without work, others, millions of them children, live in poverty. Even more seem demoralized and completely disinterested in any productive life. Healthcare and educational opportunity are unavailable to many. The middle-class we were so happy to welcome and idolize in the '50's is shrinking away, the gap between haves and have-nots widening like a scene from the turn of the century-- think 1901.

In spite of all of that, a highly visible America remains committed to a '50's lifestyle as the pursuit of stuff carries forward. Cars and electronics and designer labels. As a nation, we remain as committed to consumerism as at any time in the '50's. Our media remains a healthy industry penetrating every aspect of our lives, expertly massaging our desire for more. If we can just get the next cool thing, check off the next item on the "I Want" list, we can continue to move forward, with strength, with purpose, with resolve... into our pathetic state of civic oblivion. Anyone for a big bold red and a cigar with that?

Thinking about this "evolution" of American society, what drove us in the fifties, what drives us today; where it was we thought we were going and where it is we think we are headed today, I am at a loss to answer that one question:  Where are we headed? Do we know? Of even more concern: Do we care?

Got The Time?

Welcome to Standard Time. I’m of two time zones: In Arizona there is no change and in Michigan we do the EST/EDT thing.  And I have to wonder: does this make any sense?

I ask that knowing full well how Daylight Savings Time was intended to assist the farmers in getting their work done during the long summer season. Kids were available and could be worked long and hard. But, first of all, what kid today isn't available to work sun up to sun down in the summertime? (Short answer: Darn few, regardless of the length of daylight.) Second, where does that extra hour of daylight come from, anyway?  On my planet, earth, sun goes up and down with the rotation of the earth. The orientation of the axis may change a bit but the RPMs remain constant. In other words, 24 hours in a day, sliced anyway you like. Stack 'em, lay 'em out, toss 'em in a pile; set 'em in the sun, put 'em in the shade, keep 'em in the dark: Count again-- 24.

So maybe we should all just agree to keep the clock on one schedule and skip the whole early or late to work, church, the airport, breakfast meeting or where ever it is we're scheduled to be next time, which will be-- I'll remind you now-- when we lose an hour. 

It Happened to Me

Wasn't it just a day or so ago I was broadcasting a warning of a vicious computer worm? One that has apparently been identified residing in US networks? An insidious creepy crawly with the capacity to invade and take control of your computer. I hope you were paying attention.

Traveling out of Michigan it would appear my computer has been attacked. I was up early and working on my laptop in the comfort of the condo's front room. Fortunately I was informed and paying attention. My swift action resulted in the worm being purged from my laptop and trashed. I'll admit, I was a bit rattled but now feel secure in my manliness, my quick wits, courage, and cool in the face of sophisticated assault.

For me, for now, it's over. But I'm still alert, watchful for the next time my computer is attacked. You'd be well advised to do the same.

More Tales From the Hog's Trough

We fell off the wagon the other night. I'm pretty sure it won't happen again.

The other night I thought it would be a good idea to return to the Ponderosa Steakhouse. That's our local buffet I've mentioned once before.  I thought Ev might enjoy it and maybe he'd eat a few calories. He's smallish-- tall and thin. We found out Wednesday he's 25th percentile so my desire to give him a variety spread in the hope of having him pack in a few calories was well intended.

To our dismay and disgust the table next to us had the same idea. One difference: The man and woman seated next to us were ginormous. Worse yet, he chose a skin tight tee which allowed full inspection of his distended belly. I'm fairly sure that just by looking at this guy full-on a trained examiner would have been able to complete half a colonoscopy... the front half.  And the Mrs. chose an equally comfortable pair of black knit pants which really showcased her bum-- an ass sufficient to allow one to print a topographically accurate bi-valved globe with enough detail for the vision impaired. The rest of the restaurant pretty much fit the same demographic: 60% obese, 89% overweight (a group in which I include myself) and about 10% normal weight for height.

The only really fun part was watching these two farm hands, each about 6 foot 18 inches and lean as a number 2 pencil, tee-shirts, skinny Wranglers (that still hung loose) and cowboy boots. These two had probably been out combining beans all day and they were hungry. Damn! They could stack their plates in heaps and fill 'em two or three times. Big glasses of water and big bowls of ice cream to top it all off.  Wow! Breathtaking gastronomic performance and the envy of many a middle aged man.

Our plus-size neighbors, unfortunately, mimicked the every move of those 2 young boys. Two, three, four plates piled high and getting so full they were limping back up to the buffet for their encores. It turned out to be more than we could take. Those low cost high fat, salt, and sugar saturated buffets are a public hazard. They're a meth house for the food addict. Effective healthcare reform will mandate a ban on buffet restaurants.

Until that day arrives-- officially, publicly, shamefully-- we're done. Seriously. I'm pretty sure. Ev? Are you listening?

Stuxnet

A recent story on NPR featured a discussion of what's known about a destructive cyberworm called Stuxnet. Officials can't tell you what Stuxnet stands for, that's top secret. The malware appears to have been created for, and succeeded at, knocking out critical components of an Iranian nuclear reactor.  Now the destructive and poorly understood little creepy crawly electronic invertebrate appears to have established residence in several U.S. computer networks as well as others around the world.

There is substantial opinion that the US may have had a hand in creating this computer bomb. Given that we're talking about something that a.) was created for an act of warfare, b.) has unrealized and terrifying potential to do harm, and c.) will now serve as a template for the spread of other such destructive devices throughout the world-- yes, odds are US "Intelligence" probably created the thing. Perhaps someday we'll all be sitting here in the dark, our laptops and desk tops reduced to paperweights and bookends.  Oh right. We'll have gone paperless and won't have any papers or books.

As for the top secret group that is responsible for this type of work, I'm thinking the US went straight to the top: A collection of high school and middle school malcontent gaming nerds. Afterall, who else has the ability to sit for 8 to 12 hours at a keyboard and screen trying to problem solve and destroy the enemy?  Hey! That's it!! Maybe we should move to have education included in the defense budget!

March of Times

Another shocking milestone in the broken road that is human aging. It struck suddenly, unexpected and penetrating deep, like a knife thrown with precision and straight to the heart: I turned to leave the restroom at the office and just happened, just happened, to catch myself in the mirror. I stopped as I reached for the door knob and froze. Reaching down to check, my worst nightmare was confirmed: I was about to leave the bathroom with my zipper undone. Oh, the indignities of age. This is not a trivial event. Trust me. I've had to sit and listen to old men telling me about their hips, their knees, their feet, all the while trying to decide if I should tell them their zipper is down. Just as often they're sitting beside their spouse of 48 years who probably figures, what the hell, he's always been a slob.

Now I've expressed my concerns on this subject previously. Never more clearly or with greater concern than the famous gas station incident this past September. This may be worse, however. Leaving your fly open calls to mind all those other things people see, like leaks, and spots, missed belt loops, and wrinkled shirts, half tucked and pocked with clumps of caked on breakfast cereal. Please, no, not yet.

The incident passed rather harmlessly. It didn't really haunt me for hours like driving off with the hose of the gas pump in the tank. I was going to be okay until I decided to be a nice guy and fill out the iPhone survey that showed up in my e-mail that evening. First question: Your age? The category I had to check: 45 - 54. The next one, the one looming on the horizon just 5 months away: 55 - 64! Talk about your milestones!!

There is no getting around it: Time marches on and aging still beats the alternative. But I'm thinking perhaps I should start a charity, The March of Times. We can get sons and daughters to start raising funds to support research directed at alleviating the pain of all the social trauma one's parents will suffer with aging. I don't care if I get old, just keep me happy 'til the end, zipped up or not. I'm going to need help.

Halloween 2011: This Just In...

A fight broke out at a home in mid-Michigan Halloween evening when a pre-teen girl would not say "trick or treat" after arriving at the door. When asked what happened the homeowner said, "I asked her, 'what do you say?' and she answered, 'candy bar.' I told her I wanted to speak to her mother who then tossed her cigarette to the curb, came to the door, and asked, 'Is there a problem?' Needless to say it went downhill from there." No arrests were made but the child was taken into the custody of Protective Services. The child's mother maintained custody of the candy.

Police say the problem is not isolated to our community. In cities and towns all over America people are sending their children out, often with minivan escorts, dressed as school age kids (sporting the occasional hat or facial smudge) and forcing them to sweep multiple neighborhoods in an effort to amass mountains of free candy, often to the benefit of a malnourished obese parent. Reports have even arrived of Trick or Treaters declining miniature candy bars, individually wrapped Lifesavers, all non-candy selections, and registering complaints about too many duplicate items being offered.

In an effort to curb the rising tide of entitlement which is cutting the heart out of Trick or Treating, an automated dispenser is being readied for Halloween 2012. In order to receive candy the Trick or Treater will have to ring the doorbell, say "trick or treat" into the speaker, and step onto to the receiving platform. The Trick or Treater will be weighed and a weight appropriate volume of candy will be dispensed. Trick or Treaters weighing in excess of 140lbs will be declined. This effort is being undertaken in the hope of restoring a modicum of good old fashioned child-like fun to the event.