[Above Photo: The flanks of Mt. Washington in Winter]
28 March 2024
I doubt it would have changed the outcome if Hillary had named certain behaviors as “deplorable” rather than certain people as “deplorables”. It still puzzles me why I didn’t like her more—and why so many others didn’t. I did vote for her. She was so smart and experienced. I feel somewhat similarly about Kamala. She is also smart and experienced but there is some “genuineness” disconnect, especially when she is strongly trying to make a case. I grew up with a strong, smart mother and my wife was similarly endowed; I admired them and didn’t feel threatened by their strength, so I don’t think that old saw, so readily offered by Hillary devotees, explains it. For me, even though I know their hearts are in the right place, both Kamala and Hillary have a quality in their stridency that feels disingenuous to me. I so much want to feel strongly positive about our Vice-President but I find it difficult. Now, Shirley Chisholm, Nancy Pelosi, Barbara Boxer, Elizabeth Warren, AOC—even Bella Abzug!—I feel kindred to.
Lindsey and I spent two nights at the AMC Joe Dodge Lodge at the base of Mt. Washington. We were prepared to ski, snowshoe, or snow hike, depending on the conditions. It was cold, windy, and too icy, albeit beautiful and clear, so we put on our spikes and hiked. One day we hiked 2000+feet up the base of Mt. Washington. At the summit the temperature was 0 degrees F, the wind 40mph with gusts to 65mph, and the resultant windchill factor a nose-numbing -50 degrees. There were two parties who passed us on the trail who planned to summit that day. We ascended past the Hermit Lake Hut and up a very steep pitch, taking us above timberline. We’d mused about hiking to the very base of Tuckerman’s Ravine but the cold and wind were ominous. A sprained ankle, or worse, could have turned a glorious outing into a very dangerous situation. So we enjoyed the view and retreated to the hut, eating our lunch with others out of the wind on the porch in the sun. Most hiked the trail with skins on their skis, to enjoy a downhill run on a wider trail parallel to the one we ascended. Mt. Washington has the highest recorded winds on the planet—235mph!
Oh, I forgot the most dramatic moment. About 2/3 of the way to the hut, something I had eaten passed remarkably rapidly through my digestive system and demanded an exit. In my desperation, I hiked away from the trail for a little privacy, finding myself over my waist in untrammeled snow. Without pursuing the details, I 1) managed my task tidily and, 2) discovered that snow doesn’t function well to scour a body part. I sacrificed a cotton handkerchief which will naturally, non-toxically decompose over the next year or two. It wasn’t as unpleasant as it reads and there was a certain sense of accomplishment.
As happens with us at this age, the trip recalled two from my past. One was accompanying my brother, Chas, when he skied in the annual Harvard-Dartmouth slalom race down Tuckerman’s. I was stunned at the verticality of the slope and only skied the bottom part. If you fell, you’d bang your way non-stop down the entire slope. It is a several mile long strenuous hike and about a 2500ft elevation gain to the very base of the Ravine. I couldn’t recall hiking there, carrying skis, boots, and poles; I must have been pretty fit.
On another occasion, my college friend, Tom Glick, and I went to the Harvard Outings Cabin nearby. There was a sauna separate from the cabin and we fired up the stove and alternated between plunging into the frigid stream nearby and soaking in the intense heat. We couldn’t remember if you were to stop after hot or cold, so we chose the latter. I got pneumonia and was hospitalized at Mt. Auburn Hospital a few days later, so maybe you stop after the heat. Or perhaps they aren’t related.
I recall the famous Salisbury (England) Cold Study where they had people sitting on blocks of ice in the rain in pastures and a control group in a cosy, warm, and dry setting, with plenty of hot tea. There were no differences in the incidence of catching a cold. Likely, it was folk wisdom that if you get chilled and wet, “You’ll catch your death.” Pneumonia, pre-antibiotics, was the major killer and, as Sir William Osler noted, “a friend of the aged”. Having no effective means of treating it—-cupping, leaches, and blood-letting only help so much!—our ancestors calmed their fears by asserting some sense of control over it. Don’t get wet or chilled, a preventive fantasy.
We had 6-8” of snow, followed immediately by sleet, then rain. Then a huge freeze. Branches tore and whole trees collapsed under the weight of the ice. 14% of Mainer’s lost their power, many for days. Chas and Susan were among them but they know how to manage. With a small generator for lights and their fridge, they fired up their two large Jøtl wood stoves, cooked with an old single burner backpacking stove, and did just fine. Chas had laid in supplies for Y2K, preserving them in special oxygen-free containers, so he can ride out the End Times, I think. We laughed all December 1999, but he may have the last laugh when the rest of us are eating bark! And I don’t mean Fido.
I’ve been taking a bridge class and it is great for the brain, if not for the self-esteem. It’s an entirely new language, how you can (and can’t) communicate with your partner, but considerably easier for me than Burmese. I’m getting a little better, but I see how people get hooked on online puzzles and games. Just Play Bridge, a free online game offered by the American Contract Bridge League, is addictive so I limit myself.
My daughter and I have been searching for a more capable boat for her local use and her trips to and from the Island. She found one on Facebook and inspected it in Belfast. I joined her a few days later to look it over. As we turned into the driveway of a typical Maine workingman’s yard, 800 lobster traps were stacked along one side of the driveway. A lobsterman owned the boat; it had belonged to [a, his?] grandfather, was used for fishing only in fresh water, and was undercover in the winters. It is a 19 foot Seaway, just the boat and length we wanted, and it was in prime condition. The price was right so we didn’t haggle. He and his sternman shared its history. They asked, “What will you name it, deah?” She replied, “I was going to name it “Stugots”, the name of Tony Soprano’s boat. But I can’t because I found out it is Italian slang for male genitalia.” The two lobstermen cracked up. We attached its trailer to Ari’s truck and hauled it home. I am relieved, as her little 16 footer was too wet and not adequately seaworthy for Penobscot Bay.
When I exercise vigorously on a treadmill, my Oxygen saturation drops from 99% to 91%, accounting for my breathlessness on rapid ascents. I doubt I’ll be up for trekking at 12,000ft in the Himalayas next October, but we are continuing to assess the issue with a CT scan in 3 days. Likely it is a result of having lost my right upper lobe, which is 15% of lung volume, with my cancer surgery. Still, I’m puzzled that it didn’t bother me hiking the Haute Route with Linda in 2015. I am older, I suppose. No, definitely.
Gradually the vultures are returning to their roost and Mr. Grandiose is nearing comeuppance. Damn, but he is wily. Even at this moment he is worth $4.8 billion more this week because of his Truth Social merger. Puzzling, as it made $1 million last year and lost $48 million. The mysteries of Wall Street! It seems like his options diminish daily. Along those lines, I watched the Netflix documentary demonstrating how Rudi Giuliani as the head of the Southern District of NY used RICO to bring down all 5 Mafia families in NY—what an irony! I don’t know if Rudy has kids but I wonder what they thought when they saw him falling into the Borat spoof, lying back on a bed with his hands down his pants talking with a pretty, clothed young woman. As he said in the Netflix film, “I could have been one of them.”, a fighter growing up poor in a tough neighborhood. Law enforcement or gangster.
I’ve finished reading and scoring 30 applications for college scholarships (11 this year) submitted by high school seniors. It is the second round of scoring for Mainely Character, a 20yo non-profit whose board I’ve joined. We’ll have one more round to select the winners. It is work but fun, as it is based not on sports, grades, or need but solely on evidence of character. There are a lot of kids from tiny rural towns who live amazing lives. There are the hardship cases—coming from abusive families, impoverished families, parents have died or run off—-, the immigrants—largely from Africa—, and the regular middle-class kids. They start volunteer organizations, care for their demented grandparents or disabled mothers, work 2 or three jobs, are leaders in their schools, etc. and exhibit the qualities we assess: Concern, Responsibility, Integrity, and Courage. I have pretty good values and character, I think, but I wouldn’t have scored high as a kid using our rubric. I note that Harvard accepted 3% of applicants this year.
There is hope in the world, the Rudi Giulianis, John Gottis, Paul Castellanos, and Trumps aside. King was right, it’s a constant fight but it is arcing towards justice, gradually. At least slavery is outlawed in the US, a low bar, admittedly. Although I heard yesterday an amazing tale of a man who escaped China, flew to Ecuador, crossed the Darien Gap, traversed Central America, was granted asylum in the US, and was reruited to “grow plants” (He understood it to be farming.) by Chinese contractors who then enslaved him and other Chinese immigrants on a pot farm in New Mexico. Human depravity is unbounded.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 