Other than being from the same time period and having an apostrophe in the title, these two songs don't have much in common. I had expressed frustration, unnamed, on Facebook a while back, and I think it's time to explain what's goin' on. I have a lot to say, so I'll be a ramblin' man. In my last post here, in September, I said that West Virginia University Medicine was looking for cancer. In August, I was invited to a 102nd birthday party in Naples, Florida for my mother's best friend, Aunt Shirley. She's not really my aunt, and her three sons, all close to my age, are not my brothers, but I accept them as such, not having biological brothers. When I failed the Cologuard test, I decided to go. I'm glad I did.
It took until February for WVU Medicine to schedule a colonoscopy. The doctor didn't say "Ick," but he could have. They found lots of polyps, but none cancerous. I already have an appointment for next year in February for another test. However, they were concerned that my PSA (prostate specific antigen) level had gone up in a year, and when they tested again it was even higher. After an MRI and a biopsy, they found I had prostate cancer, "intermediate, unfavorable."
I had a week before any appointments, so I did what I always do in cases like this: I ran away- rambled, as it were. I visited two counties in Pennsylvania, Huntingdon and Juniata, about 165 miles from home to Huntingdon farther to Mifflintown, another 50 miles. These were my 154th and 155th counties I've visited within about 300 miles of Morgantown. I stayed in Huntingdon at the usual chain for three nights, and although I had points to cover the cost, the website wouldn't let me do it. They offered me a "discount" which I'm sure is more than I would have paid a year earlier at the regular rate. The weather had warmed some. There was still lots of snow on the ground. The two counties are east of Altoona, south of State College and west of Harrisburg. Huntingdon has a pretty core city. Unfortunately, like so many small towns, the synagogue closed and was sold to someone who wants to make it an "event space." Mifflintown, the seat of Juniata County, has a few streets of big houses on lots with trees, and an old city center. Many of the stores downtown had signs in Spanish; none of them were open. School was getting out in the afternoon, and Mexican-looking mothers came out to pick up their kids. They looked at me, a stranger in their little town, with terror, as if I were an ICE agent.
I had appointments with a radiation doctor and a surgery doctor when I got back, one each week. The surgeon wanted reassurance from a cardiologist that my heart was strong enough for surgery. The nurse practitioner who is my de facto cardiologist approved it without seeing me, based on tests from two years ago. I decided to go ahead with radiation, despite having to follow a diet and take Gas-X and Metamucil, and a testosterone killer. Not that I have an active sex life, but people I know who have had this say they can't get an erection. Look, I've already given up running, bicycling, and dancing. How much more?
Joe asked me before all of this if I wanted to go to the annual Reform rabbi convention, and have a few extra days to see friends in San Francisco. I wasn't feeling up to it. I've also been to some of the rabbi conventions, and feel like we have passed that phase, with Joe retiring July 1. And then, our President, and the Israeli Prime Minister start a war. Now I don't want to go anywhere. It's not just the price of gas. It's that if we're having a war, we should cut back on everything. This was a half-baked idea from Trump and Netanyahu, two old buzzards (Netanyahu and I were born the same day) trying to hold on to their floundering careers. This is not good for anyone, including us American Jews, where many people equate all of us with the Israeli government. My mantra is: "I love Israel and the United States. I don't love the present government of Israel nor do I love the present government of the United States."
Speaking of travel, our Suzuki SX4 died on the way back from Pittsburgh after Thanksgiving.The clutch died as we pulled into a gas station in Waynesburg, about 25 miles from home. We couldn't find anyone to replace it, other than the dealer, in Uniontown, Pennsylvania and they wanted $2300. We ended up giving the car away to a charity. We are friends with a couple who are not poor, but decided to live with one car. I thought we could do that, but after six weeks, we went to a local dealer. They had a 2013 Ford Fusion with 127,000 miles on it for $6700. They added lots of things we didn't want, and the price came out to $10,000. We put down $2,500 and got turned down for financing at lots of places. We ended up with a fly-by-night (IMHO) bank that sent us a letter after three weeks that they weren't happy with the high-interest loan we had gotten. We paid the first month. I called the bank and they couldn't find a record of the letter. Meantime, the second payment was due yesterday, but they haven't sent us a bill. I called them Monday and they said they would send it. I don't have it today (Saturday).
The car is great. Gas mileage is high, it's beautiful and comfortable. I always wanted an obsolete American car (a 1959 Buick Electra 225 convertible, for instance) and this car satisfies that craving- and it's a hybrid.
I have an IRA that I started when I was still working. The company that has it says that time is up and I have to decide what to with it. They sent me a form, which they rejected twice for some error. I talked to one of their phone reps and went over everything on the last one I sent. I asked them to send us the money. This was about a month ago. I haven't heard.
All of this is to wonder if everyone isn't out to rip us off or cause my failing heart to fail.
I've mentioned moving a few times. We have our house, and our cat, and we are on a quiet street in a safe neighborhood with good neighbors. I have great respect for for the very few Democrats in our state legislature here in West Virginia, but the Republicans, the supermajority, are horrible, every one of them. We had cold and snow through January and most of February, and Joe wants to be somewhere that doesn't snow. I'm obsessed with comparing cities, but right now, Richmond, Virginia looks good. It's not snowless, or all that cheap, but warmer and less snowy than here, much cheaper than California, and they've elected a Democratic governor.
Last thing : The Actor Awards, formerly the S.A.G. Awards. I did not have a great experience in my stunted Hollywood career. My best acting was in community theater, which took all my time and didn't pay anything. The few times I got to speak to agents, they didn't think they could use me. They wanted me to gain weight and be funny, like John Candy, who was a year younger than me and died thirty-two years ago. I wasn't going there. They couldn't cope with a handsome, bald-headed guy. The casting people wanted me to take off work to audition for non-union work, which I wouldn't do once I was in the union. There were things I could have done differently; I could have been a better actor, but I hated the general culture. For the Awards, I watched two episodes of "The Studio" and "Hacks" and couldn't bring myself to watch more of either show. Rich people in Hollywood being jerks. No thanks. I watched all of "The Pitt," fifteen episodes, and some of "The White Lotus." I was blown away by "Sinners" and I liked "One Battle After Another." "Blue Moon" was not as good as I expected.
If you made it to here, thanks for listening. Joe is away until the 19th. I'm home doing nothing. Today on the Jewish calendar is two years since my sister Robin Wendell Olson died. I went to services last night, lit a candle. Today, I'm being a hermit, cuddling with the cat, reading and writing this. Commenting here is hard. It's easier to comment on Facebook (Barry Wendell) or in an email (wendell.barry@aol.com).
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