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writer’s block no more
I only recently realized that I’ve had writer’s block for six decades at least. I’ve always meant to write but never had the confidence to just write. I have lived a life fueled by self-doubt and without a compass. My self-doubt is banished and my compass is in my heart. I am a writer.
I found a wonderful veggie tray at Smith’s and have been happily improving my vegetable consumption. I stir fried the baby snap beans on day one, used the broccoli flowerets to make beef broccoli with oyster sauce on day two, cooked brown sugar baby carrots, made roasted mini chili peppers, and used the cherry tomatoes to make arugula avocado salad today. I stopped at Smith’s again today and noticed a package of the same items on sale. I am happy for the challenge of feeding myself, a single senior, with nutritious food.
I don ‘t remember much about my stroke in May of 2021 except that I was on the floor for much of the morning and every time I tried to get up, I was pushed down by some unseen force, usually to my left. Fortunately, I didn’t hit anything with sharp edges. I have enjoyed good health all my life and was in denial the first day because I only remembered seeing a depiction of a stroke victim with a distorted face, weak arms, and inability to speak. This couldn’t be a stroke, I thought. The housekeeper was worried about me and brought the office manager with her the next morning and told me I didn’t look well. They convinced me to call the paramedics and I ended up in the hospital for two weeks.
i met the heroes of our society. They were the doctors and nurses who came to work every day in the middle of a pandemic and cheerfully did their jobs and looked after me.
I had a heat stroke on the way home from visiting my son and my two grandchildren in Bullhead City on June 30, 2022, and stayed in Henderson Hospital for one night. On September 22, I had an eye stroke, which surprised me. It did not hurt but a curtain closed on my right eye and I was momentarily blinded. I saw the ophthalmologist a few days later, who told me to go to the ER the next time it happens, especially if it doesn’t correct itself within a couple of minutes.
On October 7 I saw the cardiologist, for a scheduled follow up visit. I told him about my eye stroke, but he said his specialty is the heart, so he can’t answer questions about the eye. He asked me if I am having chest pain and I said I never had any chest pains. I had a stroke. It seems to me that many age-related ailments are making an appearance in my life, and I’m trying to hang on.
I recall reading The Trial in a class in world literature. In the story, Josef K., a bank officer, is arrested on his 30th birthday without a charge or explanation and all attempts to discover more about the reason for the arrest are futile. It ends badly and the reader is left bewildered and puzzled. Kafka exposes the nonsensical and absurd machinations of bureaucracies.
I became interested in Franz Kafka’ s biography. A family picture shows his parents as a large man and stoic woman in a loveless marriage that merely endured. Franz wrote a 47-page letter to his father but never delivered it. Mr. Kafka was a merchant who worshipped money and was a tyrant in his family. His dogged pursuit of wealth diminished his capacity for love or wholeness. Franz lost two brothers when they were infants and was keenly aware of his position in the family as the oldest son. He sought but never received love and approval from his father nor did he experience the joys of marriage and children even though he was engaged to the same woman twice. He was drained of energy and fortitude from a demanding and exacting job in insurance, and he succumbed to tuberculosis. His lifelong friend, Max Brod, published Kafka’s work posthumously even though Kafka had instructed Brod to destroy any remaining unpublished work.
Sources: https://www.britannica.com/biography/Franz-Kafka
Most of my days post-retirement, -stroke, and -Covid-19 are mundane and manageable, but occasionally there are several annoyances at once that remind me of my pet peeves. As I was thinking that Kafkaesque was a precise word to describe my dealings with my cable company, labyrinthic came up as a good word to describe my communications with my bank and other businesses. Most calls followed a routine. First, I had to listen to the menu choices. A recorded message said my call was important and to please stay on the line for the next available representative. Sometimes, the message gave me my position in the queue and once, I received a message saying the wait time was approximately 59 minutes. Thankfully, there was an option to leave my name and number and wait for a callback at their convenience. Once I got to a live person, I was told that i reached the wrong number and I’ll be transferred to the correct department, but the representative first explained to the new person the circumstances of the original call.
To return to bed was a definite comfort.
Sources: https://www.britannica.com/biography/Franz-Kafka
I had a stroke on May 4, 2021, and since it’s been over a year without serious or permanent debilitating results, I tried to come up with some celebratory event for myself and my family. However, after rehabilitation appointments, my legs still felt wobbly and I had fallen a few times, but without breaking any bones. My arm and left leg still hurt, and x-rays revealed that I have age-related osteoporosis, so a celebration was premature.
I had my air conditioning checked on my car and was elated when the mechanic said I only needed a new cabin air filter. I went off to see my son and grandchildren in Bullhead City, Arizona. The air conditioning went out on the way home and the highway patrolman said I couldn’t drive home without air conditioning, so I was admitted into Henderson Hospital for observation for heat stroke. Fortunately, my son was able to arrange for air conditioning repairs and nine days later, I got the car back.
My oldest son invited me to join him and his family on a short cruise to the Mexican Riviera as he had a credit on the books from a cancelled cruise when the pandemic hit in March of 2018. I had a wonderful time even though I did not get off the ship for fear of long walks and difficulty in getting to the tenders to the various ports. I updated my address book, always a sad task because so many acquaintances are gone, and it’s not easy to delete so many people who have crossed my path and filled my life with love and encouragement. I couldn’t bear to delete some names, and I am reminded of a poem by Thomas Hardy, who lamented the passing of so many of his friends late in life. I got a massage while on the ship and was disappointed when the masseuse tried to sell me additional products that would have doubled the price. My grandson and I both contracted Covid-19 when we disembarked. I am waiting to use my last test to get a negative reading.
Maybe next year, there will be time and a reason to celebrate.
In parts of the United States, when the mandatory shutdown was announced in March of 2020 because of COVID-19, astute consumers realized that they would have to use their own supplies for their restroom breaks. The closure of businesses, schools, libraries, and offices meant that many families would not be leaving their homes except for essential errands, and demand for toilet paper rose by 40 percent.
It was widely thought that people were unnecessarily hoarding toilet paper. News anchors asked, “Why toilet paper?” and thought the phenomenon was bizarre and unexplainable. A psychologist stated that the visuals are hard to ignore when customers are seen walking out with toilet paper stacked high and surmised that a herd mentality had been activated. Many consumers flocked to ethnic markets and even to smaller neighboring cities to find the suddenly precious commodity.
As weeks of empty shelves that once held toilet paper persisted, one senior reporter for Medium, Will Oremus, interviewed industry leaders of manufacurers and suppliers and garnered some enlightening information. He asked why they couldn’t meet the greater demand for toilet paper. Oremus discovered that toilet paper for the retail market and toilet paper for the commercial market can be looked upon as separate businesses. Paper for the retail market is made of virgin pulp, and turned into two-ply, embossed, and perforated rolls sold often in packages of six, whereas commercial toilet paper is created with recycled materials, often one-ply, and sold in large single rolls for use in offices, college dorms, stadiums, concert venues, restaurants, and small businesses. The profit margin for toilet paper is small and it would be prohibitive for a commercial paper plant to retool their mills, create new business relationships with suppliers, transportation companies, and distributors to satisfy demand. If the demand becomes normalized and predictable, the companies that assumed the risk to make changes would be burdened with pallets of space-consuming and practically worthless toilet paper.
Thank you, Will Oremus. I appreciate my virgin fiber, two-ply embossed toilet paper even more, now that I have read your article.
On June 6, Nari told us he landed a job at the Senri-chuo Station on the north part of Osaka. It will take him an hour by train to get to work. We are so happy for him.
He read an ESL article about the cleanest place on the planet and asked about “like pulling teeth.”
Last Saturday, he read an article about Black Lives Matter and asked me about “get your feet wet” and “as the crow flies.”
I’ve been thinking of giving up my car and purchasing a golf car to run errands for some time and finally made the purchase. I live in a golf community and as long as I don’t drive on the boulevards, I’m within legal limits. I find the driving speed drastically slow but don’t regret it.
Nari is going for a job interview tomorrow, and we are hopeful that he will get a job.
I had much to share about my plans to give my car to my son next month and buy a golf car. In an age restricted and golf community, it is fairly easy to run shopping errands to local restaurants, grocery stores, and pharmacies by taking the back roads. I realize that a car costs so much more money than necessary for retired folks and a golf car runs on electricity that I can conveniently recharge every night. It will be fun travelling 15 to 25 miles per hour!
Nari read an ESL article about a woman in Italy who won a Picasso drawing in a raffle for charity. Her son had gifted her the raffle ticket. Good to hear happy news for a change.
Nari asked me about the sentences, “I want to get away from it all” and “Jack took to tennis like a duck to water.”
