Tag: #Oldman

Who Are These Old People?

Who Are These Old People?

I was sitting in my cardiologist’s waiting room and looked around. My immediate thought was, “Wow, there are a lot of older people here”. And then I smiled, because I am of course one of those “older people”. Older is a relative word, but if the shoe fits…

When I was younger, one of the phrases I never thought I would utter was “my cardiologist”. That all changed after I was bitten by a copperhead* and developed AFIB in the summer of 2012. I’ve been in continual AFIB since then, although, honestly, I don’t usually notice it and have continued all of my normal activities.

Yes, I Really was Bitten by a Copperhead.

It did add to the number of drugs I take. For decades, I didn’t need any pills. Oh sure, I took the occasional aspirin or later, ibuprofen, and in the springtime took an allergy pill, but that was about it. Over time, things changed.

First, my allergy pill went from only spring to about three quarters of the year after moving to the farm.

Next came a statin. I spent a couple of years trying to control my cholesterol with diet alone, and while it dropped some, it wasn’t enough. I was tracking my meals at the time and even after I went three months with 90% vegetarian meals it didn’t drop significantly. So, Atorvastatin was added to my mix of drugs and it dropped like a rock. And because atorvastatin can affect CoQ10 levels in the body, it was suggested I take a CoQ10 supplement. It turns out your cells — especially your mitochondria — need CoQ10 to make energy. Decreased CoQ10 levels in the body could mean your muscles have less energy, leading to muscle aches and pains. Pill number three was added.

LDL Cholesterol – Pre and Post Statin – Just Take the Drug!

My doctor and I spent quite a bit of time talking about health in general. In addition to meat, I reduced the amount of dairy in my diet as many people do. Cheese was practically a food group for me for decades, and I cut it back quite a bit. We also talked about sun exposure and increased chances of skin cancer. I started wearing hats more and didn’t spend as much time in the sun.

Perhaps it was no surprise at my next annual physical I showed a Vitamin D deficiency. My doctor suggested I add a vitamin D supplement to my regime. I countered, “We didn’t have this problem before cutting back on dairy and staying out of the sun. Perhaps I should eat more cheese, while working on my tan.” She smiled but I’m not quite sure she enjoyed my sense of humor. I dutifully added pill number 4, a chewable Vitamin D tablet.

After AFIB started, I went from a baby aspirin to a whole aspirin to, eventually, the blood thinner Eliquis. There’s a stroke history on my dad’s side of the family. He, along with an uncle and two of my cousins suffered strokes. When my younger sister, Tanya, had one a few years back, I told my cardiologist, who immediately said it was time to go on a blood thinner.

With the addition of Eliquis, I upped my morning intake to five different pills. I bought one of those neat little weekly pill box containers to dole out my daily stash. I chuckled a bit at that as well. Years ago on visits home, I remember rolling my eyes as mom dutifully filled her and dad’s pill boxes for the week.

Up to Five Pills Every Morning

Cardiologists and pill containers – yep, I am getting a wee bit older. As RiffRaff sings in Rocky Horror, “It’s astounding, time is fleeting…”.**

Maybe it’s not so much astounding as inevitable and we all know it. Still, you have to enjoy the trip and occasionally chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Addendum:

Pacino and Hamilton

Pacino and Hamilton

In 2015, we blew off the opportunity to see a new play on Broadway called Hamilton, and attended a play featuring Al Pacino instead. After seven years, and four additional tries, we finally made it to Hamilton last week. The delay? I think fate was punishing us for our initial choice of Pacino.

In August of 2015, we were planning a December birthday celebration for Cathy in the Big Apple. While there, we intended to see a play on Broadway. We’d narrowed it down to an upcoming play starring Al Pacino, and some new play about Alexander Hamilton.

It’s true. In December 2015, we could have gone to Hamilton. That August, it opened on Broadway, after a several month stint Off-Broadway. The initial reviews were great, tickets were available and we were considering it. Still, the combination of Hip Hop, History and Alexander Hamilton didn’t seem particularly enthralling. We were also looking at a new play from David Mamet called China Doll, with Al Pacino. We both LOVE Pacino, and he and Mamet worked together before, with great success. There was a lot of buzz in the New York press about the potential for the play. For us, it wasn’t even close – we chose Pacino and China Doll, and reserved our tickets.

In December, we arrived in the City and stayed at a great little AirBnB in the East Village. We enjoyed a couple of wonderful dinners out, had drinks at several good bars, saw a museum or two, and visited Time Square. The weather was brisk, just how you want it in New York at Christmas time.

Of course by the time of our visit, all anyone was talking about was Hamilton, which went on to win 11 Tony awards. Tickets were impossible to locate, and if you could find them, impossible to afford.

And China Doll? Well, after it opened in November at the renowned Schoenfeld Theatre, the reviews were mixed at best, with one critic calling Pacino “haggard looking.” I remember thinking that at 75, I might look a bit haggard as well. Besides, wasn’t that part of the character? For us, it didn’t matter. Seeing Pacino essentially playing Pacino in a two person play, was perfect. He roamed the stage like the giant he is, and we loved it. The rest of the audience seemed to as well.

Al Pacino in China Doll

Still, we’d missed our shot at Hamilton. Back home, there were more than a few jokes made at our expense. We decided we would try and see it in the future in New York on another visit, or in DC when it toured.

Unfortunately, life, fate, karma, the gods, timing and/or bad luck intervened … for seven years.

We started planning another trip to New York in 2017, but my mom’s death occurred, along with a couple of other life activities and we never got our act together.

In 2018, Hamilton came to the Kennedy Center and we thought that was our chance. Instead, the first choice of tickets went to subscribers and members of the Kennedy Center and they went quickly. I tried purchasing tickets later without luck. They did have 40 tickets awarded by lottery at $10 each (get the joke? A Hamilton for Hamilton) for each performance. My luck with the Hamilton Lottery was similar to my luck with the Powerball Lottery – no chance, no way, no how.

In 2020, Hamilton returned to the Kennedy Center. I spent hours on the phone and online. This time, I scored tickets and we would be going in the summer. Unfortunately, this little thing called Covid occurred. They cancelled the entire run, along with everything else for the year. They would endeavor to host it again “sometime in the future”, although nothing was guaranteed.

At the start of 2022, I received a notice from the Kennedy Center they were once again going to present Hamilton. As a previous ticket holder, I was given priority for ordering new tickets. On March 15th of this year, I was able to reserve two tickets for a performance on August 17th. Now, we just needed to knock on wood that something else didn’t happen.

Finally…

Finally, August 17th arrived, we had dinner at the Kennedy Center, took the obligatory picture on the terrace and afterwards, settled into our seats.

The Stage for Hamilton at The Kennedy Center

The play? Powerful, lush, lyrical, musical, fresh, dynamic, spirited, high energy, memorable lines, memorable characters, Hamilton’s Story, America’s Story… it was everything you could hope for and we were incredibly glad to finally see it. I know that Disney had their version on TV, but for those of you who have not seen it on stage, I urge you to do so.

Looking back, I’m glad we were able to see Al Pacino live. A forgettable play? Yes. But, Pacino essentially playing Pacino? I won’t ever forget it. Still, the opportunity to see Lin-Manuel Miranda in Hamilton, on Broadway? We threw away our shot, and I’ll always regret it.

Addendum:

– We do have a few friends who saw Hamilton in New York. Many more viewed it in Chicago, or other cities where it played, including at the Kennedy Center, during it’s first run. For the current show here in DC, I see on FB, Instagram and Twitter that multiple friends are, like us, finally getting a chance to see it. I’ve yet to hear anyone say, “Oh, the play was just OK.” If you get a chance, go.

Zman is Gone

Zman is Gone

It’s always tough when a West Point brother dies, but this one hit me harder than most. Zman is gone. I’ve lost other classmates over the years, but Zman was the first from my company, and I felt a great sadness on hearing the news. I suppose it was sadness both for his passing, and the passing of our youth.

Dan Zimmermann was a big guy with a big personality. The kind of guy whose good mood was infectious. We had some good times at WooPoo U (West Point) our Firstie (Senior) year, although I also remember him studying a lot – he was taking P Chem, a class not for the faint of heart. Still, I remember an evening or two (or three) of partying.

Dan’s Graduation Picture

After graduation in 1978, we reunited several months later in Wurzburg, Germany. I was stationed with the 123d Signal Bn (3ID) at Hindenburg Kaserne, and he was across town with a Chemical unit. I can’t remember now if he was a part of 3ID or some other unit. Over the next three years, we managed to hit more than a few Bier and Wien Fests together in the surrounding area.

I remember one evening in ‘80 or ‘81 when the town he lived in held something called a “Heckenwirtschaft.” In Franconia, a part of Bavaria, small towns would occasionally allow the small wine growers to open their homes as limited seating “pubs” – an event called a “Heckenwirtschaft”. Dan’s landlord was one of the people who opened their homes. We spent the night wandering from house to house, and in their cellars or kitchens sampled some good white wines and wonderful homemade foods. It was a great time – one of those evenings when it’s just you and the locals, and because of Dan’s landlord, we were treated like locals as well. Nights like that don’t come around all that often and I remember it to this day. We may have overserved ourselves a bit that evening.

We lost track of each other after our next assignments and didn’t see each other for a couple of decades. In 2015, Cath and I held a mini-reunion for my West Point Company, B-3. There were about eighteen of us here for the weekend and Dan joined up at the last minute for the two nights of festivities. It’s funny, but the whole group of us clicked back together, as if it was Firstie year in 1978. There were stories told, both old and new. The bonds we’d forged decades before on the banks of the Hudson River still held strong.

We saw each other for what turned out to be the last time at our 40th reunion at West Point in 2018. He had become the National Sergeant at Arms for the American Legion, and told us about escorting both candidates, Secretary Clinton and Mr. Trump, to the stage in 2016, when each spoke at the Legion’s National Meeting prior to the election.

B-3 Classmates at the 40th Reunion in 2018. Dan is in the Center in the Back.

In 2020, Cathy and I were going to hold another mini B-3 reunion in May here in Warrenton, Virginia. Dan and I traded emails and spoke, and he was planning to come. Unfortunately, in April, we cancelled the get-together due to Covid. Dan called me after that and we talked for about 10 or 15 minutes about Covid, along with this and that. It was the last time we spoke with each other. He didn’t mention the lung cancer he already knew he was dying of.

It’s Forty-some years since our graduation from West Point in 1978 and those years have passed much too quickly. I think of Dan, and my other classmates, both living and dead. Our class will still have plenty of good times together, and many more reunions. Having said that, the chapel service honoring our departed classmates at those reunions becomes just a little sadder each time.

I’ve also been thinking about the great Dire Straits/Mark Knopfler song, “Brothers in Arms” and it’s refrain,

“You did not desert me

My brothers in arms…”

Whenever I hear the song, I think of both West Point and my time in the Army. The song is bittersweet, and also a testament to those who have served, and the brotherhood that exists between them. Released in 1985, it also reminds me of my 8 1/2 years with the Army in Germany that decade.

And of course, I can’t help but remember the song “The Corps” from West Point. It celebrates the continuity of The Long Gray Line, past, present and future.

Grip hands with us now tho’ we see not. Grip hands with us strengthen our hearts … Grip hands, tho’ it be from the shadows…

Rest In Peace Zman, Rest in Peace. You are gone, but not forgotten.

Grip Hands …

Addendum:

– You can read Dan’s official obituary here, if you so desire. https://www.mvfh.org/guestbook/daniel-zimmermann . Dan is survived by his wife Mary Lepley, and three children.

– My classmate COL Chuck Allen (Ret) captured that 2015 B-3 Company get together pretty perfectly in this article: https://cumberlink.com/print-specific/article_9ce2a381-0218-5973-b12e-1196218b230d.html . Chuck is still doing great work and teaching Leadership at the Army War College.

– Thanks as always to my friend Colleen for her super editorial assistance. I’m alway thankful for her corrections to my poor English. I’m better than when I started this blog 5 years ago, but still have room for improvement. Thanks Colleen!

A Neighbor not being Neighborly

A Neighbor not being Neighborly

Is it no longer possible for neighbors of different political persuasions to get along? Our friend Sam* recently relayed an exchange with her neighbor that isn’t just unneighborly, it’s downright scary. Is this what we have come to?

Sam lives several miles away from us, but still here in Fauquier County. She has about 1 1/2 acres and has lived in her home for 23 years. Her neighbor, John*, has lived next to her for about 15 years.

While they were never best friends, they got along. Every neighborhood seems to have a “strange guy” and John fit the bill. Having said that, other than the occasional conspiracy theory, strange complaints about other neighbors, and complaints about people lying about him, they more or less got along. And they never talked about politics. It just didn’t come up.

In the last three or four years, John seemed to get worse. There were more and growing conspiracy theories. He had a restraining order put in place against him. He was arrested for violating the restraining order, and was later arrested for brandishing a firearm. He also told a “whopping lie” about Sam to another neighbor (Sam’s words).

Last fall, Sam put a Biden sign in her yard, near their shared driveway. John moved the sign away from the drive and further into Sam’s yard. There were still no political conversations.

A few years ago, John started raising chickens (and a few roosters). Initially, there was no problem and the chickens happily clucked around his yard. Things changed this year. He wanted “free range chickens” and didn’t confine them. Of course chickens don’t recognize property lines and in the spring, more and more of them came to Sam’s yard to eat and dig up her plants and garden. Many of these plants were perennials, some of which she planted over a decade ago. As the new growth came up, the chickens ate or scratched the plants (Hostas were a favorite) into oblivion.

Initially, Sam tried to be a good neighbor and just shoo the chickens away. The chickens evidently liked the plants and kept returning. On one occasion, she chased the chickens away six times in just a few hours.

In March, Sam finally complained to John about the chickens. It did no good. In April she did the same, and this time John replied “Please Don’t tell me how to manage my chickens, or suggest I “enclose” them, when I already do. They are free range Earthlings and have their own rights to travel. They don’t believe in fences or politics, they don’t yell at and berate their neighbors, or treat them like second class citizens…”

The Bird Might be Innocent, but Neighbor John? Not So Much…

Sam eventually called Animal Control. Before she even mentioned his name, the officer said “Trust me, I’ve had my handcuffs on him before.“

John’s response this time? “Calling the cops on those evil chickens and that evil white Republican man next door for trespassing… seems like such a great plan. They can Shoot all neighboring creatures great and small, and with implied immunity. Let them be your heel and heavy gun to do the dirty work, let them threaten to extinguish life over a nibbled plant…”

John offered that Sam could trap, kill and eat a chicken if she wanted. Sam, understandably, doesn’t care about trapping, killing and eating one of his chickens. She just wants her garden left alone.

And so it continued. Sam has put countless hours and dollars into her garden. The chickens continued to eat and destroy plants. She complained to John again in June. This time? You can see his reply in this photo:

Not Your Ordinary Exchange Between Neighbors…

That “You pandered uncountable votes for Creepy Corn Pop the blundering commie, and the irony of a liberal democrat or Marxist calling someone out over “property rights”, rather, the concept of “no regard for other people’s property”… is priceless…” is the most rational statement in the entire text says something about his state of mind.

If you were Sam, what would you do? Animal Control says they can do no more than fine him (and have already done so), but he just doesn’t pay the fines. She has discussed John with the sheriff’s office, but hasn’t yet involved them in resolving the issue. She has grown tired of engaging him in conversations and texts, which do no good, and in fact seem to exacerbate the situation.

I realize not all Trump supporters are as extreme as John has become, but I can’t help but believe our former president’s actions and comments have encouraged John’s behavior. His text from June shows just how irate and irrational he has become …BlowbamaJiden … beeLM … children being trafficked and regendered by perverts … human debt enslavement … plandemics … genocidal geoengineering … an orangemanbadassed styled eco-friendly border wall …

Sam has spent 23 years in her house. Her bit of paradise is now closer to a living hell. This is evidently what we have come to – forget being friendly or neighborly, you can’t even engage in conversation to resolve issues. I realize in the big scheme of things, Sam’s problem is rather small. Having said that, it also seems to tie to our national problems and issues. For many of us, comity no longer appears to be an American quality.

If you were Sam, what would you do?

….. Feel free to share this blog …..

Addendum:

• *Sam is not our friend’s real name. For privacy and security reasons, I’m using a pseudonym. The same is true for her neighbor’s name.

The Stone House in the Woods

The Stone House in the Woods

There is an old house/cabin in the woods about a half mile from where we live. It was never in great shape, but the owner, Bill Harben, passed away a few years ago, and now the house is slowly sliding back to nature. He built the mostly stone house by hand when he was in the States and not stationed overseas.

It remained a work in progress until the year he died.

Both Bill, and the house, have an interesting history. Bill worked for the State Department as a Foreign Service Officer from the 50s through the 70s. He started on the house during the 60s, between overseas assignments. After he retired in the seventies, he moved permanently to the DC area, and then worked on the place on weekends or other off times. It was slow going, and to be honest, I think he thought of the project mostly as mental therapy. He wasn’t in any particular hurry to finish it and wasn’t ever going to live there. It was merely a getaway.

The First View of the Cabin When Approaching Through the Woods

We first met Bill around 2001. I’d see him driving down the gravel road past our place, or run across him while hiking in the woods. He was probably in his late seventies at the time and still adding stone work to the house.

We became friends of sorts and had him to our home for a few dinners or parties, and were guests at his cabin several times during the summer months. He would have friends (usually ladies) out from “the city” for a cookout. He was an incredibly charming and urbane man, and I think he enjoyed the shock his guests almost always showed on first seeing the roughness of his retreat.

The Front Door

The house was unique, with no apparent master plan. Bill did all of the work entirely by hand. There was no access to the property except for a narrow dirt and grass road and then a trail. It was impossible for big equipment to access and help with the construction. The stonewalls? All the stones were from the property and Bill moved them with a wheelbarrow to the house location. He then put them in place by hand, slowly building the walls up. The floor was made from stone on the property as well. The timbered parts of the home? The logs were from the surrounding woods – Bill cut the trees, and hand hewed them to fit together.

it was a rough house, with no electricity. His water came from a small spring on the property. He did have an indoor toilet, and there was actually a small septic field. A huge stone fireplace heated the “great room”, but nothing else. Light was by candle or lantern.

Bill added many artifacts and mementos to the house from his time overseas. Some were classic, others just odd. There were statues, tiles, old lamps, even a huge antique German Bible. He also imbedded some of the items in the walls. It was quite the eclectic place.

A Few of the Items at the House or Mounted in the Walls

When having cookouts at his place, stories would inevitably come out from his time overseas, and as with many storytellers, they were usually about some funny incident with a twist. With postings in Germany, Austria, Cambodia, Russia, Rawanda and Mexico he had plenty of good source material.

I remember two stories he treated a bit more seriously. He spoke about the time he escorted “Mrs Kennedy” (that would be Jacqueline Kennedy) around Mexico when she visited the country. He didn’t share details, and instead spoke about what a wonderful lady she was. The other story involved how and why his career in the Foreign Service derailed. In the early ‘70s, he and Henry Kissinger had “a falling out” over the conduct of the war in Indochina. Bill was head of the Embassy’s Political Section in Cambodia at the time and Kissinger was Secretary of State under Nixon. Bill ended up on the short end of the stick for that one.

Once when we were visiting, I asked if I could use the bathroom. You needed to walk through his “bedroom” to reach the bathroom. There was a really strange mural in the room, and I also noticed a small painting of Confederate General Robert E. Lee hanging over the bed. It struck me as odd at the time, so when I rejoined Bill and his guests out by the grill, I said “Bill, I have to ask. What’s with the picture of Lee over the bed? You never struck me as a “Lost Cause” type of guy.”

Bill chuckled, and then explained “Years ago, when I was first building the cabin, I would sometimes be gone for months or years in between visits. At the time, there weren’t many homes in this area, it was all woods and fields. Some “good ol’ boys” would be out hunting, and come across the cabin. Inevitably, they’d break in, drink beer and trash the place. I thought about it for awhile, and then decided to hang up the picture of Lee. I knew they’d probably still break in, but once they saw the picture of “Bobby Lee” they’d be more respectful and wouldn’t destroy the place.” He laughed, and then said “It turned out I was right….”

The Mural Still Hangs in the Bedroom, but the Picture of “Bobby Lee” has Disappeared.

Bill passed away a few years ago. He was in his late 80s or early 90s at the time. We probably hadn’t seen him for a couple of years, and I knew he had health issues. I heard later that he moved from his condo in Crystal City to assisted living somewhere else.

My wife, Cathy, talks about how every time an older person dies, it’s like a library burning down. All the knowledge and stories are just gone. I’m glad I was able to spend some time with the Harben Branch Library before it disappeared.

Addendum:

If you want to read an oral version of Bill Harben’s career, you can find it at the link here. It’s a pretty interesting read of one man’s upfront view as a Foreign Service Officer during the Cold War: https://www.adst.org/OH%20TOCs/Harben,%20William%20N.toc.pdf