5/12/2026

 Tuesday, May 12, 2026

2024 I was out of commission from the pain and immobility from polymyalgia rheumatica which would finally be diagnosed by Dr. Ryzka the next day.

2025 I was out of sorts this day.  I woke up with my right eye sore and puffy.  I entered a lot of text this morning, but managed to erase most of it by failing to update.  I was waiting to leave for Urgent Care appointments at the Eye Clinic to check on the cataract replacement and with the Gold Clinic for possible cellulitis on my left leg.

2025 The first group of Afrikaners arrived in the United States after Donald Trump granted refugee status to the white minority group, who Trump said faced a "genocide" in the South African farm attacks. The government of South Africa rejected the claims. 

In bed at 9, awake at 3:30, up at 4; 0415 109/66/56 120 205.6 - 0430 120/69/59; 40/69/35.; cloudy, windy afternoon, again.

Morning meds at 7:20 a.m., half dose of Bisoprolol at 5:15 a.m.   

Looking south from our driveway, down Wakefield Court.  A photo can never capture the great beauty of the trees throughout the neighborhood, in all directions.  In the past couple of years, we have lost two aged Spruce trees, a mature service berry tree, a tree of unknown species in the back yard, and sustained damage to other trees.  We also see Hoppe and other tree service companies' truck in the neighborhood.

Text to CBG: 

Was it because you have known me for so many years, or because of our conversation yesterday morning about DNR instructions, old age choices, and Zeke Emanuel’s article in the Atlantic?  I’m wondering how it was that you knew so well two books that fit so perfectly with where I am in life now, as I would guess was clear from the excerpt from my journal/blog that I burdened you with last night.  I’ve gotten far enough into “My Friends” that the artist C. Jat has died, leaving his friend Ted forlorn.  I’m reading it, and partially listening to it, on Kindle and on almost every page there is some phrase or passage that makes me think “I should make a note of that”, and wondering whether there may be an internet site of notable quotes of Fredrik Backman.  (And it turns out there are many.)  I love his writing.  I love his characters.  I love his understanding of life’s complexities and its simplicities, and the same of death.  I love too his appreciation of the importance of friendship in life and I am most appreciative of yours.  Thanks again.

I’m thrilled you’re enjoying it — I thought you would appreciate the story, his language and his working to make sense of this life as we all work our way through. I too am most appreciative of you and of our friendship. 

Reading My Friends by Fredrik Backman.  Is it 'normal' that so much of what I read lately 'resonates' with me personally, which is to say that it's not just a story, but rather something that reminds me so much of myself or others close to me?  Yesterday, reading "And in the morning the way home gets longer and longer", and I was reminded of all thre principal characters: the grandpa, the son, and the grandson.  In My Frends, the character of the artist as a boy reminds me so vividly of myself as a kid, with a father who didn't love me, who led me to wonder whether I was really his son (just as my sister wondered whether she was really his daughter.)  The character of Joar, the artist's dear friend coverered in bruises from beatings from his father, reminded me so much of Jim R., my brother-in-law who is moved from one foster home to another throughout his childhood until he joined the Army to finally find a home of sorts, and then marrying my sister who provided him with a real home for the rest of his adult life..  In Theo of Golden, I identified of course with the bookshop owner, a Vietnam veteran.   

Christian parables and Jewish humor.  Last year on this date, I cited a passage from the Gospel of Luke 18: 9-14:

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable:  “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.  The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.

It reminds me of a favorite and classic bit of Jewish humor: 

 On Yom Kippur, the rabbi stops in the middle of the service, prostrates himself beside the bema, and cries out, "Oh, God. Before You, I am nothing!"  Saul Rosenberg, president of the temple is so moved by this demonstration of piety that he immediately throws himself to the floor beside the rabbi and cries, "Oh, God!  Before you, I am nothing!"

Then Moishe Pipuk, a tailor, jumps from his seat, prostrates himself in the aisle and cries, "Oh God! Before You, I am nothing!"

Rosenberg nudges the rabbi and whispers, "So look who thinks he's nothing."

I love the joke in part because it's such a fine example of one of the hallmarks of Jewish humor, i.e., its self-deprecating.