Happy Halloween

Halloween is one of those days I don't know quite what to do with. As a child creating a costume was always a chore. In the basement my Mom kept a box, down behind the furnace in a location more scary than anything else about Halloween. It would be one of those occasions where I would have to recruit my brother Dan and hope he would have the interest and nerve to go down there, crawl through the storage around that oil burningbeast and pull out the Holloween decoration box. And if we succeeded in that, we would open the box to find halloween costume parts. Instead of whole costumes we would find a few masks, some with their little elastic strings attached, others without; half a skeleton outfit; half a this, a part of that. That was one of the problems of coming along number 8 after 20 years of having kids-- there were a lot of scraps that the parents didn't really feel inclined to replace or upgrade.

When the "hobo" look came into vogue I felt a sense of relief. At least I could pull that off with little more that a sick with a bundle tied to the end and a handful of coffee grounds. Before that being a ghost was an option if there happened to be a sheet that was fully ready for retirement and had no further usefulness other than having a couple of eye holes cut in.

This year Ev declared he wanted to be a cowboy, a miner, and, for the Saturday trip to the local train museum Halloween function, an engineer. I did the best I could to match the theme. It's kind of refreshing that an engineer still calls up a train hat and red bandanna rather than glasses, iPad and a pocket protector. My friend Carol tells me she has a picture of me wearing a hat like this with a friend in grade school. She can rest assured some things never change.

Stay young and Happy Halloween.

Chicken Soup for the Cold

We have officially entered chicken soup season. Tam's stuffed up. Ev's sniffin' and blowin'. It's a viral war zone, a viral Occupy Mick's Street.

Years ago I spent a few months living with the Freemans. Dan had been one of my closest friends for years and, after finishing high school early, I worked and lived in LA until it was time to head back to Oregon for college. I lived fairly independently within the household but Friday nights always joined the family for Shabbat dinner. Mrs. Freeman, bless her heart, set a beautiful table, presented mountains of food, but could take a roast chicken within moments of total cremation. Her cooking was delish but the chicken should have come with a black box warning: best taken with a full glass of water. (The Manishewitz made it all better.)

Her chicken soup, on the other hand, was a work of art. She gave me the recipe at the time and I've unfortunately lost it over time. I remember it required 2 days to properly prepare and I miss that soup just writing this. My memory may be embellishing things but I'm inclined to think not. One bowl of that and you extended your life at least a good 2 to 3 hours.

So, as the cold viruses lowered the boom in our neighborhood I decided to fight back. I'm worried about a limited success, however. The version tonight was done and on the table in considerably less than 2 hours, let alone 2 days. But that's not what has me concerned. I had to use noodles. I'm out of matzo. Take it from a doctor: If you want to get serious about cold and flu season, re-stock the matzo meal now. In the meantime, I'll hope for the best in spite of my negligence..

An old friend of mine's sister died yesterday. I never knew her but I don't think she was all that much older than us. And I don't know anything about the circumstances other than she died owing to illness.

It doesn't seem right, or even possible. How can it be one of us dies? Our generation, a generation so rebellious, irreverent, so vocal, so young-- so forever young. Weren't we supposed to be the generation that would never succumb?

Time Bomb

Everyone around me is sick. Tam has a miserable cold. My medical assistant has been sick with a cold. In the waiting room and exam rooms one can hear a viral bomb going off every minute or so in the form of a cough or sneeze. They're trying to get me. I woke up this morning as Tam was trying to find her water and an Advil Cold and Sinus on her nightstand in the dark. I lay there thinking "I'm next. Is my nose a little stuffy? Does my throat tickle?" (Why is it called a tickle in your throat when it doesn't make you laugh but, rather, annoys the heck out of you? I don't use the term but I've never met anyone giggling about a tickle in their throat.)

I don't freak out when I get sick and it's a rare day that I'll miss work due to illness but, dang, I hate having a head cold when I have to fly. I have a trip coming up and I if I'm going to get sick I wish it would just hurry up and strike.  I'm like a poor tortured prisoner, "If you're going to do it just go ahead and get it over with! I can't stand it anymore!!"

I once knew a guy who, when he got sick, had to pin the blame on an individual. He was an airline pilot. It wasn't good enough simply to be exposed to an airliner full of bugs or a crowded waiting area at the height of cold and flu season. No. He always had the need to identify a single source to his illness as in, "Bill gave me this cold." Not me. I just figure odds are I'm gonna get nailed one of these days. I just wish it would hurry up and get it over with so I can get out to Phoenix without rupturing an eardrum!

Personal Hotspot

I like to think I'm not dependent on the internet. I like to think my iPhone is just that-- a phone. I like to think I've got plenty to do to keep me busy for the next 2 years of evenings at home without having to turn on a TV set. I liked thinking that, and I did think that, until the lawn guy ran over our cable the other afternoon.  Suddenly my home page won't load. No e-mail. Flip on the tube... more nothing. Maybe the lawn guy didn't tell us about running over the cable because he's seen how people react and knows it's better just to let them work through the emotions in private. Maybe he'll tell us in a week or so as in, "Oh, hey, by the way: I don't know if you noticed or not but I hit your cable line last week."

When I upgraded my iPhone a few weeks back I opted for the remote wireless option, a feature on the iPhone called the "Personal Hotspot." At first encounter I thought the name was pure hyperbole. After all, I've been in love with my personal hotspot for years, it's wireless, used for communication, and way more fun than even an iPhone.

Having my internet severed has cast a whole new light on my iPhone and its personal hotspot. As much as I hate to admit it, Apple's version has been of more use in the last 24 hours. As for all those projects I have to keep me busy for the next 2 years worth of cable free evenings? Maybe. But only if my hotspot fails me.

Good Fortune

Kels sent me an e-mail the other day. It was a "BTW my account says I still owe $1245. I think it's for my meal plan and it's due by the 31st."  As much as some parents gripe and complain about school expenses, we're a lucky bunch, those with kids who want to be in school. With all the expenses we face, all the options available to draw down one's bank account, there is no better way to spend your money, no greater success, than to usher on the success of your kid who has stayed the course and found her way forward. (Well, a new pair of boots might rate a close second.)

The way my measly investments are performing she may well have to pay it forward and finance my room and board in a nursing home some day. With prices what they are for long term care you would think they would at least throw in a class or two. Maybe offer a graduate degree after 4 years of residence? Hmm...that might be something to work on. In the meantime, I need to start convincing my daughter there is no greater success than providing for one's elderly Dad.

Perfection

Monday evening I walked home from a hospital board meeting. I stepped out of the hospital and into the most beautiful evening-- cloudless blue sky and the sun still a few inches above the horizon. The wind was blowing and the lacy gold and yellow patchwork that remains in the trees moved in a botanical dance both striking and sensuous. And in that breeze one could smell all the good of the year that is winding down. In the glow of that setting sun I could recall all the warmth of the summer just past-- it's friends and family and travels and enjoyment.

Maybe it's my work or maybe it's my age but when I step into such an environment I get terribly sentimental. I have to wonder: Is everyone paying attention? Can everyone find the richness in this moment? Do we all know how good it is to be out here in our comfortable lives? Can we all look forward to more?

I don't know the answers for anyone other than me. For me it was a perfect moment at the end of a good day at the far end of the year. I hope for many more and I promise: I'll be paying attention.