Joe Lewis & Me Go To The Gym

If I must resort to getting a trainer and working out - and I must - than I plan to do it in good company. Joe Lewis, Heavyweight boxing champion of the world! He held this title from June 22, 1937 until June 25, 1948 and made a division-record 25 successful title defenses. Someone I would be proud to emulate!

I am still on steroids and still struggle to breathe. And the weight gain from the steroids has just created more problems with my ability to be active. I get so exhausted just doing daily activities and my endurance is pretty non-existent. So what next? Sit in my chair and get fatter and fatter?

Nope! I have joined a gym - what has been relabeled in today's parlance as a fitness center - and acquired a trainer. If I want to get into any semblance of good shape, I need to train! So train I will. Two days a week with a trainer and then all the cardio, weights, balance, flexibility I want to take on.

My first appointment with Molly - such as sweet sweet name for this woman of steel. Former Air Force; and to my way of thinking there is never anything "former" about military! So Molly and I walk to a treadmill. Treadmill:

An exercise device consisting of an endless belt on which a person can walk or jog without changing place;
A mill that is powered by men or animals walking on a circular belt or climbing steps
A job involving drudgery and confinement.

Here's a definition I can relate to:

Instrument of discipline in prisons. A cylinder made to revolve by the action of prisoners putting their weight on boards fixed as steps on the surface of the cylinder. It was intended to be an irksome and monotonous punishment.

Some good words here: endless, drudgery, punishment, monotonous...
So back to me and Molly at the treadmill. I have not exercised in years - I have sarcoidosis - I am 59 years old - I am grossly overweight. So Molly says to me, "Let's do 55 minutes on the treadmill today."

I looked at her as if she were recently released from a long-term treatment center for the severely mentally impaired. FIFTY-FIVE minutes! ME! On a treadmill! I wanted to cry, but that would not have been very sporting of me. I WAS however mentally contemplating how to get out of my contract with the fitness center. There must be some other way to get my lungs back in shape!

So she starts up the treadmill and my feet begin to move. By minute ten my legs were burning and I was ready to leave, that is, if I could have had the stamina to walk out of the gym and to my car.

Twenty minutes - not even halfway through. I knew something that Molly did not - there was NO WAY I could do 55 minutes on a treadmill. Inclines, speed up, slow down, more inclines, and 40 minutes had passed. I was still upright. I could hear Joe Lewis urging me on, and on. Suddenly, time was up! I had gone 55 minutes on a treadmill.

I casually walked down to my car, got inside and shouted with joy! ME - 55 minutes! I was exuberant, ebullient, ecstatic, euphoric, rapturous! Me and Joe go to the gym again on Sunday.

1. ROCKET MAN

THE ALL NEW MOSTLY TRUE ADVENTURES
OF BABY BOY FLETCHER


As is well know by now, Baby Boy Fletcher (BBF) made his arrival six weeks early, eager to begin his adventures here on earth. On the fifth of September he came to Baltimore to take up residence and begin his all new adventures. While he weighed a good weight – 5 pounds and some odd ounces – he was not quite ready for the blue skies and open roads of life. So he spent some time awaiting his “all systems go” before he could venture out into the world.

He was hooked up to snaky opaque tubing, and bound with wires of rainbow colors and undetermined purposes. Bright lights were aimed at various parts of his fragileness and new and unexplained sounds abounded; susurrations, clangs, dings, beeps, swooshes, jabber, all filtered through lights and tubes and hard plastic shell of his new home.
This was not how most babies were greeted by the world. One could say it was unworldly in its lack of congruence, certainty, or general sense of celebration one would have expected. BBF began to take on the “otherness” of where he was placed becoming more like a being from a place far away in time and space than a newly born baby boy. In fact, his resemblance to a Bradburian rocket man, was noted by many who came to stare at him and marvel.

Thus began his first week on planet Earth.

When Cecelia Calls

Cecelia has reached an age where she calls me on the phone now. I pick up the phone and there is this delightfully clear, confident, and perky “Hello.” Immediately recognizable as Cecelia. And then we have a conversation; a true exchange of “sentiments, observations, opinions, ideas” and the events in our daily lives. We discuss books – she is always reading one or another of the “Little House” books. Or we discuss her social life – who is having a party, what movie she is going to go see, raking leaves with her father, updates on her best friends – she is quite a busy little character.

And at some point, we always talk about when we will next see each other, bemoaning once again the fact that it is always far too long a time between our visits. Grandchildren should live right next door, it is a simple as that! She is a part of my heart and soul and I think of her every day. So she might as well move in next door since she is such a constant in my life. Would that life could be all the perfections we wish and hope for!

I love it when she calls me. And I am daunted by the fact that she can accomplish this feat. And constantly amazed that she is of an age where she can perform such tasks. And a bit nostalgic for the little girl who was.

Yet when I hear her “Hello” on my phone, my day instantly is sunny and cheerful.

When Cecelia calls me, there is no place on earth I would rather be than on the phone talking with her.

Trick or Treat

Halloween! Such excitement over this pagan ritual turned into rampant egregious consumerism. According to the 11/05/07 issue of Newsweek, we Americans will spend almost $2 BILLION on Halloween this year!
Are we wacked or what?! Where are our priorities? How about sending all that candy and costume money to New Orleans instead? Unbelievable.

Now for the dilemma...

I hear the sounds of the trick-or-treaters approaching as I have my overstocked candy bowl ready to greet them. And the picture here is of my beautiful wonderful grandson dressed as a pumpkin for - what else Halloween! So where can I draw the line here!
I get a lot of pleasure from seeing the neighborhood children in their costumes, excitedly going door to door in pursuit of that great sugar coma! And I adore going out with my grand daughters; I love to see them dressed up and playing pretend as they too collect more candy than any sane dentist would recommend.


But does it have to cost TWO BILLION DOLLARS?



I remember how much I enjoyed and looked forward to Halloween when I was a child. But things in the 1950s were a bit more parsimonious when it came to trick-or-treating. We had homemade costumes and used paper bags from the A&P grocery store. We also did not have to worry about home made treats - I loved Mrs. Candy's (Yes, her name really was Mrs. Candy) homemade popcorn balls and Mrs. Schaller's pumpkin cookies. We did not have to have our parents go through all of our goodies looking for needles, pills, razor blades, the modern-day "tricks" of the holiday. At the age of 5 years old, I could go out with my 5 year old friends without our parents tagging along because our neighborhood was "safe" for children. There were plenty of parents standing at their doors watching us go from house-to-house; we knew them and they knew us.

But did it cost the equivalent of today's TWO BILLION DOLLARS! Should it?

Baby Nights and Biases

Little baby Fletcher spent the night last night. He is almost 2 months old and growing fast! That's a good thing! I was reminded, however, of nights with his mother 34 years ago; colic.
If you have had a colicky baby, I need not say more. If not - well, sleep becomes a memory; it is fleeting, ephemeral. You fall into the Wishful Thinking bias hourly. You know, "maybe if I hold her like this on my stomach " or "maybe if I give her a bottle at room temperature instead of warm," or "maybe if I could just be 18 again" ..... Then you pass on into let's try this again, and again, and again phase and guess what! Nothing changes!
Then the escalation of commitment bias rears its ugly head! Since it has already been 3 weeks of trying to get the baby to sleep for at least 2 straight hours without screaming in pain from the colic, you cannot stop trying to stop it. You have already invested 3 weeks of your sleep deprived time so you have to just try harder! So you look for any remotely feasible suggestions on how to make the colic go away so that you can sleep. You introduce pacifiers into the crying mouth, you try swaddling, gripe water; you rub olive oil on her stomach in a clockwise motion, eye of newt, toe of frog...you find yourself willing to spend hundreds of dollars on "products" guaranteed to soothe your baby properly because obviously you have demonstrated your utter failure to know how to do so yourself!

So now you slide into depression, despair, low self esteem, insomnia-induce temporary psychosis, stop bathing, eating, talking, what a mess! Also this because something that weighs eight pounds can't seem to stop crying, no matter what you do! Well, yes, I remember it well.

But now I am the gramma and NOT the mom. So Baby Fletcher and I managed rather successfully to make it through those night time hours. He fussed and I adored him. He grunted and groaned and I adored him. He even cried, and I adored him. Sometimes he even managed to sleep a little, me sitting in a chair and holding him close and adoring him. What a change in perspective 34 years can bring about!

Saying "NO"

Anne Lamott, in her book Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, said:
"I live by the truth that NO is a complete sentence. I rest as a spiritual act."

What an amazing concept! When I first read that, I was stunned. How difficult it has always been for me to say NO to any request for my time, money, support, service. And I generally just say YES immediately without even taking a breath and some time to consider WHAT is being asked of me. And then I am stuck!! I am left with hitting myself on the head as I sit and stew and fret and regret whatever it was I just said I would do. I look at my calendar, sigh, moan, shake, and hit myself on the head again as I see myself filling in all of the days with activities that not only do I not have time for, but that I don't even want to do in the first place!

So Anne Lamott really "spoke" to me with her words. Since I read them, back in 2005, I have actually put the word NO into my vocabulary.

errrr no
nnnoo
um no?
no
no
NO
NO (period)!

Olivia is 7!

My granddaughter Olivia turned seven this weekend. Such an advanced and important age for a little person. We went to Syracuse to celebrate with her, as we do every year. Everything these grandchildren of mine do is momentous to me as well it should be.

I never expected to come to such unconditional love in my life as I have experienced with my grand children. And I have delighted in every moment of it. It is fleeting, evanescent.

I can sit and watch their faces for hours and find that a more than sufficient way to spend my time. Listening to them talk, play, think out loud is the most important learning experience in my life these days. The world view of children is so fresh and clear - clean, open, naive and elegant.

Olivia has eyes that sparkle like the splashes of light on the ocean's waves. They are deep and endless. Inquisitive. Playful. Her world has so many possibilities, so many interpretations. Convention has not yet set in and turned fairy dust into concrete. I hope it never does.

Always Beginning

You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can, to e patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Age Blips

I picked up Richard Russo's new book last week and began reading it. It begins:
"First, the facts. My name is Louis Charles Lynch. I am sixty years old, and for forty of those years I've been a devoted if not terribly exciting husband to the same lovely woman..."

Well, I thought, Russo's books are populated with wise, flawed, clueless, astute "old" people and here is another one! THEN, it came to me - the dreaded fact that I am 59 years old. Only ONE YEAR younger than Louis Charles Lynch!!! I could be one of Russo's "old people!"

My perspective on "age" is definitely skewed. I do not view myself as "old" or "elderly" or anything even close to my perception of old people from when I was a girl, or in my teens, twenties, thirties... Yet, here I am - soon to be 60, an age that I had perceived as ancient, over-the-hill, decrepit, senile. What am I to do?

Is 60 the new 40? or even the new 50? hmmmmmm

Glenview Road

I grew up in a smallish town in the 1950s and 60s - Glenview, Illinois. The midwest. Carl Sandburg land. Chicago. Lake Michigan. Four seasons. It was a great time to grow up in Glenview. And it was a great time to be a kid there.

I could ride my bike everywhere - the town was small enough so that distance was not an issue. Nor were there any highways, expressways, or other such things to worry about. We even had sidewalks to ride our bikes on (for the less daring, of course).

I walked to school giving me the opportunity to crunch the crispy ice that had formed overnight on the puddles. To stomp and kick through huge stacks of autumn leaves piled up waiting to be burned over the weekend. To pick lilacs from the wildly abundant stands of lilac bushes to bring to school for the May altars. We did not have or need school buses, let alone door to door school bus service that we see today! A mile was seen as a very very little bit of walking to have to do.

I could play outside at night - even after dark! We did not think about danger or crime - if we wanted to scare ourselves, we would tell each other ghost stories in the shadows of the huge elm trees. It was safe to walk in our neighborhoods at night, to play softball in the middle of the street, to run through the backyards playing tag. We would iceskate at Roosevelt Park at night under the stars and then walk home with our skates over our shoulders and our breath frosting the air.

After school we would "hang out" at the drugstore. How utterly daring! Our drugstore had a real soda fountain and it was a daily ritual to sit at the counter and have french fries and a green river, or vanilla coke. And then we would walk over to Rugan's general store for penny candy - really - only a penny!

I look back on Glenview today and wonder if it still exists anywhere in this country. I see all of the sheltered and heavily guarded children in my community - well, I actually do not see them as they are not allowed outside to play. They make "play dates" with approved "friends." No spontaneous knocking on a friend's door to "come out and play" for them. No soda fountains but for the tarted up replicas in the shopping malls. No playing outside at night.

I sound like an old something-or-other I guess. But it was a good time to be a kid in the 1950s, in Glenview, Illinois.

Baby Quotes

Little baby Fletcher is just getting cuter and cuter, more alert, and bigger and bigger each day. He has gain more than 2 pounds in the last few weeks and he is not yet even one month old (or young?)! I just love sitting and holding him. It is so peaceful and makes me feel so centered.

Babies are a good and wonderful thing after all. They are a blessing and a hope for the future. Here are some quotes that echo my thoughts about babies.

One of my favorites is from the great poet of the prairies, Carl Sandburg: “A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.”

Don Herold, a humorist from the 20th Century said: “Babies are such a nice way to start people”

And that wonderful, sometimes curmudgeon Mark Twain adds: “A baby is an inestimable blessing and bother.”

James Matthew Barrie, that eternal boy playright, said: "When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be"

Van Gogh was also a wonderful painter with words. "If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle."

And I will close with words of wisdom from one of my all time favorite writers, Anne Lamott:
"Honey, you'll never draw another calm breath as long as you live. That blissful amniotic unconcerned state of people without children is a thing of the past."

What the heck does that mean?

I have been long fascinated by word phrases that we use in our everyday conversation, that, when taken literally, make no sense. Why did someone call an exam a "turkey shoot?" Or why am I "barking up the wrong tree" when I am looking for my skinflint aunt to send me money on my birthday? Why am I looking for a "square meal?" Won't a round one do? I love these things!

One such phrase that has puzzled me for a long time is "dead as a doornail." A doornail was never alive, so can it be dead? And why a door nail? Is this a good thing? hmmmm

Well I found a site that has some of the answers to the origin of phrases and here is what "dead as a doornail" implies:

"Meaning: To be dead, with no chance for recovery.
Example: You might as well junk that car, the engine is dead as a door nail.
Origin: Nails were once hand tooled and costly. When an aging cabin or barn was torn down the valuable nails would be salvaged so he could reuse them in later construction.

When building a door however, carpenters often drove the nail through then bent it over the other end so it couldn't work its way out during the repeated opening and closing of the door. When it came time to salvage the building, these door nails were considered useless, or "dead" because of the bend."

I found this information at Origins of Phrases.

A Daily Reprieve

I was at an AA meeting last night and the message was powerful - relapse happens! And there is no guarantee against it and no promise that we will make it back into the rooms. I find meetings where the theme is chronic relapse vital to my sobriety. I need to hear that my sober time does not guarantee me any free passes. That I have a daily reprieve and that if I do not do what I have done so far to stay sober, I have no defense against the first drink.

I sure do not want to go back there! What a hopeless, deep, empty place that was. From page 24 in the Big Book:

At a certain point in the drinking of every alcoholic he passes into a state where the most powerful desire to stop drinking is of absolutely no avail. The tragic situation has already arrived in practically every case long before it is expected.

The fact is that most alcoholics, for reasons yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. Our so-called will power becomes practically non existent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink.

...When this sort of thinking is fully established in an individual with alcoholic tendencies, he has probably placed himself beyond human aid, and unless locked up, may die or go permanently insane.

This is not even an option!

Baby Fletcher is Home!

He came home Thursday evening, September 13, after 8 days in NICU - and ALL is right with the World!

Close your eyes
Have no fear
The monster's gone
He's on the run and your daddy's here

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Out on the ocean sailing away
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient
'Cause it's a long way to go
A hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime

Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Darling, darling, darling
Darling
John Lennon

Babies are god

Baby Fletcher came home last Thursday evening and all is right with the world.

Lester and I spent Saturday at Kate & Ed's house and all I did from 10am until 10pm was hold the baby! What a refreshing, delightful, and serene way to spend the day.

Operationally speaking, he really doesn't do much right now - every 3 hours or so he wakes up, hiccups, gets his diaper changed and eats. Then he goes back to sleep. But he is endlessly fascinating to me! The face itself is a miracle; the squints, squinches, wrinkles, the lip puckers, the tongue twisting, yawns, frowns, I could go on and on at how remarkable a thing is a baby's face. And the random limb movements also offer hours of deep pleasure! The arm in the air, the toes spread out, the hand curled, knuckles to the nose, kicks, knee jerks, again, endless surprises in each unanticipated and unplanned motion he makes.

And it is only the beginning! I am blessed to have yet another grand child to take me on this remarkable journey and I treasure every minute of it. I let my eyes soak in his beautiful face, the perfect skin, this flawless and untouched person. And it fills my soul.

Life and Lungs

Forget the Limbs - just tell me what is going on with my lungs!!!

What is the diagnosis? What is the treatment? The prognosis?

I saw my pulmonologist yesterday and he too wants more tests. I get the sense that he does not agree with the Hopkins sarcoid specialist. I feel sometimes as if my life were "on hold" while I wait on medical wisdoms, while my guitar gently weeps...

This disease is not the end of the world and I know that. In the grand scheme of things, it is just not that important. But, it is my disease and I am tired of wondering what it is! An answer would be nice. Adequate treatment would even be better!

Waiting and Worrying

Baby Fletcher is still in the NICU. Back and forth his parents go, trying to be with him as much as possible. I have such admiration for them. But it pains me to see what they are going through. The baby was supposed to come home today - with great joy and relief. But when they went to pick him up, they were told that he was not eating enough and they had to keep him at the NICU until his eating was back to where it is supposed to be. I cannot imagine the letdown they must have felt. I broke into tears when Kate told me on the phone. Great disappointment quickly followed by worry and fears for the baby. We have never had to leave a baby in a hospital and maybe this is just "little stuff" and not really a big deal, but to me, it is the world right now. And I won't feel right until he is at home with his mom and dad.

Babies Make the World Go Round

Fletcher Ethan Welsh is the newest addition to our family and and he has already make his own special space in my heart. There is nothing like a brand new life to show me what is right with the world. He came into our lives 6 weeks early, Wednesday September 5, 2007, 4:42 am, weighing 5 lbs 12 oz, 18" long. Such a tiny thing. And a living breathing tiny thing at that!

I looked on his precious face and tears just rolled down my face - joyful and grateful for being given this amazing gift. I remember when my first grand child was born as I was flying out to be with my daughter and her family I was wondering how long it would take for me to "love" her - obviously a not-very-experienced grand parent:-) As soon as she was put in my arms I felt my heart expand as it made room for her to take up permanent residence. The same heart that now holds Olivia, and since Wednesday, Fletcher.

Life Does Go On

It is 9:30 in the morning here in Columbia Maryland, and about 30 minutes ago, my son-in-law, Ed, called to say that he and Kate were on their way to the hospital. Kate's water broke and it looks very likely we will have our new baby boy today. I feel as if I am in a state of calm panic!

She is about a month early. She is my beloved daughter. This is her first baby. And all I can pray is that she is well cared for and not in danger. My biggest fears always - ever since they were born, my daughters. That they are never harmed, in pain, suffering, alone; that they die while I am still forced to live. And that fear never goes away. So I sit and pray.

And I am also very excited - a new - brand new - baby boy to love. Baby toes, chubby thighs, a neck filled with those hidden creases that smell so good, baby skin like silk, limbs jerking every which way with no rhyme or reason other than that they can. I already love this baby and I have not yet even held him - he has not yet made his debut! But I love him with all my heart.

And now, the waiting. The temptation to pick up the phone and call every 5 minutes!. And every time my phone rings, my heart leaps with anticipation. Of course, it has only been 45 minutes since Ed called so I probably should try to settle down, but I probably will not. This is an event; a moment in life that requires special attention and care. Events do not suffer waiting very well!
More will be revealed!

Bird Poop?

So, I "might" have hypersensitivity pneumonitis.....and it "might" be caused by exposure to bird poop! How prosaic!!!!!

Now I do not mean to sound ungrateful here - but bird poop? Of course, that will have to be tested and confirmed along with a host of other common causes of HP. And if a cause cannot be found - too bad for me. I will just have to cross my fingers and hope that I don't encounter the allergen again. So maybe it is time to start looking into cloisters!