What to do

When I was a preteen I wanted to be a test pilot. I got my first pair of glasses at 12. Pilot dream died and the next best thing was to be Nuclear Physicist. Going to a piss poor high school ended that dream in my freshman year. I did take music lessons all through school, learn to play piano, sax and oboe. Tried out for college orchestra, not good enough. Thought I could get a cush job in the Army when they had tryouts for the WAC band, too bad, three days before they remove a wisdom tooth and I couldn't blow a note. No second chances in the military. Such as my life as been all failed dreams, my last, getting a degree and it not counting for anything; no new job or promotion. People are always comfortable with the way you were.

So now I am retired, the media says it time for me to reinvent myself. The question is how. I am not one who is fortunate to say 60 is the new 40. My body rebels against that. I'm alive without dialysis, but being a kidney transplant patient is still not without its problems. It also takes resources, which I have little for the first year and with utility cost doubling almost every year, inflation and my drug cost; additional income will get sucked up.

Volunteer? No! I given too much out of duty, not for emotional reward. I get nothing out of it. I was intrigued for a while and thought I might enter into a teaching program. My application was accepted, but I bailed out, because it was really designed for young teachers. I would have had to complete a masters in three years while teaching, full time. Too much work to be retired.

I can't stare at the wall, but what to do?

Wedding

Salto de Sete Quedas - Brasil
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mario cesar mendonça gomes' photostream

Oft times I live my life in daydreams, which I learned never come true, but somehow they make me happy during the moments I create them.

I fell in love at first sight. True. I am not sure I will ever see him again. True.

During our first encounter I told him I had wanted to see the largest waterfalls of the world during my retirement. During that conversation he told me of a waterfall in South America, which he thought was a most beautiful place. I thought then if our relationship developed, perhaps I could ask him to take me there. I don't remember where, only the visualization of the place. All true.

I have not been able to do very much this past month, so I am left to the internet and the roaming of my mind. True.

He comes to be my lover, we laze around, get our houses together, and travel locally a bit. Finally I ask, can we visit that water fall. He a bit reluctant, but says will we do it.

We are at this waterfall. Its awesome, quite different than Niagara. Our vantage point is high as I imagine with the waterfall somewhat lower elevation parting a very wide gorge through the mountain. Its devoid of the rushing voices of tourist, only the thunder of the falls. As we watch and listen to the falls I feel so joyous that tears come to my eyes. He holding me close, I don't hear the words, but see the ring. I want this. Say yes.

First conversation, made it very clear he had no intention of ever getting married again. True.

I want to get married at this place. we find a way to hook us up to a webcast so friends and family could be present. Then upload to YouTube later for those that missed it. He finds some old acquaintances to be witnesses.

He has a suit and shirt, no tie. He looks fabulous. He cuts quite a figure, still has a tight body. Me? I have little hair, totally gray now, covered with a flower garland and a gauze like shapeless summer dress. I'm wondering, if I'm too old for the dress.

The wedding vows take place at sunset, with our silhouette in the camera. then as we kiss, a song sung in the native language of love, only the female voice. A haunting sound again the backdrop of the falls. We then turn to the camera an tell every one we will visit soon, then good bye. I can't stop smiling.

The day dream not long enough. My retelling may seem trite, but it is a way for me to replay the dream and momentarily have hope. I've been in so much pain the last few weeks. He tells me he is on the road working, that he thinks of me and is looking forward for some time together; that is when he writes. True.

The only true thing that I know is that I fell in love at first sight.

Been sick

Still having health problems. Haven't been able to form any kind of post, although there have been a few things on my mind. I have made short comments on others blogs, because it didn't require the same thought process. Hopefully my mind and body will be back soon.

Tomorrow

Of unknown purpose

I'd embark on the journey

Lead by your heart sound

 

A few good men

In some places there are calls for discussions among groups to discuss how to stop the violence in the community. The latest calls have been sparked by the death of Derrion Albert. His death has even gotten the attention of the Obama administration. The Attorney General and the Education Secretary are in Chicago this week to meet with the Chicago's Mayor and officials to develop strategies to combat the violence.

There has to be a way that we can solve problems without commissions, round-tables or summits. I think by now studies, talk, statistics and research have covered all the causes and solutions. One big problem is implementation. I do not mean there has to be no organization, but I do think there should be direct confrontation with the young people who engage in violence by adults that are not law enforcement. However, these adults should not be easily intimidated. It would be advantageous if someone from the military would volunteer.

Laissez le Bon temp rouler

History and Culture of New Orleans. Aired tonight in my city on PBS. Try to find a broadcast in your area. I think you may also learn something new.

Faubourg Tremé: The Untold Story of Black New Orleans

The conundrum

I was describing the circumstances, in which I received a kidney transplant. The person I was talking to had a hard time saying the word cadaver. You see, I had a transplant from a cadaver or dead person rather than from a living donor. The person also realized that the persons body may have been kept "alive" until the kidney was removed. My donor did not die an accidental death, but from some disease. I was not told from what. I was also told that the kidney was put on a pump to lengthen it's viability. After I had the transplant, cell death, Necrosis did occur at point the ureter was attached to my bladder. I had to have another surgery ten days later to have it removed and replaced with my own.

I took high school biology in 1959. One of the dissections we had to do was to remove the heart of a gold fish. We had to dissect in such a way that the heart remain beating in order to get a grade. We had discussions about the nervous system, voluntary and involuntary muscle movement. At this time there had not been the first heart transplant, but the fact that you could remove a heart still beating was significant.

The first kidney transplant had been from a live donor and from an identical twin several years before the first heart transplant. The heart transplant patient has no choice but to have a cadaver donor. It still makes many uncomfortable talking about transplants, because for most transplants, someone has to die. Among other reasons, to make transplants possible, there had to be an acceptable point in which the person is living or dead, not if the persons cells are alive and healthy. When death of the brain determined death of the person, rather than when the heart stopped beating and breathing stopped certainly helped in accessing more viable organs for transplantation. The notorious case of Terri Schiavo demonstrated the problems some still have with the definition of life. Cases like this make some of the public fear being transplant donors.

Perhaps it seems that I am presenting slightly disconnected facts, but I think these are relevant to the thinking of what is life and death. Science and technology advances have created new ethical problems that our society has to cope with.

Postmillennial

Many thought that the major disaster of 2001 would be January 1, but instead it became September 11. In these years after the turn of the century's pivotal event, the world seems to be in a time warp. I feel like I am living in my childhood during the fifties. The odd behavior of this nation, for the first time having to deal with erratic behavior of terrorist, has reverted to old habits. The suspicion, fear, which have led to witch hunts, and the comfort in xenophobia and racism has grasps many of our citizens. The war on terror has once again lost sight of its purpose, while many tire of it and eight years later there is no justice for the victims from the collapse of the World Trade Center Towers.

We should have burned down this sucka in 1968.

Calmer voices eventually prevailed.

I'm at my last nerve. I feel as I did then. There has been a line crossed, the consequences are unknown.

Glen Beck and his forces have successfully destroyed one of President Obama's advisers, because the Color of Change was waging a successful campaign to boycott Beck advertisers. What is unusual, that person had not been affiliated with the group for two years, but no matter, any proxy for Obama is good enough. In their minds it doubly justifies their righteousness, since Obama's intention is to poison the minds of children. I guess it is not right for Black folk to boycott like the folks who boycotted Whole Foods. The response to that, was to create a buycott; not destroy the organizer life. You know different standards for different folks.

This concerted effort to portray Obama as a stealth agent of Al Queada , Lenin and Trotsky, Hitler and Goering, and Chairman Mau and giving credence to every nut case and encouraging them to "take back the country" is making me believe that passive resistance and civil discourse will not be a solution next time.

I am at my last nerve.
I am close to lighting a match.

Oboe da Caccia

As I get older I learn about things that I thought I should have when I was younger. In high school I played Oboe. I knew of the English Horn, and a B-flat version, but never heard of the Oboe da Caccia. I just learned of this instrument watching a YouTube upload of Bach's St.Matthews Passion. It looks as if someone is playing a goose. The two instruments come in about three minutes into the video with the soloist.

Here is the Koopman - Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra and Soloists playing:

Bach - Matthaeus Passion - 58-59-60-61