Recalcitrant Spring

Dear George, 

Spring used to be a lot more reliable in Cincinnati.  The season regularly arrived in the second week of March, just in time for spring break at the university.  My tennis partner Irv and I headed out for the courts nearly every day.  Sunshine, warm weather, gentle breezes.  Life was good. 

That was then, this is now.  Our second week in March was a dreary affair.  Temperatures remained stuck in the thirties.  Cold rain most days, snow the rest of the time.  Sweatshirts, winter coats,  and gloves.  It’s as though Spring has been protesting the miserable state of the world with its own vengeful boycott.  I’ve been going out and looking at our yard every morning, always hopeful.   Still lots of dead grass and brown leaves.  Maybe a sprinkle of green here and there, and a couple of lonely blue flowerlets.   However, this weekend we may have turned the corner.  I went out yesterday and took some photos in our yard and our nextdoor neighbors.  Lots of dead stuff, but actually some touches of spring in full bloom.  Here is how it’s looking (from more wintry to more springy).  

Love,

Dave

P.S.  Happy Easter and April Fool’s Day.  (Such an unusual combination).  

It's a Dog's Life

“It’s a dog’s life,” I said to my wife

“I’d love to do something like that”

My wife thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie

Although later she gave me a pat

The next day at dawn I was working like a dog

Digging holes and burying my bones

Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks

A dog’s life, so full of unknowns

By day’s end I’d gotten dog tired

The dog house was out in the back

I went in, lay down, and slept like a dog

I dreamt I was out with my pack

“I’d like to run with the big dogs,” I said 

So I went for a jaunt down the street

I was happy as a dog with two tails

Who’d been given a beef jerky treat

I met a cute Yorkie down by the lake

Her puppy dog eyes caused me to sweat

We jumped off the dock, did the doggie paddle

There’s life in the old dog yet

 These were truly the dog days of summer

A respite from the dog eats dog world

Every dog has their day, I would have to say

I stretched out with my tail unfurled

But then a Pit Bull started hounding me

He was meaner than a junk yard dog

“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” I said

I turned tail and left for a jog

I trotted back home to my family

Who were fighting like cats and dogs

I gave them my dog and pony show

Then I barked a few dog monologues

Hot diggity dog, I was glad to be home

“Dogs”, my mom noted, “are man’s best friend”

This, of course, was a shaggy dog story

Though mom’s love is best in the end

Upset with my absence, my wife got quite crabby

She said now I was in her doghouse

She added, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”

I’m rarely top dog with my spouse

So that is the story of my life as a dog

Each day I just roam about town

For years it appeared I was going to the dogs

But they can’t keep a good dog down

A Morality Tale About Two Patients

Dear George,

There is an oldish couple who live on Ludlow Ave.  The husband has been bothered by sore leg muscles for a year or so.  It makes his walking unpleasant, and consequently he does about 90% less exercise than he normally does.  This has resulted in weight gain, heightened a1C scores, and overall melancholy.  His wife suggested numerous times that he see the doctor.  His friends have encouraged him to see the doctor.  Even casual acquaintances have urged him to do so.  However, it makes the husband nervous to see the doctor.  He feels he can take care of this problem by himself.  So he’s stretched his legs, used a heating pad, taken Ibuprofen, meditated, elevated his legs, searched the Internet, watched a lot of Netflix.  All to no avail.  He recently mentioned his problem to his pharmacist who suggested that his cholesterol medication may be causing the problem.  At the pharmacist’s recommendation, the husband made an appointment with his doctor.  The doctor recommended stopping the cholesterol medication for a while.  That was two days ago.  The husband’s legs are already feeling better.  The husband wonders why he put up with pain and limping for a year when this could have been resolved a long time ago.  

His wife, meanwhile, went in for a gastroenterological procedure.  When she came home she felt terrible.  Fever, cold chills, a severe cough, sick sick sick.  The husband thought this was a normal reaction and was just a matter of needing some bed rest.  The wife instead called the doctor’s office.  The nurse suggested she go to the emergency room.  The husband thought this was ill-considered and unnecessary.  The wife insisted on speaking to the doctor, and, when the doctor called back. he suggested she go right away to the emergency room.  She went, was examined, was given an antibiotic for pneumonia, and was admitted to the hospital overnight for monitoring.  The doctor said it had been very important that she called and had stayed overnight in the hospital.  She’s, of course, doing much better and seems back to normal. 

These are different ways of being a patient.  The husband is to be admired for his self-sufficiency and confidence.  Unfortunately he is also stupid and dysfunctional.  The wife, more assertive, knows what she is doing and takes action.  Hopefully the husband will learn from her example (though he hasn’t seemed to do so in some sixty years).

Love,

Dave 

TV's Weirdly Gendered World

Dear George, 

Katja and my TV watching has been creeping upward since we retired.  That’s not surprising since we do have a lot more time on our hands.  And, between cable and Netflix, there are many more viewing possibilities than there used to be.  Americans watch a lot of TV — about 35 hours a week for the average adult (1).  Adults 65 and over watch more than any other age group, approximately 48 hours a week (2).  What has struck me for a long time is that the content of TV shows is more about gender than any other topic.  Recently I’ve been collecting brief plot summary statements from tvguide.com to illustrate some of these themes.  Here’s a sampling of  storylines from TV Guide, subdivided by “women”, “men”, and “women and men together”. 

Women

Piper has an epiphany 

Allison has to lose weight 

Peggy suffers from a migraine 

Mary Lou takes French lessons

Charlotte volunteers for the blind

Violet provides comfort to a friend 

Elena serves tilapia for Thanksgiving

Samantha is uneasy about holding hands

Bride Bridgette needs a dress to say yes in

Cindy uncovers a family secret — her adoption 

Stefanie sells makeup at school as a side business

An unflattering photo of Jade is posted on the internet 

Men 

Josh and his team search the Brazilian jungle for a giant anaconda

Jim sees a monster holding the lifeless body of his foster mother 

“Pharma Bro” jacks up the price of a life-saving drug 5000%

A guy asks a friend to shoot him because “I like the scars”

Mike and his poker pals bond during colonoscopy prep 

Chase and Jacoby struggle for command of the boat

A cross-dressing professor goes on a killing spree

Eli finds farming more than it’s cracked to be 

Alfie leads a lonely life hidden in a cave

Frenchy and Gee battle a cannibal

Hoyt is moved from death row 

Michael severs all family ties 

Women and Men Together 

A small-town beauty queen is terrorized by a wealthy would-be suitor

Katie’s ex hides video cameras and microphones in her home

A young woman’s ideal man has the heart of a monster

Christine feels intellectually inferior to Max’s friends

Sammy Jo is ready to wash Jeff out of her hair 

Diana learns the truth about Richard 

George gets a girlfriend (and a rash) 

A distracted Jeremy forgets Tasha’s birthday 

Hank butchers his marriage proposal to Karen

Bella and Will struggle to enjoy one another’s hobbies

Cooper confesses to Angela that he’s married with children 

An escapee from a mental institution aims to avenge a ruined romance 

Because it’s all familiar the examples may not be too surprising, but they do remind us how stereotypic, often sexist portrayals of women and men dominate the media.  Women are generally depicted as emotional, caring, concerned about beauty, worried about finding men, and engaged in domestic pursuits.  Men, meanwhile, are off in adventurous and dangerous pursuits, striving for power, and engaging in violence.  When women’s and men’s relationships or transactions are portrayed, they are often conflictful and on the verge of collapse, usually because of men being ne’er-do-wells. 

The examples I’ve given here, of course, haven’t been randomly selected and represent only a tiny percentage of the plot summaries of currently available TV shows.  Extensive social science research, however, paints a very similar picture.  UNC communications researcher Julia Wood (nyu) describes findings from empirical studies of TV and film content:   “Men are presented as hard, tough, independent, sexually aggressive, unafraid, violent, totally in control of all emotions, and-above all-in no way feminine…Women are portrayed as significantly younger and thinner than women in the population as a whole, and most are depicted as passive, dependent on men, and enmeshed in relationships or housework.”  (3)

Browsing in TV Guide is food for thought.  I doubt if we’ll stop watching TV.  However, it’s helpful to be conscious of what it is we’re watching.  Rather than reflecting reality, all this stuff creates a fantasy world which serves to reinforce traditional sex role expectations.   The viewer should beware.   (Actually I thought we had moved beyond this in the seventies.)

Love,

Dave

Sources:

(1) www.businessinsider.com, “The average American watches so much TV it’s almost a full-time job” 

(2) www.marketingcharts.com, “The State of Traditional TV: Updated with Q2 2017 Data” 

(3)  www.nyu.edu, Julia T. Wood.  (Dept. Communication, UNC)  “Gendered Media: The Influence of Media on Views of Gender.”

Martial Bliss

Dear George,

Oh no, I did it again.  Every time I set out to write the word “marital” I wind up spelling it “martial”.  Why is that?  I never spell “partial” “partail” or “capital” “captial”.  One of my college roommates told me it’s a Freudian slip, but that’s hard to believe.  Why would anyone confuse marriage and martial?   In any case, Katja’s and my marriage has always been extremely idyllic.  Here are a few anecdotes from my daily journal which prove  this.   

Love,

Dave

Male Cleanliness Standards

Katja had been out of town about five days when Frya, our

cleaning lady, called.  She asked if Katja were back and said she had

us scheduled for the coming Wednesday.  Though I almost never play a

role in such decisions, I said to Frya, “It’s really strange but whenever Katja goes out of town our house doesn’t seem to get dirty. I think we should postpone.  How about if you call Katja back early in the week?”  Frya said o.k.  Afterwards I wasn’t positive my opinion was correct.  Maybe the house just seemed less dirty to me.  Actually it never seems dirty enough to me to warrant a visit from the cleaning

lady.  Probably Frya will be relieved when Katja gets back so she can

deal directly with the woman of the house.

Distressed by Non-Disasters

Katja noticed that the auto insurance card in her wallet listed an

expiration date of several months ago.  She called the company, and

they explained that we haven’t had any auto insurance for the last

seven months.  Apparently we didn’t pay the bill, and the insurance

company never contacted us again.  That put both of us in a state of

shock.  It’s crazy and hazardous to have been driving around for seven

months with no insurance.  I keep thinking of all the terrible things

that could have happened.  Happily, none of them did. 

Sleep Is Scary

Katja learned a while back that Frank M., one of her long-term

colleagues from her social service agency, had died in his sleep that

week, even though he was only in his early fifties.  She was very sad

about it.  At midnight she said that she didn’t want to go to sleep.

I’d begun to nod off myself, and, puzzled, I asked why.  Katja said

she just didn’t want to.  Waking up a bit more, I asked, “Is it

because of Frank?”  Katja didn’t answer directly, saying, “I have too

much left to do.”  Lacking empathy at the moment, I said, “Dying in

your sleep is probably the very best way to die.”  Katja repeated that

she has too much to do, and I repeated my opinion about good ways to

die.  Then I fell back asleep.  I guess Katja did too because she was

sound asleep when I woke up in the morning.

Quite a Big House

When Katja went out shopping, I said I might go to the office but I

stayed at home instead to work on my blog in our upstairs den.  A few

hours later I got a call on my cell phone.  It was Katja.  She said

she’d tried my office phone number, but then she realized that it might have been the wrong  number.  I said no, that I was home.  She sounded sort of confused, and I asked her where she was.  She said she’d been home for half an hour.  I asked whose home she was at, and she said she was at our home.  She wondered whose home was at.  I was upstairs; she was downstairs.  We both started laughing.  Apparently we have difficulty keeping track of who’s where.  

Incriminating Evidence

I was working at the computer when Katja came up to the door, held out

her hand, and said she’d found two women’s earrings in the TV room.

Her facial expression was sort of intimidating, like ‘what sort of unknown women have you been cavorting with in our house?’  Our friend Royce had visited two nights before to watch an episode of “Homeland” with us, and I suggested they were probably hers.  Katja gave me a suspicious look and said that Royce doesn’t wear earrings.  A little later I speculated that they might belong to one of the women who helped clean our house last week.  Katja gave me an even worse look.  Apparently she considered that idea was preposterous.  She gave the earrings to me as if I knew what to do with them.  I put them on the railing at the top of the stairs.  Later I was able to reach Royce by phone.  She’d left the earring here.  I told this to Katja, but I don’t knew if she believed me.  I personally think we’ve been married too long to get jealous, but you never know.

Fashion Frenzy

When I volunteered to type up Katja’s minutes for the Opera Guild board

meeting (for which she is the secretary) I ran across the following

statement: “At the ball women will be expected to wear formal ball

gowns, and white ties and gloves will be expected for men.”  I rushed

into the next room, and our conversation proceeded as follows:

D: Who in the world made this decision?

K: Everybody thought it was a good idea.  It will be nice.

D: I’m not going to any ball like this.

K: The arrangements are already made. Beside you agreed to go to one

ball during the year.

D:  What does this mean about the rest of my clothes.

K; The men will be wearing dark suits.

D: You mean tuxedos.  I don’t have a tuxedo.

K;  You have your black felt sport coat.  That will look nice.

D:  With white gloves.

K (laughing): You can wear your fur-lined gloves.  Or even your

gardening gloves.

D:  Stop laughing.  This isn’t funny.  I’m serious.

K:  I know you’re serious.  We’ll have a really good time.

D (grits his teeth and scowls):  I’m not going to go! I’m not going to

go!  (Though, in his inner self, he knew he had no choice.)

Night burglar

The other night I went to sleep at midnight.  As is often the case, I

woke at two a.m., took half an Ambien, and worked at the computer for

a while so the pill could take effect.  After about ten minutes I

thought I heard a noise in the dark from downstairs, perhaps

a footstep on the landing.  I stopped typing and listened intently, but

there was nothing.  Minutes later I heard something again, perhaps the

sound of a drawer being opened.  I held my breath, exceedingly

nervous.  We aren’t one hundred percent reliable about

locking the kitchen door at night, and I’ve always feared that a

prowler might test the handle and come in.   I turned on the radio, then clapped my hands loudly to let any intruder know that someone was awake upstairs.  Then I heard a voice call out my name.  It was Katja.  She was down in the kitchen doing dishes.  She wondered what I was clapping about.  I explained and went back to bed.

Candle Dangers

For some time Katja has kept a candle burning in a glass jar in the

living room because she likes the fragrance.  Recently she added a

second burning candle to the table in our sunroom where we eat most of

our meals.  On Tuesday morning we were reading the newspaper there

when Katja shrieked.  She had been holding the New York Times just above the

candle, and it caught fire in her hands.  Then on Wednesday morning

her newspaper caught fire again.  It occurred to me that we could set

the paper down some day, leave the room, and our house would soon be on

fire.  I did move the sun room candle to a safer location, but it still leaves me nervous.

Good Dr. Z / Evil Dr. Z

Dear George,

When our former family practitioner retired after 45 years, I switched over to Dr. Z, one of his younger colleagues.  That seemed to go well, at least for a while.  Dr. Z struck me as knowledgeable, laid back, helpful.  Then things got more shaky with my Ambien sleeping pill prescription.  Each time I wanted it refilled, I had to engage in a new round of conflictful negotiations.  Dr. Z says he doesn’t like Ambien, prefers not to prescribe it, and doesn’t want me walking onto the expressway at night in front of a semi.  Though  I appreciate the sentiment, I never worry about semis.   I did get more nervous last year when Medicare said that I was authorized to receive Ambien for twelve more months.  Now the twelve months are nearly up, and, when I asked Dr. Z last week if he could get a new authorization, he said that, because of my age, federal guidelines prohibit him from writing an Ambien prescription for me.  I might have imagined it, but he seemed to have a demonic look in his eye.   I get intensely annoyed by federal guidelines that prohibit this or that because of my age.  I calmly explained to Dr. Z. that Ambien is a wonder drug, and, just because I can’t imagine getting to sleep without it, that doesn’t make me an addict.  Dr. Z was unbudgeable.  He said that he wanted me to try Draxamyl* instead.  Seeing no other option, I begrudgingly said o.k.   

It turns out that Draxamyl wasn’t even developed for sleep problems.  According to the info I got with my Rx, it’s designed to treat “depression or other serious mental illnesses.”  Apparently it helps some chronically depressed persons sleep better, but there’s little evidence about non-depressed people.  According to the pharmacy info, Draxamyl has various possible side effects.    These include: nausea, vomiting, nightmares, suicide, trouble walking, constipation, panic attacks, unusual bruising, tremors, worsened depression, violent behavior, 6-hour erections, mania, eye pain, hallucinations, diarrhea, trouble sleeping, and a few dozen more.  I can’t believe that Draxamyl is a better choice than my beloved Ambien.  

I did start taking Draxamyl several nights ago.  The first night was un-thrilling.  I lay there in a heightened state of awareness till 3 a.m., then finally got up and took an Ambien.  Ambien, of course, worked perfectly.  The subsequent nights were up and down.  Sometimes I slept through the night; sometimes I woke in the early morning hours and had trouble getting back to sleep.  So far I haven’t noticed violent behavior or hallucinations.  I guess I’ll keep trying Draxamyl.  However, I am thinking of outwitting the evil Dr. Z by not taking any sleeping pill at all.  Google, it turns out, has a lot of good tips about how to go to sleep and stay asleep without medication.  Here are a few that strike me as promising**:   

• Go to bed and wake up at the same time each day.
• Get up earlier in the morning (so you will feel more tired at night).   
• Eliminate coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol in the evening.  
• Limit naps during the day.   
• Exercise regularly (but not immediately before bedtime). 
• Don’t watch TV, listen to the radio, or use the iPad in bed.
• Don’t eat or drink right before bedtime.
• Keep your bedroom cool (60-67 degrees) and free of distractions (e.g., light, noise). 
• Don’t let your pet sleep in bed with you.   
• Get all your worrying done before bedtime (e.g., after dinner, review the day and make plans for the next day). 
• Focus on your breath (in, out, in, out).  
• Try progressive muscle relaxation (start at one end of the body and work up or down, clenching and then releasing each section of muscles for all-over relaxation.   
• Keep a Sleep Diary to help identify patterns or issues with your sleep habits.  
• If you can’t sleep after 20 minutes, go to another room and do a relaxing activity such as reading or listening to music.    

I’ve never done well on most of these things.  Katja and I watch Frasier on Netflix for an hour before we turn the TV off to go to sleep.  Most days I don’t exercise enough to make myself tired, and I’ve taken to napping more often than I used to.  I’m inconsistent in my waking time, and I rarely get up early in the morning.   Sometimes I like to drink wine in the evening.  I go to bed obsessed with writing poetry in my mind.  If I do wake up in the early morning hours, I go straight to the computer.  Our thermostat is set for warm temperatures, the streetlights shine through our blinds, and Katja plays music on the radio.  All in all, I’d say everything I do is antithetical to good sleep.  So all I need to do is make massive changes to my entire life style.  I can do that.  I think I’ll start in the spring.  I’ll show that Dr. Z.    

Love,

Dave

*”Draxamyl” is a pseudonym.  The side effects listed for my prescribed drug are real.  

**Sources of sleep tips: webmd.com, greatist.com, people.well.com, sleepfoundation.org, vanwinkles.com

This Flu Is Not Going To Get Me

Dear George, 

I’ve been worrying more about the flu this year.  This could be a matter of getting older, but it’s probably due to generalized anxiety about the imminent collapse of the country (which makes one more vulnerable to all the horrors out there).  In any case, my nervousness got worse when Katja recently had an overnight stay in the hospital.  The doctor told her not to go to the chamber music concert when she got out (millions of flu germs), and, if she felt compelled to go to a friend’s funeral, she should only make a brief appearance and shake nobody’s hand.  Then the nurse came in and added that the current flu is lethal, that the vaccine this year is only 10% effective, and that it would be best to never leave our house at all.   

When I got home I went straight to Google and asked “How do I prevent the flu?”  There are a lot of good tips available.  Here are the main suggestions from webmd.com and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention*:  

Get a yearly flu vaccination, preferably by the end of October.  This is especially important for persons in high risk categories: young children, people age 65 and older, pregnant women, and persons with chronic health conditions.

Avoid crowded public places.  Especially try to stay away from people who are coughing or sneezing.  

Wash your hands frequently with soap and water.  If soap and water are not available, use an alcohol-based hand rub.  

Every time you sneeze or cough wash your hands for 15 seconds (the time it takes to silently sing “Happy Birthday” twice).     

Cover your nose and mouth with a tissue when you cough or sneeze.  

Avoid touching your eyes, nose, and mouth.  This is how most germs are spread.  

Clean and disinfect surfaces and objects that may be contaminated with germs, e.g., doorknobs, stairway railings, keyboards, phones. 

I was dimly aware of most of these ideas, but I’ve never done much to put them into practice.  I find that frequent hand-washing with soap is a lot like like drinking 8 glasses of water a day.  It sounds good and I have good intentions, but I rarely follow through.  This time, though, I went promptly to the bathroom sink to take action.  Our soap is a purple liquid which comes in a plastic dispenser named “Lavender”.  The label is decorated with purple flower images, and the soap not only smells good but it’s guaranteed to provide “freshness at your fingertips”.  I reviewed the fine print carefully, but it didn’t say anything about the flu or any other life-threatening condition.  I asked Katja if we had a regular bar of soap, and she did have a bar in the bureau dresser.  It was large, egg-shaped, purple, smelled exotic, and came in a woven silk bag with a purple tie.  Like our “Lavender” dispenser, it made me uneasy.  I decided to get my own more powerful soap at the drugstore. 

I never paid much attention to the soap department at our neighborhood pharmacy, but I have to admit it’s impressive.  The soap section is about 18 feet long, 5 foot high, and must contain three hundred or more different soap products.  The hitch for me was that they all came in plastic dispensers with floral designs and promises of “beauty”, smooth skin, and “freshness”.  For several minutes I couldn’t find any bars of soap at all.  Finally I located three packages on the bottom shelf at the end of the row.  I settled on the antibacterial bar (even though it’s irrelevant to the flu since the flu is a virus).  The label says “‘round the clock odor protection” and “the perfect balance of feeling clean & moisturized.”  They don’t explain just how they determined that cleanliness and moisture are balanced.   

Katja is unhappy with my choice.  She says the yellow-orange color doesn’t fit our purple bathroom motif.  My opinion is that yellow is complementary to purple so it’s a better fit than, say, pink or chartreuse.  So far I have used my new bar of soap once or twice each day.  I’ve yet to use it after sneezing or coughing although I hope to do so in the future.    I definitely worry less about the flu now.   Not only do I wash my hands with soap more often, but there’s probably protection just from having a real bar of soap sitting in our bathroom.

Love,

Dave            

*SOURCES:

www.cdc.gov, “Prevent the Flu: Good Health Habits Can Help Stop Germ

www.webmd.com, "How to Dodge the Flu Without a Shot"