Cancer Survivor

In today's mail was a post card from almighty Hopkins. When I first glanced at it I was sure they were asking for money, so this post card was summarily destined to the recycle box, except something caught my eye: the words "cancer survivor". The card was an invitation to an open house at the Hopkins cancer building on June 1, which happens to be National Cancer Survivor day. I was floored. I forgot I am a cancer survivor. I decided to have my prostate removed in order to be sure that would be true. I had my three-month follow-up just the other day and everything continues to be better than expected. Indeed I am a cancer survivor. My life has been permanently altered and I forgot the applicable name. Cancer survivor is a new state of being that will take some adjustment to the undeniable reality. How blessed I am to have happened upon a top-notch surgeon AND have so many people pray for my success and recovery! I think now I will not forget my new moniker because it will take its permanent place on my list of things for which I am thankful. Hey, almighty Hopkins gave me another excuse for celebration - National Cancer Survivor day!

Loquacious Loca

It is usually a bother when the doorbell rings shortly after I come home from being out at work or wherever. I came home from church this afternoon and changed clothes and went to the garden to check things as there had been a thunderstorm during church this morning. After checking the garden, I came inside to hear the Westminster chimes. The doorbell ringer was the daughter of my neighbor - 3 doors away who said her mother wanted to talk to me. This request is almost always about something I should not be involved in -personal business - and it makes me anxious. It is always a cover for Mama Loca to absent-mindedly run her mouth. Mama Loca (her real name is Doris) is 88 years old and one of the most miserable people I've ever known or seen. (loca is Spanish for crazy - daughter is 58 and crazier than Mama). The cover questsion for this visit was: did I know a way she could have her dog put down because she can't afford to go to the local animal hospital? I didn't know there was anything wrong with the dog - he's a little schnauzer-type terrier named Joey. Mama claims Joey is blind. I don't know how she would know that if the dog never goes tot he vet. Of course, I don't know any way to put a dog down other than to go to the vet unless one lives out in the country and can use a gun. So when I had no answer to the question Mama began her stories of nastiness and nonsense about each of the neighbors and each of her children. One of the things she says is that she told her son she wants $25000 from him because he and his wife both have two good jobs and plenty of money and she needs money. She tells stories of supposed conversations with nearly all the neighbors and they're all about people butting into her personal life and who is having relationships with whom (all fantasies from what I can tell) and how she is going to call the cops and have someone arrested then sue them for all they're worth. No one in the neighborhood talks to the woman because it only takes once before you realize that the woman just talks to hear herself talk, and most of her children do not visit her I would guess for the same reason, and I might guess that she has worn their patience asking for money. She had a husband when they moved to the neighborhood. He retired from the railroad and died about 3 years ago. Apparently, there was no life insurance. She gets part of his railroad pension and social security, which by all indications is barely enough to get by on. The house is dirty, she says because she can't do anything and her daughter has to spend all her time taking care of her. While she regaled me with nonsense and nastiness I was asking myself how much time constitutes my Christian duty for patience and kindness on Sunday afternoon right after church. I left wondering whether or not I should report her to social services or animal control - the dog looks OK to me, but I am reasonably certain he has not been to a vet - and I am not sure about the veracity of her claim of his condition or her inability to care for him properly. If I could believe anything she says a coures of action would be less problematic. And if I report her and someone comes to check things out, there is another danger because the woman is extremely prejudiced and openly states that she hates blacks - she uses the N word freely. (While ranting she was saying things about all the N's who live in this house or that house and according to what I know there are no persons of color in any of the houses about which she ranted. The neighborhood is becoming integrated, but with Latinos, not blacks.) In Baltimore City, the likelihood that someone investigating might be black is rather high. I think this is a case where being kind and letting her rant for some minutes might be the extent of what I can accomplish. I wonder if the dog needs attention, and above all I wonder what will happen to the daughter when Mama departs this earth. Daughter appears to have definite mental problems. Daughter has some children - I think two or three - but they don't visit either. It's all so curious and I try to avoid contact, but the doorbell summons me. Avoidance is sometimes not an option.

On Elitism

One of the things that drives me crazy about politics is the way politicians use words that are perfectly acceptable in other contexts to try to demean the opponent. It is no secret that I could correctly be labeled as liberal. Liberal in my world means one is well-educated and prefers to consider more broadly topics, themes and ideas than would those of opposing instincts. I find nothing demeaning in such a definition and proudly display my liberal preference. Then there is the the term elitist. In its current derrogatory use it is meant to denote out-of-touch with the common person. I find this attempt to use this term in this manner puzzling. An executive is supposed to be a leader, who by definition needs to go beyond the level of the common person. I think historically in the US, Andrew Jackson was considered by the populace to be the person with the most demonstrable links to the common person, yet even he has been demonstrated by the judgment of history to be a person of rather great accomplishment, much moreso than so many thousands of Americans alive in his day. And if an elitist only understands the people at the top, then why is it that the liberal elitists are the most socialist in their thinking? Isn't the American dream one of elitist achievement - fine house, fine material goods, fine education, fine aspects of all social contracts, and a fine old Yankee can-do attitude?
Actually, I wonder if we have ever elected a president who had not achieved some degree of elitism. And who made the rule that having achieved any degree of elitism pre-emptively divorces one from the experience of the common person? Besides, in the context that started this thought process, I bet one could list item for item elements that could constitute elitism from either side. In the wisdom of the ages from the idiomatic lexicon of the common person, isn't this a case of the pot calling the kettle black? "Yeah, I'm just like you" is the intended message. I hope no one I know is going to vote for a president who is very much like himself or herself. Apparently, I don't know enough elite people.

Tax Day

April 15, besides being tax day is my anniversary date for my service as an employee of the state of Maryland - 16 years working full-time for the state (actually 17, but the first year was a contractual position that doesn't count) I am so glad to live in the state where if you can think about it, we can tax it. No, it's not an original thought, I read it somewhere that I don't remember. Of course, my taxes were done in February and my refunds were deposited and used to pay those ever-mounting bills. I've heard it said that in the past 30 years Maryland state employees have lost more that half of their salary power because wages have not kept up with the inflation rate. I don't know where that knowledge comes from, and I don't know whether or not it is true, but it sounds dire - dire enough for tax day. And I know it seems that there just isn't as much room in the take-home budget as there used to be. Oh, and to add to the misery of the day, I got my annual statement from Social Security. Looks like I'll be working until I'm 70 somehow. And Chris had to put down her Jack Russell - Taz - too many tumors and too many problems and misery. But, fear not, all is not misery on this tax day. I can look forward to more tennis elbow electrocution sesssions to re-charge my glowing personality - cough, cough. No, that's not and original comment either - just another wise crack from the peanut gallery!!

First Things First

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