Thursday, June 20, 2019

It's Weird To Wake Up Knowing You're Deaf

After my first round in the booth, the audiology tech walked in, took off my ear phones, and, looking a little paler than she did a few minutes earlier, said, "Well, you have a profound hearing loss!"

She used the same tone Richard Dreyfus used in JAWS when he examined Chrissy's body after the first shark attack.  "WELL, THIS IS NO BOATING ACCIDENT!"

She then asked me, the look on her face growing even more concerned, if I had ever had a hearing test.  I admitted that I couldn't remember.  She shook her head and put the head phones back on.  "I'm going to play a man's voice now.  I want you to repeat the last word he says in each statement."

So, I got serious.  I sat up straight.  Closed my eyes.  Concentrated.  I only got twenty per cent of the words correct, she informed me, now on the verge of tears.

I wanted to give her a little hug and tell her that it was gonna be alright.  Mostly, I felt guilty about being such a bad audiology patient.  I was also happy that she couldn't pull my license to walk freely around the world.  I mean with my hearing the way it is, there are a lot of things I could inadvertently run into without hearing them first.  Crying babies in carriages.  Angry honks from delivery trucks.  Buskers singing and dancing in the middle of the street.  The hazards are rife.

I didn't want to go to this appointment in the first place.  I knew what the results would be, but Christian, obviously growing tired of having to repeat everything he says when in my presence, made an appointment for me at one of those miracle hearing places that advertise on TV along with personal injury lawyers and Chia Pets.

I gave in and told him I would make an appointment at Kaiser.

All the loved ones around me knew I was not looking forward to the appointment.  Kathie even volunteered to rearrange her schedule so she could go with me.  Chris offered to hold my hand.  Christine said she would go if I really wanted her to.

I assured them that I was perfectly capable of taking myself to a medical appointment.  Just to prove it, I even managed to check in at a self-serve kiosk instead of going to the desk.  See.  Even high tech doesn't intimidate me.

I also kind of liked it at the Audiology Department.  Everyone there made it a point to look right at me when they talked and they pronounced their words carefully and loudly.  If everyone just talked and acted like that, we could all save a lot of money on hearing aids.  Maybe there are lots of people who could even lose their comfort dogs if we made a nation wide push for more articulation.

Finally, she told me to come out of the booth and have a seat.  She came in a few minutes later with two printouts of my hearing test.  She sat down with a sigh, looked me straight in the face, and shared her concern.

I couldn't help but laugh at the whole noirish feeling of the whole thing.  "I'll bet you're wondering how I manage to negotiate my world with my hearing."

"Yes, I am," she answered, holding back a sob.  "I have never seen anyone with hearing like this who could function without a hearing aid!   You have to promise me you'll come in for consultation.  I even think your loss is such that you would qualify for a cochineal implant."

At least that's what I thought she said.  I couldn't really make out all the words.

She went out and made an appointment for me and the lady at the desk spoke very slowly and clearly.

I couldn't help myself.  Before I left, I gave the tech a reassuring pat on her shoulder.  "Don't worry about me, okay?  I'm going to be alright."

She nodded her head as if to say I hope so and walked slowly away.

I meet with a doctor when I get back from Jenny Lake.  I'm going to take Katherine with me this time.


Tuesday, June 11, 2019

A Fire in the Morning; Ice in the Afternoon

I like to think I am easy to please.  Innkeepers and restaurateurs must like to see me walk in the door. When Kathie and I enter a place like Mizuna, everybody is happy to see us.  At Jenny Lake next month, staff members with smiles on their faces will give us hugs and welcome us back.

I remember a conversation we had in the lodge one evening before dinner with some friends who had some legitimate complaints about dinner (too many consommés), housekeeping, and the woeful job the concierge was doing.   Rachel, the sweetheart of a manager, was there with us and I said that I was easy.  Give me a fire in the morning and ice in the afternoon and I'm content.

The wonder then is that I end up in so many places and situations that go out of their way to please me, to make me happy.  Our recent travels are a case in point.

By our standards, the last two months have been pretty hectic.  We flew to Orlando for a four day weekend to see our grandson get married.  That was the end of March, beginning of April.  We flew back home for a few days and then got on another plane and traveled to Belize for two weeks.  Back home for another week and then off to New York City and then Ireland.

You have to remember that I hate to travel.  I think of all that money and I'd rather stay home and go out to restaurants.  But then when I am actually in the act of traveling, I end up having great times.  This is especially true of the last two months.

Let me make a list.

- After an easy cab ride from Orlando's airport to the Royal Carib just off Disney property, we met Chris and Nate at the bar for drinks.

-We had a great dinner with Nate and Ashley at Rick Bayless' place at the Disney Marketplace.

-We were at the pool hanging out with Chris and Franny and the grand girls.  Jaydee took off from one side of the shallow end and managed to somehow stroke and kick and squirm her way to the other side.  "Well, at least I didn't die," she said when she got her head above water.  I think that's my favorite memory from all of the travels.

-I liked giving Sage and Shannon a toast and reciting Sonnett 116.  I think I've got that sucker down pat.

-Kathie and I were walking the beach in Placencia one morning when we came across a golf cart that someone had managed to drive into the ocean.  A policeman and two others were surveying the scene, trying to figure out how to get the thing out of the ocean without getting wet.  The policeman motioned to me.  He pointed at my feet and said, "Bare feet.  Bare feet."  I told him that he was right and I was indeed barefoot.  I finally figured out that he wanted me to get into the  ocean and pull the thing out because I wouldn't be getting my shoes wet.  I gave it a try.  Finally, after a few fruitless tugs, the other guys jumped in and helped me pull it free.  I felt like a local and so useful.  And my shoes never got wet.

-We had a wonderful afternoon with Gavin at MoMA with a lunch afterward at The Warwick.

-I loved our walk through Central Park all the way up to the top of the reservoir and then down past all of the construction outside the Met.

-The fact that we were the only plane landing at Shannon at 6 in the morning made the entire experience easy.

-While our fellow passengers were looking for their tour buses or queuing up in front of car rental places, we were greeted by a gentleman in a vest and tie holding a sign with our names on it.  He led us to a black Mercedes.  The back seat had lap blankets and bottles of water to appease us during the fifteen minute trip to Adare Manor.

-Adare Manor!  Need I say more.  Our room was ready at 7 AM!  A friendly chap greeted us at a welcoming desk and led us through the maze of stone hallways to our room.

-Our room!!  Huge.  Two closets in their own hallway with mirrored double doors.  A bathroom with fluffy towels and robes and a rain head shower in a separate stall.

-Breakfast.  The breakfast at Adare was in the Great Hall, a giant room with two killer stained glass windows on either end hovering over the feast.

-Dinner at the Carriage House (day 2).  The Carriage House is at the golf course.  There is a bar, a golf shop, a rental shop, and a restaurant serving lots of fish and lamb.  The food and the service were exceptional, but the thing I most remember is an older couple (Read:  my age) sitting against the wall.  The woman was happily devouring her meal and drinking her wine.  The man, sitting grumpily with his arms crossed, was busily sending back every plate.  How could anyone be that sad in a place like this?

-Dinner at the Oak Room.  We were seated by a window overlooking the garden, the 18th green just on the other side.  A young Irish lad was our server.  He had a delightful sense of humor and timed the dinner perfectly.  I would have to say that the only meal I have ever had to equal this one was at Meadowood in Napa Valley about ten years ago.  Simply amazing.

-A different gentleman in a different Mercedes picked us up at Adare and drove us to the Ashford Castle.  Driving through the Irish countryside is fascinating.  The only other countryside not in the US that I have driven through has been in Belize.  The difference between the little towns and villages in a Western Democracy as opposed to a Third World Country, even a well developed one like Belize, is stark.  There is a lot to be said for infrastructure and a strong central government.  There, I had to get that in.  The Cliffs of Moher were certainly interesting, but the crowds there made me more worried than happy.  We told the driver that we would just as soon get on to the castle.  That made him happy.

-The arrival at Ashford was a lot like the arrival at Adare.  We were shown to a couple of velvet chairs and given drinks made out of gin.  We barely had our first sip when we were shown to a desk, signed in and ushered up to our room.

-Breakfast at Ashford, while not in a room nearly so glorious, was even better than Adare.  The best smoked salmon of my life.  In fact, all of the food was spectacular.

-I loved the walk along the river into Cong, the little village that doubled as Innisfree in THE QUIET MAN.  We stopped at Pat Cohan's pub more than once.  Good conversation; okay fish and chips.

-We spent one memorable morning walking the entire property.  We walked by the skeet shooting range, hoping that the rifles were pointing away from us.  Then we passed the archery area.  After that was the equestrian center.  Finally, the falconry range.  We ended up on a narrow wooded lane that somehow led to a series of gardens.  There was a hidden garden, yes there was.  A walled garden.  A terraced garden.  Each one was more secret, more impressive than the last.  What a place.

-One final thing that made me happy.  We were flying back to Denver and there was a couple in front of us who acted like they were returning from a honeymoon.  They held hands, and kissed a lot, and the girl rested her head against his shoulder.  Very sweet.  That's not what made me happy.  About half way through the flight (the five hour mark), the girl started running her nicely manicured nails through the guy's hair.  He wore his hair short.  She didn't do it once or even twice! She kept on doing it!  The rest of the way back to Denver!  The fact that it was his hair she was doing that to and not mine made me happy and the rest of the flight bearable.

I'm home now.  Except for Jenny Lake and one two night trip to Santa Fe in August, there will be no more travel in my life for a year.  I don't really need to.  As Buckaroo Bonzai said, "Wherever you go, there you are."  Besides, there are all kinds of things around here to make me happy.




Monday, June 3, 2019

We Were Eight Years In Power

Ta-Nehisi Coates

This is the other book I read on the plane rides between Ireland and Denver.  I love Coates.  I think he is the best polemicist currently writing in our country.  He has taken that mantle from James Baldwin and has proved his equal and that is saying a lot.

I didn't check the book out when I bought it, so when I opened it up somewhere while flying west over the Atlantic, I discovered that it was a collection of the pieces he has written for The Atlantic over the past decade.  I had already read them all, especially the Case for Reparations that catapulted him to the fame he currently enjoys.  Except for the reparations piece, which I had already read about five times, I read all of his essays again.  Reading then in the context of a Trump (the first white president, according to Coates) presidency gave the pieces even more urgency.

They held together and offered a powerful indictment of the racist history of this country.  The effect on me after reading this book along with all the other political things I've been pouring through lately has convinced me that White Supremacy has always been and continues to be the dominant story of our republic.  Every great political accomplishment or setback can be seen in the context of our country's uneasy relationship with race.  I mean EVERYTHING.  The biggest stumbling block to universal health care (something Truman tried to accomplish as his contribution to The New Deal) was the realization that people of color would not only get the lion's share of the benefits but such a health care scheme would mean that black and brown people might end up sharing hospital rooms with white folks (insert Gasp).  Evangelical types didn't get involved in politics until Nixon took away the tax exempt status of religious schools that refused to admit black people.  It wasn't the evil of abortion, but the fear of black people in their all white classrooms that drove them over the political brink.  Some 40% of self-identified Republicans still believe that Obama was born in Kenya.  If the football players taking knees during the anthem were mostly white instead of black, no one would be outraged about their supposed lack of patriotism. This list of outrages could go on for pages and pages.

The best thing about this book is that Coates has written a short introduction to each essay talking about the writing process and the difficulties he had conducting some of the interviews.  I found all of that fascinating and, as someone who would kill to get published, quite helpful.

There are three or four quotes from the book that are illustrative of the direction and quality of Coates' work:

"America is literally unimaginable without plundered labor shackled to plundered land, without the organizing principle of whiteness as citizenship, without the culture crafted by the plundered, and without that culture itself being plundered."

"Studying the 2016 election, the political scientist Philip Klinker found that the most predictive question for understanding whether a voter favored Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump was 'Is Barack Obama a Muslim?'"

"The racial and ethnic isolation of whites at the zip code level is one of the strongest predictors of Trump support."

"So when Packer [George Packer] laments the fact that 'Democrats can no longer really claim to be the party of working people--not white ones anyway,' he commits a kind of category error.  The real problem is that Democrats aren't the party of white people--working or otherwise.  White workers are not divided by the fact of labor from other white demographics; they are divided from all other laborers by the fact of their whiteness."

Obama haters' insistence that their antipathy was not based on race was and continues to be laughable.  It was always about race.  It always has been.