Monthly Archive

She wore a yellow sunbonnet

She wore her greenest gown

She turned to the south wind

and curtsied up and down.

She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head

And whispered to her neighbor

“Winter is dead”

This is a poem by A.A. Milne called “Daffodowndilly”.

Daffodils are my favorite flowers. I used to plant them back in the Midwest. Around March their green shoots would rise out of the soil, and then one day the lawns and gardens would be awash with yellow and white and bits of orange and pink. I first planted the King Alfred types – large and yellow. Then I got into vintage bulbs from Wales and the Netherlands.

And every year I would plant more – like a manic conductor asking the choir to sing even louder. I could never have enough jonquils.

Besides the delight of bright colour after so many months of gray, they seemed to signify resurrection of life. Planted in the previous autumn, they laid dormant and I didn’t know if they would come up or not. Then spring would return and with it her symbol – daffodils.

When we moved to Arizona, I left behind hundreds of bulbs. I wonder if the new owners kept them or plowed them up. It is sad to think my industry is all gone. There is a sort of legacy to them.

There are no daffodils in Phoenix, Arizona – too hot. I miss them.

I hope to die in the spring time, so I can go as they are coming up.

We recently we had a visit from Someone’s niece. She and I played cribbage. I haven’t played cribbage in over 20 years. My grandmother used to play the game; my parents continue to play it.

It made me think about playing cards in general. 

My parent’s and grandparent’s generation seemed to play a lot of cards. This was a marvelous way to socialize. Couples were continually coming over for evening games of gin or hearts or cribbage.

And then there was bridge. My parents belonged to several bridge clubs. When my mother had “bridge night”, it was quite the event – card tables were set up and we boys would help with the preparations. I could these events were important. I realize now bridge was a social superglue. I don’t know how to play bridge. My grandmother, the ‘high priestess’ of bridge, refused to teach me how to play it. She was genuinely fearful that if I learned to play it, I would waste my college days away playing bridge. 

I don’t know many people my age that play cards, let alone bridge. Most people who play at cards do so at the casino rather than in the context of their community. And they play alone, not with the neighbors. They play for money. I think this is a loss. 

Cards were the means to get together and talk and relate to friends and neighbors.  

So I miss the card games. And I wish I knew how to play bridge.

Any Spo-fans know and play?

My parents have lived in the same house since 1975. Their basement is nicknamed “King Tut’s Tomb” as it has slowly accumulated ‘treasures’ and looks as organized. My last trip home revealed “The Tomb” is getting worse; one could hardly walk around all the items.  

Some of the objects go back to the 40s and 50s, leftovers from their parents’ homes.

There are items from childhood of every one of their children.

There are remnants of my father’s office after he retired.

There is father’s vast model train lay out.

There are boxes of saved books, plaques, photos, and unused appliances.  

On the positive, it is pleasant go through it, pick up something, and remember. Last time in the Tomb I found the entire set of “Alfred Hitchcock and the 3 Investigators” mystery series. I also found an ashtray I made for my grandfather; it made me think of him. 

On the negative, it alarms me what will happen when my parents pass away.We four kids are going to inherit this hoard and will have to clear it out. I’ve prompted the parents to start cleaning it out but they either never get around to it or don’t want to throw anything out (I’ve suspected they assume that is ‘our job’ to do).  

Brother #3 is clever and can put some of it on Ebay. The Star Wars figurines and Walt Disney comic books from the 50s could get a good price.  

But will we feel obliged to keep it all?  Our childhood items, our parents’ things, and some things going back to the grandparents will be challenging to let go.   The award plaques and framed diplomas mean nothing to us but we’ll feel guilty to toss them out, so we will keep them; our children will feel even more guilty to discard them as they will be so old – so useless things get passed down from generation to generation like a bad gene. 

The 4ft x 4ft faded coloured photograph (fair condition at best) of great-grandfather isn’t something you just toss readily into the trash. But who has a wall upon which to hang it?  

So King Tut’s tomb waits – probably until the parents pass and we are forced to deal with it.

Anybody want a pinball machine or a pachinko machine?

This entry is not profound or humorous or even very interesting.

It is about  teapots. 

At last count I have 8 teapots, each one for a different purpose or fancy. 

The work teapots:  The main ‘work’ teapot is a large brown porcelain teapot that makes about 6 mug’s worth of tea. It has a slight crack, so I suspect it is not going to last much longer. I don’t keep porcelain pots long; they break. Every time this happens I get a new colour.  

Also at work is a little stainless steel teapot that makes about 2 cups; it is for small thirsts. I use it mostly for white and green teas, as the strainer is not very big.  

The home teapots: My standard white porcelain pot makes 6-8 cups. It is for every day use. It isn’t very interesting but it gets the job done. I suspect it is a matter of time before this one breaks and gets replaced.  

The stainless steel pot at work has a ‘big brother’ at home. I bought it for guests and parties. I loose count how many cups it makes – it is huge. I don’t use it much as the volume it produces is beyond consumption. It is somewhat good to make tea for iced tea.  

Another pot at home is a small 2 cup Japanese style teapot for small brews. I use it mostly for herbal teas and rooibos.  

Then there is a European model; a glass cylinder with a stopper-top to squeeze down the leaves. It is pleasant to watch the leave floating around; and it is fun to squish them down. It isn’t used much as most tea shouldn’t be brewed for too long or it gets bitter. It is best for oolongs.  

I have a large glass jar for brewing sun tea, which I use continuously in the summer months. I place several bags of Red Rose (when I am being cheap) or better yet Yunnan Chinese Black loose leaf – a black tea that doesn’t get bitter or tannic with sitting out all day. 

I have Someone’s mother’s tea pot – a quaint porcelain antique. I don’t use it much as wear and tear is causing the gilded gold on it to wear off.  

P.S. I mixed up some of the pictures but I can’t seem to fix them!

Here are 20 statements I have learned in life.

1)     This too shall pass.

2)     Every Armageddon I have encountered was the beginning of something better.

3)     What goes around, comes around. So all thoughts, words, and deeds need careful conscious attendance.

4)     Play fair; play nice; trust God and forget the rest.

5)     Every growth has a price.

6)     The question is not ‘do I have a Shadow side to this?”, the question is ‘Where is my Shadow side in this?”.

7)     The growth of the Self requires you to walk away from your tribe, go into the unknown, and be lost for a while.

     Just about everything I have ever worried over has not been of consequence.

9)     Happiness is a by-product of functioning. It is not a goal.

10) I no longer try to figure out where I am going.

11) I no longer try to understand the logic of the divine.

12) The greatest gift you can give this world is the most healthy you can produce.

13) Taking the safe comfortable road leads to hell.

14) I can no longer afford to let past injuries and never corrected injustices suck up my libido.

15) Never again will I allow myself to be snoockered by society’s “should” statements.

16) The mind and the body are one; so be careful what I do to either.

17) My intuition tells me what I need to know, if I would listen to it – and not reject it when it doesn’t tell me what I want to hear.

1 If you wait long enough, ‘impossible’ situations nearly always sort themselves out.

19) I can no longer do everything I want, but this is not a sad revelation.

20) Be not afraid.

Mr. Bigg at My Confessions asked me to do the following meme – I am tardy in doing it but I did it!

1. Name five songs you’re listening to right now.
2. For each song, name the memory or feeling that it evokes.
3. Tag three other people to play along.According to Mr. Ipod, there are my latest five songs:
1. Mummer’s Dance – Loreena McKennitt

2. Requiem – Mozart 3. With One Look – Patti LaPone

4. 17 Again - Eurythmics

5. Widerstehe doch der Sunde – J.S. Bach

1. Ms. McKennitt’s music evokes lots of good memories and feelings. Her music makes me think of the autumn time, when I first heard her. She also makes me think of the many trips to Stratford, Ontario, to attend the Festival. I have been going to the Stratford Festival for over 25 years. There is a feeling of something archaic and pagan in this song; deep roots. 

2. I was listening to this in preparation of hearing my mother sing it last Good Friday. It makes me think about death; but not in a negative or sad way. There is a sort of sorrow to it, but there is comfort. It is one of my favorite pieces of music.I sometimes play it at the end of the day as a routine to the day’s end. It makes me think of the passing of time and where am I going. Ultimately towards death. 

3. This song grabs me; I suspect because it is the call of the Anima. She can be anything and everything; and she has power. I have many different recordings of this song. I joke that if I can find one more singer doing it, I could make my own CD and call it ‘with 10 looks’ 

4. I like Annie Lennox. This song tells me not to be afraid to try bold new things; be watchful of taking the ‘safe road’. The line ‘we should have jumped out of that airplane after all” says it all. 

5. This is my favorite Bach Cantata. I first heard it in college. It makes me feel pleasantly at-ease. I was watching TV while doing some ironing in my college apartment when I first heard it; it is one of those ‘tunes’ that imprint the scenario permanently in the mind.

Beware of Easter’s dark side viz. killer rabbits and black jelly beans!

I am in Michigan.

When I left Arizona this morning, it was sunny and in the 70s; it remained sunny until the plane got within 1/2 hour of landing - and then the clouds started. I am back in cloudy gray overcast territory. Right now it is snowing; we are supposed to get a few inches tonight. Ah, Michigan!

My mother sang at Christ Church; an Episcopalian church in Grosse Pointe. They sang Mozart’s Requiem; she did a fine job.  The tenor was splendid. The church is modeled after a 15th century English Gothic style.

Whenever adult children visit their parents, it is easy for the grown parents to want to take over and be ‘mom and dad’ again, and the children to - well, revert to being children again. My mother is running around wanting to make me food and cater to my every whim. I am letting her do some of this; we both feel good that way. It is nice to be pampered so!

I get to sleep in the Kiefer bed tonight - I have written about this bed before; it is the bed my ancestor made. Five generations have slept in it.

So with no overt need to wake early tomorrow, and a snow storm out side, I hope to sleep well. I hope you all sleep well too.

I suspect a great many people who visit my blog do so because they are interested in personal growth. I have spent my personal and professional lives towards this goal – the concept that life is a continual evolution towards wholeness. Life is an ongoing process of incorporating more and more into consciousness.  

This sounds nice. It is also one of the most difficult, scary tasks a person can take up. I warn patients this is no yuppie hobby – you will be transformed and the process will be ugly and completely unsettling. Going into counseling or analysis should only be done when you have “no choice” – and with the realization you don’t know what you are in for.  

Why is this so scary? It involves realizing most of what you learned is wrong. It requires you to break away from your tribe(s) and go into places you did not know existed and doubt they are there. It sends you on the Dark Night Journey; it drives you into the Wilderness. And you will feel bad for doing it. It evokes depression.

And you are tested.  Everyone on this journey goes through some sort of test; think of the great minds who were tempted by devils – can they be broken? Could they be bought?  When I read or interview the ‘sages’, they all agree when they were called, they didn’t want to go. It required them to forgo all. It was terrifying not knowing where they were going; it required trust in something – God or the gods – and a surrender to some vision they did not want in the first place. 

Most lost their friends and loved ones along the way – the people they were with prior to ‘awakening’. I don’t have a lot of success stories of people who grew and their spouse and companions went with them.  

It sounds rather bleak.  

Nevertheless, the journey of Self-growth will give you something wonderful in place of something small or false. It is rather like exchanging fool’s gold for real gold.

The price is terrible, but the reward is beyond belief. 

This weekend I am ‘flying home’ to Michigan, Land of Perpetual Snow and Ice. 

The main reason for this trip is to hear my mother sing. Since as long as I can remember, she has been an amateur singer; she is an alto. Every year she and her group sing some sort of concert for Good Friday. They usually do some sort of Requiem or Mass or something apropos for Easter.This year she is sings Mozart’s Requiem. I really want to hear that, so this year I opted to fly home. They always sing in a Grosse Pointe Episcopalian church. It is quite a lovely setting; often this church’s grounds have daffodils. Daffodils are my favorite flowers; they herald spring more than lilies.  

Besides hearing her sing, I will go to Ann Arbor. I will have lunch with my friend Eileen.       

I want to go to Zingerman’s and order one of everything. 

I will stop by and visit friends Dale and Martin. There, I may get to meet a celebrity – Frederica von Stade is going to be at their home! What I treat it would be to meet Ms. von Stade! She is one of my favorite singers. Dale says she is ‘Sunshine incarnate”. 

 On Saturday evening I am going to the Easter Vigil service at my old parish. I want to hear my old bell choir perform. I miss them. However, when they heard I was coming into town they asked me to fill in as a substitute. So I will be playing as well as visiting. Yikes! I will be playing some treble bells which I haven’t done before. The music was faxed last week.  

On Easter Sunday I will go with my parents to her church (that makes for two services, so I will be most virtuous). Mother will have an Easter brunch for whatever brother wants to pop by to see me. 

And then I fly home. And there is NOTHING PLANNED for some time after that. Hurrah.

Only possible trip may be a weekend in Palm Springs for doing nothing more than swimming and reading.  

Simon’s Cat ‘Cat Man Do’

As yesterday’s entry was rather lofty, it is time for some nonsense.
My brother sent this to me; he remembers our white cat.

The Prostitute is an intriguing archetype. When I went to “shrink school” this archetype was not part of the Pantheon of ‘classic archetypes’. In my ongoing studies, I’ve heard reasonable arguments to consider it an important archetype for all. For it is integral towards survival. In order to do more than survive, The Prostitute needs to be confronted.  The Prostitute normally conjures up a negative picture; a woman selling her body. So it needs some explanation.  

The Prostitute is really about how consciously or unconsciously you sell your power or psychic energy (called libido by Jungians) in exchange for something. The usual desired object is money and all it entails - safety. But people prostitute for status, advancement, and other things as well.  Selling your body is only a portion of the Prostitute. Physical prostitution is probably not as consequential as selling your power. For this is about power. We all sell ourselves to some degree for deemed safety. Most people with high Prostitute energy are in ‘financial bondage’ either in relationships or in hateful jobs. 

How much to do you negotiate your power so others have you creative energy?  How much do you sell yourself in order to get something in exchange?  

Long time Spo-Fans know the Archetypes and their energies are neither ‘good’ nor ‘bad’. They have positive and negative elements.  So how is the Prostitute Archetype positive? At first it doesn’t sound likely it could be ‘positive’.  

Its positive aspects arise when we consciously decide to negotiate our energies, views and positions for some other good or towards the good of others. In its highest conscious state it is called The Sacred Prostitute - the paradox of knowing you sell yourself but can’t be bought.

The Prostitute is not out to sell you; it points out how you would sell yourself and stay in situations despite the harm. It tells you to make a choice, not what choice to make. The decision to unplug from a Prostitute charged situation – a bad job, a bad marriage – requires enormous courage, for it means going into the unknown of ‘how will I support myself”.  I admire people who can do so.

I did something today I don’t recall having done before – I decided to stop reading a certain blog.

I’ve been regularly reading this blog for some time; I tried to leave comments on a regular basis. He has never visited my blog (so far as I can tell); and he hasn’t acknowledged my dropping by. So, I figured it wasn’t worth the time to keep dropping by his. I have enough old and new blogs to read. 

For reasons I can’t quite figure out, this bugs me.

Perhaps it is as simple as feeling not wanted. Perhaps it is because it felt iniquitous. When people drop by my own, I try at least to say thank you for stopping by. And I try to reciprocate visitors by dropping by their blogs. Sometimes this doesn’t blossom into an ongoing blogging relationship. But at least it the correspondence was a ‘two way street’ for a short time. I continue to read a few blogs who seldom if ever drop by mine or left comment. A few have never dropped by. Yet, I enjoy reading their blogs. But at least these ‘one way’ bloggers from time to time  -

a) know I am there

b) say ‘thanks for dropping by’.

c) sometimes include me in the blog link. 

I suppose this is about manners. I try to be polite and do ‘what is right’. But there are no rules in blog-land, are there? I don’t think blogging has a Miss Manners equivalent to find out proper etiquette towards virtual visitors.

It is rather fascinating, no?  

Do you bother ‘keeping track’ to who is visiting or commenting?

Dear Mr. CityWoof had this self-interview on his blog recently. It was fun; so I pinched it. I did not alter his questions.

Self-interview, 14 March 2008

Q – So what’s your story?

A – Well I am well over four feet tall. I was born in Michigan but live in Arizona, which could be the opposite end of the universe for all the differences. As a boy I wanted to be a dinosaur expert or an astronomer, but I ended up being a physician. I am left-handed and I tend to fidget.

Q – Isn’t this self-interview thing a bit pompous?

A – that is the best attribute about it – for once I get to do the talking while somebody else listens.

Q – Why shave your head?

A – I did that once for Hallowe’en, so I could go as Death; but I changed it to Uncle Fester. I don’t look half bad without hair. However I missed my whiskers –and Someone doesn’t like whiskers longer than what is up on top.

Q – How long have you been poz? Are you healthy?

A – it depends on what you mean by ‘healthy’. I have high blood pressure and  cholesterol but these are in check. I feel out of sorts but this is from 2 weeks of nasty flu. I was just getting into shape when ‘The Crud’ hit – not fair.

Q – What kind of guys are you attracted to?

A – I like a kind, bright person, which overrides any ‘looks requirement’.  A person sure of themselves and with good libido is attractive any time.

Q – Ok, but what about physical type?

A – I like the bear types; but not overweight. I am found of whiskers. I like men my own age (more or less). No twinks or 20 year olds for me thank you. And they must be washed.

Q – Sounds pretty darn specific.

A – Ah well. There is no accounting for taste – once in a while somebody comes along not in the usual ‘check list’ who floats my boat….

Q – What’s with all the nekkid pictures? Are you some kind of dirty birdie?

A – I don’t have any on my blog, as my family drops by from time to time. I have a scandalous photo of me floating on top of the pool. I’ve been tempted to post it (or a bit of it) but I fear the APA police will come and arrest me.

Q – What about substances?

A – I have never smoked tobacco, marijuana or tried any street drugs. As a boy I was too fearful of what they could do. Now I am a snob about it; I like to say I’ve never done them. Hohoho And I am supposed to be a good role model for patients. Mostly I fear supporting the evil that is the drug trafficking world. Some of my patients come from Central and South America – they tell me their countries are ruined by drug lords – and we keep that going. I like a wine, or a good cocktail, but I am a pantywaist – one or two tends to put me to sleep.

Q – Are you craving a boyfriend?

A – I am in a 11 year relationship and by now we are a staid couple. I would like a nice young man for housekeeping and chauffeur work. And does he cook?

Q – What are you into?

A – it’s cliché but true – I enjoy a variety of things and would be open to things if they presented themselves. Mostly I am into reading.

Q – Hobbies?

A – I have a handful of hobbies – most of them are not active what with lack of time and living in Arizona. I miss vegetable gardening the most. I collect Tarot decks and rubber stamps. I enjoy cooking new dishes, playing music (piano and pan pipes), drawing, opera, theatre. Rolling down grass hills was fun until I moved here – no grass and the cacti make it right out.

Q – Ok, I think that’s all I need to know.

A – well the rest of me is more or less sprinkled throughout 2 years of blogging, either here at WordPress, or last year at Blogger.

And as Citywoof says -PEACE!! LOVE!! DANCE NAKED!! 

Every once in a while a patient will actually ask me “What is mental health?” 

After decades of training and personal learning, I have distilled concepts down to 8 aspects. These eight are easily understood by patients; they can take them home to ponder.  I call them My 8 spokes in the Wheel of Mental Health.  

You like what you do

This is not ‘You do what you like’; these two statements are not the same thing. The point - you find meaning in what you do daily. Sometimes we consciously take a job merely to earn money and pay the bills. Otherwise it is hoped we are in a career rather than ‘just work’ – and from it we can derive meaning and satisfaction.  

You like where you live

This is a luxury originating in the past century or so.  One hopes to be in a region or state or environment where you feel is ‘home’. 

You are continually growing

Many religions and psychologies emphasize the need for continual growth. Life has no stasis. Sometimes a new analysand would ask me ‘how long will this take?”  I would reply -‘With me, perhaps 6 months to a year. I hope though this will take a lifetime.”  

You are doing some sort of altruism

Helping out others is paradoxically a good way to help yourself. It may be as simple as volunteering; it may be part of your job.  

You have significant others with whom you share your life.

Perhaps not a mate or a spouse, but friends and family and significant others with whom you share your life’s journey.  

You are taking care of your body

This is so obvious to me I sometimes fail to point it out. Our minds and bodies are one; by taking care of our bodies, we take care of our minds. Proper weight, exercise, stress relieving activities, proper food etc. all help with mental health.  

You can not be bought

This is the a definition of self-esteem. You can consciously choose to negotiate what you will do, but you can’t be bribed or sold on your values.  

You can accept ambivalence

This was the definition of mental health by one of my teachers. This is the ability to think or feel;

‘You know, you drive me crazy and at times I want to strangle you, but also I love you and these two feelings can co-exist and be felt simultaneously without me or you going bats’  

P.S. - most of the time I meet 6 of 8, so I am doing OK.

Writing the other day about birthing babies made me recall some of the memorable deliveries in which I was a participant, back when I was a medical student – 20 years ago. 

Mother #1 wanted her birth delayed so the kid would pop out on a certain date, based on its potential horoscope (I don’t recall if the kid cooperated with this). 

Mother #2’s first words to her delivered baby were “Shut that brat up”. 

Mother #3 demanded everybody leave the room right after the delivery so she and her spouse could have 15 minutes alone for crucial bonding with no one else present (sort of like the hatched ducklings). 

Mother #4 continually threw up her pasta dinner she was fed ‘for the ordeal’I was told the Italians in the area commonly did this and nearly all the women vomited it up.  No one on staff ate Italian as a consequence. 

Several mothers thought their daughters’ name was “Female” (rhymes with tamale) – as this was on the birth certificate.  

Mother #5 wanted only Jewish staff to touch her/her baby.  Kosher kids. 

Mother #6 had all sorts of knick-knacks around her; I think they were charms and things passed down from generation to generation to be present at the births. I remember one was to scare away evil spirits. They certainly gave me the willies.  

 Mother #7 was vexed her delivery was upsetting some sort of social appointment she was now going to miss. 

Mother #8’s spouse was clearly not interested in the “team approach” fathers were expected to do these days. During her delivery he got ill and excused himself. She was livid. She shouted at his absent self all through the birth. Meanwhile we had to get someone to attend him; between the vomiting and the ordeal he had fainted in the waiting room. 

The most memorable delivery was Mother # 9 –She and her family came in all in a crisis; she was visiting from Texas and was going into premature labor 2 weeks early. What was causing such as panic was all their family had been born in Texas for many generations and – horror! – the child would be born in Michigan!!!  I think they first requested some sort of treatment to prevent the delivery’s progression so she could get back on a plane to Texas. (staples? Super glue?) But it was too late. The kid was going to be a Michigander.

How they did this I don’t recall; somehow they got a bag of Texas dirt flown in via overnight delivery. They literally put the dirt under her so they could claim he was ‘born over Texas soil’.  

I am still feeling the pinch of ‘having no time’. 

Work continues to be a bit too much, what with trying to fold the departed doctor’s patients into the workload. Thanks to the flu, I’ve not been able to use the Dictaphone; talking sets off a terrible hacking (and the recording device doesn’t care for it). So I have been typing my reports, which are getting briefer and briefer. I fear I am going to go towards –
 

”Dickey Purdy is a 35yo married man who is crazy as a sh-t house rat. I put him on Abilify as fast as I could. End of story. “ 

Things are piling up and I have to resign myself to the fact I can’t keep up anymore. Rx and calls and paperwork are a day or two behind.  

We’ve had out of town visitors, and more are to come. It is pleasant to see them but they do require some time and effort (and feeding).  

This week I see (again) I have no free evening. None of it is ‘bad’; it is merely time consuming (and this being Arizona, there is a lot of time spent  driving to get to things). 

Monday – dinner next door for the neighbors to entertain my parents

Tuesday – The monthly staff meeting at work

Wednesday – bell choir practice

Thursday through Sunday – I fly to Chicago for a weekend of medical conferences, meetings with the accountant and the investor, and a couple of operas. 

So it is another week of not being able to read my blog list; of not being able to get to the personal trainer; of lack of proper sleep. No fun in that.  

I hang onto the philosophy time can not be made or saved - it can only be used wisely or foolishly. And this too shall pass – things are bound to settle down in April.   

Recently I read an article titled “Things I don’t ever want to encounter again”. It was written by a theatre critic; it was about theatre matters which he was tired of experiencing, such as nonessential nudity in plays. 

It made me wonder what would go on my list of things I don’t ever want to encounter again…. 

1) The woman who stalked me.

Where I worked in the later 90s, a wacko woman started doing all sorts of crap at work. How she was nailed was her ongoing letters and notes to me slipped under the door of my office. Turning them in got her fired but she stalked and terrorized me for years. She tried to get my license evoked on the grounds I had sexually harassed her at work (another demonstration of her judgment).  

2) Taking the Boards.

Studying and doing medical boards to become certified in a specialty is an ordeal of intense work and anxiety. There is nothing ‘real’ about them and I doubt they reflect anybody’s competency to do a specialty. They are an initiation not unlike hazing.  Mercifully, I took the boards in the last year you could do this to become ‘grandfathered’. I don’t ever have to take them again – unless someone changes the law. I think I would rather retire from medicine than retake the Boards.  

3) Costa Rica

I got terribly sick there. It all resolved but I had one month of ill health. I may #3 to ‘anywhere in the tropics’ as they don’t seem to agree with me. 

4) Government Jobs.

Being good or creative in a government job gets you into trouble. Frozen by bureaucracy and unions it is nearly impossible to change or improve things –and the majority of government workers I worked with were either awful or downright nasty. And they seemed to rule the roost.  Goodness knows how anything gets done.  

5) Snowstorms in Illinois.

Two of the worst driving ordeals of my life occurred in snowstorms in Illinois.  One took six hours to drive from the south side of Chicago to the north side, one Valentine’s Day in the early 90s. The other was driving home from southern Illinois around New Year’s Day. In hindsight I was a fool for trying; I listened to a recording of “Die Meistersinger” 3x before I had enough of it.  

6) Birthing babies.

Delivering babies was a grueling experience. It does bring out some interesting beliefs and demands in mothers and families. 
If you put a knife under the bed it cuts the pain.  

So, tell me something or someone you hope never to encounter again.

I have a relative who attracts ‘cranky old people’. These seniors are loud, aggressive and quick to complain, cut in line, and demand special treatments as they are seniors. He ‘finds them’ all the time; I never seem to encounter them until I am out with him. I don’t witness them on my own.  

I tend to attract ‘Ladies Who Lunch’ groups. These are usually 4 or 5 women who have left their spouses at home. They are never rude or aggressive, but they are very loud and talk all at once. If they are a younger, half of them are simultaneously talking on cell phones. They laugh a lot - shrieking laughs and brays are not uncommon. LWL talk about personal problems in public: I get to listen to who is breaking up with whom, and how Marsha’s plastic surgery is going, and (worse) what the absent women are doing.  

Jung said ‘every country gets the foreigners it deserves’, meaning people tend to attract people who resonate with your psyche or psyche’s issues. It is intriguing to see people ‘into drama’ attracting people who are dramatic. People familiar with abuse often gravitate towards people who are abusive.  One patient who was apt to find ‘the users’ would joke she could go into a room with 100 people and find the 2 who are users “Or they would find me. maybe I should change my perfume.” 

Could be.

Do we send out vibes or karma that attract a certain sort to us for them to reveal truths about ourselves?

An intriguing idea.

If it is valid I wonder what I am to learn about LWL and my psyche’s relationship to them/that type.  

Do you attract a certain sort of person when you are out and about?

When I lived in Chicago I shared an apartment with a fellow named Robert. He was from North Carolina. All his friends were Southerners. His dearest friends he referred to as ‘the Family”. Robert would have me along to the Family’s dos and get-togethers. It was my first time really experiencing Southerners.  

To be more specific, Southern gay men.  (SGM) 

Like most Northerners I thought ‘the southern accent’ was one accent. But with time I began to discern accents. I got skilled enough to know an accent from VA versus MS. Robert’s mother would invite me down to NC as the beach was so wide that time of year. I thought she meant the tide was out. She meant the sand was bleached white.  

Southerners use words and do things I never experienced before. In the fridge was a continuous pitcher of iced tea – there was a ½ inch of sugar on the bottom that had to be swirled each time to use it. Neither Robert nor I drank the nasty brew; for me sugar in tea was a sacrilege, and Robert didn’t like the stuff. But he insisted it be there ‘for drop-in folk’

Someone (who has some southern roots) explained sweet-tea is the ‘House wine of the South”. 

Robert’s ‘Family’ would quote Scarlet O’Hara a lot; and also Designing Women. I have never seen this show but I feel like I’ve heard every scene. Robert warned me about a certain charming smile on a SGM’s face that meant quite the opposite. Don’t piss off a SGM; you may not know it.  

Apparently no matter how bitchy the comments were, they were cushioned by adding ‘bless your heart’ to them.  Robert, bless his heart, was a notorious gossip about his friends only to become charming in their presence. The Family and other friends - bless their hearts - reciprocated.  

Snow creates anxiety and panic with SGM. If half an inch of snow was predicted Robert would get fretful whether we had enough bread and milk ‘to last’. He didn’t seem worried about any other food stuffs. Once I came home to find several loaves. I questioned the purchase. 6 inches of snow was predicted that evening.  

Robert was Jewish but ate ham and shrimp stating no true Southerner lives without such staples. Next to the sweet-tea was the jar of mayonnaise. It worked its way into everything. His mother, bless her heart, would offer me a dollop with just about everything they served.  

I once dated a SGM; in the dark I got him to call me “darling’ (insert East Texan accent here).

Tomorrow my parents come to town; they haven’t visited in two years. 

Once upon a time I was the darling one, the ‘high poobah’ as Mr. Sorted would say.  All that changed when Brother #2 produced 2 sons of his own. They are all for the grandkids of course.  

I suspect the real reasons they are coming to Phoenix are to escape the Midwest winter, see their cousins in Mesa AZ, and attend a toy train convention conveniently located in Scottsdale.  

Between their busy retirement life and seeing the grandchildren, my parents are happy and frankly not too interested in me.  My mother, who is a nice person, won’t admit she is too busy doing other things than talking or seeing me.  It is amusing to hear her squirm on the phone and not admit she doesn’t want to talk to me right now as she is busy. 

But don’t get me wrong here; I am glad to see them happy in what they do.  I just want the good furniture.  

My parents are an anomaly. They have been continually happy with each other for nearly 50 years. I have never seen them fight or cross with each other. Can you imagine? They genuinely love each other, their lives and their family.  I worried a bit when my father retired – would he have enough to do? He started doing so much that I can’t get hold of him anymore.  

Poor Someone. My father and I are alike as two peas in a pod. Having the two of us around blurting, constantly moving, and talking over each other must drive him a bit bats.  

We four will drive to Tubac, AZ this weekend – it is an artist town my mother wants to see.  And then we stop at the toy train convention on the way home.  

I just hope I have enough Ritalin.

People like simple explanations to clarify life’s matters. A caused B. This is appealing – it is thoughtless, ‘clean’, and easy to grasp.  The desire for simplicity is more when there is a tragedy:

Why did this man shoot those people?

Why did the housing market crash so?

Why did the plane crash?

Why did I get (fill in whatever illness you have)?

We knew this could happen so why did nobody do anything about it?  

The wish for simple explanations is even more coveted in Medicine.
Patients want to know why they have depression or anxiety or panic attacks; and why they have cancer or diabetes etc. On rare occasion the answer is simple – your lung cancer or emphysema is from the many years of smoking cigarettes. Alas, it is hardly ever that simple.  

I remember a medical cartoon; there are numerous balloons in a graph all pointing towards each other in a chaos of web-links. They have such labels as ‘your parents’, “genetics”, “what you ate last night’, “childhood”, and “lack of exercise” – they all accumulate to a balloon labeled ‘Depression”. Somebody wrote on this balloon ‘YOU ARE HERE’.  

When addressing the question “why am I depressed?” I frequently use the metaphor of “The Perfect Storm”. Genetics, your upbringing, you lifestyle(s), choices, life’s circumstances, bad habits, and sometimes bad luck all come together to create disease. Like a hurricane, enough ingredients were present to result in the storm called mental illness.  Nearly always most of the contributing elements have to be addressed to calm the storm.  

Harder to accept is the notion we may not be able to find all the ingredients that caused an illness, or the plane crash, or the public shooting.  

A bad belief from Freudian psychology: the discovery of “the hidden cause” will alleviate of the condition. An ‘aha!” realization = symptom relief. I rarely see this happen. This cures ignorance, not illness.  

Some times people accept there is no simple ‘cause’.
Often they still yearn for it.

Life is getting hairy and time consuming.

I am overloaded at work; quite behind; working long hours.  I don’t see any relief in sight for some weeks.

This month we have guests coming in every week. They are escaping the Midwest winter. I am glad to have them, but meal planning and preparation and entertainment is time consuming. 

And I still have the flu. I crash early.

So – I have had little to no time to be on line. I miss checking in with my daily reads. And I’ve had no time to write anything.

I guess this is a long winded way of saying I may be scarce this month from blog-land. I will do my best to check on folks when I can. 

Please take care of yourselves !

Last week when on holiday it felt good to be back at sea, on water in a ship amongst seaman and sailors.  

My father tells me my fondness for sailors water goes back to infancy. One day he was in charge of babysitting to give my mother a break – I was a very colicky baby. A friend invited him to go sailing. He decided to go, taking me along. He put me in the bunk in the bow. For the first time since birth I stopped screaming and I slept without crying.

When she found out what he did, my mother had a fit, but she couldn’t argue against the results. I think they considered selling me to the next freighter going up Lake Huron. 

Perhaps it is because I am a ‘water sign’ (Cancer) that I like the water. I get car sick easily; movies with a lot of motion make me queasy. But the motion of a boat calms me right down.  Last week during the ‘at-sea’ day I slept nearly 18 hours.  

I grew up with boats – most of my family members had a boat of some sort. A few are sailors. Some of my fondest childhood memories are the summers I spent on the Great Lakes with my grandfather on his cabin cruiser.  

In contrast, I don’t like to be IN large bodies of water. First of all I chill easily. But mostly from a neurotic sense that “something down below” will make a grab at me. And I am not talking sharks – I think it is about some uncanny water force or spirit wanting me to stay. Or I think about ghosts of the drowned who want to drag me down to the deep.  I am the only one of my siblings who does not scuba dive; snorkeling often evokes a panic attack.  

Thanks to Cliffie at Cliffie’s Notes, even the fish are now suspect of plotting some outrage.   

But to be on the water – oh that is a joy like no other. A sail or a cruise is a spiritual event.

When I die I hope my ashes are spread on some beach at sunset, as the sun enters the sea. In a sense I will join the sea.

Perhaps that is why being in the water evokes emotions – I am in the presence of an Archetype – and in my grave.