July 24, 2007

The Boy Child, Diplomat in Training

The Boy Child's maternal grandfather is a retired career diplomat and the Boy Child must have picked up a thing or two from our recent visit to Norway.

So, last night, I had the following exchange with my little diplomat:

Me: What did you guys do at camp today with all of that rain?

BC: We mostly did art projects and watched a movie. I made two projects, Pappa. One for you and one for Mamma. Which one do you want?

Me: I want the best one!

BC [Pausing to think for a second] Ok, Pappa, you can have the best one. [Turns to his mother] And you, Mamma, can have the VERY best one!

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July 23, 2007

View from the bridge

I found a lovely picture on the internet that shows one of the views I enjoy from the train on my way home. I think this is really quite nice. There is just something about the water I find very soothing. And by the way, that big cabin cruiser? I've never seen it move.

viewfromtrain.jpg

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The Boy Child amused me

There are times he just cracks me up. Let me share with you a couple of
interchanges we had last night:

[I am in the bathroom brushing the Girl Child's teeth and the Boy Child comes in with a scrawled all over piece of paper]

BC: Pappa, read my sign!

Me: I can't, BC. You read it to me.

BC: It says: "Do not come into the Boy Child's room because of the poetry".

Me: Poetry?

BC: Yeah, poetry. We have poetry every night at 12:00.

GC: Wow! Can I come?

BC: Sure!

* * *

Me: Well, goodnight, young man.

BC: What do you mean when you call me "young man"?

Me: Well, you are not yet a man but when you act so grown up, I want to
let you know that.

BC: Well, I am not a baby anymore.

Me: You are always going to be my baby.

BC: It is my room and I make the rules here.

Me: Really? What are your rules?

BC: First, no monsters.

Me: That's a good one. Any more?

BC: Then, no trolls. After that, no cars with strangers in them and no
cars with bad guys in them.

[pause]

BC: I have a lot more rules, I just can't remember them right now.

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July 12, 2007

Jewish Culture without the Jews?

I read an article in the NY Times this morning about a strange revival of Jewish culture and life in Poland. At one time, prior to the Second World War, Poland was home to the largest Jewish population in Europe. Those few Jews who survived the Concentration Camps (remember, please, Auschwitz was on Polish soil), were further thinned out by State sanctioned pogroms and other anti-Semitic actions. When it came to anti-Semitism, it would appear that we have found something that the Poles absolutely excelled at.

Now, however, the Poles are in the process of rediscovering the contributions made by the Jews to Polish culture -- food, music, literature, architecture, language, art, and science. There is a veritable revival. The NY Times thinks this is great and seems to think it is kind of amusing that the Poles are managing to do it without the Jews. The tone of the article, I feel, is ironic amusement.

There is nothing ironic about it, from my perspective. Jewish culture without the Jews who live it and practice it, Jewish culture divorced from the religious observances which gave rise to such culture and around which such culture revolves, Jewish culture there is not Jewish culture. Klezmer music played by Polish, non-Jewish, musicians, to Polish, non-Jewish, diners eating "kosher" Polish, Jewish food (I have to think it is simulated "kosher" or kosher style food because where would they find the appropriate authorities to certify it?) is NOT Jewish culture. It is a simulacrum of Jewish culture.

It is also at once both an appropriation of Jewish culture and perhaps the ultimate example of Polish anti-Semitism. First, Jewish culture divorced from the religious calendar has little meaning. It is simply the Disneyification of Jewish life, celebrated by those for whom a connection to Jewish life is purely theoretical. It is, I suppose, a living museum. It is, in this regard, deeply offensive. Jewish culture is not here for the Poles' amusement and attempting to live it cannot be left for them to feel better about having wiped out their Polish Jews. I understand that they feel a void in Polish culture. It is understandable considering the contributions of Jews to Polish culture. But this way is wrong. Jewish culture is being lived by Jews all over the world in places other than Poland. It is lived every time a Jew celebrates the Sabbath or observes, with joy, a holiday (holy-day, right?). It is not ready for a museum.

Secondly, as I said above, it is the height of the expression of Polish anti-Semitism. After all, what could be better, from the Polish perspective, than taking the best of Jewish culture and enjoying it, all without having to be inconvenienced by the presence of a Jew?

Jewish culture without the Jew. Welcome to Poland. Be real careful getting on a train, you never know what the next stop will be.

Indeed, what better proves my point about how strange this all is than this photo (note the Crucifix, please):

18874469.jpg

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July 11, 2007

Mortality

I have just learned, as I sit here, that nothing helps you contemplate your own mortality more easily that a 12 page letter from your own lawyer that begins:

In accordance with your request, we enclose for your review proposed new Wills, Revocable Trusts, Health Care Proxy, Declaration and Organ/Tissue Donation Forms, Durable Powers of Attorney and Deeds of Gift. In order to assist you in your reading and understanding of the drafts, I have briefly summarized their provisions.

If a summary is 12 single spaced pages, it is hardly brief.

Just the same, it is kind of humbling to think that your entire life, and the arrangements to tidy it up, can be so neatly summed up.

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July 09, 2007

Trip to Norway -- back safely, if not entirely sanely

I have once again returned to my native shores, y'all. I will post, in dribs and drabs, updates and recaps of our two week excursion to Norway. In the meantime, I will lead off with the most negative and pessimistic recap I can possibly conceive of, one I shared with my wife already (who, by the way, I told at some point during the trip that my next wife was going to not only be a local girl but an orphan to boot).

The trip can be summed up as follows:

I told the driver who was coming to pick us up to take us to the airport to begin our voyage to basically fuck off after he called 5 minutes before we were supposed to leave and told me, after I asked, that he was more like an hour away.

I told one of my brothers-in-law to go fuck himself as we were saying goodbye the night before leaving to come back to the States (more on why later). I assured him that I meant it in the nicest possible way, though, as I shook his hand goodbye.

In between those two events, it rained and I gained 8-10 pounds.

Sounds idyllic, doesn't it?

Well, there were some nice moments, but I will blog about those later.

Nice, sooooooo nice, to be home.

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June 22, 2007

A request from the Boy Child

As I discussed yesterday, the Girl Child had her last day of kindergarten yesterday and I left her a note to tell her how proud I was of her for completing her year. She got a certificate for perfect attendance for the first semester and would have had a certificate for the second semester, too, if it were not for the strep throat at the end of the year. I gather the note, which she discovered when she came down for breakfast, was a big hit. I think it also made a big impression on the Boy Child for when I got home from work last night, he made his request.

There he stood, next to the kitchen table, naked as a jaybird, hair still wet from his bath, very earnest and hopeful expression on his face as he shyly stumbled through the following:

Pappa, I know I can't read, but do you think you could make me a note telling me how proud you are of me for pre-school?

The Boy got his note, left for him next to his breakfast spot for discovery when he came down this morning.

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June 21, 2007

Burnt offerings in the clearing on the left, please

Summer is here, today, officially! YAY! I am celebrating, not by making burnt offerings to the Norse gods, but by breaking out my seersucker suit (supposedly from the Hindi words "shir shakkar," meaning "milk and honey") and the madder silk bow tie (madder refers to a natural dye from a Eurasian herbaceous plant, Rubia tinctoria).

What else to celebrate?

The Girl Child finished kindergarten today! Her last day. I asked her last night if she was sad and she said she wasn't. I reminded her that she would most likely not be in class next year with the majority of her current class mates since the school likes to mix things up each year and she assured me, with a smile, that she knew "many people in the other kindergarten classes" and thought that she would be just fine next year.

The school year sure flew by. It seems like yesterday when I brought her to the bus and watched her recoil in fear as she exclaimed, "this isn't a little kids' bus; there are big kids on this bus!" She went from that to quietly proclaiming that she liked to sit towards the back of the bus and listen to the older kids talk because she found it "interesting". I just managed to shake off the inclination to home school her at that point, let me tell you.

We are off to Norway on Saturday for the burnt offerings, the swimming, and the attempts to play nice with the in-laws.

In the meantime, enjoy the beginning of summer, y'all!

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June 19, 2007

Mad dash

I am running as fast as I can. More or less. I mean, if I'm writing this, I am hardly running anywhere. Still, I am trying to figure out how to get prepared with two things heating up at once so I can still get on the plane on Saturday with my family to go to Norway for two weeks. If things get too hot here, I will not be on the plane. This will mostly make me sad as I had plans to spend alone time with my children. Only mostly sad, you see, because I could probably pass on living at my in-laws for two weeks.

In the run up to leaving, the Viking Bride had to prepare the kids for camp which begins the day after we return from Norway. The Girl Child intends to join the swim team at the Club and this week was Get Wet Week -- after school practice. Her first day was yesterday. She was the only one who insisted on staying to get extra practice in with the big kids after the little kids were dismissed. The coach was very impressed with her attitude, telling the Viking Bride that an attitude like that was going to take the Girl Child far in life.

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June 15, 2007

The kids

The children are still saying funny stuff. This morning, I went to the Girl Child's class for a Fathers' Day breakfast. My father came, too. He met us at the house. The Boy Child was not invited and not happy about being excluded. To make him a bit happier, the Viking Bride took him to get a donut for breakfast which he brought home to eat right about at the same time my dad arrived.

Grandfather: Boy, that donut sure looks good. I am sooo hungry. I wonder if anyone wants to offer me a bite.

Boy Child: You're kidding, right?

The Viking Bride joined me in New York City last night for another black tie affair; my last black tie affair until the autumn arrives (I hope). The babysitter drove her, along with the kids, to the train station. On the way, the babysitter told my wife the following:

Listen, I have to tell you that I have asked the children not to speak Norwegian around me. I am pretty sure that every time they are speaking Norwegian, they are plotting against me.

The babysitter, while possibly paranoid, is certainly correct. I am so proud of the kids for realizing the potential of a good, secret language. Up the revolution!

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June 14, 2007

A rebound

I have been a bit down of late, I must confess. Well, I don't have to confess it, I suppose, but I am going to just the same. I am feeling pressured at home by the difficult adjustment period my wife is going through, I am pressured by the demands of work, and I am wicked pressed by the financial side of things -- who knew windows could cost so much? The result for me is an increasing lassitude and difficulty in sort of pushing myself to complete the important daily tasks I used to just dash right through. This might also explain the paucity of posting here as I have difficulty rousing myself to write anything.

But, as I was walking on Park Avenue this morning, on the way to mortify the flesh at the gym again, as I do most every morning, I was thinking how nice and cool it was, and how the sun had perhaps not yet begun to take the chill of the darkness away. Then, I had a moment of clarity, a moment that perhaps, while not unique and known to everyone else already, was not robbed of its power in the slightest. It occurred to me that every day, the world is re-born. Every day, when the sun rises, it rises on a new world, a new day, a new you, even. Every day, at the rise of sun, you are given a new shot at redemption, a new beginning, a new possibility.

Even if you cannot wipe the slate clean from the day before, even if your personal balance sheet didn't reset and you carry over the debits and credits of the preceding hours, you still get the potential for grace. Redemption, it seemed to me as I paced the avenue, is not necessarily made up of a great epiphany or a grand and overwhelming gesture that tends to compensate for all the ills that you have performed or have befallen you. No, redemption is perhaps less of an end and more of a journey. Redemption, if you cease the moment and embrace the new day's sunlight, begins with and perhaps is entirely composed of small steps, halting movements that can become more sure over time. It has to start somewhere and it can come from making a small decision to do something different. It can even consist of a desire to change with the desire being the mother of the deed and that deed can be a baby step. What becomes important then is just taking another step and another step until you are on a totally different path.

Now, I don't mean to suggest anything is easy or even simple, that you can wipe out your debts simply by changing your mental latitude as the result of a ray of sunshine. No, not at all. What I mean is that you have to start somewhere and you might as well begin with the dawn. As Homer called it, "the rosy fingers of dawn". I wondered why he would choose to call them fingers. Perhaps it was because attached to the fingers is the hand and you can grasp the hand, each morning, and decide to pull yourself up and over and, in the process, begin anew.

And so, I choose, today, to take one small step, to throw myself at one or two small windmills and to, if not win the joust, tilt. For maybe it is enough to try. And maybe it is enough to keep trying, for in the trying, comes change.

And change can bring redemption. Every day brings that opportunity, that grace. Today it just seemed clear to me. So, today, I choose to take that hand.

I hope the above made some sense to you all. It was crystal clear to me as I wrote it.

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June 08, 2007

Not easily star struck, but. . .

Last night was cool. I got an invite earlier in the week to attend The Economic Club of New York's Centenial Celebration dinner at the Waldorf Astoria hotel last night. I am glad I overcame my initial reluctance and pulled the tuxedo down off of the back of the office door (doesn't everyone keep the full black tie get up at work?) and toddled off to the Waldorf.

New York is a place where everyone comes to or through. You can argue the comparative merits of living in Atlanta or Houston or Santa Monica, sure. But at the end of the day, they ain't NY. You just don't get the volume of interesting people passing through as you do in NY.

Take last night for example. I got to listen to Condi Rice talk about American Realism in foreign policy, Alan Greenspan as he compared JP Morgan's actions during the 1907 crash with his own actions during various other crashes, Paul Gigot from the Wall Street Journal, Lionel Barber from the Financial Times, and Pete Peterson of the Blackstone Group.

Rice was particularly interesting. I'm going to vote for her for President, by the way, should she ever seek the office. She noted that if she finishes her term as the 66th Sec. of State, and this is not a justification for affirmative action, that it will have been 12 years since the United States has had a white, male Sec. of State. I am still chuckling over that.

That was really pretty darn cool.

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June 06, 2007

A thought

I stumbled upon the following line in the middle of a book review and since I have been thinking about it, on and off, for a day now, I decided it was worth sharing:

[P]olitical correctness, which is to thought what sentimentality is to compassion. . .

T. Dalrymple.

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May 31, 2007

History may not repeat itself, but that's only because no one is listening anyway

HereÂ’s a passage from a book I was reading that I found eerily familiar, especially considering the current climate, and especially when I removed certain words. What do you think of the following (which war):

But _____________ success during the next nine months, again mainly in the East, discouraged so many ______ voters with the prospect of ever winning the war that the Democrats made great gains in congressional elections and potentially threatened the _____ administrationÂ’s ability to continue the war.

____ was an avid reader of _______ newspapers smuggled across the lines. From them he gleaned not only bits of military intelligence but also — and more important in this case — information about ________ politics and the growing disillusionment with the war among Democrats and despair among Republicans. One of _____ purposes in the _________ invasion was to intensify this ________ demoralization in advance of the congressional elections in the fall of ____. He hoped that ________ military success would encourage antiwar candidates. If Democrats could gain control of the House, it might cripple the ______ administration’s ability to carry on the war.

* * *

Bet you didnÂ’t think that the author was talking about the Civil War, right? HereÂ’s the full quote:

But Confederate success during the next nine months, again mainly in the East, discouraged so many Northern voters with the prospect of ever winning the war that the Democrats made great gains in congressional elections and potentially threatened the Lincoln administrationÂ’s ability to continue the war.

Lee was an avid reader of Northern newspapers smuggled across the lines. From them he gleaned not only bits of military intelligence but also — and more important in this case — information about Northern politics and the growing disillusionment with the war among Democrats and despair among Republicans. One of Lee’s purposes in the Maryland invasion was to intensify this Northern demoralization in advance of the congressional elections in the fall of 1862. He hoped that Confederate military success would encourage antiwar candidates. If Democrats could gain control of the House, it might cripple the Lincoln administration’s ability to carry on the war.

From McPhersonÂ’s new book, This Mighty Scourge: Perspectives on the Civil War.

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May 29, 2007

A list of things

What follows, now that we are on the cusp of summer, now that we have spent some time this past weekend thinking about our men and women who have made the final sacrifice so that we could enjoy our liberty, now that we look forward to the long, sunlit days and warm and humid nights, now it seems appropriate to consider some truths (summer edition):

*Kosher hot dogs taste better than other hot dogs;

*I believe that while the world may be renewed every day by the breath of school children, the world takes joy from every whoop pulled from a child's mouth upon jumping off into the first cannonball of the year;

*Anti-bug candles are a scam;

*The sound that a well struck tennis ball makes is very satisfying (especially after laying off the sport for 15 years);

*Teenage girls in bikinis do not look like the teenage girls in bikinis I remember. If the girls back then looked like the girls today, I would never have had the courage to speak to a single one of them;

*The smells of summer are grand -- suntan lotion coming off the hair of a child cuddling on your lap; warm flowers; cold beer; freshly cut lawn; charcoal coming up to temperature; even chlorine smells nice;

*Roasted peanuts and beer at minor league baseball. Enough said;

*The feeling like the sun is never going to set and your summer day is going to stretch out into infinity with endless possibilities and always enough time for just one more jump into the water;

*Watching sailboats in the distance makes me think of the best of modern dance and poetry combined as the boats dance and weave around each other and as the sails dip and fill with the capricious whims of the wind;

*Warm tomatoes fresh from the vine. My grandafather used to eat them like apples. I used to think that was odd. I don't any longer;

*All the glorious summer fruits make me realize that even as wonderous as they are, they are but a pale shadow of the fruits of Mexico and Guatemala;

*Summer makes me want to play hooky in ways winter never, ever does.

Feel free to add your own, should you feel inspired.

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A tough customer

We spent Memorial Day at a beach club, playing in the pools and basking in the sun. We adjourned for lunch at the outdoor snack bar area by the water. The snack bar is under new management and the Girl Child did not care for it even one little bit. She did not like the kid menu. As she explained:

There are only two choices for drinks and that is totally unacceptable. They did have pink lemonade; however, it was yucky.

A very tough customer.

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May 18, 2007

Catch up

I have not been inspired to write of late. I look at the blank screen and I got a whole lot of nothing. I have been considering whether I should close it up, wondering whether I have written everything I have to write, contemplated whether I am done. I have decided not to make any decisions. Just to let it ride for a bit longer and see what happens. Maybe I continue; maybe I don't. I'm really not certain at all.

In the meantime, I am going to do a series of mini-posts, all contained within this larger post. A bit of catch up, if you will.

* * *

This has been a stressful week at home. We received very unwelcome and expensive news concerning the condition of the house. We have rot issues that will take many thousands of dollars (and I mean, many) to rectify and the rectification process must begin immediately. So, let's see. The Viking Bride has removed (with my blessings) her salary from our income statement and our budget just got shot out of the water with a huge cap. ex. problem. Yeah, life continues to get interesting.

* * *

Attended a squash clinic on Wednesday night with a young kid late of the Trinity College Squash team -- they are basically professionals, all of them. It was the best time I had all week. And I was even able to move the next day. But I learned a lot.

* * *

Mother's Day was outstanding. My mother felt well enough to attend brunch with us. The Girl Child (aged 6) spent part of a school day writing a card for both her grandfather and grandmother. It read:

Dear Grenparens,

Thank you for making my life so much nicer. I love you lots.

Love,
The Girl Child

Not a dry eye in the house after having read that.

* * *

The Boy Child is still sucking his thumb. We are not that happy about it.

While at brunch, I had to take him to the bathroom. Upon our return, his plate with his cookie on it was gone. He was not pleased.

BC: Pappa! My cookie's gone!

Me: So, go back to the dessert table and get another one.

BC: I don't want to go by myself.

Me: Well, I just took you to the bathroom and I am not taking you to the dessert table. Ask your sister if she will take you.

BC: Girl Child, will you take me to the dessert table.

GC: Yes. [gets up, holds out her hand to him, he puts his hand in hers and they set off]

Then I hear her say

GC: But Boy Child, if I see you put that thumb in your mouth, we are coming right back. Do you understand?

Tough kid.

* * *

Celebrated 17 Mai yesterday. Norwegian Constitution Day. I had to give a dinner for a committee I serve on so I created a 4 course meal that the chef made for us. It was a stunning success. Much aquavit and beer. So much that when I was in the gym this morning, my sweat smelled like caraway, of all things.

* * *

I have been immersed, in my own head, thinking about issues concerning pricing and value. I started a post on it but didn't finish it. Maybe I will.

* * *

I hope you all have a great weekend (anyone still reading, that is)!

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May 04, 2007

Clutch it

A college diploma is the tangible evidence of having been adjudged to have received an education. An education, a college education, is what all parents in the United States want for their children. I say "all parents" but it probably isn't all, just the majority. You probably heard it all the time from your parents so much -- "if you don't buckle down, you'll never get into college and then see what your life will become!" -- that it became a joke to you -- "if you can't shotgun that beer, dude, you'll never succeed in college".

So, college, the ultimate American escape (from high school, from parents, from the life you led prior to college, etc.), looms large in your mind. It shimmers on the horizon like a vision of, what, fear (thanks to your parents), escape, and, for the lucky few, the chance to expand their minds. But, I wonder, do you ever really get away from the fear?

Every so often, when you see a homeless person, do you clutch your education to your chest and rub it like a talisman, saying to yourself, I have my education, I will never be like that?

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May 03, 2007

Another Time Suck of the Day: British History Edition

Wow, no time sucks at all for months and then two, one right after the other. Today's time suck is the interactive British History Timeline put up by the BBC (an organization I normally hold in the higest disdain). They did a good job here and it is really pretty cool. You scroll through the historical periods and see what the BBC considered relevant or important in British history. My only problem with it is that it is way too light on the pre-Roman stuff. Still, more fun than not.

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May 02, 2007

It can take a lifetime before the doctor crosses the floor to give you the news

When the neurosurgeon walked into the waiting room last night at just past 7:00, still wearing his scrubs and clogs, my father and I were the only ones sitting there. We had been at the hospital since a little after 11:00 that morning to visit with my mother and to help her pass the time until they came to take her away for her surgery.

She had been in the hospital since Sunday. My father had her taken over when she was suddenly unable to sit up or stand. They ran a cat scan and discovered that, in two areas, she had been bleeding in her brain and that blood clots had formed and were compressing her brain inwards. The neurosurgeon thought that it was important to relieve the pressure and to remove the clots and recommended surgical intervention. She was admitted Sunday afternoon.

When we spoke, she and I, on Sunday evening after I called to say good night to her and to tell her that I loved her, she told me that she wanted to kill herself. I have never heard her express despair like this. I was shredded by this. I was consoled only by the call my father made to me later that evening to tell me that she was totally disoriented, asking him why he was still in the office (at 9 on a Sunday) and asking further about why she was in the hospital. I have decided to attribute her statement, her unbelievably out of character statement, to the confusion caused by her condition. Just the same, I slept only about 3.5 hours Sunday night into Monday and those hours I did sleep were not restorative.

I left work early on Monday to commute back to Westport to get the car and the Viking Bride and drive down to the hospital in Greenwich. We visited with my mom for an hour or so and took off. The Girl Child had to be taken to observe a violin lesson. My father drove up and joined us for dinner.

Yesterday, I again left work early and met my father at the hospital. My mother slept from about 12 to 2 but we were with her until they took her away at 5:00 or so. The surgery was supposed to be at around 3, but was delayed due to an emergency.

Waiting is difficult. I shan't elaborate.

After they took her off, my father and I walked to a local restaurant to sit and decompress while they performed the surgery. We ate too much and drank a little wine. We discussed the future. He is quite a realist, my father.

And then, all too soon, we were in the waiting room, again, alone but for another woman waiting for news, too.

The doctor looked so grave when he approached us. I don't know if he was tired or whether that was simply his normal manner. But the news, he said, was very good and she came through the procedure with flying colors.

My father made a peculiar strangled gulping noise and I realized, looking at him, that he bit back a sob.

He looked at the doctor and said, clearly teared up:

Doctor, we have been married 42 years. You look at this woman and you see this withered thing. But I don't see that. When I look at her, this is what I see. [And he pulled his wallet out and showed the doctor that picture of my mother when she was maybe 22 years old]. This is how she looks to me. Thank you for helping her.

I am a bit tearful now as I re-tell this here. It was a beautiful statement and a wonderful sentiment.

The doctor thinks that having had the pressure relieved on her brain, he expects her brain to "come up again" and re-expand to occupy the full space in her skull. This really was excellent news.

I must say, I cannot believe it is only Wednesday. I feel as if I have had a life time packed into the last three days.

A lifetime.

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