Tom Loughlin @ Micro.blog – Page 14

Jan

2020

Not So New Year

Dunkirk NY – I tend to feel the spirit of a new year more when the spring comes rather than in the dead of winter. Nothing really feels like it can renew itself in winter. We celebrate a calendar changeover with the naming of a new year, but then we plunge back into the depth of the cold. Winter continues unabated, and January and February in fact turn out to be the two coldest months of the year. It’s a little depressing to spend an evening celebrating and then wake up the next morning to realize you’ll still be freezing your ass off for the next couple of months.

There is some logic attached to celebrating a new year in winter, though. When connected with the solstice, the ongoing return of more light brings a bit of relief. Groundhog’s Day (Candlemas, Imbolic, mid-winter) brings a sense that the end of the dark season is near. But it’s not until I can hear more birds sing, the snow melt for the final time, and the temperatures warm to above 60° that I feel a new year has come. Around here, that’s around April.

This coming year, for me, brings with it a lot of unknowns. In a few days I’ll be heading to my brother’s house to help out with the care of my mother. I’ll be staying out there for an indefinite period of time, as long as she needs assistance. My brother and I intend to get more professional care in for her to attend to everyday needs, but she needs someone 24/7, and as I’m retired with nothing on my plate, I’ve decided it’s best to go out and take some of the burden off my brother, especially during the night. Her eventual passing is really an unknown at this time, because although she is losing strength, she has no particular condition or disease. So it’s mostly a matter of time, and while I will miss the comforts of my own home, my brother has a large house located in a very wooded area, and it’s just as easy to sit most of the day there as it is here. I suspect that life will become a day-to-day matter; no planning for the future.

In terms of how retirement is going, I believe I am discovering some things about retirement that are difficult to prepare for. One is simply this sense of having to watch over and care for people. Last year it was Jenna after her car accident; this year it’s my mother. Many other people spend their time watching grandchildren. I’m sort of realizing that all those plans you think about – wintering in Arizona, extended RV trips in the fall – are plans that life often squashes. My own parents had to spend time as caretakers for their families until into their 70s. You’re not really as free as those glossy AARP bulletins would have you think you are. I’ve only been able to execute one or two small trips so far. And I have done a few shows, which takes up time as well. And have had my knees repaired.

All of this has been more or less going with the flow, taking what’s offered, and reacting to what’s happening. My initial three-year “wait and see” period comes to an end this April, but that’s really an artificial deadline. If 2020 is to be any kind of “new year,” it should bring with it some new purpose and a more defined sense of how I spend my time. I’ll get back to you come May 2020. -twl

Dec

2019

RIP Karen Volpe

Dunkirk NY – On the morning of Christmas Eve, while visiting my son in Oneonta for Christmas, I received word that a former student of mine, Karen Volpe, had decided to terminate treatment for her pancreatic cancer. Later that day, as the sun was setting, I was informed that she had died. I do not know her exact age, but she was probably one side or the other of 50; too young, at any rate.

Because I do not have social media accounts, I was unable to follow her fight against the cancer, but one of her classmates kept me updated via email. Since she was a performer and someone who promoted her career on social media, she documented various stages of her illness. I cannot think of anyone who was more positive, optimistic and full of life than Karen, and from what I understand, that is what you saw on the various video updates she posted. She wanted to make sure no one felt bad for her.

Her personality was infectious. She was a master entertainer and performer. She loved music and musical theatre, and in fact when she was a student, she sort of avoided me (I think) because I had a reputation for disliking musical theatre (not so; I dislike bad musicals). We actually got to know each other better after she graduated and moved to California with Paul and they started building their careers. Their energy and output was prodigious. They started a website called The Movie Guys, which reviews movies and celebrates everything Hollywood. Karen performed at various theatres in the region doing well-known Broadway musicals, and became a self-styled country singer, producing her own work. Among other things, she created an act called the Boobé Sisters, a hilarious and sometimes quite salacious mix of 60s do-wop and crude parodies of pop songs (if you hear their version of “Downtown” you’ll never be able to hear Petula Clark’s version in the same way). This was not a woman who sat on her fanny and waited for things to happen. She made a career for herself out of the mix of vivaciousness and talent that she possessed, and with everything she created and did, there was always an infectious joy contained in it. It was impossible to be around Karen and not think the world was an incredibly joyful place.

The few times I’ve been out to LA, I always made a point of looking up Karen and Paul. They always made time for me. I was interested in their perspective on things in LA and the business. They, in return, were very interested to make sure that the theatre students I was teaching got the right information, and I brought back from them plenty of insights and tips I never would have thought of. They welcomed any Fredonia student who moved to the area. I visited their home, part of which they had converted into their own private video studio. They were delighted to take me on tours of LA and Hollywood, and brought me as close to the iconic Hollywood sign as one could get by road. The Hollywood Bowl, Grauman Chinese, Hollywood and Vine, Rodeo Drive, movie studios, celebrity mansions – I got the grand tour. We had lunch at a 50s drive-in place (the name of which escapes me at the moment, might have been a Bob’s Big Boy). At every stop Karen would wax eloquent about the features of the particular attraction. She was the proverbial kid in a candy store. She was a hard-core original Ghostbusters fan, having seen that version at least 10 times. Bill Murray was her favorite actor and comedian.

The last time I saw Karen was maybe three or four years ago, when she and Paul came to the area to visit family (Karen is from nearby Jamestown) for the holidays. Karen was into Christmas big-time, and I went down to one of the local bars to catch the Boobé Sisters Christmas show. Naturally I had a blast. Of course in one of the numbers Karen had to call me up on stage and flirt with/tease me as part of her act. The next day I was invited as a guest on a live audio podcast of The Movie Guys, and she, Paul and I talked about movies we enjoy (with a little baseball thrown in). We’ve always had a running gag among the three of us about how I don’t really enjoy the movies all that much, and that became a focal point of the show’s comedy and good-natured ribbing. Karen and I did agree that Bill Murray was a very interesting talent, but while she still preferred Ghostbusters, I went with Lost in Translation. I think we met somewhere in the middle, around Groundhogs Day and Scrooged.

Rule #1 in my classroom was “It’s Not Fair.” Usually I made that reference in terms of some aspect of the theatre, particularly the business aspect. But it was also meant as a life lesson as well. Of all the things in life that are not fair, the loss of a young and dynamic life such as Karen’s is the most unfair of all. Yet I cannot help but believe that Karen had one of the most successful and joyous lives of anyone I’ve known. She married the love of her life, she created a fantastic career out of her sense of comedy, joy, and musical talent, she never let up, she never gave in, she made many, many friends, she spread optimism, laughter and love everywhere she went. Her death may seem unfair, but her life was as fulfilling as it was because she never let unfairness get in her way, conquering it instead with her love of all life had to offer.

In John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, the character of Lenny unwittingly kills mice because, in his attraction to the soft fur of the mice, he pets them too hard. Even Death, I think, was enamored with Karen Volpe, such was her love for life. He wanted to hold and touch her just a little bit, soft and gentle, to feel what Life was about; but like Lenny, he pet her too hard. As I hung up the phone after getting the news of her death, I saw the sun setting below the hills outside the window of my son’s house. This haiku came to me:

sunset – the bright fire
that lit her life fades behind
the bare winter hills

We are left to remember how bright that fire burned. -twl

Dec

2019

More Light: Solstice 2019

Dunkirk NY – Every year at the winter solstice I post this video. This Northern Exposure clip comes from the 4th season episode Northern Lights, which explores the theme of light during the winter solstice.

Goethe’s final words: “More light.” Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that’s been our unifying cry: “More light.” Sunlight. Torchlight. Candelight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier’s Field. Little tiny flashlights for those books we read under the covers when we’re supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet.” “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” “Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom; lead thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on!” “Arise, shine, for thy light has come.” Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light. -Chris in the Morning

This year I’ve felt a deeper understanding of the holiday season and its relation to light. As I was watching people along the road put up their holiday lighting decorations, it really struck me hard that, despite all the madness and commercialism, this is the way people now fight the darkness of the winter season, whether they are conscious of it or not. Huge Christmas light displays, the street post lights along the main roads in the city, candles in windows – all of it is a fierce attack on the surrounding darkness. I remember when I was driving for Enterprise how I noticed much more that I would leave in the darkness for work and arrive home in the darkness after work. The day is a little more than 9 hours long, with maybe 10 hours of visible light where I live. The houses lit for the Christmas holiday season have taken on a more intense message and meaning for me, one of doing the very best one can to beat back the darkness and bring back more light. I felt that this year as I hung my own modest string of lights around the front doorway and decorated the house for the holidays. Light is pretty critical to me in terms of dealing with seasonal depression, but this year I found myself not so focused on my own need for light, but on everyone’s need for light. The natural need for more light extends even more in a metaphorical sense, as I consider how much more light is needed within all humanity at a time when so many dark forces look to crush humanity out of existence.

By historical standards these are becoming dark times. Anger, cruelty, authoritarianism, and oppression are everywhere you look. The assault on the poor and helpless is unabated. Nature is beginning to fight back and have its say, as the climate reacts to our abuse of its abundance. This will not be corrected any time soon, and the resulting chaos will last for some time to come. The hardest thing to come to grips with is that, as with so much in the natural world, this process is both normal and natural. When a forest fire rages, we all fear the destruction and death it brings. And yet nature lets us know it does this only to clear the land for the new life it intends to bring. Living with and through the scarred landscape is never easy; we have to look with purpose to find the seedlings that will fashion the new life to come long after we have gone.

Hope lies only in the amount of light we can bring to these dark time: the light of knowledge, wisdom, humility, compassion, and understanding. Let’s hope that the coming decade is one where we can bring more light to shine on the dark places we are creating so as to root out the darkness for future generations. -twl

the day’s dying light
the year’s dying breath – one wink
closer to the grave

Dec

2019

Disengagement

Dunkirk NY – The chief stumbling block in my retirement journey so far has been my inability to find some kind of activity to keep me engaged. I took a job for awhile driving cars for Enterprise, but I quit that because I was unable to get the schedule or time off I wanted to do Shakespeare in Delaware Park in 2018 (I didn’t want to be working two jobs for the duration). I’ve thought about finding another job, but it seems lately that life keeps getting happening while I consider other jobs. Four unexpected months on the west coast, another summer in the park, and an opera combined to make 2019 a bit busy. But all of those activities are temporary gigs, and none of them really provided the spark I have been looking for. On top of all this, I always have in the back of my mind the reality that at some point in time I will need to dedicate my time to assisting my mother, as her health is fading, and my brother is beginning to strain under the task. As of the end of this week I have no commitments or formal obligations to attend to, and the artistic 2020 is only in rudimentary form – nothing signed.

I’ve come to believe that one of my issues is the fact that I do not feel particularly attached to the current culture. I feel like a man from a different time, and there does not appear anymore to be a place for me. When I look at the theatre scene nationally, I do not find that the American public is particularly interested in the art form beyond another form of escape. According the the NEA’s latest Survey of Public Participation in the Arts (SPPA) for 2017, only 23.8% of the American public attended one live stage play. 16.5% attended a musical, while 9.4% attended a non-musical play. 2.2% attended an opera. The data does not include attendance at elementary or high school performances, but does include community and student performances. In short, the vast majority of the American public does not attend the theatre. It’s a niche activity. I am sure the numbers were higher in earlier surveys, but not by much. In 2002, the percentage was 29.4%. I don’t believe there is any reliable data prior to the 21st century.

Culturally, I am a product of the white, male Western culture. It’s clear that the culture is moving towards a far more diverse reality. I accept this fact. The artistic and cultural milieu in which I was raised is being replaced, and that’s as it should be. I’ve no issue with that. My problem is trying to find a new home in this emerging culture, and more and more I am coming to believe that there may be no place for me here. What I know and can pass on is not of particular relevance anymore. Again, I have no problem with this; it is as it should be. In the ever-evolving world of human experience and evolution, it has always been thus.

There are only two things I can observe here. The first is that the speed at which this kind of development and evolution seems to be happening at a rate faster than at any time in human history. Things become obsolete much faster. The world I experienced in the 1960s as a teenager is simply non-existent today; no real remnants of it exist. Even the world of the 1990s seems like an eternity ago. I think that people become lost and displaced much faster than ever before. Even the world that existed prior to the election of the current administration seems like eons ago.

The second observation is that the issue is mine to deal with. The last thing I want to become is a grumpy old curmudgeon railing against every little thing. I will admit there is much in modern culture I simply do not like. Pop music is formulaic and sterile; modern theatre is less accessible and too narrow in terms of the audience it’s speaking to; movies are, on the whole, too loud, or too manipulative, or too one-dimensional; TV is apparently bursting with good writers, but they are writing about issues consistent with a younger audience who have more modern concerns (I would say neuroses, but hey) and stress points. I can’t relate, as the saying goes. I never liked Seinfeld, and I can’t for the life of me imagine how The Big Bang Theory lasted for so long. Or Friends, for that matter. I’m still stuck in the TV world of Cheers and Northern Exposure and Peter Gunn.

All this leads to the reality that I have become disengaged from modern living. While I am quite willing to accept this, I am nonetheless still coming to grips with the problem of how to keep myself busy and engaged in what I consider to be meaningful activity. While I continue to take the odd theatre gig I get, I simply don’t find them all that meaningful anymore – they just pass the time. I enjoy going to Delaware Park and being in a show simply for the fact that it’s a pleasant way to pass the time. I don’t believe anymore that the audiences I perform for get anything meaningful out of the work or the show, nor do I believe anyone is really there to create “art.” We share a pleasant evening in the park, the audience and I, and that’s about it. It wasn’t what I set out to do when I first started acting, but this is what has evolved into over the years. It’s OK, it’s pleasant, it puts a few bucks in my pocket, and it passes the time. Nothing more.

Whatever work or activity I pick up from here on in will no doubt be a solitary venture. I have joined the Haiku Society of America, but I think my haiku writing will remain a private activity for a little while longer. Writing seems to me to be the most meaningful thing I can now do, but I fear it because I’m an amateur with little experience. And because I really don’t feel I fit into the current culture, I don’t believe I have anything useful to contribute except to those who might be in the same cultural boat as I am. Solitude is OK by me, but so is a limited sharing with others. Understanding how to balance the feeling of disengagement with the need to engage seems to be the present struggle. -twl

Dec

2019

The Joy of…Cricket?

Dunkirk NY – My youngest son and I have for years bonded over baseball. He loves the sport and follows it closely. Quite often we have discussions (some might say arguments) over many aspects of the game. He is a much better sabermetrician than I am, and he’s really good at analyzing the business aspects of the game. We attended the 2017 World Baseball Classic tournament held in Petco Park in San Diego in 2017. We talk baseball quite a lot.

My oldest daughter was at one time a big baseball fan as well, rooting for the Yankees and idolizing Derek Jeter. But her attention to the sport has drifted off as she has moved to the Olympia WA area, and her partner is more into football, so now she’s a big Seahwak fan. We did enjoy an outing to T-Mobile Park to see the Mariners play while I was out there last year, though.

My middle son has never been into sports all that much. He always enjoyed the atmosphere and the food in a ballpark, but never became a true fan of the game. He knows more about the game than he admits, but I believe he’s always been a little envious of how much my youngest son and I talk and bond over baseball.

Well, we seem to have found a solution to that situation. He has become a fan of cricket, and during a phone conversation he mentioned I could fill a lot of my retirement time with watching cricket, since it’s so close to baseball. I had been looking for a sport to fill up the off-season. I started with soccer but was unable to keep that up. I’ve grown terrifically disenchanted with American football and no longer am truly interested, although I will watch a game here and there. Cricket, however, has begun to fill that space. I find myself more and more watching cricket matches, and I am becoming a fan of the sport. The pace of the game is very much like baseball (leisurely, pastoral), and the sense of throwing and striking a ball is a rhythm I can easily fall into. My son has been teaching me a lot about the game, and we’ve really begun to form a bond over it. It’s added a whole new dimension to our relationship, and I’m pretty happy about that.

Cricket is a game full of tradition and history much like baseball, and there are many fascinating aspects to the game. I really can’t go too much into cricket laws here, since they are involved and complicated, but here are the basic similarities which attract me to the game:

There is a bowler (pitcher) and a batter (hitter). The bowler throws the ball to the batter from 60′ away, and they are allowed to bounce the ball.
The objective of the bowling side is to get 10 wickets (outs) for the least amount of runs allowed. The objective of the batting side is to score as many runs as possible before 10 wickets are recorded.
Singles, doubles, triples and “home runs” (boundaries) exist. Boundaries can be for either four runs, or six runs when the ball clears the boundary on the fly.
There are always two batters on the pitch (field) at any time, and they score runs by running safely between the wickets. There is a defined “safe ground” much like a base.
Once a batter is dismissed, they are out for good. You only go through a lineup once. There are 11 players to a side, but you need only 10 wickets (outs) to end an innings (a team’s batting session is called an innings, and it’s always plural).
Batters are dismissed (out) if a struck ball is caught on the fly, if they are run out, bowled out, or stumped. The latter three involve breaking the wicket before a batter has reached their ground (gotten on base).
There is no “strike zone.” A batter may choose to strike the ball or not. If they hit the ball, they may choose to run or not. The batter’s most important goal is to defend the wicket from being struck by the bowler. If that happens, the batter is “bowled out,” and dismissed (“He’s/She’s got to go!”).
Bowlers throw 6 deliveries, and once they’ve done that, another bowler can come in (and usually does) for another 6 deliveries. Each delivery of 6 balls is called an “over.”
Bowlers generally are categorized in two types: fast bowlers, and spinners. Fast bowlers are known for speed, while spinners throw breaking balls. The top speed of the best fast bowlers is around 90 MPH/145 KPH for men.
The entire field is shaped like an oval, and there is no foul territory. The batter is free to strike the ball in any direction at any time.
Only the wicket keeper (catcher) is allowed to wear gloves. All other fielders play barehanded. The cricket ball is somewhat similar in makeup to a baseball. Imagine catching a fly ball in baseball with your bare hands.
There is no clock in cricket. A test match, the longest form of the game, can take 5 days to play.
There are three basic forms of the game: test, T20, and ODI.
- Test cricket is the oldest form of the game, the longest form, and most traditional
- Twenty20 (T20) consists of twenty overs per side, with each team getting one “at bat.” This is a popular league format for professional players, and lasts about as long as an average baseball game.
- ODI (One Day Invitational) consists of 50 overs per side, with each side getting one “at bat.” It generally takes a full day to play.
There are professional leagues for women in cricket, and they are quite popular. Women also do play-by-play and analysis, called commentary.

I could go on, but I think I’ll stop there. It’s really not my purpose to explain the game here, but rather to express my growing affection for the game, and for the new relationship it has engendered with my middle son. Right now I am watching a test match between Australia and New Zealand via an app called Willow. The difference in time zone means I watch a delayed replay of the match, so I can watch almost any time I like. As I watch, my son and I exchange information, comments, and I ask questions when I don’t understand something. It’s actually quite a simple game once you get the hang of it, but learning all the terminology can be daunting. I keep a cheat sheet next to me as I watch.

I recommend the sport. It’s added a new dimension to my baseball off-season, as well as a new dimension between me and my son. I now have one son for baseball, and one for cricket. It’s a nice set-up to carry me forward in retirement. Howzat? -twl

Nov

2019

NaMenWriMo

Dunkirk NY – NaMenWriMo (National Meniscus Writing Month) comes to a close today with this post. My knee is not 100% healed, and probably won’t be for another 3-4 weeks or so. My date with the doctor is December 20th for the final verdict, but I think it’s pretty safe to day that I am, let’s say, 85% mended. I still know I had an operation 3+ weeks ago, but it is rather amazing to think how well the recovery has gone in such a short amount of time. I still have a few weeks of PT and icing to go, but I feel safe in saying the worst is over. Yesterday I walked to and from the hospital for PT, and no real pain issues. No more baby aspirin after tomorrow, which means the specter of blood clots is probably gone. So it’s good timing; the end of daily blogging comes just as the knee is pretty much healed.

What next? As a general rule, I don’t write that much in this blog. I like to write when I believe I have something to say, which isn’t often. And as you can tell by my refusal to take comments, I don’t write this blog for clicks and giggles. I write for myself, not for others, and given the general tenor of the internet these days, I do not feel it’s safe to put much out there.

Neither is it that I don’t have strong opinions about issues. I do. Just last night my son, who is a concierge at a major urban hotel, and I got into a fascinating discussion about the practice of tipping. He’s for it, of course, while I, while not completely against it, feel the practice is uneven at best. I do like spirited discussions in person, but with reasonable people whom I can speak with fact to face.

I think one of the things I am going to try is to write a quarterly newsletter for people, so as the holiday season approached, I am going to send out holiday cards with the address of my quarterly newsletter. I’ve got one set up through Tiny Letter, a format I actually like. Writing letters is one of my favorite forms of writing, and setting up a tiny letter as a quarterly newsletter seems like the best way for me to stay in touch with others. Inviting them via a holiday card is also the best way to reach directly people I don’t see often or ever. I sort of see it as a substitute for Facebook in some ways. Subscribers get four emails a year with some news and pictures so as to keep up, and I don’t have to get on social media. I think it’s a fair bargain, and will be another incentive to write.

I want to be a writer in my retirement years, but I am not interested in pursuing the usual goals of writing. I don’t care if people read what I write, and I am not interested in interacting with anyone who does read what I write via the web. My all-time favorite blog is this one. I like it because the author writes about his passion for scooters (one I share), but at the same time he probably has a very minimal footprint on the web. His writing has a personal style, but he shares his personal life and experiences always through the lens (pun intended; he’s a photographer) of his scooter. That is what I need to find, that personal lens. If I can find that lens for myself, I think I’d become a better writer.

If you’ve been reading all these posts this month, thanks. They won’t be as frequent at this point, but hopefully they will be more frequent than before. Getting into the writing habit is of course the goal of any “national writing month,” and this is no exception. There is another one I am interested in – National Haiku Writing Month in February – and I may give that a shot. In the meantime, we plunge into the heart of the winter darkness. With two good knees. -twl

Nov

2019

Keep it Moving

Dunkirk NY – So there is no use in trying to write something merely to fill up space. PT, a little shopping, a nice dinner out, one child gone, and one left for another day. Nothing exciting here. You may move along now. 🙂 -twl

Nov

2019

Thanksgiving Day

Dunkirk NY – Let’s make this simple:

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Nov

2019

The Gang’s All Here

Dunkirk NY – Everybody has arrived safe and sound. Right now they are all playing a game of Clue while I am in the back room icing my knee, which gives me a moment to get in this post. No doubt the last few days of writing a post a day will contain some very short entries.

Today was a rather lazy day all told. It was windy and rainy, and so we spent a good deal of the day indoors. My middle son and I watched about three hours of cricket. The game has become a new way for us to connect, which is good. He’s always been a little envious of the way my youngest son and I connect about baseball. I have found cricket to be an entertaining way to pass the time, actually. I’ve now gotten a taste of all four types of cricket (T10, T20, ODI, and test), and they all have their good points. I already have a notion of going to England and attending a bunch of matches. I think it would make an unusual and interesting vacation. It also gives me more incentive to get to New Zealand and Australia to see cricket there. I wish, when I was in India, I had known more about the game, because India is a pretty cricket-mad country.

We enjoyed some pea soup for dinner. My youngest son took one of my best beers – a Sam Smith Nut Brown Ale – instead of the IPAs I had for him. I’m sipping an egg nog and Bailey’s. Tomorrow will be busy with preparing the Thanksgiving meal. Life is pretty good at the moment. -twl

Nov

2019

Nice Day for a Walk

Dunkirk NY – I went to physical therapy this morning, and I am finding the experience very different from the last knee. My current therapist is much more hands-on, while my last therapist was much more hands-off. When I went to PT last year, I got an initial set of exercises, an initial workup, and got some training in how to correctly do those exercises. When I came for subsequent visits, I would simply continue to repeat those exercises without much variation. The head PT would check on me probably once, and sometimes not at all. Towards the end he added time on a bike as well as some wall slides. I could do those same exercises at home. Very simple. I went for about six weeks and that was that.

This time around, my current PT (the first one retired) is much more hands-on. First thing was getting on the bike for 10 minutes. Then a series of stretches, only two of which were the same (quad tightening and heel slides). 4-way leg lifts, stepping exercises on stools, knee raises while walking, and some stretching/balancing/lunging exercises have been added. A 2-pound weight was added to my ankle today. Reps keep getting raised. It’s slightly more of a workout that last year, and Tammy is always on top of me, checking in, monitoring my pain level. It’s a much, much more active approach.

I don’t think one approach is better than the other. I tend to prefer the more laissez-faire approach, but I’m OK with the more active approach as well. Honestly, I think the actual act of physical therapy is, not exactly useless, but not really as necessary as one might think. The exercises can mostly be done at home, and good Youtube videos would suffice for training. The simple act of moving and walking and climbing my stairs provides good exercise. And the body itself tends to heal very well. What the PT does do is actually make me get up and get it done, which is the main reason I actually go. Being an essentially lazy SOB does not work well for me when I have to motivate myself to get this done.

I finished today’s session with a short walk from my auto repair shop after dropping the car in to replace a right rear wheel bearing. It was a very nice day today – sunny, with a high of about 52 degrees – so the walk felt good. As today went on, though, i started to feel a bit of pain, so I downed three ibuprofen and took a nap. My son is coming later tonight with his partner and her daughter, so I have to remain awake until about 11 PM, when they are expected to arrive.

So a lot of activity today, which felt good. I still tire somewhat after doing all this, which remains frustrating. But at the very least I feel more active and am slowly getting back into the swing of things. My holiday season is no longer the stressful time it used to be, but being able to be up and about while the kids are home certainly beats being laid up. I seem to have timed this surgery just right. -twl

Not So New Year

RIP Karen Volpe

More Light: Solstice 2019

Disengagement

The Joy of…Cricket?

NaMenWriMo

Keep it Moving

Thanksgiving Day

The Gang’s All Here

Nice Day for a Walk

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