Monday, August 4, 2025
D+269/197/1264
1919 Rodin Museum opened in Paris
1925 US Marines left Nicaragua after a 13-year occupation
In bed by 10, awake at 5:15, and up at 5:30. 60°, high of 77°, AQI=154 Unhealthy
Meds, etc. Morning meds at 7:15.
Scattered thoughts, or scatterbrain thoughts. (1) I miss sleeping with Geri. We started sleeping in separate beds when we lived outside Saukville and I was living with a lot of serious pain, especially during nights. The pain was from lesions or ulcers in my bladder. The urine that collected in the bladder irritated (much too mild a description) the ulcers. I could minimize the pain during the day by frequent peeing, i.e., keeping the bladder as empty as I could, but at night, when I slept, my kidneys keep sending and my bladder kept collecting urine until I was awakened with very nasty pain and trundled to the bathroom for relief. I say 'when I slept,' but I didn't sleep much; I was up and down all night. That's when I started sleeping in the guest bedroom, By the time we moved to Bayside, sleeping got more complicated since we were both using CPAP devices at night. We took bedrooms next to each other, with me having the privileged bedroom with its own bathroom. The bladder ulcers remained quiet for several years but were replaced by other nasty acute and chronic arthritic, rheumatic, and other pains. Eventually, the bladder and urinary problems returned, required more surgery next Tuesday. Having my own bedroom and bathroom made great sense, for both of us. That said, I miss sleeping with Geri. I miss feeling her body and its warmth next to me. I miss hearing and feeling her breathe. I miss draping my arm over her shoulder and spooning. There are real benefits from separate bedrooms, especially as we grow old, but also real losses.
(2) On the patio last evening, I sat on my favorite cushion on my favorite patio chair, termperature 73°, wind 0 to 4 mph, no noticeable humidity, no bugs. I could barely hear bird calls but MERLIN told me that what I barely heard came from house finches, goldfinches, cardinals, chickadees, robins, a tufted titmouse, and (Tah dah!) cedar waxwings.
(3) I am reading and loving short (very short) stories by the Israeli writer Etgar Keret. On the patio, I read his 4 page Rabin's Dead. That's a mighty provocative title. The story was first published in Hebrew in 2002, about 7 years after the catastrophic assassination of Yitzhak Rabin by a fellow Israeli. The story however is not about that Rabin (or is it?), but about the traffic accident death of a cat named after him. We don't find out that Rabin is a cat until we're almost halfway through the story. Is the story about the dead cat and the fight between its owners and the driver who ran over it, or is it about the political rifts within Israel. When one of the owners is asked by a police officer why he is crying, his response is, "Who's crying, you fascist mothrfucking pig?", which surely suggests a leftish political orientation. It's when the other owner tells the driver who killed the cat that the cat's name is "Rabin," the driver slaps him, which also raises questions of political orientations. Or is the story about the role of chance in life, and of luck. The narrator says, "Everything in life is just luck. Even the original Rabin - after everyone sang the Hymn to Peace at the big rally in the Square, if instead of going down those stairs, he'd hung around a little longer, he'd still be alive. And they would have shot Peres instead. At least that's what they said on TV. And if the broad in the Square wouldn't have had that boyfriend in the army and she'd given Tiran her phone number, and we'd called Rabin Shalom, then he would have been run over anyway but at least nobody would have gotten clobbered." Explaining all that and exploring the possible meanings of the little story would take more pages than the story itself takes, which seems to be typical of Keret's stories. Few words, but lots of potential energy stored in them. And in any case, they're easy and enjoyable to read.
(4) I'm also reading stories by A. E. Coppard, most recently The Wife of Ted Wickham, a delightful story of longing, lust, disappointment.,and the love and lust of one man for the wife of another. "And what I see in her - I can't imagine. But it's a something, something in her that sways me now just as it swayed me then, and I doubt but it will sway me forever.'
(5) I looked back this morning, as I usually do, on my journal entries this date in years past, a discouraging exercise. (a) 2022: ' Feeling listless, useless, this morning. By mid-afternoon, largely a wasted day of existence . . . Semi-brain fog all day.' (b) 2023: 'I feel weighed down by our time and culture as Auden was at the start of the big war. Uncertain, afraid, waves of anger and fear obsessing our private lives. O tempora, O mores! Crimes, guns, climate change, and the 'huge imago' of Trump and Trumpism with its mass delusions looming over everything. I am reminded of the eulogy I voiced for Ray Aiken at the memorial gathering in the Grimmelsman courtroom at the law school, when I reflected on how struck I was by the singing of Precious Lord, Take My Hand at his funeral service, especially by the lyric "I am tired, I am week, I am worn. . . The older I get, the less I understand and the less able I am to cope with the changing world as 'the darkness appears, and the night draws near, and the day is past and gone.' Again this morning I am badly hobbled by back pain. Again I realize that were it not for Geri, I would not be able on my own to live in this house, or any house for that matter. I wouldn't be able to take care of Lilly and increasinly even of myself. Daunting thoughts.' (c) 2024: 'Feeling low today, brain fogged. Unable to think clearly, or write.'
Today I am not feeling low or 'subdued', though I do have tomorrow's surgery always in the back of my mind, and I'm not looking forward to it with a good feeling.
Text exchange with Sarah. Hi, Sweetie. Happy 9th Anniversary to you and Christian! I hope you’ve had a great day, though my phone tells me you’re having cool, cloudy weather. It’s a beautiful day here. Peter just left after schlepping 4 40 pound bags of water softener salt down to the basement for me and loading up the softener which was empty. I can’t hack it myself anymore. I’m having outpatient surgery tomorrow at the VA on my penis and bladder. After the last surgery on my bladder about a year and a half ago, the opening for my urethra narrowed or constricted for some reason and needs to be surgically repaired. I am of course duly dreading this. On Sunday, my old law school buddy Larry Anderson will be visiting us with his wife Jan, whom I’ve never met though we have become sort of ‘pen pals’ on Facebook bitching and moaning about Trump. I’m looking forward to meeting her in person for the first time. She’s a former assistant US attorney in Atlanta, where she and Larry met. Her father was an 8 term Democratic congressman for northeastern Georgia. I hope all is will where you are. Please give our greetings to Olga and Gerhard.❤️❤️❤️
+49 176 20023048:
All is well here. Mostly just a normal Monday workday. We are just back from a nice dinner at the Italian in Wolfratshausen (since most other restaurants are closed on Mondays). We are enjoying a 2010 port here at home before going to bed. I’m wishing you a stress free procedure this week and an enjoyable time with Larry and his wife. Please send him (them) my greetings.
Charles Clausen:
Yum, port. Still one of my favorite wines, though every time I have some I involuntarily remember one terrible night on Okinawa when I drank way too much of it and suffered for at least two days thereafter. Thanks for the words of encouragement.
Text exchange with CBG:
I hope all goes smoothly with your surgery tomorrow and your recovery goes well. I hope it’s not as bad as you think!
Thanks, Sweetie. I’ve developed a tendency to catastrophize, part of my overall tendency towards pessimism, but I’ve discovered it requires a lot of energy, indeed more than I have. It’s like any strong emotional state: we can only maintain it for so long before we run out of steam, so I’m hoping my lethargy carries me through the day tomorrow. I appreciate your remembering my date with destiny.❤️
Text exchange with LOA:
Good evening, colonel. I writing to wish you a wonderful birthday with your lovely wife and to welcome you to the 80s. Later this month I will pass the midpoint of this decade. I’m thinking back to the days when we were young bucks in our 20s, when I was fresh out of the Corps and you were fresh out of UWM and introducing me to O’Brad’s and painfully loud music. I’m grateful to have shared a long lifetime of friendship with you; it’s been a blessing. Happy Birthday and temper fi.
Larry Anderson:
Thanks Skipper. If you look on FB, you used to be able find The Shags playing “Stop and Listen “ at O’Brad’s. Lead was Ray McCall whose dad was a MU professor.
80. How the heck can I be 80?
Charles Clausen:
Ray McCall was chairman of Marquette Psychology
Department when I was a Psychology major in undergraduate school. He also led the university’s Counseling service and eventually joined the Medical school psychiatry department. Very well known guy. And I agree, how the heck can you be 80? and me about to turn 84? doesn’t seem right, does it?
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