Hot Day Meant Dining Out

 

Sometimes, just sometimes, the heat brings about a moment (or two) that delights. Last night it was too hot for us to cook in our apartment. The daytime temperature reached 100 F (almost 38 C). At first even the thought of warm food seemed unappetizing. We decided to go out. 

Sushi was on our minds until I considered the cost of the restaurant we were considering.  Nope, too much. But the items this particular place carried notably gyozas and bao buns sparked Francie’s memory. She had heard of a place up north on the subway that did delicious dim sum. The name of the place was Dafu near the Alvalade metro stop. 

At its most extreme, the temperature yesterday was broiling. However, by the time we set out at 7:15 (19:15) it had dropped into the mid 80s and a breeze had kicked up. Two quick rides on the subway and a five-minute walk and we were at Dafu. We grabbed one of the two outside tables.

Upon arriving at Dafu, we were immediately struck by the inviting aroma of freshly steamed buns and savory spices wafting through the air. The modest yet charming decor exuded a cozy, authentic vibe that made us feel that the promise of delicious dim sum might be fulfilled. Even though the heat had slowed everyone's energy level, the faces of patrons and staff alike showed pleasant smiles.

We had a sampler of steamed gyoza. Also, we ordered a meat bao bun and some carrot and shrimp dumplings. Sitting out at our table on the street we watched people walk by with their dogs and let the wind blow our hair about. Cold beer was a welcome addition to the meal. 

The steamed gyoza had juicy fillings with wonderful flavors. The shrimp and carrot dumplings were served in a delicious broth that added just the right touch. The meat bao bun was soft and pillowy, and melted in our mouths, leaving our palates pleased and happy. A night out was a really, really good choice last night.

On the way back to the metro we passed three gelado places. I resisted each one but at the fourth one my willpower collapsed. The place was packed with parents, kids and grandparents who were enjoying a cooling treat on a warm night. It only took a moment and there I was eating some of the richest chocolate ice cream out of a cut standing out on the streets of Lisboa at twilight. Willpower sometimes fails when faced with with the combination of heat and ice cream. 

I tell you there is no shame in surrendering occasionally. Like the heat it sometimes brings delight.

Summer's End (Revised)

Somewhere In East Lansing 2014

In summer’s fading glory, there is sublime joy. Patches of once vibrant but now slightly dusky flowers abound. Breathe deep and you will feel both infinite and finite time. The blooms of the flowers still draw the eye from afar. Upon closer inspection even the untrained eye can see the tints of age have started to scar. Bright red, yellow and purple flowers abound shouting out to bees and bugs and humankind "I am here, I am alive for this glorious moment." They roar singing, "Let me fill you heart." But the green stems supporting them grow straw-like and burnt/brittle at the edges. 

As we survey this scene it evokes memories of past summers spent in fields of wildflowers, in the lush green woods of the north, along the mighty oceans east and west where the air was filled with the laughter of friends. Those memories hint at the bittersweet passage of time, where beauty is fleeting yet profoundly impactful. Each flower, in its last burst of color, whispers stories of long, sun-drenched days and the warmth that lingers in our hearts.

The glory of the flower takes us away from a finite moment into an eternity of delicious joy. I would call these moments the time of ripe peaches. As the liquid from that soft fleshy fruit drizzles down after you consume a mouthful the sweetness is fully satisfying, almost as sensual as an intense sex. The sticky joy of the sweet taste take us beyond this mortal space into a moment of eternity.

This summer's kingdom will soon come falling down. Look my friend, you can see it in the silvering leaves of the trees. This year’s time of short sleeves, short pants and water play will be done soon. The beaches where we sought retreat,seeking relief from the heat, will shortly be cold and desolate places. But when you see flowers full and exploding you suspend the reality of time and age and fragility. The tall grass blowing back and forth with a full beard slow the clock down for a minute so that its tick-tock-tick cannot even be perceived. The thumping of the human heart is lost in the background. 

The coming shift from summer to autumn will bring with it a sense of melancholy and nostalgia, as these vibrant hues of summer give way to fall's muted tones. We will experience bittersweet beauty watching the world transform, a reminder of the impermanence of all things. But we should appreciate the fleeting moments of warmth and joy, making sunlit days memories all the more precious.

In the summer warmth of late August, I will wrap my warped and worried frame in the joyful colors of the spectrum. I will surrender to the bird song and the rhythmic hymn of bees’ wings. They will seduce me and hypnotize me into believing this will be forever. Let us celebrate this time of sweet tastes and perfume-like smells. Let us revel in the sounds of the wild world at work, the rustling of grass and the buzzing of bees. Let the soft grass be our bed. Let our eyes be awash in the royal purple of lavender as time winds down on this short eternity. 

 

Keep Your Distance is What he Says, But Don't

Street Name in Viseu

The morning is beautiful on this day. Some clouds are out but the sun is still shining. The air is still cool and there is a breeze that makes the day promising. With such an ideal morning a walk, a good long walk is required. 

Took the metro up four stops to start my walk. Picked the east side of the street to head home on. The sun will be hidden behind those high rises until noon. Needed to get up to pace so some music was in order. Took out my hearing aids and put them in their case. Retrieved my air pods and jammed them in my ears. Kicked up some Richard Thompson. Thompson's strong guitar playing and storytelling lyrics always set the perfect tone for a morning walk. 

The flow of songs was 1952 Vincent Black Lightning, I Misunderstood, I Feel So Good, Keep Your Distance, King of Bohemia and Beeswing. Didn’t take long with this as my cadence generator to get my pace up to my standard of 3 mph. Walked a mile and a half smiling most of the way. Thompson's music has a way of making every step feel connected to the world around me. His songs are the right companions for a morning like this, full of promise and quiet beauty.

Whenever I have an extended listen to Richard Thompson’s music I am always puzzled. I kid you not I believe he is one of the greatest guitarists of the rock era. More importantly his lyrics are sharp, sly, full of depth and insight and damn catchy to boot. So why is he not one of the best-selling and most famous singer-songwriters ever?

From Leif and Liege with Fairport Convention to Shoot Out the Lights with his ex-wife Linda and beyond he has consistently created excellent songs. Many, many other artists have covered his work. One of my favorites is Linda Ronstadt’s cover of King of Bohemia. Perhaps it is because his songs are too smart to be crafted into a “hit”. Maybe it is because he is a Muslim. Possibly it is because his voice is not his strongest instrument although it has improved over the years. I don’t know why he isn’t a star but if you give him a chance he will be on your Apple Music or Spotify playlistsregularly.

Here is a song that I love because of the lyrics. Enjoy. It is let us give Richard Thompson a chance day.

Please Let the Wind Carry Me *

Monday, the first day of this new week has arrived. Sunlight floods in and the living room is growing warmer.

To combat this day's coming heat, I will roll down the living room's exterior metal blinds and block out the sunlight in total. I will leave them down until late afternoon. I have opened up the same metal blinds on the back side of the apartment which face the large neighborhood courtyard. This common space stays cool until noon. Having no air conditioning I must manage the heat with the tools available to me. 

As the sun burns fiercely back in the courtyard in the early afternoon, I will roll down the metal covers. And later when the temperature drops 25 F degrees, and the strong breezes accompanying it come at twilight, I will throw up all the shades and open all the windows. I will let the cooling wind blow through this place. Every time I do this I hear Let the Wind Carry Me play in my head.

Moving to a place where I don't control the interior weather (my apartment has no air and no heat), I have had to come to terms with the need to adjust my behaviors to the rise and fall of the sun. This means that I shop in the morning long before the sun hits its zenith. I visit the breakfast/brunch cafe when it opens at 8 or 9 in the morning and not at noon. When the afternoon comes I settle into a cool dark space and read or watch a little television. As a result of my move to this golden country, I am now more attuned to the natural rhythms of the day. I rise relatively early, prioritizing errands and conducting my activities in the cooler hours of either the morning or the evening. 

These changes have added discipline and rhythm to my daily routine. I've become more mindful of the natural cycles of the day. Also, I have come to embrace the quiet, reflective moments that come with avoiding the afternoon heat. Oft times you will find me typing things like this midafternoon in a room dark save for the glow of the computer monitor's light. I also appreciate the simple pleasures of life, like the refreshing breeze at twilight and the tranquility of the early morning. 

At first I resisted adapting to the heat, but there was little choice but to submit. The above adjustments have brought a certain mindfulness to my daily routine. You might say I have aligned my activities with the natural flow of the day. One has to learn to live in the world we are given. 

 

Coffee, Old Men and Fighting Depression

 

Bright, warm Saturday mornings are nothing short of a blessing. Me, on most Saturday mornings at 10 am I get together with some guys. Out on Duque de Avila about 40 of us gather at a padaria[1] for coffee drinks and Portuguese pastries. I like these folks.

Over espressos and galaos[2] we talk about anything and everything. Normally people talk about what they did before moving to Portugal. At most of these morning sessions probably half the table will talk about where they have just returned from or where they are traveling next. Others will talk about bureaucracy, for it is said there is no bureaucracy like the Portuguese bureaucracy. Obviously we talk about how troubled America seems to be. But we all try and keep it light and positive. 

Our coffees are always lively. Laughter punctuates the air as stories and jokes are shared. Jokes may not be the right word. Humorous stories or anecdotes from our lives are recounted. And we all have those WTF was he thinking tales. The scent of freshly baked pastries mingles with the rich aroma of coffee. Under the umbrellas out of the sun on a weekend day, it's a good place to be.

Our coffees provide a sense of community and belonging. I personally think these wide-ranging conversations provide a valuable support network for all involved. They allow us to share experiences, navigate the challenges of living abroad,and share who is the doctor to see for what and what hospital they work at. It is a time to celebrate our lives and the choices we have made. This includes the one we made when we moved to the Iberian peninsula. In many ways, Saturday mornings are a vital part of our social lives. We are friends.

One recent Saturday morning coffeetime conversation focused on the struggle between a desire to write and the interruptions that travel and social events had on one individual’s process. All the guys listened and made suggestions. However, it was clear that the writer’s frustration was not solved by this informal group therapy session. The writer was certain that only he could come up with his own viable solution.

Was this depression? I don’t think so. Listening to the tone and tenor of the conversation the speaker was simply feeling aggravation and frustration, cousins of depression, but not actual depression. I think he will eventually be able to figure out the balance he needs between his craft and his daily routine. But for another person this conversation might have been a statement showing the tip of the iceberg that is depression.

The world gets colder as we grow older, or so it seems. It is sad really. According to WebMD, 1/3rd of retirees suffer from depression. Another source, an NIH publication from 2022, pegs the number of retired individuals with depression at about 28%. So, depending on your source for information, somewhere between 1/4 and 1/3rd of those people who have aged out and left the work force suffer various levels of depression.

It is clear to me and the doctors and researchers generating this data know that it isn’t simply separation from work that causes post-retirement depression. If only 30% of your heart is working, or if you are in stage III of some cancer, you got other things to be depressed about, existential things. Thinking hard about this I looked at a couple of sources talking about retirement and its correlation with depression. I grabbed a paragraph from an NIH article abstract and ran it through an AI grammar checker. This easily understandable statement got regurgitated.

Retirement almost always involves major changes in social roles and social networks. At the same time, changes are occurring to tangible assets like income and health insurance. These changes all impact the risk and management of depression. Addressing late-life depression is challenging. Often older adults with depression have co-occurring medical problems which complicate both the appropriate diagnosis and apt pharmacologic treatment.[3] 

Health care providers know strategies to fight depression in retirees. By reading something like an AARP tabloid paper or clicking on a newsfeed item with the keywords retiree health, you will see the list of action items. These strategies include engaging in regular physical activity, participating in social and community groups, and practicing mindfulness or cognitive-behavioral therapy. 

In most cases, a paragraph below the one containing the above suggestions will provide additional tips. Retired people are urged to develop hobbies and interests to provide purpose. The final lines in the article will reference establishing a consistent routine and maintaining strong social connections. This is because “experts” find these are critical components of supporting emotional well-being. 

One of the things we discussed on Saturday is the wall retirees hit when “the checklist” is done. Coming to Portugal we all had checklists. There were the basics, easy to state but challenging to accomplish like obtaining a visa to enter the country and then applying for a residency permit. To accomplish these, we all needed residential leases or purchased apartments. Then there were things like bus passes and medical cards. When you get a place you have to furnish it too. Yeah, all these things were on the checklists and kept us busy. Note that even if you remain at the place where you were upon retirement you most likely have a checklist. It usually involves updating the will, fixing the back porch roof, weeding what used to be the garden, etc. And yes that checklist will also come to completion.

A year may pass. Maybe it will take eighteen months. Completing the lists will probably not take more than two years. But there will always come a day when the checklists are ticked off. Then what? At that moment you face the massive wall of what’s next. At that point where you are headed and what you do next become acute questions.

I retired in January 2020 just before the world stopped and took a two-year breather. I spent two years like everyonetrying to stay alive. I ordered tons of supplies online. Got groceries delivered to my car trunk.  Took gallons of paint and redid my living room. Yup I had a I am stuck here in the middle of America checklist developed in the early months of the pandemic. But prior to retiring I created the “Let Us Move to Portugal” checklist. While 85% of what I did during the pandemic was stuff around the house, I kept plugging away at the Portugal checklist.

***

[Two days have passed.]

Going to be hot today.  According to my phone it will hit 85 F. Thing is I can handle a dry 85 but the humidity is way, way up there. In order to get my exercise in I decided to take a walk early. Covered 1 .3 miles at 3 mph and I got a little glow going. Yeah, yeah I hear the snickering out there. A half hour walk ain’t nothing I hear you thinking. True. But…I do it almost every day. And I do it several times a day. By day’s end I will have racked up five miles and 12,000 or more steps. And yes I know 10k steps is an absurd and irrelevant number.

In a few minutes I will hang the laundry out to dry.  When I came in from my walk the washing machine said there were13 minutes left to go. After that I will read a downloaded book on my iPad. Maybe later I'll watch a little TV, maybe binge a noir drama. No matter what, I will write. Oh yeah I will purge my email. Over the years I have accumulated way too many people who want my money. They all write to me for their causes almost every day.

Truth be told I struggled with how to end this piece. Although my checklist was done some while ago I am not depressed. Existential angst I have by the boatload, but depression I don't have.  I can lay awake at night wondering if anything I have done has meaning and for that matter whether humanity and life itself have meaning. But in the morning I wake up looking forward to brewing coffee, taking a walk, writing, trying to come up with a trip somewhere that doesn’t break the bank. And then I get to say mean things on Facebook and watch the turmoil brewing over the election. And then I can check my news feed and be repulsed by all the shit going on in the world. And then I write to people and we talk about kids and life hacks and memories.

These things are enough for me.  They keep darkness at bay. I am sorry that a large number of my fellow retirees are suffering. I really don’t know what will improve their lot but as long as I can walk, read and type I think the monster will stay away. If it gets really bad for me there is always macrame. Oh yeah my wife is somewhere painting rocks today. 

 

 

---

[1]  A business where pastries, cookies and coffee drinks are produced and sold. There is often outside seating available at tables all under broad umbrellas.

[2] A hot drink from Portugal made by adding foamed milk to espresso coffee. Similar to caffè latte or café au lait, it consists of one quarter coffee and three quarters foamed milk. It is served in a tall glass.

[3] Dang L, Ananthasubramaniam A, Mezuk B. Spotlight on the Challenges of Depression following Retirement and Opportunities for Interventions. Clin Interv Aging. 2022 Jul 7;17:1037-1056. doi: 10.2147/CIA.S336301. PMID: 35855744; PMCID: PMC9288177.

 

 

 

So Many Thanks to Give But I Will Start Off with Really Just One

Sometimes there are moments of grace in this world. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes the stars align. I have had my share of the better things in life. Shamefully I have not celebrated the events or the people who made them happen enough.

Maybe I will someday write up a list of people to thank for the good they have brought into my life. From my mother who urged me to always try and achieve the most I could academically to my father who insisted I live by time tested principles of honor and integrity various people gave me gifts some tangible and some intangible. I owe both my late parents many thanks. Also, I owe my wife thanks for giving me great kids, incredible support when things got rough, and three-square meals a day for almost forty years. Oh yeah, and I owe her thanks because she loves me.

I mean there are odd people like John Dorsey who introduced me to jazz, one of my musical passions.  From the Mahavishnu Orchestra to Miles Davis those late nights sitting around Butterfield Hall listening to jazz changed how my brain worked. In the vein of thanks owed it would be impossible not to mention one of my former girlfriends who shamed me into being much, much neater. My old roommate Nate actually called me out when I stopped throwing my dirty clothing into a pile in the corner of our room and started using a laundry basket. Thank you, you know who you are.

There are three doctors I owe my deepest thanks to. These are first Anthony Meier. M.D., second the gent at LIU whose name I cannot spell, and finally Dr. Sam Kaffenberger at U of M Taubman. Tony Meier found evidence of prostate cancer in me way before it normally comes to light. He handed me over to the guy at the Lansing Institute of Urology who DaVinci machined my ass and rendered me prostate cancer free for a full 18 years after diagnosis. The same LIU doctor when I had a slight bladder irritation sent me for a CT scan and found a small tumor in my left kidney. He sent me for a biopsy and viola it was renal cancer.

Because the doctor at LIU was about to retire, I decided to travel to the University of Michigan for treatment. I asked one of the ladies who know in East Lansing (a subset of the ladies who lunch) who was the pro from Dover for renal cancer at U of M. I got a referral to him but his staff bounced me to another guy. Seems my tumor was too small for him to work on. The second one bounced me for the same damn reason. My tumor was too small for his standards. He sent me to the next guy, the new guy. I checked the new guy out and with a path running through Sloan Kettering I decided to trust Dr. Kaffenberger with my life.

From the get go Dr. Kaffenberger was compassionate, understanding and very, very real. He made me feel confident in my choice to let him do the cutting on me. Losing a fifth of my left kidney hurt but the care and follow up I got from this fine doctor gave me hope.

Today after five years of annual visits my annual conversations with this good doctor about life in Portugal and raising challenging children have ended.  Five years out the tables and charts say I have less than a 1 % chance kidney cancer will recur. So, the insurance company will no longer pay for that once a year drugged up MRI and the following ½ hour chat between me and the good doctor. We said goodbye today, a good goodbye and the doc said if I needed anything medical, fire him off an email and he would match me up with the best out there. I believe him

I celebrate you Dr. Kaffenberger and your team at U of M.

 

May You Be Born In Interesting Times, or….

 

My Level of Anxiety

23 July 2024

May you live in interesting times. I don’t know which is the correct phrasing. Both have appeared in fortune cookies over the years. Supposedly the saying comes from an ancient Chinese proverb. Unfortunately, I do not know the phrase’s provenance and am unsure about the philosophical or experiential underpinning of the maxim.

For all I know the folksy bon mot was made up by some eastern European immigrant while working in a bakery in Passaic. Maybe he crafted it while working in a place supplying restaurants in New York’s Chinatown with specialty treats. According to the fortune cookie wiki (and we all trust wikis, right?) “They most likely originated from cookies made by Japanese immigrants to the United States in the late 19th or early 20th century. The Japanese version did not have the Chinese lucky numbers and were eaten with tea.”

Origins aside the key words about when one should exist that being “interesting times” seem to have some salience for me regarding the past several weeks. I mean a botched debate, an assassination attempt, and a sitting President dropping out of his run for reelection are all momentous events that took place together to produce an "interesting time" in the world.  I mean this is the macro level of interesting times for me.

For me, there is also a micro level of "interesting times". During my visit to the US, I watched the aforementioned political drama with my young adult children. These young men are shaking their heads at what they perceive are the wrong directions America is taking again and again. But my interesting times also include a fiftieth high school reunion (damn I got old), medical visits, taking care of the old family home, shopping for various odds and ends to bring back to Europe and then enduring the circle of Dante’s Inferno that is modern air travel.

Having watched six days of nonstop political ads running in Pennsylvania back in June, seen Trump’s RNC show, and then observing Biden falling out of the race for the presidency, I can say I am more afraid of the prospects for our democracy than I was during the Watergate scandal last months. And I was scarred shitless then. Interesting times/strange days indeed.

I have to tell you hearing things like this comment from people like Ohio state Sen. George Lang, a Republican representing the West Chester district at a rally featuring the Republican’s VP nominee that if Republicans don’t win it in the fall that a civil war could be necessary to save the country is deeply frightening. Now mind you Lang has apparently been taken to the woodshed by the national Republican party. He now deeply regrets his “divisive remarks” and understands he must be more circumspect in his language going forward. But he is not alone in these kinds of remarks. It strikes me as similar to an experienced lawyer asking a highly prejudicial question during a trial only to “respectfully withdraw” the question when the judge and opposing counsel rage. Once the comment has reached the jury’s ears any instruction to disregard the question is pointless since the seed has been planted.

I am not afraid for myself. I have had a good life.  Hell, I just showed up to my 50th reunion with my aching knees and all. Also, I don’t live in America anymore so the threat to my personal integrity should things turn sideways during this election is greatly diminished. But I am worried for democracy when such language and ideas as offered by Mr. Lang above permeate election races and bubble just below what is openly said. I am afraid for my children. My boys live in a diminished world. But now they have to fear potential neighbor-on-neighbor violence when this election draws near. Unlike in previously highly disputed elections that potential is not null but actually has a value that is a whole number. We live in frightening times.