What a world

This potted plant caught my eye today. Not the pot so much, though it’s a fine pot; nor, the plant, though it’s a lovely plant, seemingly doing well. No, it was the chain securing the pot to the rail that caught my eye. Because the rail is at the entrance to Christ Church!

Who would steal a plant from a church?

As you certainly know, lots of people would. Hence the chain. This is the world we live in.

I noticed another church-related story today. The Catholics have introduced a new version of their Mass. Predictably, some welcome it, some hate it. But this comment in the New York Times made me cringe: “I have to prepare people to pray the way that the church wants us to pray, whatever my personal reservations,” says Msgr. Christopher Maloney of St. John the Baptist Parish in Yonkers.

The idea that only a group of old men in Rome know how people should pray would be laughable were it no so emblematic of the power-hungry, controlling mind-set that is the Vatican, and is at the heart of all the clergy abuse scandals of the last few decades. Why anyone still pays attention to these old farts is beyond comprehension.

Back to the plant. What else would people steal? Here’s my all-time favorite answer to that question: a friend of a friend came home one day to her New York apartment to find a dead, naked woman on her stoop. She was, of course, horrified and, after calling 911, she took a coat outside to cover the body. By the time the police showed up just a few minutes later someone had come by and – yep, you guessed it – stolen the coat!

Indeed, this is the world we live in.

Changing

I wrote yesterday about wanting to change, about wanting to be less a curmudgeon and more happy. I know it's possible, and I know I have tools in hand to make it happen, but 63 years of living on this planet have taught me that change is one of the very hardest things we ever attempt. So hard in fact that most of us don't even try.

When politicians change an opinion they're accused of "waffling." Think about what that means. If you study an issue and learn the facts and come to realize that you were wrong to believe what you did and so change your opinion based on what you've learned, you are said to flip-flop on the issue. That's ludicrous. Research should, at least some of the time, cause us to change our opinions. We can't possibly know everything, but by studying a subject we can learn enough to have an educated opinion. That new knowledge should, according to the law of averages, change our opinions at least some of the time.

Instead, societal pressure supports our natural disposition to not change. So we don't.  We do what we've done because we've always done it. Inertia is a strong force and it can keep us from changing for our entire life.

But I can change; my current state proves that. I wasn't always morbidly depressed; I haven't always celebrated holidays with my husband only; I didn't always go to concerts or operas alone; I haven't always cringed at the idea of 24 family members gathered round a holiday table. People used to describe me as fun.

I need to find my way back to that. Life sucks, it's full of pain and injustice and then you die. Yeah, ok, but why not enjoy the ride? Really. Why not?

Hard to be thankful

My friend Don emailed me yesterday:

"I hope you're having a wonderful Thanksgiving Day. Are you cooking? If so, I know it'll be a great meal.

I'll be having Thanksgiving dinner this evening at my nephew's house. His wife is the best cook in the family, and she'll be ably assisted by my niece, who is the second best cook in the family. (She makes the best stuffing.) This year I'll be the oldest at the table for the first time. That certainly makes one think hard about one's life."

In fact, Thanksgiving itself makes me think hard about my life. And I’m not so happy with what I see.

Don’s family numbered 13 at dinner; my cousin Meg hosted 22. Me? I cooked for the two of us. I didn’t even bother with a turkey, but rather, roasted a chicken and did  traditional side dishes: stuffing, mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts, green beans, broccoli and of course Mama Stamberg’s cranberry relish; for dessert, homemade brownies and homemade chocolate sauce with ice cream between them. It was all good, though I’m not sure I’d agree with Don that it was a “great meal.”

More to the point, it was not a great occasion. I love my husband and I’d rather be alone with him than with a group any day, but I fear I have carried it too far; we almost never entertain; we hardly have any friends that we hang out with and we almost never take part in any social gatherings. Hence, just the two of us at dinner.

My knee is in almost as much pain as it was last February after the replacement. Along with that the other leg’s heel spur is throbbing, likely because I am walking differently since surgery. Being on my feet cooking for several hours did me in and I ate very little, retiring to watch TV in bed right after cleaning up – and we ate at 2:30!

But aside from this specific reason why I wasn’t up to entertaining this year, the overarching truth is that even without the physical issues the day would likely have been the same. I have become the curmudgeon I used to only kid about being.

I don’t like it. I want to change. I want to be happy again. I want to have friends and do things with them. I know I can make that happen; I need to force myself to make it so. If I do that then maybe I will truly have something to be thankful for.

If at first you don't succeed

I had high hopes on January 27 when I went in for my new knee. Pain free days, comfortable nights – it all sounded great and it was all to be mine.

Here we are 9.5 months later and my hopes are highly diminished – is that an oxymoron?

Tomorrow morning I go back to my surgeon so he can have a look-see and perhaps figure out why I’m still in so much pain and why there’s still so much swelling. It’s called arthroscopic surgery; that really just means an inspection. You see, he doesn’t know what the hell’s going on, so he thought he’d get a better look.

Does this all sound slightly mad to you?

Yeah, to me too.

I mean, the guy put me on an operating table, sawed away at my leg for a few hours, caused me nine-and-a-half months of pain and now I’m inviting him back in?

What the hell’s wrong with me?

As I’m fond of reminding myself, we do call it practicing medicine.

Why can’t they practice on someone else?

Getting off

When I was a restaurant manager I used to tell the wait staff that the worst time to keep the customer waiting was at the end of the meal, when he wanted to leave.  No matter how well everything had gone, this was the last memory the customer was taking with him – you’d better make it a good one, I said.

Celebrity Cruises knows this and works hard to adhere to this advice. Today they failed – big time.

Not sure what happened, but first, we were late tying up at the pier. Then, because the line eschews multiple announcements, calling various groups ashore, there was no information available. At 9:45am – 15 minutes after our scheduled disembarkation —it was evident that few, if any, passengers had left the ship. I called Guest Relations; they said there was perhaps a 15-20 minute delay and that people were getting off the ship.

Wrong on both counts. I went out on deck where I could clearly see that no one was disembarking. In fact, luggage was still being off-loaded and US Customs officials don’t allow passengers off until all the bags have been cleared.

So we’re sitting in the café on Deck 14, hoping for some kind of word as to when we can get off. Our transportation to New Haven is aware of the delay, so I am hopeful we won’t be stranded here in not-beautiful, not-downtown Bayonne. After 11 days, I’m anxious to get home.

Addendum: we got off the ship – 3 hours later than scheduled!

We got off the ship – only to get on a bus to take us to the terminal.

We got off the bus – but only after sitting parked at the terminal for 10 minutes.

We entered the terminal – it was a madhouse.

But we got our bags, made it through customs, found our ride to New Haven and were home by 3pm. All in all a great cruise; we’ll just overlook the one gaffe and try hard to not let it be our last memory.

OK, so it wasn't quite this bad.

Rockin’ and rollin’

The sea as it looked from our balcony 31 Oct 2011

Like Joan Jett, I love rock and roll. Whether we’re talking 50s and 60s classics by Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, the Beatles and the Stones; or later kick-ass work by the Allman Brothers, Dire Straits or Talking Heads, to name very few. I also love all the stuff we listened to on the radio that wasn’t exactly rock: Motown and soul in particular.

But right now I’m rocking and rolling and not really enjoying it. We’re heading to Bayonne and are at the tail end of a storm – not the one that surprised the Northeast over the weekend, but another, smaller front. This one has us pitching and rolling to beat the band.

Funny thing is, I’ve always said “I love storms at sea; bring it!”

As I’ve gotten older my body has apparently lost some of its ability to weather the weather. This is difficult.

The same sea, from the dining room, deck 3