Budding Senior Citizen

I was in my favorite men's store Tuesday. Actually, it's the last men's store left in town. There rarely is anyone in there competing for salespeople's attention or fitting-room space. Not on Tuesday! I was happy to see the place veritably buzzing with activity.

I didn't really notice that everyone (except me?) was aged. It turns out that this store has "Senior Citizen" days on Tuesdays. They offer an additional 15 percent of of sale merchandise--the same for full-priced goods, of course. I had left a sport coat behind on Monday. I wanted to check with my wife to make sure she'd be on board for the purchase. It was a $220 jacket marked down to $75. So, I go in, try it on, try on some pants, buy them both along with a tie. The young saleswoman asked if I was a senior citizen. I told her that would depend on what age it begins. I do have an AARP card. But I'm not 55. Well, it was 55 where senior-citizen status begins at this store.

She gave me the discount anyway.

But I don't know what to think about all this. I'm happy to save the money. I'm happy that I'm not clearly over 55. But it's the kind of thing that makes me think it's time to slow down. Am I supposed to "act my age" and not drink so much wine...not stay out so late with friends 15 years younger than I...not continue to look for jobs that might provide opportunity?

I don't have any particular quarrel with aging, though I'd be happy to live forever should the medical profession figure out how. And I feel, as a mature adult, I have some imortant insights that younger people don't have. That's all to the good. But I'm not sure I want the "benefits" of senior status when I can bench press 225 and swim 1,500 yards every third day.

I suppose I should accept the store's largess gracefully.

And laugh all the way to the bank.

Death

The end of the year is being tainted by death, its sadness, and its inconveniences. Fortunately, no one very close to me has died, but people close to those I care about have been profoundly affected.

A cousin lost an ex-wife. Many might see the loss of an ex as a blessing (just kidding), but I've come to see just how closely connected peoples' lives become even if they've tried to disconnect. I fear for his current marriage as the past one haunts him.

My cousin's son is struggling to keep his head above water with the loss of his mother. He was relatively disinterested in college before this event. And he's sunk deeper into himself and his 19-year-old lifestyle, rejecting and ignoring the pleas and support of his father and me. His father fears a great deal for his future, but I guess that's what fathers do.

A friend lost an uncle. The friend is scheduled to host the Thanksgiving feast for he and his childless friends and their families. We've hosted the group before. It's comprised of people in graduate school far from home, friends who have lost their parents, and parents of those who haven't. It's a really wonderful tradition we all look forward to. The host's uncle's death may require a Plan B.

Two close friends' marriage is dying. This is perhaps the saddest loss of all. They have always seemed a wonderful couple, full of care for each other, reciprocally protective and fully involved in each others' lives. No more, apparently, much to my chagrin. I think I dislike the dissolution of marriage most among human foibles.

And death looms. My father is 84. My wife's parents are 83 and 86. Our cat is 15 and is hyperthyroidistic.

I wish I had a window in my office. The sunshine might help.

Quarterly update

Well, once again it's been a while. Good things and bad things have happened, putting my mood on a roller coaster. But that makes me just like everyone else, no doubt.

I lost 10 pounds this summer.

I discovered I like staying at motels with hot tubs.

KU is 2-0 in football.

The Bears beat the be-hated Packers.

And I abhor the marketing of 9/11.

As I published in a blog elsewhere, I intended to try to link 9/11 on 9/11 to Plato and his ideas of virtue--temperance, courage, wisdom, and justice. I also considered invoking Sophocles. In "Antigone" he asks us to consider the consequences of political and ideological tyranny. I think I figured students were expecting some discussion of 9/11 on its fifth anniversary. For some, this is the Kennedy assassination or the Challenger explosion. They remember small details about where they were, what they were doing, and their emotions vividly. But when I stood up in front of them, I said to myself: "Fuck it. I'm not talking about this."

I decided that, while the deaths of all those people were tragic, the event was no more a tragedy than other peoples elsewhere have endured at the hands of terrorists. It's just that the tools of the event were so conspicuous and the target so essential to Americans' understanding of themselves. Who are we if not capitalists, consumed with consumption and the processes that feed it?

I decided that they'd get their fill of maudlin memories from still-grieving families that will feed their voyerism. They'd absorb analysis about the war of civilizations that has been sparked by the event. They'd see endless inquiries asking "why do they hate us so much" without a single reference to the U.S.'s comfy relationship with Saudi Arabia and our consistent rejection of all things Palestinian. They'd believe the pundits and peons who have convinced an entire nation that they are victims of a liberal conspiracy despite the 26-year conservative dominance of American politics. They'd look to religious ideology for the solution to religious ideology. They'd continue to claim assignments at school were unfair because they required excessive reading. And they'd continue to believe that their leaders want us all to be safe and our liberties protected by means of danger and amelioration of rights.

Too many students are on guard for liberal biases embraced by their elitist professors. Of course, they are the same ones who demand that their opinions be heard in class unobstructed by opposition or reason.

To solve these problems of hubris, I often wonder if we need some sort of disaster to right the ship, to fuse American culture into something recognizable by all--some sort of common horror that affects everyone equally--something like the great depression. But, then I think that such an event is too much like democracy and those pulling the strings would never let it happen.

And, clearly, flying airplanes into buildings isn't that sort of a disaster.

World Cup

I love soccer. I played it in Europe as a 12- and 13-year-old and learned from kids who were already fabulous players. Of course, most of them are now garbage collectors and factory workers as soccer in Britain, at least, is a working-class sport. I learned a little German from kids playing soccer with them, as well, as my parents and I toured the continent before we came home in the spring of 1967. I was a good soccer player in a United States without soccer. I shone during that unit of PE in high school, though. And, I was offered a place on Park College's soccer team by a coach who didn't have any athletic scholarships at the NAIA school. My life would have been a lot different had I taken him up on it.

This summer I'm a lot happier because the World Cup is on TV. God bless the Disney Corporation (for this, and only this) for giving ESPN license to show every game from Germany. I've nearly worn out my VCR keeping up with matches as I have to go teach every day. It's been a riot.

I've thought a lot lately about my interests outside of my wife and my work. It seems to be sports, sports, sports. There was a time when I had given up my fandom. I was sick of athletes, team owners, and the cost of following my favorite teams--both economic and psychic. Strikes and such disgusted me by the mid-nineties. But I sure seem back. And I am having an awfully good time every season of the year. After all that time getting a Ph.D. I wonder if I should finish my working life working for a sports organization--perhaps one at KU? Would I be happier as a fan or on the inside?

One of my biggest problems is staying put. Perhaps I should try that and see how it suits me.

Work

There's nothing quite like ending a vacation to make for confusing moods. In many ways, as I head off to work in the next few minutes, I'm refresed and ready to see what I missed. I'll have to work up a syllabus for my summer course, see where the new fiscal year's budget stands, catch up on gossip, and visit the love-of-my-life's campus.

Then again, I'd sure like to have the summer off as do many of my tenure-track colleagues. Of course, "off" means different things to different people. Many are on research trips. But others are really taking the summer off. One in particular lives in a castle in England during the summers. Now that's what I'd mean by "off." I have grown used to napping, particularly during this virulent allergy season. That's part of how I got refreshed. I've also gotten used to reading books again. You'd think an academic gets paid to read. Not quite so, I'm afraid.

If I'm going to make use of the summer I need to write a book review, a book chapter, and finish the long-awaited short history of the Western Civ program now nearly a year overdue. Finishing those should elevate my mood.

But so would another couple of months off.

Diabetes

I forgot in the last post to mention the down side of mood swings.

I have Type 2 diabetes, developed after a long relationship among me, my couch, pizza, and beer. I have followed the Atkins regimen to some degree of success. However, my fasting blood sugar had been rising. Of course, I can't drink beer anymore, but that hasn't stopped me from driking wine. Until now.

I got blood-test results that showed a worsening lipid profile. She diagnosed "carb creep." I told her it likely came from wine. She said: "How do you feel about vodka?" That's because vodka, and all spirits, have no carbs. The medical establishment would, undoubtedly, shudder at her suggestion. They all believe alcohol of all kinds changes to sugars in your blood stream. I'm not convinced. Neither is my doctor. To help with the blood sugar, she finally put me on 500 mg of Metformin, also known as Glucophage. The doctor says this really only works if one is limiting carbs. And, with the exception of wine, I've limited carbs to what the AMA would consider dangerous levels for almost 3 years now.

Three things seem to be happening as a result of replacing wine with spirits and taking the drugs. I've lost a little weight, my fasting blood sugar is under 100, and I'm losing hair (I think). The latter is a potential side-effect of Metformin. I hope it stops. But, if I keep losing weight and my blood sugar remains where it's supposed to, I guess hair loss is a small inconvenience. I'll have to cut my long hair, though. There's nothing worse than a 52-year-old with long hair everywhere but on top. Well, I suppose death is worse, but little else.

Been a Long Time, Been a Long Time...

Led Zeppelin, nothwithstanding, it has been a while since I wrote here. I've been finishing a hectic semester of teaching and I'm now completing a couple of weeks off which have been quite refreshing.

Visitors help elevate my mood. One friend, who has just completed her first year of tenure-track work at a small college in Pennsylvania visited for two weeks and two members of the Rensselear Scholars Club visited for Memorial Day. Lots of parties and endless conversation. The Scholars like jazz, but I won't hold that against them. We even went to KC to see drummer Joe Chambers mentor some young, rising jazz musicians from KC's Paseo Academy, including alto saxophonist Logan Richardson whom the Scholars say has a career ahead of him. I'll take their word for it. But it was a nice evening of music at KC's The Blue Room. I recommend the venue to all--it's even a non-smoking environment. Many jazz aficionados might not like that, but I did.

I've also napped. I never nap. But it's been enjoyable.

I've also read. I have read all too little since finishing my dissertation. I can recommend Anne Lamott's Plan B, Franklin Foer's How Soccer Explains the World, and Marilynne Robinson's Gilead. I've also worked some on James Merrill's Into the American Woods, and Frank McLynn's 1759.

I've watched some TV. Since I spend so much money on cable so I can watch sports, I also get HBO and, thus, HBO On Demand. I've watched the entire Band of Brothers series again. It really is a good show. My wife and I are reviewing Deadwood the same way in anticipation of its new season. Just give Ian McShane the Emmys for Best Actor until the show stops. No competition.

I've worked in the yard. I planted some flowers and began work on a pocket garden in my back yard. The latter's going to take some time, but I think it will be nice when I'm done.

I can't say that baseball has relaxed me or elevated my mood. I'm a Cubs fan and Royals fan. Just look at the standings. But, not everything's going to be good, I guess.

Speaking of which, my father moved again. He still hasn't gotten his pictures hung. I'm going over there this afternoon to take care of that lingering complaint.

Summer school starts Tuesday. I always show Michael Wood's Legacy segment on civilization in Mesopotamia. It starts with rockets and howitzers in the desert--from 1991. But I always thing it's valuable for students to know that "the West" started in the country we're trying to "rebuild."

I'll hope to add more as the summer progresses. Summer always feels good.

Basketball, again

I'm sitting in my living room watching Ohio State at Michigan. The ESPN scoreboard bug tells me that Ohio State is #17 and Michigan is #22. Ha!

For some reason the AP and the nation's coaches don't see KU as a top-25 team. KU plays, at the moment, infinitely better defense than either of the Big Ten rivals. Michigan's done a nice job of stealing the ball, but they're crummy at converting off the turnover. Ohio State stands around and waits for an offensive opportunity. They're good at offense, no doubt about it.

But I wonder why KU's not up there. They've won six in a row. They've beaten a top-20 team in Oklahoma. They've won four on the road, including one against top-25 (?!) Colorado. Sure, they have two crummy losses against K-State (horrors) and Missouri (double horrors). But Pitt has horrible losses, and they're still #11. Even Duke has one stupid loss.

My hope at the moment--and it's still only a hope--is that KU makes the NCAA tournament. And, if they do, I hope they're an 8 or 9 seed. That means they'll have to play a #1 seed in the second game (assuming they win the first).

I wouldn't want to be that #1 seed.

Doing other peoples' jobs

The profligate life led me to Type II diabetes. It's now under control thanks to a physician in Lawrence who specializes in metabolic dysfunction. Serendipitously, she also believes in a concept most doctors don't address. Her mantra is: "If you can feel better, why wouldn't you?"

While addressing my various metabolic difficulties, she also discovered my testosterone was low. She said it didn't have to be. So, she suggested I take testosterone injections. Again, why not feel the best you can. I've been taking testosterone shots for a year and a half, going to her office twice a month for the injections. There are a variety of benefits, I've discovered, and wish to continue taking the shots.

Today I went and was told that her business office said such shots were losing money. So they were discontinuing them. However, I was free to buy it myself, they could store it, and give me the injections as they'd always done. Of course, that means I have to go to the pharmacy myself and pick up the stuff. I will, but it's just another intrusion on my time.

Then, after they called the pharmacy, I was told the pharmacy couldn't charge my health insurance directly, only the company that pays for prescriptions. So, now I have to go pick up the stuff and pay for it out of my pocket. Then I have to submit a claim form.

When I called the insurance company, they explained that the pharmacy isn't hooked up directly to them. That's why the claim form has to be completed.

Wouldn't it be easier for everyone if the doctor just kept getting the stuff and submitted the bill just like they do everything else? Why is it that I have to do their job, the pharmacy's job, the pharmaceutical company's job, and the health insurance company's job?

The American health care system is broken. My story is a minor symptom. But if something doesn't change soon, rebellion will be afoot. At least I hope so.