Tuesday, August 11, 2020

         It was a driveway yoga day.  It was still just three students, Joe, Scott, and me. Two others say they are coming back.  Elsa was particularly frisky today.  There were two tennis balls around, one for Linear and one for Elsa.   She can chase balls forever.  

Every once in a while, she would go to the fence to bark at the neighbors’ dogs.  They can get right up to the fence these days.  Ronen put up a barrier within his property for a while, so they couldn’t get through the areas he planted. But now, they are all fallow, and that fencing must be down. 

       Their black dog is scary. That was the dog that tried to kill Elsa. Instead of avoiding him, she charges the fence.  Is she nuts?  I avoid walking by their house on the street side when I think the dogs might be out.  I will walk the entire stretch of the street in the early morning and late at night, but not for my-before-dinner walk. That black dog comes right up to the automatic fence.  I have seen people get through that fence by pushing it open.  That suggests to me that the black dog might open it by throwing his weight against it.  I think both Elsa and I would wind up in the hospital if that dog got loose. Scary animal. I have heard other walkers complain about him.  

I finally sat down to all the Policy Service Department at Progressive.  I didn’t get too far before we got cut off.  Just as well.  While Marissa tried to make the presentation for the representative more transparent, she confused my data, mixing updates and information.  Using her format, I started writing up each unexplained rate increase myself.  I think the problem at Progressive may not be graft but simple incompetence.  

I spent a good part of the day figuring out how to write up the notes to be more explicit.   I also called a soundproofing company to ask how best to deal with the annoying sounds Yvette hears at night when people are staying in the room above her.  

The man gave the best information yet. The answer is to rip up the flooring, including the subflooring, and start from scratch. Yikes! There is a good chance I can save the carpet if I can find someone to relay it.  I will also want to reorder the soundproofing foam before the carpet is laid down.  That will have to be reordered.  I have subsequently acquired more information about that foam too.  It has to be laid, so a bit of it moves up the wall.  The guy who laid it did not do that.  He didn’t even remove the baseboards. He just convenienced himself.  I tried to call the shop I had dealt with. The owners were nice and helpful.  I couldn’t find the name of the shop on the Internet. That was weird.  I resolved to look for it when I went to Home Depot. The store is right across from Home Depot. 

       My first stop was at the Restore Store to see if I could pick up a bathroom sink faucet cheaply.  They didn’t have one, but I found this whimsical metal sculpture sitting on a bureau I couldn’t resist. When I got it home, I saw that it was even missing a few pieces.  I think that added to its whimsy. Whatever, it was only eight dollars, down from ten because I got a senior citizen discount. 

      Then I went looking for the carpet store. I found an empty shop where I thought it was supposed to be. I gave up quickly and went to do some shopping at Home Depot and Costco. 

       At Home Depot, I flagged down an associate to help unload the fans. I had asked Scott to move the new ceiling fan he brought into the house the other day back to my car so that I could return it.   They were much too heavy for me.  The return was minor. I went to the carpeting section to determine if carpeting can be taken up and relayed. The worker said yes. I also asked them if they knew why the flooring store was gone. He said no, but he called his grandmother.  He said she knew everything. She didn’t. 

I wanted to pick up two new ones with smooth blades instead of the textured ones.  I would do that on my way back from my luncheon date on Wednesday. I will also have to pick up the new faucet at that time.  I had asked Scott when he would be able to fix my bathroom sink. He said his shoulder was bothering him too much. B. had offered, so I followed up with him. He came up to look at it later in the day. He discovered that the problem wasn’t with the tubing I had bought but with the tubing directly attached to the faucet.  The faucet was old.  I don’t want to put too much money into this because I would love to redo the bathroom. The people we bought the house from had everything done in dark brown hues.  Not for me.  I like light colors. Also, the tub is a bath fitters model, fit right over the original tub. I would like to make a lovely bathroom with a skylight.  I had checked the other day.  Home Depot carries a vented 2x3 foot skylight with a pyramid top.  I need some advice, but it sounded like just what I’m looking for.  I want to figure out how the pyramid affects the heat flow into the room versus a domed or flat top. 

        Then I stopped at Costco. I had a few routine items to pick up. I also picked up the croissants for tomorrow’s lunch with the girls at Zola’s. 

When I got home, I worked on redoing my information for Progressive.

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Musings:

Surrender from When Things Fall Apart.

         The book “When Things Fall Apart,’ was mentioned on some NPR show or another. The woman said it was life-changing. It is just a reiteration of Buddhist ideas that I’m already familiar with.  I chose to read it because, as in AA meetings, someone can say something differently, and it becomes a life-changing moment.

The author speaks a lot of surrender, giving up hope. I think most religions teach that one way or another.  If you’re in a bad spot, just pray – more to the point, do nothing else.  When surrender is taught that way, I can see why Marx believed religion was the opiate of the people.  It was used to convince them to accept their lot in life without protest, even if it was unjust.

          It’s the AA prayer of knowing when to surrender and give up hope and when to hope and persist in creating change. That’s the toughy, having the wisdom to know the difference. 

         Surrendering and giving up hope is very freeing when it is appropriate.  There are things we cannot change.  Giving up hope means accepting that those things cannot be changed instead of struggling against them.  Again, when do we surrender all hope? When do we stop looking for that crack in the wall with light coming through that says there is a way through this to the other side?

Monday, August 10, 2020

       I was awake at 5:30 when the alarm went off but didn't get up. My phone rang shortly before 6. It was Rick White, my financial advisor at Raymond James. I had written that I'm trying to get some projects done.  I am preparing for the worst, total financial disaster and hoping for the best. 

       Yvette called as I meditated. She was going to have to leave at 9 am instead of later as she had originally planned. We took some headshots of me yesterday.  I was concerned I would look the way I felt, sluggish.  Not a good look when you hope someone will be enthusiastic about you as a tutor.  We took some pictures with some bougainvillea hanging over my head and Elsa in my arms. Because we took the shots in the area where a table sits that I use to trim her, she didn't come when called. Definitely not one of her favorite activities.  She holds still but contentedly.

        I had a haircut appointment at 1:30. My plan was to get to my accountant's before that appointment to pick up my taxes, which had been sitting there completed since March.  I thought I left myself enough time. I didn't.  I arrived at 1:10, and Kitty had left already. I barely made it on time for my haircutting appointment. 

Randee and I had a slight misunderstanding.  She has been shaving the base of my hair closely for about a year now.  Last time, after several months of growth, she left the top in a 'hangover.' As she cut my hair, I asked her to cut the top somewhat shorter.  She didn't ask me what I had in mind.  She cut it much shorter and left some long strands. Yikes!  They tickled.  I couldn't stand it.  I had to cut them off when I got home.  

____________ __________ ______________

Musings:

        I listened to a recent TED talk on what makes a good marriage.  The keyword was generosity. The examples she gave did not include financial generosity; it referred to emotional generosity, our ability to forgive the failings of our partners. 

         As I write this, I think of terms like unconditional love and how self-love is key to our ability to love others.  I like substituting the word generosity instead of love. 

We can be generous to our bad selves, forgiving ourselves for our own failings and expecting others to forgive us.  Mike helped me to become more generous toward myself.  His inability to hold free-flowing conversations drove me crazy. It felt like he wasn't listening to me.  

         Every once in a while, he would accuse me of not listening to him. I remember one incident clearly. I was gazing in store windows and making comments about what I saw while walking down a street. Mike accused me of not paying attention to what he was saying.  I quoted him verbatim.  Mike couldn't focus on two things at once. He was really bad at it.  Me, I can write and follow a conversation. My natural talent for this was challenged and improved in my role as a classroom teacher.  If you can't focus on two things at once as a teacher, boy, are you screwed!

        Many of Mike's failings were a source of amusement for me.  I don't mean I derisively laughed at him.  I thought he was cute, so cute.  I can see why he might have taken offense.  It is similar to the way we respond to a young child's attempts at navigating the world.  For most of us, that comes from loving the child.  Almost everything he did was tolerable because I understood the goodwill behind all his actions.

       There was a long period of his life where he expressed himself arrogantly.  He confused showing his negative opinion about something, like American movies, versus putting them and those who did like them down.  It was a rhetorical problem.  His parents had modeled opinion expression.  There was no difference between liking or not liking something and having respect for those who agreed and contempt for those who didn't.  The opposite of generosity.  

Sunday, August 9, 2020

        Wow!  I got up at 7:30 today. I can't remember the last time I got up that late. Elsa and I did a short walk. There's a strain in the left hip and leg. Is it a good sign or a bad sign? The usual question.  I called Dorothy while I walked.  I wanted to tell her how much my vision had improved by switching to my extra pair of glasses.  She has been making comments about her own eyesight.  It has been a while since she had her eyes checked and her lenses changed.  Sandor and Meali'inani have made it clear that my old leases had to be replaced even if a new prescription is not called for.  The lenses were damaged, no matter how much effort I made to care for them.  This results in obstructed vision.

         When I checked my email, there was one from someone who wants help with the Language Arts skills for her 5th-grade son.  She asked me about my approach and my fees. I wrote back that I thought both questions would best be answered over the phone.  She emailed back that she would call me at 4 pm.

I spent a good part of the morning gardening. Then I showered, spent some time reading the NYTimes.  I still had to complete the one from last Sunday. I did that and got started on today's. 

        Yvette pulled into the driveway and texted me, asking if I wanted her to come in to take headshots of me.  I wanted some I can post with my tutoring ads.  I have an appointment for a haircut tomorrow.  I want to take some before the cut and some after to see which makes me look the best. I don't think there is any getting away with pretending I'm not an old lady. Fortunately, this is not a huge issue here in Hawaii. The elders are respected.   I never feel invisible. 

          Sandor and Meaali'inani came over around the dinner hour to select more books from Mike's library.  I had just prepared my meal and eaten it at the dining room table, reading while they worked. Sandor came out to tell me that he had plans for using the books to make a lending library for all the priests and deacons in the diocese.  I had already felt that Mike is thrilled that Sandor is taking his books.  He would be/is doubly thrilled with this plan to have his books shared this way. 

       Sandor and Mike were kindred spirits in many ways. Both had suffered due to political situations in their youth. Sandor's family had fled Cuba; Mike's family had lived in fear of McCarthyism. Mike was, and Sandor is a lover of learning.  He is excited about acquiring these books.  Sandor's like a kid in a candy store.  Mike had a more serious look as he browsed books, but the sentiment was the same.  Mike was, and Sandor is interested in academic learning.  Mike had two (2) Ph. Ds to his name, one in political science and the second in theology.  Mike loved teaching; Sandor has taken over his bible study class. Mike was a deacon in the Catholic church; Sandor will be ordained in January if the Covid 19 virus permits. Had Mike lived, they would have worked together as the two deacons in our parish.  As it stands now, Sandor will just take Mike's place. The two men had frequent conversations before Mike died. Sandor loved Mike; what was not to love? He was a giving man.  He loved to give.  

          I told Sandor and Meaali'inani that I felt sluggish all day.  They said it was probably a reaction to having all the books removed from the library. When I heard that, I knew they were right. The feeling I had during the day felt like grief, but it didn't make sense to me at the time.  Of course, the library was a huge part of who Mike was. 

When we moved here, I tried to convince him not to take his three thousand (3,000) books.  He said there were only two things that had to go with him to Hawaii: me and the books. Okay, if you're going to put it that way- the books came.  

     Sandor asked if Mike and I ever discussed how to deal with the books when he died. I told him that Mike wanted all the books to be kept together, every one of the three thousand.  He wanted them to go to the seminary he had worked at in Ohio, the Pontifical College Josephinum.  I called the seminary's rector before Mike died to find out if they would take the books.  I didn't hear back from the librarian before Mike died, but I got the drift.  I told Mike that "I was already in touch with Chris (the rector) about his books." I wanted Mike to die in peace.  He had to have two things with him when he moved to Hawaii, and now there were two things he had to know would be taken care of when he died: me and his books.

          Damon communicated to Mike how well I was taking care of myself.  It was upon learning this that he let go of life. He was hanging on for me.  Then, the other piece was his books.  I figured out pretty quickly that if I wanted the seminary to take all his books, I'd better be prepared to build a wing built onto the existing library. Not only didn't the librarian not want his whole collection, but he also didn't want a single book.  My guess is Mike made sure that the seminary library was well stocked while he was there. 

It's not that Mike only thought of his seminary as a repository of his books.  His first thought was of Mowg, Yvette's brother and our hanai godson.  Ha! Ha! Mowg has moved; I don't know many times. Each time it has been at best a small apartment, more generally a room and a small apartment he shared with one of two others. There was no way he could accommodate all those books, no matter how much he loved reading and learning. Mike resorted to plan B. I'm on Plan C.   I regret that I started contacting seminaries before realizing that Sandor would be the best recipient of the books.  I already shipped out one hundred and seventy books to the seminary in New Orleans.  Then I contacted another seminary. This librarian went through the catalog and ordered over a thousand books. I am sorry that he did all that work before Sandor, and I agreed that he should get first dibs.  I will have to disappoint that librarian.  However, pleasing Mike is more critical.  

        Some might ask why I'm doing all this now. Well, there are two reasons. First, I don't want to leave this for Damon and Yvette to deal with.  It is a mammoth job.  Of course, Damon would deal with it by ordering a dumpster.  That was something to be avoided.  Second, if I leave the books to just sit there until I die, they will be riddled with book worms.  Yes, there really is such an animal.  Third, I would like to convert the room into a bedroom with a private bath. I have some vision of someone moving in.  

I'm not quite as enthusiastic about having someone living here as I was before I had those two young people as my guests.  It was good when the young woman was here alone, spending a lot of time at home treating a skin ailment.  Her presence was a genuine comfort.  Once she was well, she was out and about most of the day, then came home, made a meal for herself, and disappeared. That was especially true once her boyfriend moved in too.  It made me feel lonelier than if I had been alone.  We were living two separate lives. 

         The question is what I am going to do with the 'library." I don't think I want to return that space to its original form: a two-car garage.  I don't know which will make the house more valuable for the kids.  I think I'm holding out hope that some family members will want to move here. We'll see.

 

____________ ____________ _________

Musings

 

 

       I heard Jane Goodall interviewed on  Crista Tippet's show this morning. Boy, is Goodall ever a lady after my own heart.  She is into animal rights and opposed to scientists using chimps for experiments. No surprise there. However, her approach is to engage them in conversation. She said animal rights activists ask her how she can stand to be around people who experiment with animals.  She says that you can't get someone to change their minds by bullying them.  In most cases, you can't get someone to change their behavior either that way.

        Getting someone to change how they feel about animal rights, human rights, treating any person, place, or things with more respect is tricky.  I agree with Goodall. If you get in someone's face and point fingers and call them bad, you're going to have the opposite effect from the desired one. 

          I face this problem when I teach. Students have to be approached with great caution if you don't want them to revert to whatever their old, dysfunctional behaviors and responses have been. I compared it to surgery.  A friend of mine is a surgeon.  She breathes deeply as she is performing surgery. She looks carefully for the least invasive way to make an incision to do the least amount of damage. 

It made me think, is there ever a time where violence is necessary for surgery? Yes, when there is an emergency, and the situation is not ideal.  When anything is better than nothing or the person will die. Cut off a leg that's pinned under a rock to get them out of a lava flow.  You get the picture.  I thought violence, physical or emotional is appropriate when that person's life is at stake. 

        Of course, I'm thinking of situations where you are getting someone to change somehow, not merely to stop someone from doing something destructive to themselves or someone else. We all have a right to protect ourselves.  The issue is using no more violence than necessary to accomplish that end. That's what's being debated today. 

Assuming someone's life is not immediately at stake, physical or emotional violence has little purpose – other than to declare, I have the power to do this to you.

Saturday, August 8, 2020

         Every time I woke up during the night, I could hear water running in the downspout. When I got up, the laundry lines were sagging with the weight of the wet clothes I hung up yesterday. It's unusual for it to rain that long, especially at night.

It was still drizzling as I walked Elsa. She sure didn't want to walk on the road. I allowed her to lead. She took me through the driveway gate down to Yvette's level. She had pooped on the street but hadn't peed. I didn't argue when she led the way through the lower driveway gate to Yvette's level. She greeted Yvette's three dogs and then peed.  Then she was ready to go in.

        I meditated and napped. Scott came up with the dehumidifier, living down at Yvette's for at least a year. He set it up in the bathroom to dry out the under the sink cabinet.

When I was done napping, I got up and vacuumed the kitchen and hallway with my Bissell. Then I headed out to Home Depot. I needed help finding the tubing for the bathroom sink. Then off to find ceiling fans.

Who would have thought it would be such a complicated decision? Indoor or outdoor? I had that one solved. Outdoor Yes, it's under a roof, but it will be exposed to the elements 24/7. Size? I figured the lanai's width is 12 feet, judging by how much extra room there is above my head when I'm lying down. Okay, now what color is the ceiling on the lanai? How is a brown fan going to look there? Am I better off with a white one? Do I want those palm leaf blades? I saw one I liked. The blades had a textured surface. I couldn't pick them up myself. I needed an associate to help me.

        I also need an associate's help as I looked at a solar attic fan. I saw a man in a telltale orange apron standing almost at the far end of the aisle from me. I called to him. He acknowledged me, and I started walking. I think I took too long to get to him; he turned to walk away. I yelled. He turned back and waited. He led me to the right area. He was about my age or somewhat younger but had aged badly. He shuffled but at a good clip. My gait was better than his; I didn't shuffle, but I was slower. He had to stop for me to catch up. Their selection of solar attic fans was meager at best. The two they had required making a hole in the roof. I think the one I currently have, a plugin, is just braced up against the attic window. I would prefer something like that instead of having to make a hole in the roof. I also checked out the skylights. I had no idea what I was looking at. At least now I know some questions to ask.

       I went home after Home Depot despite needing to pick up some stuff from Costco. When Sander stopped by yesterday to drop off the book request list from one of the seminaries. He dropped off two bags of lemons he had picked up from Costco. He looked for a package of sweet kale salad for me, too. He said the shelves were bare. He asked an employee what was going on. It was the beginning of the month, and food stamps had just been distributed. That explains the long lines on Thursday.  

When I got home, it was time to lie down and nap again. I think it's mostly procrastination. I thought about the fans I picked up. Textured blades? Are these going to be impossible to keep clean? I may have to exchange them. I don't think I would like them with dirt wedged in every nook and cranny.

Scott came up and brought one of the fans into the house from the car. It is larger than the ones I have now. I'll have to go back down there and take a closer look at the design and see if they can be cleaned easily.

         Sandor and Meaali'inani arrived with Thai food in tow. They were ready for lunch. I don't usually eat a big meal in the middle of the day. The food looked delicious. I couldn't resist; I had one spring roll. I will probably be eating this food for the rest of the week. 

         We sat around and yakked for quite a while. Sandor got a call from his father. He must have been on for half an hour. His dad, who lives in Miami, dealt with some family issues that leave him feeling betrayed and devastated.

We moved into the library. Sandor had already taken several of Mike's books before. He is an intellectual and academic like Mike. The more degrees, the better. He won't be taking Mike's whole collection, but enough of it to stay together as Mike wanted. Meaali'inani went through the book list from the seminary, crossing out books as Sandor grabbed them for his collection.  

         I had Thai food for dinner. I needed to add vegetables to the menu. There's too much starch. After dinner, I watched some more TV as I do every night, whether I want to or not. I haven't been enjoying it that much, and at no point have I thought this is better for me than spending those two hours reading or writing. I do always edit and publish the current update for the blog. The public blog updates are exactly one year behind the current ones. The current ones are only available to those friends and family who have been receiving information since Mike entered the hospital. I know many are not following it anymore. More surprising is that some are. Thank you to those who are. It's nice to know I have an audience out there who find what I have to say interesting. One friend made it clear that he only follows them to see that I'm okay. That's also appreciated. 

         I turned on the TV, intending to continue to watch The Umbrella Academy. It was okay. At least it didn't leave me feeling worse than before I watched it. So many of the shows are downright scary or depressing. When I pushed the start button for the series to begin playing, a totally different series came up on the screen, Outlander. I read the blurb. Okay, whatever. Winds up, I love it. It's a historical romance, more emphasis so far on the historical than the romance. I learned something about the costumes women wore in the 18th century. Women put a cotton roll around their hips. I guess it made their waists appear slimmer and their hips bigger. I got something different. I have noticed that actresses wearing those outfits always seem to have their arms decorously folded in front of them. That posture didn't look particularly comfortable to me. But now I get it. They rested their elbows on that roll and then brought their hands together in front of them. Ah, a very comfortable position. Got it!

 _______ __________ __________

- Musings:

            I had been feeling very down about the political situation. I want a world where everyone gets along, cares about each other, everyone. Good luck! The tribalism I am observing is upsetting and frightening. I don't think one side is worse than the other. There are fringe elements from all points of view that are extreme: only my way, no compromise possible.

- There are elements of this type in every faction. As committed as I am to patience and understanding, I find myself falling into a hole and unwilling to see the other person's point of view. Seeing it does not mean agreeing with it. But until I am faced with death, even at their hands, I would prefer to be true to my commitment to be an understanding, compassionate person. Sadly I get too scared. 

- I sometimes think the biggest problem with people is their poor statistical skills. There are likely threats and unlikely ones. The white supremacists fear 2042. I believe the date is when people of color outnumber whites. If we are treated by people of color as we have treated them, we have very good reason to be scared. Nonetheless, I would prefer to die with morality in my hip pocket rather than an absolute victory for my team. I think my team has cheated; whites have disadvantaged Afro-Americans left, right, and center. I have no choice but to be on this team, but I am ashamed of what we have done. 

- Back to my moment in therapy. Background: my parents are refugees from Nazi Germany. My mother was Protestant, and my dad was Jewish. My mother was furious with the German nation and refused ever to set foot it in again. My dad was in grief. He felt betrayed by the country he loved. The Jews of Berlin made every effort to fit in. They loved Germany. I have previously made my dad's letter to my mom available, which shows his love for his beautiful Berlin.

- My dad commissioned me to make sure this type of hateful behavior never happened again. I don't know how much was implicit and how much was explicit, 'my daughter the messiah." (For those of you who don't know: The search for the Messiah is part of the Jewish tradition. For Christians, Christ is believed to have fulfilled that promise. For those Jews who didn't become Christians, the search for the Messiah continues.) Either way, I understood that I had to make sure the world lived in peace for my dad to be happy.

- Eventually, I figured out he had set me a task that neither Buddha nor Christ had been able to fulfill. I put my burden down. I actually referred to myself as a dropout messiah. 

- The other day, I reached out to my sister and talked about the grief I am feeling about the conflict-ridden world. I joked that I had failed. It is a joke that I ever thought I could do something of such great proportion. But as I said it, I realized that part of me, deep inside, still believed that it was my job. And I had failed, completely failed. My grief is over my guilt and shame because of this failure.

- I have been feeling the grief and pain I thought I would feel when Mike died but didn't. I have had moments of sadness and missed him, but there has been no debilitating grief. I came to the conclusion that I had no guilt about my relationship with him. I had done my best, which was, more frequently than not, good enough for him. I was in a loving, generous state of mind toward him more often than not. Once I accepted that he was gone and I wasn't fighting to keep him alive, I let him go. His going seemed just a normal part of our life together, as obvious a step as our getting together was. So much of our relationship was easy, at least easy for me. It was not just enough; it was deeply satisfying. If you have any questions, I talk to him every day and frequently share moments of transmitting and receiving love. I have no guilt about Mike. I was not a failure. I never felt anger or hatred for myself in my role as his wife. 

- I sat with that sense of failure at having achieved world peace. It was in the left lower lobe of my heart. As I sat, I became aware of my dad's sadness. I had been aware he was depressed, even as a child, but not his grief. It sat like a rock in my solar plexus. I believe children carry the traumas of their parents in their bodies without even knowing what it is. Dorothy and I were both aware of carrying our mother's grief over the loss of her dog when she was eleven. One person's grief touches the whole family.

- I sat with my dad's grief. It expanded in a good way, the way something compressed expands when you add water. It didn't create pressure inside my body, but I had the sense of something being extruded through my skin. When the session was over, I continued meditating. My body was vibrating. Putting this burden down feels great. It doesn't quite relieve my sadness about what is happening in my world, but it puts me in a better place to deal with what is coming down the pike. I hope I have the courage to take the 'right 'actions when that time comes. I put 'right' in quotes because I am sure that it means different things to all of us. Mine has something to do with caring about all human beings, even if it means my death. 

Friday, August 7, 2020

            At 9:42 last night, I got two phone calls and a text from the same number. The text said, "I want to f***(spelled out) you. Call me." I called the police to ask if I should be concerned. The officer said it was probably either a wrong number or a prank.   I managed to calm down a get a good night's sleep.  The call had a Tallahassee, FL, area code.  That doesn't mean the caller was in Florida.  Many people in Hawaii have area codes from where they used to live.  I changed my number after I had lived here for several years.

            I watched an Esther Gokhale video on walking this morning. She reminded me to use my glutes to push myself forward.  In the last few days, I made a point of walking on the outside of my left foot.  I had a podiatrist tell me the importance of that when I was nine. Everything old becomes new again. 

            I was expecting the Sears Maintenance service today.  I wiped down the store top and countertops.  Mike and I would always say, "Where are guests when you really need them?" That served as our motivation for doing a thorough cleaning.  I also cleaned the library coffee table in preparation for Sandor's visit either tonight or tomorrow. 

            While I was cleaning up, I came across a picture of Mike.  He could be so sweet. He had moments of childlike goodwill, innocence, and joy.  I sat there looking at his picture and said, "You were so sweet! So sweet!" There was nothing childish about Mike, but he did have some childlike qualities. They were delicious. They brought a big smile to my face. I could feel my cheek muscles and realized I hadn't smiled that way in a while.  Damon, his son, has similar qualities.  My mother, who was often a pain in the ass, had a capacity for childlike enthusiasm and joy.  It is a wonderful trait.  

            Fortunately for me, the Sears man needed to use the bathroom.  I warned him that the guest bathroom hadn't been used in a while. I couldn't guarantee it. He came out to tell me there was a leak.  There was water on the floor.  I could see that the water was coming from inside the cabinet under the sink.  When I opened the cabinet under the sink, I could feel that the base was wet, and the plywood had buckled. 

            I texted Scott and B. to ask if either of them thought they could help me with this or if they could recommend a plumber.  Scott said he had a doctor's appointment but would stop by after that. B. also called. He was on his way over to Hilo to visit his grandkids.

            Scott got here around noon. The Sears man arrived just in time.  The water from the leak was heading to the newly laid carpeting in the guest bedroom.  Scott said he thought he just had to tighten something.  He went to his car and got a wrench. After tightening it, he concluded that the tubing was corroded by hard water. I would have to buy new tubing from Home Depot. When I do,  I will pick up two new ceiling fans, a solar attic fan, and a bottle of ammonia. 

            I called August next.  It was his birthday. Seventeen!!! Seventeen!! How did this happen?  I sang my much-appreciated version of the Ross Happy Birthday song. August thanked me.  I suggested that I had a professional career possibility.  He went along and proposed a site where I could advertise to sing for the beloveds of others for a price. He is turning into someone who can stand a conversation with me.  Lovely.

            While I was on the phone with him, Jean R. called. I called her back immediately. I don't usually call her.  She is always busy or napping, so I wait for her to call me unless I'm desperate for contact.  She proposed that the two of us call August together and sing Happy Birthday. No, not the Ross version, even though her last name is Ross, too. She kept her name from when she was married to Mike. She wanted me to join her even though I had already done my song. I took a few tries before we got a conference call set up. Jean counted, "One, two, three . . .." and we let loose.  It was wonderful singing together with her.  I love my connection with her.  I wonder how it makes August feel having his grandmother, Nana, and step-grandmother, me, Oma, sing harmoniously.  It made me feel great. 

            I am getting fed up with most of what I have to watch on TV.  I did find a film called "Quartet," starring Maggie Smith.  It takes place in an elegant retirement home for retired musicians. It combines incredible music and an old age romance. Ah! Just what my nerves needed.  Dustin Hoffman is the director, although the cast is all English. There must have been 20 to 30 people in the cast who were over sixty and residents of the retirement home. There were about four people under the age of forty.  We need more about old people's lives. 

            I had called Dorothy earlier in the day and left a message. She finally got back to me.  She was busy taking care of business after a few days without electricity. She had to go to her friend's house to retrieve her frozen food. She had to clean water out from the floor of her refrigerator, the result of melted ice she had bought to try to keep some food fresh.

            I had called her because speaking to her is comforting and because I had finally figured out an accurate description of what made The Hidden Face of God special.  This is a book that spends more time talking about all we don't know. Most science books emphasize what we do know;  What we don't know is truly impressive.  For the author, the unknown is unknowable and is evidence of the intelligence of God.   I can live with simply not knowing; maybe there is a God and perhaps not.  This has nothing to do with what I believe. I choose to believe in God because it brings great comfort to me, and I don't believe it does harm to others.  I hope not. (I see many people's beliefs resulting in conflict with other people's beliefs – and often harm. )

            Today, I ate the plum I bought yesterday. Wow! I love the sweet and sour combination. 

            Today, I call the company that Sandor told me that his father-in-law got the acoustical material from. I was asking about a soundproofing system that is used between floors in high-end condos.  When I told this guy what I was interested in, he gave me information on what they had available.  Confused, I asked him if they provided the materials for work on high-end condos.  He repeated what he had said before.  He clearly had no idea what I was talking about.  I thanked him and hung up. 

            Sandor stopped by as promised to drop off the book request lists from the seminary.  He had marked every book he took that would no longer be available from the seminary request list.  His taking books helps me out, less for me to pack and mail.  He promised to come by tomorrow to pick up the books he wanted and help me find some of the books on the list for shipping. 

            I started watching The Balloon Academy last night.  I had no idea what it was about beforehand. It's a superhero story, sci-fi fantasy.  However, it stars Ellen Paige.  I don't seek out superhero stories, so I don't know if this one is different from the others, but it seems to have more depth. Maybe they all do. Whatever, it is fantasy and seems to be less stressful.

            

 ________- _________ ____

Musings:

            Those who listen get praise for being caring. Those who talk are criticized for being all about themselves.  I used to be a constant talker.  It was easier to talk than listen. I think it was simply easier to be doing than not doing.      

           Nowadays, I'm both a listener and a talker. Sometimes listening is just easier than talking, sometimes it's more interesting than hearing my own thoughts, sometimes it's more comforting than just hearing my own thoughts.  Whether I listen or talk, it means connection. 

           One factor in my conversion from a constant talker to a mixed listener/talker was a surprise.  It happened after I made my audio file with 90 minutes of phonemic transcription.  I concluded that making the audio file enhanced my auditory perception. The physical impact of speech sounds on my nervous system became more satisfying.

Thursday, August 6, 2020

 

I was awake shortly before my alarm went off at 5:30.  Elsa didn't limp this morning as she did yesterday.  I had done some work on her bad leg while I watched TV last night. Did my work help?  I don't know.  If it doesn't resolve over a couple of days, it will be time to have the vet looked at it.  I suspect there is some dysplasia. If so, there is nothing I can do about it. 

I called Dorothy on my walk. She still had no electricity, and PSE&G  predicted it would be back on by Sunday.  However, most of the homes in her neighborhood have had power since last night. She could get no information on what was going on.  People are calmer if they have an explanation for what is going on and what is going to be done about it.  Enduring a difficult situation is bearable if we can understand it.  How do animals cope?

There were five of us for yoga today.  One was a fellow who had hurt himself sitting down and completely missed the chair. Ow!  Yvette is fantastic in how she watched each one of us, advising and supporting us.

After I meditated, I headed out to do chores. The first stop was the bank.  I had accumulated several checks which had to be deposited.  Among them was my check from the Treasury Department, the stimulus check for $2400.  As I had suspected, the sum included Mike as well as me.  I had to return the additional funds immediately. Once that check was deposited, I headed over to the post office to mail my personal check of $1200, Mike's share, to the Fresno IRS office by certified mail.  My accountant said to document everything. While at the post office, I mailed Dorothy the three solar lanterns. 

B. gave me a solar lantern a while ago.  They don't throw off a great deal of light, but enough to find your way around in the dark and find the flashlights.  Since these lanterns are solar-powered, I leave them sitting on a table on the lanai so that they are exposed to the sun daily. That means if there is a blackout at night, I can easily find one and then look for other light sources.  I don't often use flashlights. The battery-powered ones are dead by the time I need them. These lanterns give me enough light to locate batteries and get my flashlights set up.

My next stop was Island Naturals.  They had the pumpkin seeds and golden flax seed that I was looking for. I passed a delicious-looking plum in the produce section. I bought it. As I was online for check out, a woman approached me as if she knew me asking," How are you, lovely lady?" I didn't have a clue who she was. Although I had noticed her and had a nagging feeling that I did know her from somewhere.  It was Heather, the Bikram teacher. 

Heather had to lower her mask before I recognized her. Boy, it was good to see her.  She opened a checkout counter just for me and closed it immediately after.  I showed her how I used her advice to move my jaw to the left and how it impacted my spine all the way down to my hips. That was not the case earlier. This effect is possible because my core muscles are more relaxed and don't block the movement. Yes, I am doing much better, but I am also pushing the muscles around my left hip, and it hurts.

I stopped off at the transfer station next.  I had planned to stop there to drop off the cardboard I had accumulated.  I added my weekly garbage to that since I forgot to put it out for pickup yesterday.  Fortunately, there was no line for the trash drop-off.  I don't go to the transfer station often' it took me a minute to be clear where a drop-off chute was. When I finished there, I drove down to the recycling section and dropped off the cardboard.

Costco was my next stop. Forget it. The line was super long, snaking back on itself twice over. While it looked like the line was moving quickly, I thought I would stick with it. Then the line came to a halt. I'd went back to my car and drove home. I wasn't desperate enough to wait.  Once I had my food put away, I plugged in my car to charge it. 

B. came up to show me how to inflate the solar lanterns I bought for Dorothy and myself.  I made a video of him to send to Dorothy.  I couldn't figure it out on my own, and there were no instructions.

I relaxed and listened to NPR. Pete Hamill just died, and they were playing some old interviews with him. He was from a different era in the news, before the Internet, before cell phones. 

_________- __________ ________

Musings:

 

I wrote about achieving neurological harmony through shared experiences, singing together, attending a rock concert, or a Hitler-like rally.  The TED presenter gave an example of parent-child entrainment. He showed a video of his wife and their infant child making the same sound.  You could see the delight in both of them. 

            I believe our very intellects are developed through entrainment.  Some think everything is genetic.  Someone is born with intellectual ability. Yes, genetics has a role in our intelligence. But I believe nurture plays a more significant role than we acknowledge. 

An infant entrains with a parent as much as possible. There aren't a lot of independent thoughts besides physical discomfort and a desire for relief.  If I'm right, we almost make copies of our parents' thought patterns in our own nervous system without, yes without, having the actual thoughts. 

What goes on in our brain is, first and foremost electrical and chemical.  No one knows how those physical impulses are 'translated' into what we recognize as thoughts.  If young children, preverbal even, are exposed to sophisticated brain patterns in adults, they will duplicate them – if. . . . . AH, yes, that if.  It is a biggy.  If they feel comfortable being like the other person.  Children make Xeroxed copies of their parents' brains through entrainment. There are differences because they don't only entrain with their parents, and there are other environmental factors. 

We want to be like someone we like. There's a reason the word 'like' has two meanings. One to be similar too; the other to find pleasing.  We find pleasing those who are similar to us.  We find displeasing those who are dissimilar to us. It's built into us through evolution. 

Like all traits, this can be adapted for modern-day life.  We lived in small groups, family groups of no more than thirty traveling across the savanna when we were evolving.  But now we are exposed to so many people, all from different backgrounds.  My husband's background was similar to mine in many ways, but he was not the boy next door.  We didn't go to the same school, with the same teachers, or the same religious institution with the same leaders; we didn't go to the same entrainment with the same people.  We weren't entrained together.  

There are still people who live that way.  There are some enclaves of religious groups whose lives do look like what I described above. The sense of well-being and safety is indeed enviable.  No wonder they support Trump, who promises a return of 'Christian values." I can appreciate they don't want their way of life disrupted.  I sympathize deeply. 

However, our world has changed too much.  Population increase has made us a global community.  We can't put that genie back in the bottle. It used to be that every single town had its own clock time.  As you moved from one town to the next, the time would be different. For example, the time in Hilo, an hour's drive away, would have been different from here in Kona.  Time would be determined by when the sun was at its peak over that spot on the earth. The pony express, and then the railroad needed that to change.  They needed a standardized time that would be the same from town to town. The development of trains that traveled across the country forced more standardization. Then air flight, and finally the Internet.  We are constantly dealing with people who are not like us, many of whom we do not feel comfortable with. 

Some think it requires a return to Christian values, but the harmony within a group is much older than Christ's birth.  I agree, this harmony, or a close as we can get to it, is the desirable state. However, we have to deal with the reality of our current world. The problem is population growth.   Towns were once separated by miles and miles of uninhabited land. Now, towns bleed into each other.  This is the reality of our current lives. 

The only way to get back to our original state is to bomb the hell out of each other and blow ourselves back to the Stone Age.  I remember hearing this comment, "I don't know what weapons we are going to use in WWIII, but I do know what weapons we will use after that: sticks and stones."  Do we really want to go back there? We would form into small groups, those of us who survived and rekindle tribal life. 

There is another option.  Religions have responded to this change in our societies.  As every town had its own time, every tribe had its own religion. As populations increased, monotheism developed, a single deity, all the tribes could worship together. 

Christ offered a solution to the discomfort of disharmony.  The instructions are to look for Christ in everyone.  This doesn't just mean finding some redeeming value in the poor and disenfranchised.  This means having that of Christ in me seeking out that of Christ in you.   While this is expressed in Christian terms, it is not limited to Christian values or those who believe in Christ. Many Christians have zero capacity to do this with others, even considering it some silly sentimental aspect of Christianity. They have no tolerance for those who are different from them. If we look for the "Christ' in all people, finding it in the people, we don't like, even if they are not looking for it in us. 

I'm going to reduce this to neurological terms. Finding that part in the other that is willing to entrain with me.  If we're looking for complete entrainment, I think we're all screwed.  We have to find partial entrainment to be enough, to look for those moments of harmony between us and those who are unfamiliar.  It's a challenge, but what's the alternative?  

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

            I was up by 5:30 and out the door.  I called Dorothy. She was out and about. She had an update on when she will be getting her electricity back- Sunday. She said not to worry if I couldn't get through to her. She was having problems with her phone in her house. It might be a downed cell tower. She said she took all her frozen food over to a friend who has electricity. Also, she was just going to buy some ice to keep the food in her refrigerator fresh.

            I couldn't walk too far because Elsa was limping again. I came in and meditated.  Because it wasn't a driveway yoga day, I started on the kneeling bench. I set the time for 30 minutes because I didn't think my thighs could take much more than that. They did fine. I was able to sit straighter, which means I got more flexion in that left hip. I napped after the meditation. I have no idea why it knocks me out like that. Fortunately, I have the time to indulge. 

            The local newspaper called me back this morning.  It was a friendly, helpful voice. She told me how to subscribe online. I didn't know if the information she gave me was correct, but she sounded helpful.  The lady I spoke to yesterday just avoided my question. I got nasty and refused to order the subscription.  I don't really want the newspaper. It's just that I have been hearing a lot about how local newspapers are dying for lack of subscription and how important they are to monitor what goes on in local politics. I ordered a year's subscription.

            I had a session with Shelly afterward. That was mind-blowing. I napped after it.  

            I have been feeling a little better than I had, but still sluggish and mentally numb.  That is my main concern.  I have been getting things done. I sent out several versions of my tutoring ad to Damon for his opinion. 

            I called Hawaiian Solar next.  I want to modify my solar system so it toggles between on-grid and off.  Beth, as Hawaiian Solar, said several people are calling with the same question. I'm not the only one preparing for the worst of all options.  Me, I'm ready for the worst and hope for the best. The electrician she recommended may know his business and be competent, but he is not a talented communicator. He had me sold on installing a generator without telling me that that system completely by-passes the solar system. No, I want something that can use the solar system when the electricity goes down. 

            Ah, for those that missed it. If you're on-grid with the electric company, your electricity goes out even if you have solar. You need to be able to switch to off-grid when that happens to get any power.

            Suppose we do have to go off-grid permanently. We don't have enough solar to run the three refrigerators, at least one extra freezer, two air conditioners, one electric oven, one electric stovetop, and I don't know how many computers and phones, not to mention my electric car. If the worst does happen, we will probably all have to settle for one refrigerator between the lot of us, at best. 

            I got my act together enough to do some vacuuming.  Periodically, I do a thorough vacuuming of the lanai.  I use the upholstery attachment on the Berber carpet to get it as clean as possible.  The lanai doesn't get a lot of use, but the screens let in dust and moisture. It is labor-intensive, but it makes me feel like I've done something.

            I emailed my accountant for advice on what I should do about the check I received yesterday from the Federal Treasury for $2400  for an economic impact payment for Mike and me. She emailed me back a link.  It told me what to do if I got the wrong amount. It had to be returned immediately.  Getting a check for a dead family member was on the list.  

            It provided two ways to return the money. A) write VOID on the check and return it, b) deposit it and write a check to the Federal treasury for the amount incorrectly sent.  I learned years ago that I should deposit the check in my own account and then send a personal check for the amount I owe them.  If I use a) there's a good chance I'll never see that money again.  As it is, I want to share that money with a family I know needs it more than I do.

            I was going to call the Policy department at Progressive today; I would call it for several days.  I have been dreading the process.  So far, I have just gotten a litany from them about checking the premium summary; it explains everything. NOT. I went through each summary and found more than half were unexplained.  

            

___________ __________ ____________

 

Musings:

 

            Brain waves in sync. 

            I listened to a TED talk that described how people's brain waves fall into sync when doing something similar.  When we all listen to the same speaker or music, our brains generate the same patterns.  We are all in harmony. My guess is the pleasure behind singing together or going to a rock concert or a Hitler-type rally. 

            My guess is this is a basic need of all humans to be in sync with those around us. When it happens, it is bliss. It's called entrainment. It's rare in the course of everyday life to be completely in sync with others. We achieve partial harmony in the neurological sense.  There is almost always something jarring about the other or other situations unless singing together, going to a rock concert, or a Hitler-type rally.  

            You can see my preoccupation with Hitler-type rallies. I was raised to associate that with being sucked into evil.  I know now that's not always the case.  There are religious ceremonies that praise God, which do not fall into that category. But I do suspect that the harmony achieved makes it more likely for people to be attracted to those who share their experience; it also makes it more likely to be repelled by those with whom they cannot share that experience.  We seek harmony with others. It's a drug of choice, quite literally, since the experience releases chemicals in our bodies.

Tuesday, August 4, 2020

 I was in bed by 9 pm last night. I was tired. I slept well, straight through until 3 am.  I spent the next two and a half hours in a rage. Several Facebook friends are far-right and posted comments, which upset me.  A high school classmate posted that she wasn't responsible for the prejudice Afro-Americans are subjected to. She just lived an ordinary life with two parents. True.  My question to her is, was she friends with the black kids who lived in Kings Point?  That is an upper, upper-class section in an upper-class town.  Her answer would have to be no because no Afro-American families lived in Great Neck except on one small street set aside as a place where families of color lived. 

She claimed that Jews were able to make it.  My questions here are 1) was anyone in her family a veteran of WWII and received the GI Bill benefits? 2) Did anyone in her family receive a bank loan to buy a home, start a business, or pay for an education?  None of these benefits have been available to Afro-Americans. These benefits moved many white people out of a struggling lower class to the middle class.  I wonder why Afro-Americans never made it there too.

Another FB friend wrote that the Black Lives Matter movement makes her more hostile toward people of color. Hmmm! Making her more prejudiced or forcing her to face her submerged prejudices, which says as long a 'blacks' know their place, all is good.  This woman is truly a lovely lady. She would never be overtly rude to anyone of any color.  However, she is unwilling to acknowledge her hidden bias. I'm sure she would deny categorically any prejudice toward people of color. 

I called Dorothy on my walk first thing. She had Facetimed me at 5:11 am. She hung up quickly. I didn't even bother checking the phone until I got up at 5:30.  She told me she couldn't talk for a long time.  Her electricity was out because of a strong tropical storm, Isaias. She wanted to get off the phone to preserve her battery.  She had to sit out in her car to recharge it.  She heard that they were not expecting to have electricity again until Thursday night.

I texted my friend in Ohio to see how she was doing and then decided to call.  She is doing very well.  She blew up like a balloon that month in the hospital because they pumped fluids into her to keep her blood pressure up.  She has been losing one to two pounds a day.  She said she had seventeen more pounds to go.  She hadn't called because her energy was still low.  I asked her to text me to let me know she's okay now and then. She reported that her daughter, who lives in Philadelphia, was also out of electricity.

Dorothy called me back to tell me that she was sitting in her car, charging her phone outside a local Starbucks.  She was getting poor to no reception in her house. Maybe a cell tower went down that affected her small area. She predicted that she would be going to bed early tonight. No light.

I spoke to a third friend later in the day, Melissa. She has a daughter on the east coast, further south than Philly.  She, too, was out of electricity. Wow! 

I have a solar lantern the B. gave me as a gift. I have it sitting on a table on the lanai so that it is always charged and ready to go.  I thought that would be good for Dorothy, who lives with hurricanes and massive snowstorms; both knock out her electricity. 

When I read the information printed on the lamp earlier in the day, I saw they were made right here in Hawaii.  I called the number. This guy said he was in Kona but about to head home for Captain Cook. He could stop up before he went home. He drove up in a red convertible with the roof down.    He pulled out the boxes he had. He spread them out in the driveway because the boxes had gotten wet. He checked to see the lanterns all worked. Very understated, to say the least. I wanted three; he said if I buy three, I will get one free. Good deal. I bought three for $20 apiece. I will mail them to Dorothy immediately.  They won't reach her in time for this blackout, but it is just the start of Hurricane season.

I'm considering putting in a switch that will allow me to toggle between electric company-dependent solar energy and off-the-grid solar energy.  I am preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. There are two off-grid options: a generator and another is some sort of battery supply. Either way, it will cost a pretty penny.  However, if we have the option of off-grid solar, if all services are shut down, I might do it now while I have the money.

In the mail today, I found a check for $2400 from the Federal Treasury. That didn't sound right to me. I was going to have to check what was going on.  I had heard of sums like $1200. I figured it was that high because it included Mike. Mike was counted in the last Income Tax return. As far as the federal government is concerned, he is still alive. When I file in 2121, his name will no longer appear.  Getting ready for that. It is little moments like that which hurt. 

______________ ______________ _______________

Musings: Racism is like flatulence. 

 

Some people fart out loud to upset others. I understand this is big among adolescent males.  Like those boys, some people are racists and loud about it. They think it is a good thing.

Then some wind up releasing some gas even though they don't want to. The gas just builds up, and they can't quite control it.  They know it's coming out but wish it wouldn't.

Then there's most of us all the time. We are emitting gas. There was an experiment done to determine how much gas an adult human releases in a day. Some college students walked around with a tube inserted, which fed into a container in a backpack.  Would you believe eleven (11) gallons a day?  This is all of us. We all are doing a slow release. There's nothing wrong with us; it's a structural problem. Likewise, most of us are just emitting racism the way we emit gas. It's a structural, institutional problem. We are raised in a racist society. Racism is just part of all of us. We were all born into a racist structure; it's inescapable.

In the book White Fragility, I read people are defensive when it's pointed out that they made a racist comment. They see themselves as being accused of being a bad person. The author of White Fragility, Robin Diangelo, sees it as white defensiveness.  I think there is another element that is at least as profound and as threatening. The accusation is that we are more than we think we are. We are unknown to ourselves.  We have unconscious thoughts that define us, which differ from our conscious minds.  Very upsetting. We're not all we think we are.