I have put up three posts in the past week (my first week of blogging).  Given my tendency to ruminate (I’m a ruminater…)  I have found commonality between these three experiences.  Here it is.

The three are: 1) delivering my Eureka moment at my college reunion, 2) watching Maiya Sykes on the Voice, and 3) seeing the movie At Middleton.  All three of these have stayed with me, which means they keep coming up in my mind, again and again.

What they have in common is that they are about people (including me) who somehow manage to break out of the routines (and emotional shackles)  of their daily lives, and for one brief shining moment express who they are in a clear and concise way.  My talk was four minutes long, and Maiya’s performance only two minutes.  But into these few minutes were concentrated the feelings from a lifetime, and the impact and reaction from others reflected that intensity. At Middleton showed in 90 minutes two people breaking free after a chance encounter, but poignantly having to return to their limited and limiting lives.

I wrote in my first post about telling the truth.  These are the kinds of truth-telling experiences that remind me how rich my life is.

…It’s Friday afternoon and I am at home and thoroughly bushed.  I’ve had a Coke and a cup of ultra-strong coffee (Peet’s Major Dickason blend–amazingly flavorful), done 20 minutes of hypnosis (Tom Nicoli tape), and taken a nap, and I am barely beginning to feel human again (after a short but intense morning of ENT (ear nose throat) cases at work).  Yesterday was crazy.  I was “in charge” for anesthesia.  By the end of the day I was reminded of the difference between an anesthesiologist and a nurse anesthetist.  Want to hear it?

First let me say that this is not a diss on CRNAs (certified registered nurse anesthetists)–I have the utmost regard for them after many years of working with them.  They work hard, are very committed to patient care, and tend to practice more conservatively than MDs, which is usually good.  Many years ago a CRNA friend of mind told me a semi-joke:  Question: “What’s the difference between an anesthesiologist and a CRNA?” Answer:  (spoken by a CRNA)  “When Barbra Streisand comes into the operating room with a hot appendix, YOU get to intubate her.” (Intubation is where a plastic breathing tube is placed between the vocal cords, and must be done carefully to avoid damaging them.)

While I would agree with that witticism, there is a second difference.  An anesthesiologist has to cancel cases, which is an exhausting medical and political process.  (“Cancel” is shorthand for postponing cases or rescheduling them to a hospital rather than an ambulatory surgicenter.) Following the rule “First, do no harm”, i.e. protecting the patient against the system, is often very hard to do.

I love movies.

This one we stumbled upon last night on Starz.  The title could be better, but the movie is charming and well done.  It is directed by Adam Rodgers (do not know him) and stars Andy Garcia (take your pick) and Vera Farmiga (Up in the Air) as prospective parents (of different children) who escape from a boring college tour and, over the course of a day,  fall in love.  The ideas are creative, the screenplay is good, and the performances are wonderful.  It came out last year and was apparently a “sleeper”.  We saw it in our usual way: we saw the last 90 minutes, went to sleep, and the next day found it on On Demand and watched the whole thing again.

IMDb gave it a 6.5, rotten tomatoes a 58, but I think it’s better than either of these scores.  The Ed-ometer gives it two big thumbs up (left and right).

This past weekend I participated in a program at my fortieth college reunion.  It was called “Eureka moments” and consisted of 5-minute talks about moments that changed the course of our lives.  Mine involved the birth of our older son with a severe meconium aspiration, followed shortly by my father’s death.

This entry is not about that moment, but about this moment, giving my talk.  I “overprepared” for the talk, writing and rewriting it repeatedly, cutting out extraneous words and phrases.  I knew I was going to be presenting it to a special group of people, and I wanted it to be perfect.

I felt confident that the talk would go well, but I underestimated how well.  The 150 listeners gave their rapt attention to every word I said, and laughed heartily even when I didn’t expect it–both quotes from my dad.  Afterwards I got thanks, handshakes, hugs, and shared stories which were similar to mine, but sometimes with a less happy ending.

I felt I showed my college classmates who I am, and they affirmed me.  It was a wonderful feeling.  I will never forget it.

This is my first real blog.  I am writing this, not because I have something urgent to say, but just to get into the habit of writing every day or so.  So a journal, so to speak.

I’ve started to write emotional posts on facebook which have brought me closer to several of my facebook friends. The entry “Reflections on a DVD player” is an example.  I’ve loved the immediacy of the reactions I’ve gotten, and, like Sally Field at the Oscars, feel gratified that “you like me, you really like me”.  So this is one reason I write, to be liked.

Why else do I write?  I am a fan of the truth.  I believe that “the truth will set you free”.  On the other hand, avoiding the truth leaves you imprisoned by half-truths, lies, and often cowardice. Fame and success are two of the biggest lies, and many around me have been seduced by them.

I am not famous, and my successes have been modest. But I, at the age of 61, am trying to come to terms with what I have accomplished, and what I still have to offer the world, or at least my loved ones, before I kick the bucket.

So this is the third reason I write. I want to make a contribution.

Friends, stay tuned.

-my greatest soccer game ever–Hopkins

-three men (Gerry S.)–

critical aortic stenosis at MiltH —at NWH intern year  pronouncing non teaching patients

blowing out lateral wall at NWH–when did she get this huge MR murmur? Emily F***

Lynn S’s malignant hypertension patient

Tennis—Jim “you can be as good as you want to be”  yip on serve toss

voice “Ed, you can do whatever you want…”

-Peter and I doing drills—inner tennis–losing peter as a partner—laver rosewall stolle newcombe

Skiing and skating—ice skating with Jonny “I thought you were a good skater!”      —hockey “he’ll be playing with girls!”

Carol taking off on roller skates at the Cambridge Public Library

Going to gunstock (?too embarassing)—Loon glade course: I shine! whiz past kids

dentist story from hi school

Juarez dying, doing huge literature search for nts paper

Dad judo coach—Dad kite—A boy named Sue

tell you where the gold is; choosing neuroanatomy & anesthesia

Self selecting populations
Being mad at Robin
Brown music chairman

anesthesia—cancelling for URI–mixed feelings–how to do a jaw thrust

my writing career: pete w, vonnegut, washington post, doubleday, writer’s block bigtime

my a capella history: hilltoppers, harmonaires, herb r., spizzwinks, mr. hart, whiffs, chris peters

freshman week: vonnegut, mary, bob m, jeff L, bruce st, bedroom issues, henry n & mary, emotionally spent for meeting strangers (because of yale week), wanting to recreate my family experience with people who did not want to

experiences with gail. energy crisis, driving buick to divinity ave., snow, accident on I-91 in snowstorm “i know some really excellent drivers” hitchhiker

hacker’s haven–panic about money, Tom giving me $3 from register

bruce k, father at french restaurant, french onion soup, his death, funeral in Calais VT

3/24/2015 current interests: computer-building, waltons, jeremy lin  future interests: a capella time after time (whiffs version) reconstruct it (no sheet music available)

4/2/2015

my anxiety broke today, and on the way home I bought Changer and Changed and listened to it on 117.  a lot of ideas came out:

my freshman year in college–being rejected by my roommates–Uncle Kurt’s class–writer’s block–bureau of study counsel–bailed out by George B/Bill K/Michael L

Bruce K–track down

camp–16 yo–Beth–Bill & Pat–sprained ankle–Dottie’s music ringing out–Sue S. Cris Williamson in barn–to become my emotional song when mourning my dad

4/10/15  Washington DC  fireflies red sox senators game

Today our neighbor Brendan told us that things had been stolen out of their car, including $1000 of gift cards & their kids’ portable DVD player. I got very excited, ran up to our son David’s room, and brought Brendan a DVD player that we had bought David 8 years ago, that he had never used. But after that a feeling of sadness came over me. This DVD player had been a millstone around my neck for the last 8 years, during which time I kept checking its battery, charging it up, unplugging it again, etc. I had finally found a home for it. Why the sadness? I finally realized that the player was a connection between me & David. Every time I checked it, I thought about him. Every time I felt annoyed about having to tend to it, I thought about him. Now he is out of our home, married, in a new home of his own, well into his own adult life. But every time he and Amanda come to visit, they have their own little home in our home.