20 September 2020
[Above photo: Since I don’t have a flag to lower, I’ll settle for black to commemorate our, said advisedly, adored and revered RBG. Her power of intellect and determination, coupled with impeccable honesty and humanity, could light up a city of several million, if not a nation.]
It is always painful to see a beloved leader pass. I well-recall that November day we were sent out of class at Columbia Physicians and Surgeons because JFK had been assassinated. This is a greater loss to the country, in retrospect, since she was one of very few in a position of power to try to tether this beastly monument to immorality in its cage. And she was so the opposite of him: smart, principled, thoughtful, kind, hard-working, self-sacrificing. Imagine sticking it out at 87yo with pancreatic cancer on the rampage! It staggers the mind as he whines he isn’t getting credit for all the good he has done. What an inspirational leader she has been, by example. Our country, especially the ordinary people, will miss her legal decisions even if they aren’t aware of it. Her vision was certainly of a law-abiding, harmonious, prosperous, and fair nation.
My ballot came this week and I voted, sending it back electronically within 15 minutes of discovering the email that delivered it. I imagine many of us feel the same way, “Get him out, as fast as possible, before he totally wrecks the place.” I previously had a vision of him as a drunk 5yo driving a school bus filled with children down a steep and winding road. That doesn’t capture the gravity of the situation, as ice melts in Antarctica (a predicted 10’ rise in sea level when the East Antarctic Ice Sheet goes), fires rage in California (“Sweep up the leaves; it’s simple.”), 200,000 dead of a mismanaged pandemic, and angry white militia members raiding pizza parlors seeking non-existent pedophiles in non-existent basement dungeons and locking and loading to defend Mafia Don’s election “victory”. I’m a little overwrought, I can tell, as my pulse is climbing. It felt wonderful to vote, even if it is just once. I wish I were there to write postcards. I’ll find another way to engage helpfully when my class ends next week and I’ll have some time.
I stumbled upon a tailor in the giant Bogyoke Central Market—two floors, a rabbit warren of large and small buildings and shops. I always get lost, still. I was wandering about one day and came upon “Liberal—Leader in Fashion”, as they say on their sign and labels. Liking their politics, I selected material and had 3 shirts made. The handful of white shirts I had bought off the rack when I first came, light, casual and comfortable as they are, look a bit bland and make my face look absolutely ghostly on Zoom. Vanity, at 80! They measured me and I paid them, to return in 10 days for the shirts. I did and tried one on; it fit perfectly and the tailoring was wonderful. But the nice, soft, 100% cotton material had been transformed into sandpaper. The shirts looked maximally presentable but were intolerably uncomfortable on my skin. I soaked them for a couple of hours. After drying, they were the same. I then washed them all with soap in my Samsung. Better, but still. I suppose it is the “sizing”, whatever that is. Like starch, perhaps, which my mother used in my father’s shirts? $12 and they fit beautifully. If they can not add sizing, I’ll go back and buy a couple more. Because……
My students commented that I looked “very smart” in one of my new shirts. Aha! I complained that it was almost impossible, as I have 25 longis (only 3 of which I bought). Each has a different pattern and mix of colors. I’m surely not going to purchase 25, let alone 10, new shirts. I was assured that my shirts didn’t need to match my longyis. I protested, “But your one-sets all match perfectly.” “Yes, but that is for women. With men, it doesn’t matter. Men don’t care anyway. And if they care too much, if they are too careful to match their shirts with their longyis, everyone thinks they are gay.” “In fact, a fellow trainee with me was so careful matching his shirts and longyis that we all thought he was gay. And, in fact, in a couple of years he came out.” There is no blood test for sexual preference but in Myanmar they are convinced that plumage gives it away. Stripes and checks clashing together, a measure of masculine heterosexuality, as I always suspected!
In my former life I’d have to run the Fashion Patrol gauntlet before I left the house for work. Poki, Nate, and Ari all are very conscious of what goes well with what, including what goes well with me. I confess, I did discover that I was a bit color blind and kept buying khakis at Nordstrom Rack in San Leandro that were greenish. For the last pair I purchased, I took them outside to the daylight and also asked a saleswoman if they were green or brown. She assured me that they were brown, so I bought them. Wrong. Definitely green, Fashion Patrol determined. My students are correct. I don’t really care, although it is nice to have your students say that you look “very smart” in your new shirt. Then I forget about it and get to work.
Kelly took me to the Gems Museum yesterday; it was closed. I want to get some gifts for my students. As an alternative, we went to the new Ikea. It is unlike the Ikea in Emeryville, I can say. It is housed in a mansion, wares displayed higgledy-piggledy or not at all. Everything jammed into two floors. It was funny to watch my own consumer lights flicker on. I buy only food here. And 3 shirts. Ikea has some pretty cool design, so I bought a dish drainer, a large serving dish, a large pot for soup or pasta, and the coolest garlic press I’ve seen to date. My apartment is filling up with even that little bit.
As of today we have 5263 confirmed cases of covid-19, mostly in Yangon and Rakhine. Deaths are up from 6 a month ago to 81 at present. We are being careful. The taxi driver who drove me to Kelly’s saw I had a mask on and stopped the cab. He tried to fix his mask, one ear loop of which was broken. Settling, he simply put the remaining functional loop over one ear and let the mask hang down by the side of his neck. He did stop and buy a new one from the next street vendor we saw.
It is a gray and rainy day, kind of like Seattle when I was a kid. I must host my bi-weekly webinar in 1 ½ hours so time for lunch.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 