Author: sallyyamada@live.com

I made recordings for the blind at the Braille Institute for two years. I went in every Monday morning and worked for one-and-a-half hours, making a tape recording of chapters, articles, and books. The coordinator would screen the requests and hand them out as volunteers arrived to make recordings. I remember reading a microwave cookbook, parts of a geology textbook, a book about the architecture of Las Vegas, an ESL workbook, and a Department of Transportation manual. As I was reading about the rules for parking and loads relating to trucks, I began to wonder if this was for a blind person. I told my teenage son about it and without hesitation, he said blind people can do anything. When I asked the coordinator, she said it was for a person with dyslexia, a term I didn’t know at the time. Kudos to my son for being such an optimist.

Acquaintances of mine went to entertain a small social gathering for blind people and were saddened when the most often asked question was, “How did you get here?”

July 7. 1996

There was a period a few years ago that it seemed we had an unusual number of deaths among our workers. We’d hear of them in the news or if they were employees, by word of mouth. Jacklyn was accidentally shot by her husband as they fought over a shotgun he wanted to take on a hunting trip. Katie was killed by a former boyfriend. Ellen had a stroke on the bus and remained in a coma for two years. Visitors were always asked if there was anyone in the family who could pay the bills. Her husband abandoned her without a trace because the bills were impossible to pay. A receptionist died of a brain tumor. Several people in the office died of AIDS.

It made us all reflect on how life is short and tomorrow is not guaranteed. I know that between then and now, I have made a bucket list and try to put short term and long term goals in writing.

July 2, 1996

Wilton Place between First and Third in Los Angeles is my favorite street. It starts out being a 25 mile per hour zone, and then about 50 feet past that sign, it changes to 15 miles per hour. Then you see a sign with a curving road, an “S,” although the street is more like a “Z.”

When I was a teenager, I went on a ride down that street with friends; I don’t even remember their names, probably a brother of a classmate of mine and his friends. We were in a small foreign car, two in the front seat and three in the back. When the driver took the turns, we were squeezed into each other. The group had been singing. I couldn’t sing but their enthusiasm was infectious and I was singing in my heart. I remember the purity of the moment, the innocence, and the car filled with joy.

When I used to drive home from the east side and had my children with me, they’d say, “Mom, you’ve passed our street.” I’d say, “I know, I like taking Wilton home.” The thrill of that moment is always with me when we hit the curves.

I once visited my neighbors, Jim and Lorie, who lived about a block away, to see their new baby girl. Jim never said much when we attended Cub Scout meetings for our sons. He knew I was a legal secretary and came out to speak with me about an episode in court. He was a deputy D.A. He told me that on Western Avenue near Sixth Street in Los Angeles, there is a cluster of immigrants from Haiti who practice voodoo. The case had something to do with a crime committed in that neighborhood. Pat asked the witness, a voodoo practitioner, if he had ever been on television. The witness said “Yes.” Jim smiled at me and said the witness discredited himself. He was obviously pleased at having thought to ask this question.

Jim was not holding the baby, but I knew that he often did, because he was gently swaying back and forth the way all parents do when holding a precious child.

July 5, 1996

I was a brow beaten child growing up. My mother was so embittered by her life that at some point she began to take it out on us kids. She was a verbal abuser, harshly criticizing us at every turn and spewing out venomous, cutting words. I used to walk to junior high school in tears. My brother and sister seemed okay, but I had a physical reaction to my mother’s tirades. I developed very poor posture. My shoulders were rounded and I was bent forward in my chair. A teacher noticed it and I was put in a posture class instead of physical education. A person from downtown came to review our class after the first semester of stretching and walking exercises and singled me out for repeating the semester. My teacher said she thought a student who was given a grade of A shouldn’t have to repeat the class, but the downtown person said I needed it.

I was dismayed to learn that three and a half decades later, I still had bad posture. I went to see a chiropractor for neck and upper back pain. He said that some of it was caused by stress but 85 percent was caused by bad posture. I have to tell my self to sit up. Sit up! It’s over. She couldn’t help it. But healing takes a long time.

Delete and Undelete

Four friends passed away last year and I deleted them from my Christmas list, but not from my address book. Every once in a while, I’ll come across a name and remember something we did together or some engaging or deep conversation we had. I remember Lamar telling me about the history of petroleum jelly. He said that oil riggers used the substance that was left on the rigs to treat their cuts and burns and the wounds seemed to heal faster. He said that he used petroleum jelly for nosebleeds.

Now ten years after his passing, I came across his name and remembered our conversation about petroleum jelly. Sure enough, I found an article that explained how this product came into being. A chemist named Robert Chesebrough was fascinated with the paraffin-like substance left on oil rigs and observed the riggers using the product on their cuts and burns. Chesebrough took some of the product home, worked on the process of making petroleum jelly, adopted the trade name Vaseline, and in a short time it became a marketing success. Petroleum jelly was used in WWI by soldiers to treat cuts and burns and since then, the product has earned a place in households around the world.

There are dozens of uses for petroleum jelly. I use it when the heels of my feet become cracked. I simply apply the product on my feet and wear socks for the night. By morning, the cracks are much improved. I, for one, am grateful for Robert Chesebrough’s invention. His empirical observations led him to refine the manufacturing process for petroleum jelly, obtain a patent, and doggedly promote his product when there was initially little interest.

When I’ve taken antibiotics during my lifetime, I’ve always followed instructions on the label which says to use all medication.  I’ve been reading the course guide book for a lecture series from The Great Courses called How We Fail, How We Heal by Professor Anthony A. Goodman (Montana State University).  In a chapter on infections he says there is a concern in the medical community that people are stopping short of taking all the medication because they feel so good after a few days and often self-treat colds and flu with the excess medication.

Professor Goodman points out that antibiotics are useless against colds and flu.  Using leftover antibiotics can diminish beneficial flora, promote resistance, and lead to allergies.  Now I know the science behind the directive to take all the medication.

Today, the internet connection with Nari was not ideal but we managed to talk about fake news in Japan regarding a toilet paper shortage. Some supermarkets all over the country have run out of this essential product which is domestically manufactured. Even paper towels are in short supply. Nari lives in Nishinomiya near Osaka and Yuriko lives in Miyakonojo in Kyushu. Supermarkets in both areas had empty shelves.

Citizens are afraid that just as there is a shortage of masks due to COVID-19, toilet paper might run out too. Sometimes, it takes a few days to dispel rumors about a shortage.

Nari read an article about George Clooney’s dismay in learning about child labor being used on plantations in Guatemala who pick coffee beans used to supply Nespresso. Clooney has been the face of Nespresso for 14 years and is on its advisory board.

Nari’s questions about idioms were “Getting your feet wet,” and “You wish.”

I searched for advice on the best time for a Type 2 diabetic (blood sugar controlled) to have a slice of chocolate cake. The best answer was to have it in the morning after fasting all night. Made sense to me, although it was past 6 p.m. and I had already devoured a third of the slice. I put the rest in the freezer since I had lab work scheduled in a few days.

My lab work was completed this afternoon and I finished off the slice of cake. I’ll work on getting the timing right. Ask your doctor and do your own research, but I sure did enjoy the cake!

I had a rectal bleeding episode in 2016 and another one in November 2019. A colonoscopy performed on February 4, 2020 confirmed a diagnosis of diverticulosis.

I came across an alarming article about research that showed that calcium channel blockers used for high blood pressure such as amlodipine, which I have been taking, have a direct link to diverticulosis. I haven’t changed anything yet, but I’ll for sure ask my doctor if I could try another medication for blood pressure.

Source:  Imperial College London. “Blood pressure drug linked with increased risk of bowel condition.” ScienceDaily. ScienceDaily, 3 July 2019. <www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2019/07/190703121413.htm>.