A Small Step

JFK said, before he died, that America would put a man on the moon in the same decade.  It did. 

I remember July 1969 when the Apollo 11 mission landed on the moon, and Neil Armstrong descended the ladder from the module on live TV to set foot in the Sea of Tranquility to proclaim American dominance.  He said, "One small step for man, a giant leap for mankind."

I went outside at that moment to look at the bright moon and exult.  I exult no longer, because America is no longer dominant, and that was almost half a century ago.

Armstrong died today at age 82.  So many hopes, so unfulfilled.

You Mean, Like, Right Now?

I recently developed a benign fatty tumor the size of an almond on my right forearm high up by the elbow.  I have one on my thigh too, they're not dangerous, they just . . . are there.

Except this one caused my forearm muscle to ache whenever I lifted something heavy straight up with my knuckles up, or carried something light for a long time, like a half-liter water bottle for forty minutes on a run.  So it impacted my lifestyle because it affected my running, you know?

The GP ($10 co-pay) at Kaiser passed me on to the surgeon ($20 co-pay),  I went in for a consultation with him one morning last month and explained the ache this fatty deposit caused me in my forearm.

Well, I could either live with it, he said, or have it cut out surgically.  He didn't mince words or hem and haw around.

Well, let's get it cut it out, I said, thinking of future arm-pain free running.  I started to pull out my appointment book to see when I could best schedule the outpatient procedure.

I'll do it right now, he said.  You mean right now? I asked brightly.

Yes, he said, now.  I immediately realized that I didn't quite have my mind wrapped around having a two-inch incision done right then, and then hopping off the table and going to work.

Or we could schedule it for later, he said, seeing my hesitation.  I started thinking of having to come back to Kaiser a third time, and having to pay another $20 co-pay.  I needed a moment to think and I considered asking, absurdly, Will it hurt?

Okay, I said.  Two Novocaine shots and three minutes later the fatty tissue mass has been wrested out of my arm through a long slit in the skin using tongs.

The yellow mass lay suspended in bloody liquid in a test tube while the doc put five stitches in my arm to close the incision.  The gently floating lump looked like a hocker somebody had spit into a puddle.

Don't do anything stupid to cause the stitches to come out, the doctor warned me, knowing that I was a runner.  I didn't ask him when I could go out for my next run after the surgery.

I went out for a run at noon that day, for four miles.  The wound was weeping a little by the time I got back but I think that was just perspiration being expunged from the site.

It's all healed now and the arm feels great.  I'm a big fan of proactive Kaiser, getting this done right away for only $30.

Grandfather Twilight

I was rummaging around in the basement, trying to re-order my cinder-block-and-wood bookshelf I have down there.  It's got three 12-foot long shelves filled with books I've read.  Only half of  one shelf is literature or fiction, the rest contain history, mostly Civil War or World War Two books.

I came across a slender children's book pressed between two huge historical tomes that I have been thinking about and searching for for years, Grandfather Twilight by Barbara Berger (c1984), which I used to read to my three kids at bedtime.  It's about a kindly bearded old man living in a hut in the woods who closes his book at the end of each day, takes a pearl from an endless strand in a locked wooden chest he keeps and, followed by his loving dog, walks to the edge of the sea to gently release the glowing orb into the sky at twilight where it slowly rises and enlarges until it becomes the moon.  Then he returns home to lay down and sleep, good night.

As I worked out the devastation bestowed upon my life by my ex when she parentally alienated my children during our interminable and obscenely expensive divorce litigation, which induced them to walk out of my life forever half a decade ago, I went over the countless wonderful things I did for and with my sons (yeah, that's right Jimmy, Johnny and Danny), and I thought often of the times I read them this wonderful book.  No matter where I looked I couldn't find our copy of it.  Not actually having it was frustrating, but divorce teaches you that possessions are mere things and immaterial and the real valuable "stuff" resides stored in your memories.

I actually have our copy of Grandfather Twilight now, after years of wishing that I had it.  The book, with its lush pictures and wonderful story, is as beautiful as I remembered.  I love this book, but not half as much as I love Jimmy, Johnny and Danny, who reside in my memory as three precious children still.

95%

I donated my 95th unit of whole blood today; I gave my first pint in 1982.  They like my blood because it's O+, which is secondary only to O-, which can be transfused into anyone.

In eight weeks I can donate my 96th unit, which will be my 12th gallon of blood.  Imagine 12 large chlorax containers filled with bright red fluid. 

The date is circled on my calendar, as I'm trying to get to one hundred, a little goal I set for myself.  I'm on track this year to donate six times, like I did last year and one other year. 

The absolute maximum amount you can donate in a year is seven times, but only if you donate right after the new year and right before the end of the year.  You literally have to carefully plan it out, and I've only done it once before.

Back to Basics

So I went to church, and listened to a sermon about Jesus knowing how he would handle the 5,000 ravished hopefuls coming to listen to him preach but as the horde approached, he tested his apostle Phillip,.  What should we do, he asked?

Phillip bemoaned being able to feed the advancing hungry horde but Andrew said there was a boy who had 5 loaves and two fishes and that's a start.  That's Andrew's Way, that you have more than you think for starters (we know how Jesus was able to make the loaves and fish be enough for all).

Interestingly, afterwards as I walked out of the building I encountered an Eastern Orthodox woman from Russia who wanted to attend a service in the historic Falls Church.  I introduced her to the reigning priest and went home.

With all that exhausting work behind me, I settled in to watch the Olympics on TV.  Women's cycling, volleyball, swimming qualifying heats.  I could care less about that stuff, so at 11:30 am I bestirred myself, turned off the boob tube, changed and went to the curb.

There's a five-mile loop around my greater neighborhood that I used to run often, back in the olden times.  Back then I could usually break 45 minutes and I liked to get it around 42 minutes.

I started out in the noontime heat and humidity, thinking that was a good choice.  For the first mile, I went through all kinds of scenarios as to why I should make this a mile run, or a 2K run or an indeterminate run out the W&OD Trail.

I got past those negative thoughts however and my breathing regulated and got less ragged as I committed to the run.  At two miles I came upon a man standing by his fence line three feet off the sidewalk using a large watering wand to inundate his flowers.

"Hit me!" I cried out to him as I ran towards him, pointing to the copious water flow emanating from the hose nozzle.  He looked at me in confusion.

I gave him a circular motion with my hand, miming water cascading over my overheated body.  He didn't get it till I was past when he suddenly understood and held up the gushing nozzle but I was already heading away from him and not about to stop. 

At three miles I ran by the county golf course and the mini-golf range with its rushing-about children talking excitedly.  This was a hill up and this took me from the shade of the sidewalks to the sunlight of the road's shoulder. 

I was tiring by the fourth mile which I passed at 40:15.  One mile out, a large downhill in front of me fronted by and finished by a couple of short uphills, I tried to air it out a little so I could break 50 minutes.  I had to make up 15 seconds though to do this.

I turned onto my block and then sprinted the last 100 yards to stop my watch at the return to my driveway at 49:59.20 for five miles.  Yes!

Parking in Arlington

I'm having trouble with regulators these days.  Yesterday I enjoyed a lunch with a friend at a restaurant in Arlington. 

Arlington is notorious for its parking enforcement.  They make you want to never go there.

After lunch, I returned to my car and was standing there with my driver's door open, one foot inside the car, waiting for my friend to come get in.  He was lagging behind twenty feet or so on the sidewalk, coming and plainly in sight.

An Arlington Meter Maid swung by in the traffic lane on her Segway.  Vroom vroom look at me I'm an "Officer" and I'm bad.

While I stood there, standing with my car door open, one foot inside, waiting for my passenger who was in sight mere feet away and coming, she wrote out a ticket (they punch in or scan in your license plate, hit a code and out pops the ticket in seconds) and tendered it to me while I stood there, standing with my car, door open, foot inside waiting for my clearly visible passenger.

"This is my car," I said.  "And that is your ticket," she said smugly.

"I'm not parking, I'm standing," I said.  "There are no signs prohibiting standing."

"You're seven minutes over," she said sneeringly.  "$35 for seven minutes, five dollars a minute, three hundred dollars an hour to park in Arlington?" I asked while I still stood there with my driver's door open and my foot inside the car waiting for my passenger who was plainly visible a few feet away to get in the car.

"Take it up with the traffic board," she said.  "Do you know how hard it is to stand on this machine all day?"

I had no sympathy for her for her complaining, probably she should come down off her mount a little to address her prodigious frame.  She swirled around in the traffic lane on her Segway like the Lone Ranger rearing up Silver and roared off at twelve mph, swerving around the corner in search of quota fulfillment.

Welcome to Arlington, Virginia, friend.  My weekend running buddy who lives in Arlington assures me that Traffic Court in Arlington is merely Kangaroo Court where they'll just assess the printed penalty and then assess you 15% more in court costs for having the temerity to come in.

Do you use a film camera?

I am one of those old-fashioned people who still uses a film camera.  You can buy great cameras with phenomenal lenses for $4.99 at the thrift stores.

Usually I just carry a disposable camera around, although this bothers some people, especially younger people.  They just get annoyed that I don't have a digital camera, and when I snap a picture, they often say, "Oh, really?"

When people snap a photo with their cell phone, no one says, "Oh, really?"  That's normal apparently.

This means I have a contract with a mail-order photo-developer.  I snap pictures and two weeks later, when the developed pictures come back in the mail, I re-live the moment all over again.

Sometimes I don't know what the picture is about or where or when it was taken.  I'm not the greatest picture-taker.

Pursuant to my mail-in account, obviously, I received by mistake somebody else's pictures last week.  Nice to know there are other film picture takers out there, although their snapshots sucked as bad as mine.

I sent the pictures to the intended recipients, without asking for reimbursement for postage or anything.  Today I received in the mail a letter from them enclosing the $2.30 postage in cash in the envelope.

My kind of people.  Linda wrote,

Dear Mr. Lamberton, Thank you so much for taking the time and and money to mail our pictures to us. We have been wondering where they got to.  Enclosed is $2.30 to pay for the shipping.  It's good to know that there are still some people out there who have time to think of others.  Again, thank you so much.  [Signature.]

No, thank you, Linda!  There are still some of us people out there.

 
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