[Above photo: Old Man Winter lives under my patio, snugged up against the stone foundation. He is obviously quite excited by the chilly polar influx.]
12 January 2025
As I was checking in with my students in Myanmar and Thailand this morning, several mentioned that it was “Winter” and cold. 23C. Which translates to 73F. I told them it was -3C here most of the week, not even particularly cold for a Maine January.
But the cool is welcome, as is the 1 or 2 inch dusting of snow we received yesterday. I had to sweep the snow off Poki’s windows as Molly, Cass, and Freya arrived at 11AM yesterday from LA via Manchester, NH to borrow the car for a few weeks. Or at least until the air quality in LA improves and they can return home. They are lucky to have a 4 season summer cottage in Sedgwick, ME. 22 of their friends have lost their homes to fires in the LA area.
And the Donald raves nonsense about non-existent declarations which Gavin Newsom should have signed as the reason some of the water tanks have emptied out. And something about DEI as explaining the fires. Or not sweeping the forest floors. How about kindness, caring, constructive ideas rather than mad ravings for political points? Or silence, allowing the grownups to deal with the problems. And who will believe him, I wonder? Tens of millions. At least no repeat of MTG’s Jewish space lasers. He’ll probably manage to work some bestiality into his rant, given time.
My dear brother, who is struggling mightily with illness, is feeling much better, now that he has left the tin man with no heart behind, switched care providers, gotten off the ill-prescribed medication that wiped him out for 6 months, and resumed some exercise and eating. And feeling hopeful. A letter has been sent to Dana-Farber and to the tin man’s boss at New England Cancer Specialists.
We all, and here I mean physicians, will err. It is impossible not to in a long career, given the stresses, variables, and personal frailties involved. It is in the nature of the complex beast called health care. But we need to acknowledge our mistakes, apologize to their recipients, and learn from them. It seems pretty simple until you toss in a physician’s ego. Ironically, the chances of a malpractice suit are so much less, the insurance underwriters drum into us, if we are transparent and appropriately humble about our inevitable errors.
I seem to be losing steam writing my memoir. I think it is because I am finally pushing hard enough to realize my limitations as a writer. Or perhaps because I am losing steam in general. It is discouraging, but I’ll likely keep plugging away, just to do the best I can so my children can have that bit of history if they are interested. My guess is that interest might develop late in life as they are looking back. Or maybe not.
In the no good deed goes unpunished department, I contracted Covid 4 days before Christmas, most likely as I was collecting signatures at a street fair for a ballot measure to decrease gun violence. Except for one day of 101 fever and shaking chills for a few hours, the worst aspect was the isolation and my loss of smell and taste. No Christmas supper for me! Before I realized I was ill I’d gone to 2 parties and gave it to a friend who is still staggering from it.
My kayak is stowed in the basement and my idea of a paddle on New Year’s Day is down there, too. Too wet and cold out on the water. There was a group hike yesterday,—5.7 miles with 1600 feet of ascent up Mt. Zircon and return— but I was unable to attend as I had an increasingly painful, swollen foot. I saw a doc and started antibiotics and it feels almost normal today. A small speedbump on the path of life.
Not a lot is happening with me and I am loathe to waste the effort of reviling those about to assume power and more riches in our country on 20 January. Or even to puzzle some more at how half the country can accept his BS. As I said in 2016, “My car isn’t running very well; maybe if I drive it over a cliff into the sea it will work better.”
On the other hand. My worry is that—and their desire seems pretty obvious to me—Trump and Company, LLC want to increase the wealth gap, destroy the educational system, pit people against one another, and induce fear to make people more malleable. Then there will be a definite small, elite Uberclass and a large impoverished Unterclass. The latter will be disposable worker bees. There will be a gradual but immense purge, not unlike the Cultural Revolution in China, and much of education and especially science, the search for understanding and truth, will be degraded, along with the Middle Class. The Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, 3%ers, and the like will be the Praetorian Guard.
I recall our guide in Cambodia saying that when the Khmer Rouge began their rampage, his father, who had been a schoolteacher, broke and threw away his glasses. Anyone with glasses was presumed to need them to read and anyone who could read was the enemy.
This is presumably a fever-dream induced by my infected foot and the antibiotic I take to treat it. DT has secretly been taking classes in compassionate mediation and international relations online at Mar-a-Lago and is going to surprise us all with his polished, effective, kind, and fact-based leadership, once inaugurated.
I’m awaiting the arrival of local mayhem—my daughter with her puppy, aptly named “Storm”. Until then I’ll escape with Captain Aubrey and Stephan Maturin as they ride the Sophie across the Mediterranean Sea in Master and Commander, searching for prize ships. As wretched a human being as Patrick O’Brian allegedly was—he abandoned his wife and kids, didn’t support them, and retreated into the Pyrenees with his mistress—he wrote well, creating a mesmerizing series of tales for those of us consumed by the sea. Ari tells me that the current Daily podcast has an interesting look at Alice Munro and distinguishing the art/artist from the flawed person.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 