I'm supposed to see the cardiologist every six months. They sent me a
notice the first of June to make an appointment, but I was seeing my
regular doctor, a dermatologist and the dentist in June, so I didn't
respond. Then they called in early September and asked me to make an
appointment. The pharmacy was cutting off my meds because I hadn't been
to the doctor, so I went yesterday.
My cardiologist is
in his mid-thirties, handsome and charming, with dark Italian skin, a
pretty smile, and a southern drawl. The problem is that he wants to run
tests. When I saw him in January, I agreed to some kind of stress test
with radioactive stuff, now that I have Medicare to pay. At the time he
said "Your heart is not as bad as you think."
This time
he was concerned, as was the dermatologist in June, that my legs are
swollen. After an ultrasound in June, they decided that wasn't so bad
either. This time, the cardiologist said the magic words "heart
failure." Which is what killed my father. Maybe it's not that. They
checked my thyroid (always iffy) and maybe that is the problem. Still he
wants to do an echocardiogram next week. He asked about chest pain and
shortness of breath. I don't think they are any worse than ever. But
yes, sometimes
We are in the Jewish Days of Repentance,
when we ask God to write us in the Book of Life for another year. I've
always looked at this as superstition, and maybe I still do. But next
week, at Yom Kippur, I will pray for a long life with added fervor. I
have friends who are in much more perilous health than I, people who
can't walk a flight of steps or ride a bicycle. I will pray for them
too.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Friday, September 11, 2015
Bradford County, Pennsylvania
This, once again, seemed like a bad time to go on a trip. I try to be home for shabbat with Joe, Rosh Hashana is Sunday night, I'm chanting Torah on Yom Kippur and need to prepare, and I'm teaching a class about The Beach Boys starting the day after that. And it was supposed to rain Thursday and Saturday, my two travel days.
So it did rain Thursday, and it is supposed to rain again Saturday, tomorrow, when I drive back. Today, however, the weather was drop dead beautiful, and I was out from 8:45 this morning until eight tonight, with breaks for lunch and dinner, and an hour return to my room for my trademark nap late in the afternoon.
What I like about Pennsylvania is how you always know where you are. Bradford County has thirty-seven Townships, fourteen Boroughs (towns) and countless Villages, all named and marked. The largest waterway is the Susquehanna River, the estuary of which, as I learned in Maryland history in sixth grade, is Chesapeake Bay. But up here, in Northern Pennsylvania on the New York border, it's just a stream.
I set out today to see all of the Boroughs and all thirteen National Register of Historic Places listings, in the county. I got to ten of the fourteen Boroughs, and found eleven of the historic places.
Although Bradford County is in the far north, it is as Appalachian as anywhere in West Virginia. The region is called Endless Mountains. The mountains are bigger than those in most of West Virginia. The County Courthouse has statues of Union soldiers who fought "The War of Rebellion" but I still saw Confederate and "Don't Tread On Me" Flags.The population here is overwhelmingly European-American. There is mining, for stone, not coal, drilling for gas, cornfields (most with signs bragging that the corn has been genetically engineered). DuPont has a factory in Towanda, the county seat. There is nothing to indicate what DuPont does at this facility.
South Waverly, Sayre and Athens are three boroughs next to each other creating the most urbanized part of the county just south of New York State. The town of Waverly, an easy walk from South Waverly, is in New York. Signs on the streets say "Aggressive Driver Alert." I was almost hit while driving in Sayre by a big woman in a pickup with New York plates, driving much too fast while talking on her phone. Maybe that is what they meant by the signs. Towanda is in the center of the county, on the west side of the Susquehanna. The other boroughs are spread out at the eastern, western and southern edges of the county.
Usually I eat at family-run Chinese restaurants, but I saw not one Asian person and no Asian restaurants of any stripe. Other than fast food, there is pizza, and Dandy's, a gas station/convenience store/ sandwich place like Sheetz, but with corporate headquarters in Athens. I only saw two supermarkets, an IGA by my motel just outside of Towanda, and a Tops in Troy. There is a J.C. Penney store in Bradford Town Center, across the Susquehanna from Towanda.
Stiil, with bright sunshine today and temperatures in the mid-seventies, it was great to be out exploring. Almost nothing looks like it was built in the last fifty years, which makes it look authentic, and the leaves on the trees are just beginning to turn color. Some are still all green.
I was glad to have the energy to run around all day (two hundred miles of driving) and eat pizza and spaghetti, after a waffle in the motel with a banana and yogurt, purchased at IGA last night, for breakfast. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. One can get from Towanda to Morgantown in less than three hundred miles, but it takes an hour longer than the more distant ways. It's fun to take back roads. It's more fun to have rest stops and familiar chain restaurants.
I have forty-eight pics. I'll post many fewer than that.
So it did rain Thursday, and it is supposed to rain again Saturday, tomorrow, when I drive back. Today, however, the weather was drop dead beautiful, and I was out from 8:45 this morning until eight tonight, with breaks for lunch and dinner, and an hour return to my room for my trademark nap late in the afternoon.
What I like about Pennsylvania is how you always know where you are. Bradford County has thirty-seven Townships, fourteen Boroughs (towns) and countless Villages, all named and marked. The largest waterway is the Susquehanna River, the estuary of which, as I learned in Maryland history in sixth grade, is Chesapeake Bay. But up here, in Northern Pennsylvania on the New York border, it's just a stream.
I set out today to see all of the Boroughs and all thirteen National Register of Historic Places listings, in the county. I got to ten of the fourteen Boroughs, and found eleven of the historic places.
Although Bradford County is in the far north, it is as Appalachian as anywhere in West Virginia. The region is called Endless Mountains. The mountains are bigger than those in most of West Virginia. The County Courthouse has statues of Union soldiers who fought "The War of Rebellion" but I still saw Confederate and "Don't Tread On Me" Flags.The population here is overwhelmingly European-American. There is mining, for stone, not coal, drilling for gas, cornfields (most with signs bragging that the corn has been genetically engineered). DuPont has a factory in Towanda, the county seat. There is nothing to indicate what DuPont does at this facility.
South Waverly, Sayre and Athens are three boroughs next to each other creating the most urbanized part of the county just south of New York State. The town of Waverly, an easy walk from South Waverly, is in New York. Signs on the streets say "Aggressive Driver Alert." I was almost hit while driving in Sayre by a big woman in a pickup with New York plates, driving much too fast while talking on her phone. Maybe that is what they meant by the signs. Towanda is in the center of the county, on the west side of the Susquehanna. The other boroughs are spread out at the eastern, western and southern edges of the county.
Usually I eat at family-run Chinese restaurants, but I saw not one Asian person and no Asian restaurants of any stripe. Other than fast food, there is pizza, and Dandy's, a gas station/convenience store/ sandwich place like Sheetz, but with corporate headquarters in Athens. I only saw two supermarkets, an IGA by my motel just outside of Towanda, and a Tops in Troy. There is a J.C. Penney store in Bradford Town Center, across the Susquehanna from Towanda.
Stiil, with bright sunshine today and temperatures in the mid-seventies, it was great to be out exploring. Almost nothing looks like it was built in the last fifty years, which makes it look authentic, and the leaves on the trees are just beginning to turn color. Some are still all green.
I was glad to have the energy to run around all day (two hundred miles of driving) and eat pizza and spaghetti, after a waffle in the motel with a banana and yogurt, purchased at IGA last night, for breakfast. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. One can get from Towanda to Morgantown in less than three hundred miles, but it takes an hour longer than the more distant ways. It's fun to take back roads. It's more fun to have rest stops and familiar chain restaurants.
I have forty-eight pics. I'll post many fewer than that.
 |
| Universalist Meeting House of Sheshequin, Sheshequin Township |
 |
| Lake Stephen Foster, Mt. Pisgah State Park. Foster was educated in Athens and Towanda. |
 |
| Borough Hall, Sayre |
 |
| Farmer's Market in the Town Square, Sayre |
 |
| Sayre Theatre. There is a fundraiser to buy a marquee. |
 |
| Spalding Memorial Library-Tioga Point Museum, Athens |
 |
| House in Athens Historic District |
 |
| Main Street, Towanda |
 |
| Bradford County Courthouse, with statue honoring Union soldiers in "The War of Rebellion" |
 |
| Towanda Borough Hall- a tiny version of Independence Hall in Philadelphia, built 1935 |
 |
| My token modern building- once Ben Franklin 5&10. Now a craft store, Towanda |
 |
| On a bench at Bradford County Courthouse. Rare evidence that Jews once lived here. |
 |
| Park on the Susquehanna, Towanda |
 |
| Van Dyne Town Hall, now a bank, Troy |
 |
| Troy High School, 1923 |
 |
| Wyalusing Hotel, Wyalusing, 1894 |
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Pre-Rosh Hashana
I have been joking here, and friends in California and Israel have been saying as well, about how hot it has been, and how it is a tradition that the hottest weather is at Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.
During the seven years I worked as a High Holiday Cantor, I went through six weeks of anguish preparing for the holidays. The first three years, I worried about singing in key; the last four, I tried to make my art a holy experience for the congregation. I no longer work, but I am married to a rabbi. He spends his days now in his basement office (which is quite comfortable) churning out sermons. He also will lead services for the children, including skits and parody songs, and host a discussion on Yom Kippur afternoon. He not only fasts, but doesn't drink coffee for twenty-five hours.
It's just after three in the morning now, and I'm not sleeping, mostly from indigestion I think, rather than the worries that keep most people up. This happens sometimes, but not every night. Still, when I'm up at night, when even the cat is asleep under our bed, I think of things.
It occurred to me tonight that a Season of Repentance is good to have every year. You forgive everyone, and even yourself, for all the knuckle-brained, thoughtless things you've done, and then you move on and vow to do better. It beats carrying around a lifetime of guilt.
I realize now, and I think Joe feels the same way, that we were raised to be selfish jerks. We were first-born sons of mid-twentieth century Jewish-American families. It was up to our mothers to cook and clean, even though they both worked. Our families expected us to find wives to take the place of our mothers. It didn't occur to them that we would live alone, or with another man.
Sometimes I'll mention to Joe how something in our lives reminds me of some long-ago event, often where I could have helped and didn't. He asks how many years ago the event was, and he usually says "Isn't it time you forgave yourself for that?"
That goes for other people, too. Often, I'm still resentful of people and groups of people."Isn't it time you forgave them?" Joe says. I was thinking tonight about a reunion from my high school next month, all the classes from 1963 (the first class at that school) to 1969. I graduated in 1967. The people I was most friendly with, the Jewish kids, and those who went away to college, mostly don't go to these things. And in a new group on Facebook from my junior high, a man and woman I remember confessed that they had a crush on each other. I don't imagine anyone would say that to me, and my crushes were often other boys ( although thinking about it, I can't remember anyone specifically). Suddenly I was back in the world of seventh and eighth grade hurt over not being invited to a bar mitzvah.
I'll be sixty-six in October, just after the holidays. It's time to let go of resentments from the past. They are exhausting and worthless. I've created a whole long life for myself. I can go back and visit that old world online or at a reunion, and be upbeat and charming, knowing that I'll return to my real life, my good life. I'll forgive the slights and hurts, and forgive myself for the slights and hurts I inflicted, knowingly and unknowingly, all of them. And, at this holiday season, I can vow to not be the selfish jerk I was raised to be, and be the loving, compassionate person I want to be.
During the seven years I worked as a High Holiday Cantor, I went through six weeks of anguish preparing for the holidays. The first three years, I worried about singing in key; the last four, I tried to make my art a holy experience for the congregation. I no longer work, but I am married to a rabbi. He spends his days now in his basement office (which is quite comfortable) churning out sermons. He also will lead services for the children, including skits and parody songs, and host a discussion on Yom Kippur afternoon. He not only fasts, but doesn't drink coffee for twenty-five hours.
It's just after three in the morning now, and I'm not sleeping, mostly from indigestion I think, rather than the worries that keep most people up. This happens sometimes, but not every night. Still, when I'm up at night, when even the cat is asleep under our bed, I think of things.
It occurred to me tonight that a Season of Repentance is good to have every year. You forgive everyone, and even yourself, for all the knuckle-brained, thoughtless things you've done, and then you move on and vow to do better. It beats carrying around a lifetime of guilt.
I realize now, and I think Joe feels the same way, that we were raised to be selfish jerks. We were first-born sons of mid-twentieth century Jewish-American families. It was up to our mothers to cook and clean, even though they both worked. Our families expected us to find wives to take the place of our mothers. It didn't occur to them that we would live alone, or with another man.
Sometimes I'll mention to Joe how something in our lives reminds me of some long-ago event, often where I could have helped and didn't. He asks how many years ago the event was, and he usually says "Isn't it time you forgave yourself for that?"
That goes for other people, too. Often, I'm still resentful of people and groups of people."Isn't it time you forgave them?" Joe says. I was thinking tonight about a reunion from my high school next month, all the classes from 1963 (the first class at that school) to 1969. I graduated in 1967. The people I was most friendly with, the Jewish kids, and those who went away to college, mostly don't go to these things. And in a new group on Facebook from my junior high, a man and woman I remember confessed that they had a crush on each other. I don't imagine anyone would say that to me, and my crushes were often other boys ( although thinking about it, I can't remember anyone specifically). Suddenly I was back in the world of seventh and eighth grade hurt over not being invited to a bar mitzvah.
I'll be sixty-six in October, just after the holidays. It's time to let go of resentments from the past. They are exhausting and worthless. I've created a whole long life for myself. I can go back and visit that old world online or at a reunion, and be upbeat and charming, knowing that I'll return to my real life, my good life. I'll forgive the slights and hurts, and forgive myself for the slights and hurts I inflicted, knowingly and unknowingly, all of them. And, at this holiday season, I can vow to not be the selfish jerk I was raised to be, and be the loving, compassionate person I want to be.
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