A Charlie Brown Christmas

 

Ol Tannenbaum

 Ok, I admit, I am currently watching a Hallmark Christmas movie.  The plot is all the same, everynight, Nov. thru Dec. and even July.  I won't mention that in all those Christmas movies, Christ is seldom mentioned and even mispronounced when referring to the Holidays.  It has become generic.

I spent my high school years in the southern part of the state of Washington.  Minority of 1.5.  It was known for DB Cooper and Mt. St. Helens.  Vancouver, Washington.  you always attached Washington as most would assume that I was Canadian.  One winter, some friends of mine decided to cut down their own Christmas tree.  The National Forest was within spitting distance and for a two dollar permit, you could cut down your own tree.  

We suspect our selected trees were destined for toilet paper, as the problem is that one forest looks like any other.  In other words the National Forest is indistinguishable from Weyerhauser land.  Weyerhauser was the paper company that owned their own mountains of trees and often were responsible for those patches of bare land on the back side of the mountains.  A former beautiful landscape that looked like the barren hills of LA sprinkled with toothpicks.  Most roads were barely one lane, soaked in oil (vs asphalt) and shared with large logging trucks that ate Volkswagens for lunch.

 In a forest, all trees look alike and ironically size is hard to judge.  We should have figured that out when we had trouble tieing them down to an old Dodge Dart.  Youth sees no obstacles or common sense.  At the time, my dad and I lived in a duplex above the garage.  The driveway sloped down to a depth of a basement.  My sister was home for the holidays and was watching from the upper window.  When I propped the tree upright in the driveway, she could look straight ahead at the tip of the tree.  I had to chop off about a third off the bottom of the tree.

The other issue of a natural forest, all trees look the same, Mother Nature does not naturally shape trees to resemble the neighborhood Christmas tree lot inventory.  Christmas tree growers trim and shape specially bred trees for our holiday pleasure.  I think the natural trees of Washington and Oregon look more like mature Charley Brown trees.  I had to take the discarded bottom, take selected branches, drill holes in the trunk and insert to fill the large gaps.  Dr. Frankenstein would be proud.  

I have spent the rest of my adult life selling Christmas trees.  I worked the Lucky Market Tree lot when I worked my way through college, the YMCA tree lot for my son's Indian Guides program and the West High Entertainment Unit tree lot.  I found myself ordering, pricing and hoping we sell out.  Competition was Home Depot, the Pop Up tree lots down the street and the famed Torrance Y lot. I would personally pick and deliver trees to family friends.  Ironically we have for years decorated our house with artificial trees due to ours son's allergies and asthma.  Our latest is from Costco, including lights.

I need to get back to the Hallmark movie to see how it ended.  I have yet to see one where they don't get together, but I keep hoping.  Bahhh Humbug !!

Remembrance

 Cancer and Chemo seems distant and memories faint.  Three years is not that long ago.  I was watching a NHK program following a young lady diagnosed with breast cancer.  From diagnosis, to surgery, to chemo, radiation, then adjustment back into society.

It was interesting as it was a different path than my colon cancer, but then during one interview during her chemo treatment, I saw the look in her eyes.  That look pierced through the tv screen and hit me square on.  I recognized the look, but more than that, I felt what she was experiencing.  That chemo feeling midway through, both physically, mentally and emotionally.  Something I thought faded from my memory came rushing back.

People can sympathize, commiserate, but not fully understand.  That yeuchy feeling, dreading the next pill, next chemo infusion, next feeling of your body adjusting to the poison flowing through your veins.

But that look.  May you or your loved ones never recognize that look.

Mrs. Wada's class

I Surrender

 I have been anti Social Media for some time, but find myself being slowly sucked in.  First it my cousin Grace to view her photos posting, then it was Instagram to follow the grandkids.  This week it was because of Covid 19.  The Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival went virtual on Facebook.  I had to catch up on the ins and outs of Facebook in order to share the info.  Of course that didn't work without our live in tech support after he woke up.  Had to supply him with my precious supply of Philz coffee.

Well, I finally gave in as I open my Facebook bookmark multiple times a day.  Yes, at least two the three times a day.  My downfall?  I joined a Facebook group on the Far Side.  People post their favorite Far Side cartoons and cartoons from other artists with the same bent sense of humor.  This is one of my favorites.

Aging Scars

Nine years since bypass surgery.  Quadruple bypass (4 out of 5)

I still haven't gotten use to the scar down my chest. 

 

From Johns Hopkins Medicine

"Your doctor uses coronary artery bypass graft surgery (CABG) to treat a blockage or narrowing of one or more of the coronary arteries to restore the blood supply to your heart muscle.

Symptoms of coronary artery disease may include:

• Chest pain (check)

• Fatigue (severe tiredness) (check)

• Palpitations

• Abnormal heart rhythms

• Shortness of breath

• Swelling in the hands and feet

• Indigestion

  
  

  I remember tubes connected everywhere, machines beeping, nurses (the best!!), Sam Miyamoto's legs,  the rumble of the portable XRAY machine coming down the hall, cold XRAY plates, and constant blood draws.  You learn to just go with the flow, and let them do anything to your body, poke, cut, stitch, shave, insert, poke again.  The right leg ankle is still stiff from the artery removal.  

  
  

9 years

 Im not sure what this day is.  It is 9 years to the day that I had my heart attack.  I remember it being on a Thursday night at a West High Entertainment Board meeting.  The sharp pain on my left side below the collar bone.  A sharp, deep pain, that went away after awhile.  Then it came back about this time of the night.  It becomes a blur after that.

Is this a celebration? Anniversary? Im not sure.  Im still here, with scars too many to count both physical and mental.  Then I saw a picture the other day that put it in perspective.

Finished

 

"Japanese American National War Memorial" will be shown at the Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival on Sept. 26th.  

You can now view at:  https://vimeo.com/manage/472060471/general.  Judge Okamoto passed the day after the showing.  

Annual Ritual

 Every year I vow that I will finish my Digital Histories film on time, and for the fourth year in a row, I am late.  I even got a early start on my interviews.  But in looking at my notes, my initial concept was nowhere close to my final version.  The most frustrating part? sound.  I messed up the audio on my critical interview.  Even with all the technology of today, if you mess up on the sound, it is very difficult if not impossible to fix.

Which brings me to the usual hardware issues.  It always occurs after midnight.  This year it was a memory card that failed to read.  I had to take it apart and reassemble it in a different card.  Then I found my go to camera wouldn't load and my go to microphone is the reason for my audio problems.  I won't even get into my computer issues.  I keep saying, the 4 years of private college was worth it as I have a permanent tech support that is indentured by blood.  

My subject this year is the Japanese American National War Memorial.  The memorial honors all JA that have died in wars from WWII to Korea to Vietnam to the Middle East Conflicts.  This came about last year when I did my film on a group of the first Sanseis that meet once a month.  Quite a few were Vietnam war veterans, all were affected by the war.  The more I researched the subject, the more I found guys I know who served in Vietnam.  It is not something that comes up in normal conversation.  It hits close to home for me as I was fortunate to miss the draft.  I remember as I approached my 18th birthday, tracking the draft lottery.  President Nixon ended the draft two months before I turned 18.  I did register and was classified as 1H.  I have memories of seeing off a family friend's son off to basic training and being told by my Judo sensei that if I was drafted, to head directly to the Air Force recruiting office. This is from a man who served in the 442 in WWII.  There is something to be said about the toughness of Japanese Americans of that generation combined with the discipline of Japanese Culture.  I see it in the Korean War vets I meet and the Vietnam War vets.  But as generations become more Americanized, that toughness somehow changes.  I still haven't been able to describe it or understand it, it is more of a feeling.  

 

Those Old Guys

 Im sitting here watching a PBS channel, one of those shows where they get the old groups from a certain era.  You watch these older, overweight singers singing the songs of someone's youth.  Well, tonight was the 70's.  Tony Orlando and Dawn to be specific as the hosts.  The usual format is the camera pans the audience every so often.  You get a glimpse into those targeted audiences.  Most look like they came off of buses from the retirement village. 

So im listening to the songs of the 70's that are my youth, high school and college (the wife claims it was jr. high).  They pan to the audience and I see these old folks awkwardly moving to the music.  Then It hit me, hey, those folks are me!!!  I now see how my kids view me.  Im one of those old guys.

Waiting for Recess

As you know, Mrs. Wada's class room is in the living room and I'm camped out in the back patio.  Usually when nature calls, I am able to sneak into the house through the front door, trek just out of sight of Zoom and make to the bathroom.  It all usually goes well.

Unless the front door is locked.  I had to wait for recess to get the attention of Mrs. Wada to open the front door.  You should have visions of me holding up my hand, jumping up and down shouting "Mrs. Wada, Mrs. Wada, I need to go to the bathroom!!!!!!

Dreams

Im sitting here listening to PBS concerts in the on a Sunday night.  I keep it in the background as I frantically try to finish this years' film.  This is year four, and as usual, I am past the deadline.  (Note, the Digital Histories program films will be online on Sat. Sept.26th at 12 noon.  Films will remain on line for a few days after the initial showing)

Did I say year four?  Well I find myself making the same crucial mistakes that can ruin the film.  Sound is everything.  It is impossible to fix, and yes, I am trying to fix the audio track to a critical section of the film.

I digress, as I am listening to the concerts, it came to me that if I had a dream of what I would like to do in another life, one would be play the piano and the other, be a back up singer.  Yeah, you read that right, not the lead singer, the back up that stands in the back off to the side wearing black.  They must know how to harmonize, timing, not overshadow the lead, and add to the performance without being noticed.  Their performance is critical and adds to the song's nuances.  Now this is different than being one of the Pips or number three of the four tops.  I don't dance and don't dress in flashy superbly suits (wait, this is a dream isn't it?)  It is too bad I don't have a singing voice, sense of rhythm and too inhibited (had to look that up).

I am getting a little whacko as my peak creative hours are from 10pm to 2am.  That is why most of my posts are timestamped around 1am.  Time to get back to editing before my stage coach turns into a pumpkin.  A Johnny Cash concert in a prison is on.

Reminders

As time passes in recovery, you tend to forget about your past health issues.  Then every once in awhile something jolts you back.  Back to uncertainty,  fear and thankfulness.  Chadwick Boseman, an actor as died of Colon Cancer at the age of 43  He is famous for various roles in movies, the latest being the Black Panther.

Colon Cancer still remains in the top 5.  These are symptoms to look for.

• Any major change in bowel habits
• Blood in the stool that is either bright red, black or tarry
• Unintentional weight loss
• Stools that are narrower than usual
• Diarrhea, constipation, or feeling that the bowel does not empty completely
• General abdominal discomfort, such as frequent gas pains, bloating, fullness and/or cramps
• Constant feeling of fatigue or tiredness
• New onset anemia diagnosed on routine lab work

                                                                                                                Sarah Cannon Cancer Institute

Upon reflection, I would have to select:  all of the above.  

Studio Wada Annexation

Mrs. Wada's class has started virtually on Zoom this past week.  Therefore the house has once again transformed into Studio Wada.  Over the brief summer break of two weeks, the studio was put into storage.  But as time passed, it was evident that Studio Wada was to be resurrected once Superintendent Buetner announced that LAUSD would start the school year at home.

It became evident that modifications were needed. We tripped over the curtain tripods we had gotten used to not being there.  They once again became obstacles in the day and the darkness of night in search of a cold drink.  Did I mention that we are going through a heat wave?  Up went ceiling rods to hold up a brighter blue backdrop.  Wheels were installed on the magnetic board, the camera view and mic were tested to see if the stuff we are hiding was in view through Zoom.

Her computer with two screens and a laptop used as a off screen monitor to keep track of her twenty students (and parents) were tested.  We even hard wired the internet in to take advantage of the added speed upgrade and minimize any wifi commentary glitches.  That does not take in account the possible rolling blackouts in California.

Four weeks of summer instruction is now a minimum of 3 months.  and as if Murphy did exist, the next door neighbor started construction of their 2nd story addition.  Or should I say destruction of their house.  Bulldozer, hammering, jack hammer, etc. starts at 7:30am and lasts until 3:30 in the afternoon.  All the modifications to studio Wada are now may be for not as the noise travels freely throughout the house.

But we noticed that the youngest son's back room that has a tendency to be hotter or colder that the rest of house also is a bit quieter than the rest.  At least the noise is not as jarring and you can be heard easily.  Therefore Studio Wada expanded to sound stage 2.  The temporary curtain was set up, the old 42" tv and spare monitor set up and a older Mac mini and leftover components dug out of electronic purgatory.

In the meantime, George's work is being moved where ever there is space, up until last week it was the backyard patio.  Previously it was out front under the tree and umbrella.

Who Is That Masked Man?

I have been having dental issues lately and been visiting various dentists to address the problems.  A broken tooth too me to my dentist, then a specialist in root canals, then a oral surgeon.  If I ran into any of the Drs. or their staff on the street, I would not recognize them.

A fellow worker took me aside to ask me if I was confident in the safety of visiting a Dental Office.  My experience in all cases is that they are all taking the precautions needed to protect everyone.  Full PPE for all staff.

I walk into waiting rooms with seats blocked off, plexiglass shielding, forms specifically for Covid 19, pens that are constantly sanitized, temperature taken before entering the exam rooms,  and for necessity, I am the only one not wearing a mask.

After leaving the office, I dutifully use my hand sanitizer in my car that has been carefully hidden in a compartment away from the heat.

I always wondered how no one could figure out who the Lone Ranger was, now I know.......

Digital Age

I’m slowly catching up on using zoom.  I figured out the mute button (or space bar), how to log on (for some reason it is registered under Clare Moore), inserting a selected background (to hide my clutter) and setting up in the backyard with the laptop.   Since I am using the camera, I need to look less homeless and more presentable (minimum prep, hair semi combed) and finally,  look like I’m paying attention.

I’m writing this during one of my zoom meetings (3 today), holding the phone below the table and out of sight.  The problem with writing my notes on my phone is that there are no doodles, diagrams, or clandestine  comments.

I miss ink and paper, and as a concession to the digital age, I scan it onto my computer.  Oops, Im late to another Zoom meeting.

How Do you Know?

I just read the newly revised list of Covid19 symptoms from the CDC.

Congestion or runny nose

Cough

Diarrhea

Fatigue

Fever or Chills

Headache 

Shortness of Breath or difficulty breathing

Muscle or body aches

Nausea or vomiting

New loss of taste or smell

Sore throat

Of all the things I have been through, the doctor says im at risk not because of Bypass surgery, Cancer, Chemo, Three boys and Gayle, but because of my age.

Venice Japanese Community Center

A friend sent a link to the VJCC virtual festival celebration (VJCC.com).  It is 2 hours long, but skimming through it all, it was very well done.  I grew up there before the remodel in the 70s.  Many have heard my story of when my oldest was joining the South Bay FOR (Gardena) on how I couldn't sleep the night before as I grew up despising the FOR teams.  When it came to choosing colors for other activities I always chose black.

Venice roots run deep.  My family benefited from the many activities (not appreciated at the time) that came out of that center.  Judo, Nihongo Gakuen, VYC, CBO, church (VJFM) a block away.  Jr. high school next door, and the main method of transportation to the center was by foot, night and day.   When we moved, dad was serving as a community center VP.

Even though the VJCC looks completely different, it still feels like home.  May it live long and prosper.

Out the Door and Down the Driveway

Mrs. Wada's classroom.  She taught summer school through zoom for four weeks, three days a week, from 8am to 10:15am.  That means the voice of Mrs. Wada penetrates every corner of the house as she still does not know how to control the volume.  Im not sure how these teachers are going to conduct class this fall, as one of the requirements is that she has to see every student al all times.  Yes that means if you have 22 students, you have to see their face at all times.

Now if your know the Brady Bunch, there are 8 folks in three rows.  Even on a 27" screen, 22 squirmy kids are impossible to keep track of.  But she plugs on.

The consequence of this is my coffee habit.  In order to not disturb the class and avoid being seen by her students (yes, I make sure I am dressed appropriately, but usually not shaven and exhibiting bed head) I sneak out the front door, around the car , through the gate, and down the driveway, dodging my back yard treasures to a bench where I am storing my coffee supplies.  Grinder, kettle, pour over funnel, filters, and mugs.  I have set up outside in the backyard.

I can hear her conducting class as I grind my beans, sneak into the kitchen to fill the kettle.  I sometimes park myself in front under the umbrella to drink my coffee, and listen in on my conference calls.  It's either that or lock myself in Jordan's room with the doors closed tight.  But no matter where I am, I can still hear Mrs. Wada conducting class.

My Incubation Process

This explains my video creation process and why my video is late.

Instead of the weeds and invasive vines that took over my backyard, I decided to bite the bullet and have some guys rip it all out.  The plan now is to keep the citrus trees in pots, plant some trees and try raised bed gardening.  Part of it is to compete with my grandsons.  They are already way ahead of me in Texas.  My raised beds are still in work, I got them built and installed, but still working on the plumbing.  The only way it will work with me if I have everything on timers hooked up to drip lines.  In the mean time I have tomato plants popping up all over the yard.  It is growing wild in back of the garage and next to my old compost pile.  The cherry tomato sprung up in the front yard.  This is our bounty.  Oh well, maybe next year.  I also produced three blue berries.  Yes, three.

Gayle likes to go visit her former Sunday school student Lily Tokuyama at her store Share and Do Good in Fullerton.  And even thirty years ago, Lily towered over Gayle.  Her enthusiasm has not diminished.  

Old School

I just finished watching the JEMS Mt. Hermon video presentation.  Who would have thought the young radicals of the 70s are now old school?

Pastor Wayne gave a good message on the permanence of God in times of crisis.  I just notice his style is now considered old school, not reading directly from a script.  The difference being between the nisei was that the opening joke was missing.

Wes Terasaki looked a bit older, voice remains the same, but the songs are no longer apart of the Asian American church.  At least down in So Cal.

There is a concern about the nisei generation passing on with their stories, but now I'm worrying about our generation.  After last year's film "Buddhahead Breakfast Club" Im realizing we are facing the same issue.  Even with all our technology, we are still not documenting the stories of our generation from our perspective.  no offense to my offspring, but that generation view on life is a little scary.  And I'm reminded that I'm old.  And I agree.  But what is wrong with that?

What kicked this off?  I found out last night Rod Yee passed away in April.  He is our generation.  I hope his life story, his story of ministry and what drove him is preserved.  It would be presumptuous of me to think I am one of the few wanting to document lives.  But it is causing sleepless nights.

Miscellaneous Observations

There are a few essential things in life:
      screw drivers (you seldom use them for their intended purpose)
      duct tape (no explanation needed)
      spring clips (those large clothes pin type clamps)
      Neosporin and Tylenol (for those accidents that occur when using the items above)

The smaller the house, the more puzzle like it becomes.  As the accumulation of items increase, their storage never occurs in linear orderly fashion.  Walking through the house becomes like a halloween corn maze.

Freedom of speech is no longer tolerated, you may not like what they say (most likely offended). but at least you know what they are thinking.  Muffling their spoken words mask their unspoken thoughts.

A manager recently said that all relationships are based off of two things, love and power.  I don't see a lot of love out there.

Comedy has become self righteous.

I have never been a multi tasker.  I admit I can only do one thing at a time.  The difference being doing a lot of things not very well or only one thing not very well.

Power is seductive.

The hair I lose on top of my noggin appear randomly on other parts of my body.

The end times are often portrayed as this apocalypse type event.  It seems like it is more like the frog in the pot.  As the temperature gradually increases, the frog does not know it is slowly boiling to death.

Hazardous to Your Health

Found myself at Tokyo Central in Gardena and came across this:  Japanese TP

Pink, 2ply, 18 rolls and two holes on top to carry.

What is disturbing is the cancer warning on the back (yellow triangle).

Finally

Guess what occurred today for the first time in three months.

Newly washed barber cape for each customer, UV sanitized tools, disinfected chair, hand sanitizer upon leaving, alcohol based water spray, trimming around my mask, barber wearing her mask and I exit a few pounds lighter.  😀

Old, Grumpy and Not That Unique

Apparently Im not that unique, there seems to be a lot of us curmudgeons out there.  He has become one of my favorite cartoonists.  Not sure if he gets a lot of exposure outside of the JA community, or even within.  Neal Yamamoto in the Discover Nikkei publication

Korean Toilet Paper

On our trip to Little Tokyo on Memorial Day to take some photos at the JA National War Memorial, we took a detour to what used to be Yaohan.   I have been searching for my cousin in Ohio, for some vitamin supplements that she can no longer get.  The store is located somewhere in that shopping center, but closed due to Covid 19.  Our detour took us to the Japanese market that is apparently owned by a Korean company.   At least I assume so due to half the products are Korean.  We had a great time exploring through the display of the side dishes they serve you at the Korean tofu houses.  But for the first time in months I saw a full display of TP.

At first I thought it was like at Costco, you get excited to see pallets of what looks like TP from the distance only to find out it is paper towels.  Not wanting to use a shopping cart (in theory it limits what she can put in the basket and no, it didn't work) I trudged through the market following the wife as she wandered through the aisles with the TP in my arms and a  overloaded hand basket of groceries.  I was afraid if I put down the TP, it would somehow disappear into someone else's shopping cart.  Paper is paper, and it does get heavy not matter how pillowy soft it is.

When we got home I was able to examine my precious purchase of Korean TP (don't ask how much it cost).

30 rolls, 

3 ply DECO (wow, beats Charmin)

Embossing and Soft Touch (flowers, bees and dimples)

100% Pure and natural (never occurred to me that it could be synthetic)

 A handle to carry the TP (too late, I already squeezed the TP.)

If I knew there was a handle I might have bought two.

Trend Setters

I couldn't tell if this was a fashion statement or a companion of wearing blouses inside out.

Uh, Mrs. Wada, are those supposed to match, just like your socks....... She will kill me when she hears about this post.  😀

Background In Front

Bacon Sakatani is one of those who is always in the background.  You would typically see him running around with his camera documenting events like the Memorial day ceremony at the Japanese American National War Memorial Court in Little Tokyo.  It was last year I remember him scurrying around in the background shooting photos.  I soon met him at another event and found out he is a proud Korean War veteran.  This morning (Memorial Day 2020) I ran into him as he was bringing flowers, to take photos and send to those who could not make it.  It's those little things that makes an impact.

Social Distancing part 2

Guilty Pleasures

I have a few guilty pleasures in life. One is the daily Los Angeles Times.  I grew up reading the paper and judged all others in comparison.  It is not that I am in agreement with it's political slant, but again, it is what I grew up with.  And it needs to be the paper version, so I can sit under the tree with my coffee to read while the gardner next door uses his leaf blower.

         
The paper version of the LA Times, tied up with polyester string and bagged in yellow plastic
The daily comics in the LA Times.  Can't live without it.
       Pearls before Swine, Dilbert, Zits and of course Peanuts.
LA.  Affairs in the Sat. edition. Don't ask why, but in some ways, things don't always work out, but      
       human attraction is universal.
The Sat. Sports Cartoon by Jim Thompson
Carl Eskine, his offbeat look on life and his vulnerability that he exposes with each column.  He will
       soon enter the I miss section.
The return of the FOOD section, though Im only a casual reader of the section.

I miss
Paul Conrad, the Pulitzer Prize winning Political Cartoonist that drove my formative years along with      MAD magazine.

Rex Morgan MD, Brenda Starr and Apartment 5G

Rick O'Shay, Tumbleweeds and the original BC

Morning Briefing in the sports section.  It had returned returned recently for a brief run.

Sports Page 2: TJ Simers.  yes he was a jerk, but I loved it.

Learning at Any Age

FaceTime is a wonderful invention for those who are separated by distance.  Now im not talking about communicating with the quarantined down the block.  I remember being aware of long distance charges not that long ago.  Now we facetime over the internet with no roaming charges.  The only problem is that the camera cannot catch up to the ever moving grand children.  We get motion sickness conversing with them.

The other day I overhead a FaceTime conversation with the wife and our seven year old grandson.  They both use the same online program for school.  She teaches (or at least she is trying to develop curriculum for her kindergarten students) and he gets lessons from his teacher.  I can hear her asking questions on the features of the program and the grandson explaining in great detail how the program works.

Im not sure who I was impressed with most, my grandson for his knowledge and his ability to describe in detail the program from memory, or the initiative and drive from the wife in asking the grandson how the program is being used in order to provide better content for her students.

All I know is that Dick Tracy (Chester Gould) is somehow smiling on how we are finally catching up.

Consequences

I have to admit, after 3 years, I am starting to understand the after affects of my colon cancer.  I am still classified as one of those, a cancer survivor.  I commiserate with my fellow survivor at work.  I am more fortunate than her as she has severe side affects, but she also inspires me to go on.

I find myself feeling sore in the fingers at night more when I'm using them extensively during the day. Fix it projects and things to do list items still require manual dexterity.  The more they are used, the more the stiffness similar to what I guess arthritis sufferers feel.  Mine are from the knuckles up.

I still pace myself.  If I work longer than my allotted eight hours, im useless the rest of the night and the next day.  I recently took a day off from work, but it cancelled the purpose out as I had worked 10 hours the day before and need the day off to recover and then some.

I limit my time in the sun, I limit the length in time of projects, I take additional supplements and seem to be adding more each month.  My BP and heart meds make up a small minority in my pill box.  I do check my poop at each occurrence.  Yeah, it's a little weird, but it is to see if blood ever shows up again.  You do notice which type of food does not decompose as much in the digestive system.

But the psychological after affects are what bothers me most.  Most of which I haven't even begun to deal with.  Just starting to recognize as "issues".  The most difficult aspect of it all is determining which have always been there and which are new.  I have been finding that most of them are pre existing.  And that the new ones are by products of the pre existing ones.

Damn,  the wife was right again....

Grumpiness Justified

I  just finished watching the first episode of Hiyao Miyazaki produced by NHK on PBS.  Miyazaki is the famous Anime creator of Studio Ghibli and films such as Totoro and Porco Rosso.  There is a spot in the documentary where he admits he is grumpy and that it is part of his creativity.  He sees nothing wrong with being grumpy.  He is my hero.

I did get some validation of the creation process.  Each person is different, and each one has different methods or created environments to spur their brain on.  There are theories on this and last week I had to spend my lunch listening to someone who studied the process.  OK, I drifted off after 10 minutes.  Engineers studying physiology is not a good mix.  Among all the theories on creativity, there are just a few things that help me out.  Isolation (no surprise there) and the quiet stillness of the night.  10pm to 2am still is my peak time.

Of course that type of schedule is not sustainable while you still have a 9 to 5 job to go to.  Right now  Im contemplating creating an outside patio atmosphere during the day to try out.  My laptop, another monitor, there are already 6 in the house keeping my electric bill alive.  Do I really need more monitors or do I lug one out there each time.  Wait, I can sit under the tree in front on my adirondac chair creating my videos? Too comfortable and too difficult to climb out of due to my numerous breaks.  Plus it is just outside the window where Gayle can scream at me for help on the computer.

Under an umbrella in the back on a picnic bench?  Not enough shade, too much work to set up and too distracting looking at my two car garage packed full of stuff that will never know the presence of an automobile.

Look like the midnight hour wins and in the words of Wolfman Jack:  Let the Midnight Special, shine it's ever lovin' light on you.

I Surrender

I had dropped off of Facebook when I found pictures of my grandson posted on my website.  It was definitely one of my pictures, but I didn't post it.  Due to my ignorance of how Facebook works, I deactivated my page.  Little did I know that it is very difficult to delete your page.  Without my IT consultant, I figured out how to deactivate. The page was still there but not open to be viewed.

Little did I know that if you deactivate, you cannot get into other pages.  My cousin has been sending me notices of events and new videos on Heart Mountain.  Our parents were interned there during WWII, so it is of special interest to us.  But in order to view it on Facebook, it kept asking for my login info.

OK, I give up.  I reopened the page, deleted most information, accepted a few friend requests and put a link to this blog.  Uhhhhggg.......

On the bright side, the oldest grandson turned 7 today.  Life is measured in time, and the most obvious gauge of life is through our children and now grandchildren.  It's a little frightening that in 10 short years he will be off to college.  Apparently Pokemon is not a accurate measure of time.  It seems to have an eternal life of it's own.

When I Go

I have often wondered what I would tell my sons if I knew my time to leave this earth was known to be soon.  I have planned in my mind for a funeral that would not be conventional. Of those who know me, that shouldn't be a surprise.  These have been my thoughts

A concert of songs that meant something to me.  From Hymns to contemporary praise songs of my day (definitely not this generations' examples), to anything else.  Anything with the exception of Iz, as he has been used to excess.  I do prefer a live performance.

I remember a comedy album by Bill Cosby of his funeral where he would have a recording playing as people payed their respects at the casket.  I imagined it would be like a magic eight ball.  I would have pre recorded a series of greetings, Good to see you, you are looking well, hows your mom, Didn't I say no Hawaiian shirts?, and my favorite,  Hey, I didn't expect you to come!!  I would have Jared program it to randomly play and match the visitor like musical chairs.

Im still debating on the eulogy.  Every funeral is more or less memories of the good stuff.  How great the person was.  I don't imagine that would take a long time with me.  It would be more of he was a little strange, quirky; OK, He was a pain in the ass.

It is more of a hope that for the mistakes and misjudgments in life that affected the ones I love are forgiven.  And maybe..... I did do a few things right.

Beggars Cant be Choosy

Ok, we (or according to the wife, me) are of the age where I can take advantage of certain senior services.  I can shop at the early store hours (if I wake up in time), be scolded into not venturing out of the house (age and high risk issues), and receiving offers of TP from private stashes (really).  The city of Torrance offers delivery of groceries to seniors for $55.

Among the bounty in a large Lowes box, we found a gallon of milk (for the lactose intolerant and as a creamer for her morning coffee), a large chunk of cheese (government style issue), a large tube of ground beef (so much for my craving for a Rascals Teri Avocado burger), a carton of liquid eggs (actually not bad) and the most valuable; 4 rolls of toilet paper, individually wrapped and double ply.  Just not exactly Costco premium.  

           

Social Distancing

Time for a haircut, Im starting to look like Professor Irwin Corey.  

Barbers are not classified as essential services.

Losing It

As I have written in the past, this all seems familiar.  During six months of Chemo Therapy, I was confined to the house, wearing a mask in public, washing my hands, and practicing isolation.  OK, I admit I have practicing isolation most of my life.

Only three weeks in, I started to feel the walls close in.  Being in Jordan's old room, tied to my work laptop and cell phone, I was mentally suffocating.  When Gayle is on her zoom conferences, Im stuck in the room with only access to the bathroom.  I can easily hear her scream for help (don't tell her as I often claim ignorance) or talk with her colleagues and student's parents.  And that is with the hall and bedroom door closed.  When I get desperate, I sneak out the front door.

Gayle tends to disappear in the early morning, coming home some time later with bags of stuff.  Groceries, stuff from her classroom, Daiso, and various snacks and lunch items.  Me, I walk out the front door and pull weeds.  Yes, you have figured out that after more than three weeks I am still pulling weeds.  I have enough stress relieving work for at least another month.

I thought I would not ever miss Chemo, but at times, it was easier to cope, due to unavoidable known physical condition.  Today is avoiding some feared unknown.  Hope you are safe and well.