Life’s New Chapter – without Pam – Page 2

Iatrophobia

Fear of Doctors

Originally, I planned to write about fear in general. But that subject seemed too broad. I may take it up in multiple posts at some later time.

Cigna Healthcare defines iatrophobia as “…people [who] have such an intense fear of doctors that they are said to have a phobia of doctors. The clinical word for this is, ‘iatrophobia.’” They further define symptoms as follows:

You cancel doctor appointments or keep rescheduling them to avoid dealing with the fear; you don’t even get the preventive care and important vaccinations you may need to help stay healthy.

Instead of seeing a doctor when you’re sick, you try and self-treat.

In advance of a doctor appointment, you are unable to concentrate on anything else, lose sleep, may not eat, or cry at the thought of the upcoming appointment.

Do you have a fear of dentists, hospitals, and even sickness or illnesses? Some or all of these other types of fears are commonly combined with a fear of doctors.

Cigna Healthcare

To be fair, Cigna also states from the outset that some level of stress leading up to any type of healthcare visit is normal. Based on the symptoms listed above, I cannot definitively say that I suffer from iatrophobia. However, based on my personal experiences in the past couple years, well, let’s just say, I suffer! I found it interesting that Cigna also suggests working with a therapist to help alleviate the symptoms. Okay. I know that therapists aren’t necessarily doctors. But seriously. When you have this phobia, don’t they count?! (sorry Cynthia 😉 )

About three years ago, I finally went to the dentist due to an ongoing toothache. I hadn’t been for a few years. COVID, and caregiving were great excuses to avoid the dreaded chair. Unfortunately, this pain would no longer wait. I had a cracked tooth, presumably from clenching my jaw as I sleep. I later got a mouth guard to assuage that issue.

So I went through the process of getting a root canal and crown. It was stressful. In addition to my personal angst, Pam’s cognition was deteriorating and, as a result, I had to take her with me, leave her in the waiting room (and give instructions to the front desk assistant) while I went under the drill. But we got through it without a mental breakdown (on my part).

Forward to after Pam’s passing

About this time last year, I had a similar problem on the other end of my lower jaw. A persistent toothache. I knew the symptoms and the process. Still a result of clinching my jaw. Schedule a visit to the dentist, go for a root canal, get the crown. I can handle this. Except this time I was told that there wasn’t enough bone left for a crown and I would have to have the tooth pulled.

Instant anxiety. Another loss trauma. I broke down crying while still in the chair! And, I had to schedule with another oral surgeon to get the procedure. Unfortunately, that meant I had plenty of time to “stew” over the appointment. Mind you, I was in a fragile emotional state, dealing with losing my Pam and trying to get my health and my life on a new trajectory.

I knew I was not in a good place when I went to the appointment that day. The first thing they do when you get in the chair is take your blood pressure. Mine was extremely high. They were almost afraid to do the procedure. Take it again, similar results. And again, just a bit better. I told them that I have the anxiety and elevated blood pressure every time I see a doctor and this is extra stressful. Procedure done. Take blood pressure again. Still very high. Now they were afraid to let me get up. But, having no other symptoms, they let me go.

Over the next few days I knew that my BP was still elevated. Still no symptoms besides a feeling of high anxiety. Got a monitor. Yep, still high. Ended up at the hospital. Everything normal except BP. Long story short, I’m on BP medicine now.

I’m not sure how much of this I have already written. But I came to the realization, somewhat recently, that I was living every day in fear of dying. I’ve been afraid, to an obsessive extent, that if I eat the wrong foods, don’t exercise enough, don’t sleep well, high BP, whatever, I was going to die. It is an irrational fear, due mostly, I think, to watching my Pam deteriorate and die in front of me. It is not abnormal in those who lose a close loved one.

Forward to current events

Well, backing up for a moment. Last year my right thumb began to lock up at the joints. Movement was painful and I lost range of motion and gripping capability to the point that I could hardly hold a guitar pick. Problematic! Over time it eased, and I was able to avoid seeing a doctor.

Last November, my left thumb locked up and it’s been a problem ever since. It has impeded my ability to play guitar to the point where I stopped for days at a time. I’ve tried to work it out on my own and discussed it with family and my chiropractor. She, along with a daughter who knows of such things, suggested that I look into physical therapy.

I have an upcoming performance, the first for a bunch of people I do not know, in a public setting. I’ve been working through the pain and impediment so I can practice in preparation. I finally made the move Wednesday when my chiropractor recommended a specific physical therapy company. I went directly there. They were great and, after a quick referral from my primary care, I had an appointment for Thursday. Now I have a therapy plan and high hopes for long term recovery from tendinitis. I also found out that, at least on my left side, it may be related to issues I’ve been having with my shoulder. So much for fear of doctors.

I’m not sure if I suffer from iatrophobia. I can relate to some of the symptoms. Maybe you have similar issues. Hopefully, with recent success, increased knowledge, and recognition of the normalcy of my experiences, I can better deal with health issues and abandon the fear of eminent death.

Monday I have a teeth cleaning and PT for my thumb. Wednesday, it’s an appointment for my hearing devices and PT. If getting out there and doing it help with overcoming a phobia, I must be on the right path. Hopefully also, with life in general. I guess the moral to the story is, if you have health issues, work with the professionals.

Wandering Writings

More On Birds

Whoosh! I connected the sound.

Though all of my menagerie of feathered friends take to flight at the slightest movement or sound (except maybe the robins), departing sparrows are most noticeable simply due to their numbers. I had not recognized until this week that they make a collective sound as they depart from the bushes and ground just outside my living room window. I suppose my hearing devices pick up the whoosh better than with just my unaided hearing, but I was taken aback when I realized the soft sound was associated with their flight. Now I notice it all the time. Fun!

Goldfinches

American Goldfinches are hereby added to the menagerie. They are less noticeable in the winter when the males lose their golden color and thus blend in with the sparrows and other finches. But I was able to recognize them in the birch tree, feeding on its seed pods as they dangle, totally exposed, from the leafless branches.

Goldfinches are a treat, both visually and acoustically. Our neighborhood includes many echinacea plantings that produce a thistle-like seed pod at the center of their flowers – a favorite of the goldfinch. Goldfinches stay here the year round and I do enjoy their songs. You can listen by clicking the link above.

More On Bluebirds

One more note regarding bluebirds. Last week’s post instilled in me a desire to set My Little Bluebird to music. I listened to their songs on the link included previ ously and am attempting to emulate and include them, currently with chord progressions that I hope to put with the words. I’m thinking it’s going to take some massaging of the verse to make it work, but I look forward to creating something new and meaningful.

Ecclesiastes 1:9

What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done;
there is nothing new under the sun.
Book of Ecclesiastes, New Revised Standard Version

I think of this verse often as I ponder what to write to you about each week. I am self-aware enough to realize that my musings are simply different ways of expressing the same thoughts and feelings, observations and sensations, that humans, and maybe other animals and plants, have experienced since time began. I am self-centered and bold enough to express them anyway!

The wisdom in this verse also applies, and I think of this often also, to what’s going on in the world around us. I remember, many years ago (like back in the ’60s and ’70s) trying to impress upon my dad the tenuous times we were in. He would always respond that all which I mentioned, wars, floods, earthquakes, climate change, etc. have been with mankind since the beginning. It does not portend the end of the world.

Fifty plus years later, I think I understand and accept that he was right. Unfortunately, just because it’s nothing new, nor does our current global “situation” necessarily mean the end of mankind, nor that it has all happened before and the deeds being done repeat previous mistakes, make it easier to accept and deal with individually or collectively. When will we ever learn?! (scroll down to listen)

January Thaw

After one of the harshest beginnings to a new year, with record-breaking snow totals, January appears to be going out like a lamb here in eastern Iowa. I listened to the snowmelt dripping from the downspout each time I woke last night. I’m sure I’ll hear it again tonight as there is still plenty of snow on the roof and temperatures are predicted to remain above freezing. Additionally, we have a 100% chance of rain later today and into the night (Thursday). Rain! In January!

Add to that the dense fog that lingers all day as the humidity level stays nearly equal to the ambient temperature, a result of the melting snow. Sure beats sub-zero cold! Hopefully, February will take the hint and keep up the “nice” weather.

Still, cabin fever is setting in. But with daytime temperatures in the 30’s and maybe even 40’s next week, I am braving the weather for some outside walks. The brisk air is refreshing and still preferable to inside exercise.

The combination of cabin fever and temperate weather give me incentive to plan for travels again. Thus, I have a plan for the time around the second anniversary of Pam’s passing. Another trip to “her” bridge. Last year’s adventure was just that. You may recall I had to abandon my camping trip due to severe weather. This year, no camping. Rather I plan to visit other places along the way that I have wanted to return to.

Another trip south to visit my family, especially my Mother, around Atlanta is also in the works. Hopefully, this will become another adventure including new destinations along the way. I am also planning a special trip to celebrate a milestone birthday somewhere I can camp and hike. I’m looking into going east instead of west. No decisions yet.

January thaws are nothing new either. I am, however, happy to be looking forward to spring and summer. Happy to think of successfully making it through a second winter alone. Barring any unforeseen calamities, it appears that I will. And this winter will have been a much better one than its predecessor.

May the rest of your winter be healthy and hopeful.

Birds

A pair of Cardinals has been nesting somewhere nearby for several years now. They mate for life. They warm my heart for several reasons. They are beautiful, regal birds. The male’s bright red color, complete with pointed tuft, exudes confidence and power. He is first to the cardinal feeder, approaching cautiously, peering out from one of the surrounding trees before swooping out to perch on the tray filled with Safflower. The Mrs., though less conspicuously brown with red highlights, matches her mate in majesty with the same tufted head and powerful profile.

When I wake early enough, I see them in the dawning light, half hiding as in shadow so as not to be seen and somehow in danger. Always cautious, the slightest movement, either from the outside, or if I am seen through my window, puts them to flight. They repeat the pattern at dusk. I find myself keeping open my blinds in hopes of catching a glimpse in the fading light after sunset. Sometimes, and it seems especially on these cold, snowy days, they come out during the day. Mr. Cardinal prefers the feeder, Mrs. Cardinal, the ground (or snow currently) where seeds have been kicked off the feeder ledge, mostly by the many messy sparrows that ‘grace’ our feeders every day – all day.

Pam’s Mother loved cardinals. Thus, do her children and grandchildren. One of them gave us a Metalbird tree ornament that now protrudes from the Birch tree outside my living room window near the feeders. Since her passing several years ago, the prevailing thought is that somehow the presence of a cardinal indicates her spirit visiting among us, usually at times of want or need. I don’t know about that, but they are no less a reminder of our loved ones (I now include Pam) whenever they appear. That is special!

Cardinals are by no means the only birds to visit the feeders my neighbor and I have hanging on shepherd’s hooks between our houses. Most numerous and pesky are the sparrows. I’ve counted upwards of forty fluttering balls of brown and white feverishly attacking every type of feeder and the spillage on the ground around them. They remind me of coots on a lake swimming along the shore in hoards, hoping for some tasty marine morsels. Or bluegill in a pond, lurking along the edges and milling just under the surface in the deeps, always hungry; ready to snatch the bait or tied flies I cast in hopes of bass or trout.

Fewer in number, and not quite as pesky, are the house finches. Their size and shape are similar to sparrows. But their colorings make me think that at some point there must have been some hanky panky between some cardinals and sparrows. I like them, though, I guess for their colorings as much as anything.

Chickadees are so much fun. They flit about like cardinals, always cautious, always aware. Often arriving in pairs, they first settle in the trees then dart over to the cardinal feeder, take one seed, then return to a branch, pecking at it between their toes to break the shell and enjoy the meat inside. Then off again to the feeder and back. But never returning to the same branch. Their lighthearted appearance lifts mine as I watch.

I also like the juncos. They are typically ground feeders that seem to be around more in the winter months. They are easy to spot against the snowy blanket and dine on the buffet created by sparrows spilling their fare from the feeders above.

Many years ago, in another town, outside another window, I had two woodpecker feeders among several others. I delighted in attracting several species from downy and hairy, to flickers and pileated. Once in a great while a true red-headed woodpecker would grace me with its presence. So far, since hanging the feeder here, my only patron has been the downy. But I keep hoping.

Just recently, a pair of blue jays found their way back to the area after a very long absence. Though they are bullies, they are beautiful so I like seeing them around.

There are many other birds I listen and look for when I am walking through the woods or along the waterways. Of course the eagles and hawks enthrall me still. But now the one I wish most to see is the Bluebird. They are somewhat rare around here, migrating from the south to breed. I’ve always enjoyed seeing their bright blue plumage. Now this species means so much more to me. The bluebird on my mantel reminds me also of the beauty of the person I once knew as my wife. This could be the makings of a song (or at least a poem). Oh, wait. It already is.

My Little Bluebird

Born of a Cardinal and a stone
She never wanted to be alone
Much too soon she flew away
The world will never be the same
She was my little Bluebird

    My little Bluebird You flew away
    Could you not stay for another day
    With broken wing and a heart of gold
    We never had the chance to grow old

A lovely bird kept my feet on the ground
Her arms around me, so comfortably bound
As one together, yet free to be
Our love of each other let us see
She was my little Bluebird

    My little Bluebird you flew away
    Could you not stay for another day
    With broken wing and a heart of gold
    We never had the chance to grow old

Now you live on in my heart and mind
A new life I now must find
Without you I feel so alone
But for you I will make it on my own
You are my little Bluebird

    My little Bluebird You flew away
    Could you not stay for another day
    With broken wing and a heart of gold
    We never had the chance to grow old

You gave my life meaning
Yet we didn’t understand
Why you were losing yours
Why am I keeping mine?
I go on for you my little Bluebird

    My little Bluebird You flew away
    Could you not stay for another day
    With broken wing and a heart of gold
    We never had the chance to grow old

(c)

No Travel Plans – I Am Home!

Every week I hope to conjure up some new, interesting topic to write about. Something other than exposing my life and psyche for all the world to see. Once in a while I am successful. The task, however, is made more difficult by shying away from politics and religion. Maybe some day. Meanwhile, I continue to share my inner thoughts and feelings in hopes that the reading is worthwhile and maybe will touch someone in a positive, healing way.

For the first time since Pam’s passing nearly 20 months ago, I have no travel plans. No holidays, no projects out of town, no weekend visits. I have no planned trips to Atlanta (yet), or vacations to plan for. Nor do I have any camping or backpacking trips planned. Though I think about that often. I did, however, book my first gig for February. But it’s here, within a mile from home.

I am home. I sit in my easy chair and look around while I’m on the phone or reading. I’ve been in the music studio a few times since the year began. I view the other end of the large family room to see another sitting area along with my rowing machine. And while I am rowing, I see my studio (funny how that works 😉 )

My home is transformed. Much of the furniture is the same. Some a bit rearranged. Many pictures and mementos on the walls and shelves are as they have been for years. Some have been replaced with ones I found in storage.

I have many reminders of my amazing Pam¹. Her Bluebird on the mantel. Pictures of us from our early years together. Always we are close together, always smiling – for real! Sometimes I still buy daisies and alstroemeria, placed in an Isabel Bloom vase on the dining room table. Based in the Quad Cities, their decorative concrete sculptures were integral with Pam’s growing up there. I have many figurines depicting angels, animals, and various holiday representations. I enjoy seeing them around the house. Happy reminders of Pam’s happy things.

As I look, I see that home is now mine. Though I sleep in the same bed, I am beneath different covers. Different towels, mats, and curtains adorn my ensuite. Dishes, tools, and gadgets are organized for my sole use in the kitchen. And from my chair I scan the living and dining rooms to find that they now reflect me, rather than “we”.

Now when I look I have memories. Not forgetting all we had together, nor how we lost it. But not so much constantly reliving the painful times. Beginning to reflectively smile at the good times. I am becoming comfortable at home.

As I navigate through my new life, I am constantly aware – possibly more now than before – of what an amazing human being Pam was. Of course, no one is perfect. But seemingly, her entire being was of love and giving. Always seeing good in people, with the possible exception of herself. Kind. Gentle. Humble. Caring. Loving. Devoted. Sweet. Naive? I am humbled by having been loved by this wonderful woman and by my fortune in knowing her and loving her so intensely. It is truly better to have loved…!

Lost And Found In The Music

Happy holidays to you all! And an honest hope for a happy, healthy, and peaceful 2024!

I woke up Christmas morning with the realization that I had, in deed, been anxious about the coming holiday. I thought I was done with this level of anxiety subsequent to my recent travels and family events. Not so. I didn’t understand why my blood pressure was still higher than normal nor why I found it difficult to sit still during the day or go to sleep at night.

Sure. I know the tendencies of those who grieve to be affected by holidays and anniversaries. I’ve lived it. But I thought I was really doing better. Didn’t I just write about it? So what gives!?

Doesn’t matter. It is so. I cried. No, I wailed. Over and over as the morning passed and the rain (not snow) continued to fall, and the wind continued to blow.

The well-wishes started to light up my phone. “Thinking of you.” “Merry Christmas, Keith.” “Hope your day goes well.” All nice, warm sentiments that I appreciated very much. Knowing that family and friends understood my sorrow forced smiles in the midst of sadness.

By late morning, though, not knowing what to do or how to create a happier day, I found that I wanted to play music. I’ve been practicing with my Alvarez Yairi recently, so I unsheathed it from its case, tuned it, and began to play. First were songs for and about Pam. After all, it is she who I honor on Christmas more that any deity. For she loved the celebration of the holidays so.

So I played. And I played some more. I was lost in my music. Not necessarily playing well. I hadn’t been practicing much lately. It didn’t matter. I was in touch with the sound and the origins of the lyrics that meant so much to me, and that I did write them. I played for an hour. And then another. Taking breaks to rest my hands and voice, wetting my whistle, eating snacks.

From my travels: Lolo Pass, I Look Away, Parkersburg.
Family; loves and losses: When Comes the Time, Rae J, Tell Elizabeth I Love Her, Sarah’s Song.
And, of course, my Pamie Sue: She Sleeps, The Song I Never Wrote For You, Our Lives In Love, Anything To Please.
And many, many more. Covers of Cat Stevens, The Moody Blues, Simon and Garfunkel.

On I played throughout the day. It felt good. I felt better. And I remembered the commitment I made to Pam, shortly after her death, to pursue the music. To follow through with the dream. To give to others that which I have to give. Not amazing, artistic greeting cards as was Pam’s gift, but my music, both old and new. To share myself and those in my life with anyone who will listen and relate, or just enjoy the sound.

The more I played, the more I realized that I am fulfilling that dream. Music is the one constant, the one calming, honest, and true gift that I have to hold onto as I learn to live on my own, without my Pam. And it is due to her that I have been free to write and play for the past almost 30 years. She has been my muse, my inspiration, my collaborator, and my fan.

Now I prepare for the next chapter in what has become the life of a singer songwriter – my life. I have been looking forward to it for a very long time. I have thirteen new, unrecorded, original songs and 6-8 covers that I hope to record over the next few months. Hopefully, I’ll be done by Spring, ready to “hit the road” armed with hours of live music to share. And there are several completed songs that I have yet to practice, to prepare them for performance and recording. Several additional in-progress songs also await in the fringes of my repertoire. I hope I get to them all.

Finding my voice in my music brings me joy and satisfaction. I celebrate my life with Pam, and without her. Being lost in the music is a good thing. I find solace and comfort, able to forget the anxiety of loss during the holidays, and of the challenges that lie ahead. At least for a while, while I play.

Maybe you, too, may find some comfort or consolation. Lost and found in the music.

Still it is difficult to grasp that she is gone.

Gains and Losses

Two Steps Forward

Yeah, I guess this is life! Recently made notes to myself reveal a general improvement in my psychological wellbeing. Such gains are tempered by yet another loss, though only a partial one.

I began to notice subtle changes as I prepared for and experienced transitioning Mom to memory care. I realized early this week that I had been gone every weekend, and over half of the weeks, from Thanksgiving with family in Ankeny, through last weekend with family in MN. I found myself feeling comfortable at home just before the travels began.

Last weekend I was visiting daughters and families in Minnesota. This has been an emotionally challenging trip since Pam’s passing. They are all great and I love them and seeing them in their homes, living their lives. Anticipating this weekend I realized that I wasn’t stressed over possible challenging emotions. Rather, I was just looking forward to being with them. Major – positive – change!

I had lunch with (fellow subscriber) Linda on my way to MN. Linda and I share very similar caregiver experiences (Dave passed 18 months before Pam). And though we continue to compare “notes” about our experiences, we spent at least as much time just talking about family and travels. In other words, we were focused on living our lives now rather than revisiting the past.

I am aware that I am feeling less guilty for feeling good. For the longest time feeling good ultimately led to another round of sadness/depression. How could I betray Pam by not being miserable?! But I actually feel happy at times. I am beginning to enjoy my life as a retiree. It feels good to feel alive again – to trust myself again.

None of these feelings are betrayals. I think of Pam constantly. Everything I do and see reminds me of her. I miss her intensely and tell her so. When I see a reminder, especially of who she was and how she lived life, I tell her that I love her. Though thinking and saying this is probably about me and not her, It is the truth non-the-less. This is what she wanted for me.

One Step Back

On the other hand, leaving Atlanta I knew that I wouldn’t be able to talk with Mom on a regular basis (we chose not to give her a phone, at least for now). I realized this week the sense of loss, in some ways similar to my feelings of losing Pam.

Anticipating such an emotional event does not lessen the impact when it comes to pass. Just like with Pam, I could hardly let my emotions interfere with what I had to do, as a caregiver for Pam, and as a businessman for moving our Mother. The aftermath still includes some management, but there is much more time to feel. Now these new feelings of loss are mixed with those I already had.

Some of my gains are now back in the shadows. I can see them, yet they are clouded by renewed sadness. I know good feelings will return, but I struggle to grab onto them again.

Another cloud looms on the horizon. I’ve seen this cloud before when it was clear that Pam would not survive her disease for long. Mother will be 99 years old in just over a week. She has moderate dementia, but still realizes that there is not much left to live for. She also has stamina! The end will ultimately come. Probably sooner than later.

As I navigate gains and losses, I am sure there will be plenty of both to come for the rest of my life. This is something important that I have learned. Every one is a new chapter that I am ready and willing to live. I still want to – live!

Last week was the 17-month anniversary of Pam’s passing. It was the Tuesday after returning from Atlanta. I was still catching up on – well – everything from the trip. It wasn’t until this past weekend that I realized that the day went by without my acknowledging it. It was the first time. Next month will be a more significant milestone. Will I remember? Probably. Then, on to two years, and beyond. A step at a time.

Anything and Nothing

Musing to my sister of my difficulty deciding on what to write, she suggested I write about nothing. I could write about anything; too broad. Nothing; too narrow.

Where does that leave me? I guess I’ll try writing anything about nothing in particular. But what does that look like? How would it sound? What can I show that you would want to see?

Samuel Clemens, later known as Mark Twain was born in Florida, Missouri on November 30th 1835. He died on April 21st 1910. Both his birth and death coincided with the perihelion of Halley’s Comet. You can read a short, but interesting bio here. Do you know how he came about with the name Mark Twain? I’ve always been intrigued by these tidbits of trivia.

Writing about domestic politics and issues, or world events, is too fraught with diverse and conflicting opinions to share my thoughts and opinions thereof. It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World! Different subject, but it sounds right.

I’m having even more trouble than usual getting into the holiday spirit. I’ve never been good at it on my own, but Pam made it exciting and fun by her joy and enthusiasm, and her loving, giving nature. I don’t think I’m a scrooge. I don’t use any form of the term “bah, humbug”, but I suppose that I come across that way sometimes.

By this date of the year, we would already have at least one card table set up with scotch tape dispensers (Yes, multiple. Got to have the double-sided variety too.), ribbon spools, straight and squiggle-cutting scissors, you get the idea. And it’s not just the big gifts. It’s the little “stocking stuffers” that often delighted her most.

I left home with four inches of snow on the ground. It was a deep and wide swath, as I was through Missouri and into southern Illinois before the last traces disappeared in the fields and in the wooded hills. Enjoying the landscape and topography along the highways and byways as I drive is still a life’s little pleasure for me. I am constantly reminded of how much Pam enjoyed the scenery and we so enjoyed experiencing our travels together.

I also realized on Thursday the extent to which caring for Pam during her illness and grieving for her (and myself) after her death, zapped my energy. Now, however, I am being energized, and I like to think it is her universal energy, through pleasant memories of her, and of our life together. I recognize how her energy enlivens me still. It doesn’t make the pain go away, but I think it does put salve on the wound.

I hope to have something specific to write about next week, rather than anything about nothing. I will try to convey the experience of transitioning my Mother from home care to memory care. But it may be too raw to put into words yet at that time. Meanwhile I continue to consider topics to write about because I enjoy the writing. And based on reader responses, you enjoy it too.

Well, I kind of wrote about anything. But it turned out not to be about nothing. Now that I think about it, that’s difficult to do. If you get nothing out of the reading but enjoyment, that’s something too. In fact, that’s everything my writing is about. And that’s not nothing either.

Behold – Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

I was playing this song, Behold – Psalm 133, during practice last weekend within the context of Thanksgiving. Thinking about family, thankful that I will be with them on Thanksgiving. I thought of so many things I am thankful for as the holidays approach again this year. Consider playing the song while you read the rest of this post.

The season comes with some trepidation as I navigate through another round of celebrations without Pam. Thanksgiving today, and our 27th wedding anniversary next Tuesday loom largest. But transitioning Mother to memory care, Christmas/Channukah holidays, followed by Mom’s 99th birthday in January, all add emotional weight to the season.

Yet, I am able to be thankful for my family, my health, my neighbors and friends. I like where I live and have settled into an as yet unfamiliar lifestyle – enjoying retirement! I am thankful for my music and my songs and how they might positively impact others’ lives. And Pam follows me on this journey. For she is always in my mind and in my heart. But I wish she was here to share! I miss her.

Behold – A Little Story

I am working on a short story that will include some of this history. Here, I want to share the origins of the music behind this song of a Psalm.

By the time I got to college I was totally disillusioned with my Jewish upbringing. I was a heavy pot smoker and did some other mind-altering drugs as well. I read books of Eastern religions, took Yoga classes, and enjoyed my philosophy class more than any other.

During the fall semester of my Sophomore year I met some people who would facilitate the most significant change in my life. At that time, Navigators was a college campus ministry who’s origins were with the US Navy. I met a young man and a mentor who would play pivotal roles in my conversion to Christianity and total upheaval of my life. But that’s part of the bigger story.

After my being “born again” during spring semester, I headed home to Atlanta, where my parents had moved the previous year, with the weight of wanting – needing – to tell my family about my “good news.” My angst was validated by the icy reception that my good news evoked in my parents and siblings. I found myself alone, with little guidance and lots of questions.

I read. Mostly the New Testament that I was almost totally unfamiliar with. But it made so many references to the Old Testament that I was very familiar with! I read Proverbs, and I read the Psalms. Understanding that the Psalms were put to music a few thousand years ago, I decided to try my hand, developing music for three.

Psalm 38 is a plea for forgiveness and healing. My interpretive song begins with verse 21, “Do not forsake me, oh Lord. Oh, my God, be not far from me.” I really felt it at the time, and enjoy the music to this day, though I don’t play it often. I just realized that it did not make the Catching Up On Life album. Interesting.

Psalm 24 follows the famous “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” verse of Psalm 23. It’s focus is totally different. It ascribes ownership of everything to God and describes the totality of devotion required to be with God. Beginning with, “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof”, I rarely play it anymore.

Psalm 133 I call “Behold.” It is a regular part of my repertoire. I enjoy the sound and the sentiment. It’s easy listening and presents an attitude of thankfulness.

I find it interesting that, as with many artists, dark times often influence creativity. Though I did not write the lyrics, I hope that the music does them justice and is true to the original author’s intent. (I also wish the recordings were better 😉 )

So I am thankful today for everything I have. Everything I have had and lost. For those who have touched me with their lives, and for those lives I have touched.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Compost Posting

Note: Thanks to Jan for the concept. I don’t know what I would have written about this week otherwise 🙂 You can skip to the bottom to get to the point of all this verbiage if you like.

Cooking for two people is challenging. But usually, leftovers are consumed quickly without much food waste. Open bags, cans, and bottles sometimes remain in the refrigerator too long and their contents must be discarded. Cooking for one creates significantly increased challenges.

Each day and week for many years I’ve been disappointed whenever I throw rotten food or leftovers in the trash, or through the disposal and into our water treatment system for that matter. This coincides with efforts to minimize paper and plastic waste and recycle whatever is allowed by our city/waste management company.

The city offers an option to rent a 20+ gallon container on wheels in which I must place a $1.85 yard bag to fill and put out at the curb for pick up. It would take me weeks to fill, and I would most likely replace it often, adding to the cost. I convinced myself that the “aroma” would overwhelm me and my garage long before. Plus having to find space to keep a third container.

Normal recycling has been and is going well. Now that I am single, I rarely have more than one “trash” bag to put out each week. And with an 85 gallon recycling bin, and all that I recycle, I still only put it out to the curb every two or three weeks. I feel good about that. It may not be much in the scheme of what our society wastes each day, but as they say, “Every little bit helps.”

My son has a large family of seven and a corner lot with a big yard. I envy his energy and ingenuity to build a rain water retention system, complete with solar powered, battery operated pump system to supply water for his extensive garden and small orchard. Additionally, he implemented a two-barrel composting station that supplies nutrition to the garden. He and his family are proactive about saving composting material every day (which can be significant with seven people, even when there are few leftovers – as you can imagine). My daughter’s family saves compostable materials in a small covered can on their counter. There is a convenient drop-off a few blocks away where new insert bags are also freely supplied.

Which brings me back to my plight. Knowing that they, and others, find some way to compost, whether privately or through public options, exacerbates my guilt feelings when I throw too much leftover or old food in the trash! So I researched my options. The least appealing was the city option. With the storage issues and an ongoing payment plan, it was easy to eliminate.

I seriously considered the rotating drum option. But the combination of where to house it, and keep it accessible even in the dead of winter, and the need to keep an interim container in the kitchen or garage, made this a cumbersome, though slightly more attractive option than that provided by the city.

Ah, Amazon! A myriad of options, as usual. Almost so many one can get lost trying to compare and choose. I decided to concentrate on countertop electric composters. Still, many options. Read the features. Read the reviews. Watch the videos. I know you’ve all done the same for whatever device you’ve considered buying.

Having made a decision after days of angst, I purchased the Airthereal Revive Electric Kitchen Composter, 2.5L Capacity with SHARKSDEN® Tri-Bla de, Turn Food Waste and Scraps into Dry Compost Fertilizer for Plants. A big decision! Expensive! Worth it!

Composting my coffee grounds, tea leaves, table scraps, even rotten cottage cheese, gives me a feeling of doing something good! I’ve already “made” about a gallon of compost in a couple weeks, running it about every other day. The charcoal filter nearly eliminates any odor (it smells a bit like something is baking in the oven), and the sound is similar to a quiet dishwasher. I am impressed with this unit.

I don’t have a garden – yet. I do have plants and landscaping, and some lawn areas in much need of fill and nutrition. I do have room for a garden. It might be my next step in being food and planet friendly.

Back to the top to wind your way through how I got to the point

“Are You Sitting Comfortably?”

What a question. What a concept.

In fact, I was sitting comfortably, sipping my morning coffee, listening to SiriusXM radio Deep Tracks (Channel 308) from my stereo speakers connected to the TV, when The Moody Blues song asked just that question.

Take another sip my love and see what you will see,
A fleet of golden galleons, on a crystal sea.
Are you sitting comfortably?
Let Merlin cast his spell.

Ride along the winds of time and see where we have been,
The glorious age of Camelot, when Guinevere was Queen.
It all unfolds before your eyes
As Merlin casts his spell.

The seven wonders of the world he’ll lay before your feet,
In far-off lands, on distant shores, so many friends to meet.
Are you sitting comfortably?
Let Merlin cast his spell.
Raymond Thomas

I know I’ve touted the beauty of The Moody Blues music previously. This is another example of how, over many years, their songs continue to speak to me or reflect my current lot in life. Sitting comfortably is something I have rarely been able to do for several years. Yet here I was. Feeling rested. Feeling strong. Aware of my loss, yet not consumed by it at the moment.

Then comes this mystical music and tantalizing lyrics. I’m also a big fan of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth fantasies, and of the stories of King Arthur’s court. Raymond Thomas sets the lyrical stage while The Moody Blues weaves its musical spell.

Several challenges face me in the coming weeks. In addition to the traditional holiday season and what would have been our 27th wedding anniversary, my siblings and I are preparing to transition our nearly 99-year-old (January 7, 2024) Mother to a memory care facility in the middle of this time. Sitting comfortably for a few minutes, listening to some of my favorite music that mirrors my emotions, is a true ethereal gift.

Also good is my recognition of such gifts. It is easy, as the days grow shorter and colder, to sink into the gloom with the season. In deed, last year at this time I was pretty much an emotional mess! I’ve been concerned about how I would fare this winter. But though it has not actually arrived yet, my comfortable chair and easy listening offer a glimmer of hope to me and to the season.

I will be with various geographically distant family members over the holidays. Last year I worried whether I could remain emotionally stable – for good reason. I was only marginally successful.

I still anticipate some difficult moments. Last year my family was instrumental (no pun intended) in my coming through the darkness of my grief. This year I am hopeful to enjoy them and celebrate them along with the holidays. I am not a religious person, though I have delved deep into faith and dogma. Nor am I a fan of the commercialization of the holidays. But I do appreciate people. I love people. I love family. And I love our common hopes and dreams for ourselves and each other.

So here I am, sitting comfortably in my office chair, writing these optimistic and hopeful words. I don’t really care who casts the spell. But if it continues to be a good one, please don’t break it!

Tomorrow (Sunday, November 12, 2023) marks the 18 month anniversary of Pam’s passing. I had no concept of the emotional challenges that I would endure nor how my life would change without my other half. I still love Pam and am in love with her. This fact has given me strength to reshape myself into a new life. It is transformed and is still transforming. I can no longer be what I thought I would be with Pam. I can only go on being me without her. Yet, knowing she will always be part of me. In doing so, I am confident that, even with my fits and sputters, she would be happy that I am.

I can sometimes now sit comfortably with that knowledge.

Category: Life’s New Chapter – without Pam

Iatrophobia

Fear of Doctors

Forward to after Pam’s passing

Forward to current events

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Wandering Writings