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Showing posts from June, 2006

This Gentle Night

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They say you should record your dreams, though I had nightmare this week that I would surely love to forget. It was a sneaky bastard, coming to me sometime after dawn, like the milkman, instead of the usual dead of night routine, and it shook me right down to my ankles. I woke up around 4 AM, feeling fully rested, and decided to get a few hours more sleep before getting up for work. Big mistake. It seems like the second I closed my eyes I was in the middle of this hell dream. I was on the couch watching as my father slowly collapsed to the floor of our dining room. In the dream I ran by my late mother, who was sitting on a chair in the living room and did not look up when my dad fell. She was alive and healthy in the dream, and appeared to be watching TV, though I don't recall it being on. It was like I was running through time, racing through the past, represented by my mother, to my dad lying there on the floor. I ran over to my father, tried to get him to talk to me, and then I

All Clear

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Father's Day came a little late this year, as we found out today my dad does not have cancer. He had his colonoscopy today and despite the dire predictions of his regular physician--a 70% chance of cancer--my dad came away with a reasonably clean bill of health, given his age. Or, as the old man used to say when he was much younger, "you're in good shape for the shape you're in." I will now take this opportunity to say that I was wrong to think we shouldn't have ordered the test. I thought the stress would be too much and not worth the effort since he's in no condition for surgery or chemo. Now that it's over, I see the value in having all the answers instead of just guessing. What's causing the weight loss and the incontinence? I don't know. The specialist thinks my father's medication may be causing all the misery with his guts. I suppose they'll be more testing, but at least we eliminated one big question mark. The Night Before the D

By Any Other Name

How many different expressions are there for the word "vomit"? One thousand? One million? When faced with the ugly things in this world, we poor mortals come up with colorful descriptions to lessen their impact. Just look at all the synonms for death. Arthur C. Clarke wrote a classic science fiction story called "The Nine Billion Names of God," where these monks in Tibet dedicate their lives to compiling a list of all the terms for the Almighty. Once they're done, they believe, the universe will end. I think there are probably even more terms for reverse peristalsis and I suspect those monks would be very busy if they took on this little project. How many can you--pardon the expression--come up with? Upchuck, hurl, barf, heave, puke, chunder, Technicolor yawn, praying at the porcelain altar, tossing your cookies, losing your lunch--shall I go on? No, I don't think so. I got to thinking about this rather unpleasant subject today as I headed back to the office

It Happened On Thompson Street

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When I was a kid, my father always used to brag about his "unerring sense of direction." Time after time, when we were on vacation, or out for a daytrip, my father would find shortcuts to our destination, getting us around traffic, construction sites, natural disasters and other obstacles. And always, as we emerged from some tiny sideroad, a few miles away from wherever we were going, he would sit tall in the driver's seat and say, "once again, my unerring sense of direction has found the way." No, he's not a modest man and his boasting about his sense of direction got to be annoying as well as unerring. It did seem impressive, though, at least to a child. My father appeared to have some kind of sixth sense or radar to guide him through unknown territory. There are some aspects of my father's personality that I don't want or would like to get rid of, but one thing I know I did not inherit and could sorely use today is--yes, that's right--his une

And That's the Way It Is...

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"You must do the things you think you cannot do." --Eleanor Roosevelt Katie Couric has nothing to worry about. I made my web video debut on Tuesday and that 6-6-6 date turned out to be quite fitting. It was hell on earth. I'm a reporter for an online business news outfit and I've been threatening to do a video commentary for the site for several months. Part of the problem, aside from cowardice, was the structure of my beat, which is pretty much meatball business journalism. I write about stocks, any stocks, that are moving dramatically up or down. Without a "normal" beat, where I cover one industry or sector, it gets hard to know particular companies. In the course of a day, I write about biotechs, mining companies, dotcoms, retailers, and anything else that looks remotely newsworthy. I had seen other reporters do video spots and I was itching to try it. I had a chance to do live TV while I was at CNNfn.com, but I never took the opportunity and I always reg

The Graduate

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My niece Kristin graduated from high school yesterday and I still can't believe it. Like most geezers in my age bracket, I look at the passage of time and say something brilliant like "Oh, my God, I can't believe it!" I remember the day Kristin was born, back when I was working at a weekly paper in Brooklyn. The phone rang and I heard my mother's voice on the other end of the line exclaiming, "Robert, you're an uncle!" "Boy or girl?" I shouted. "Girl!" And then I began pounding my fist on the desk, I was so bloody happy. My boss, who was hardly one of my favorite people, let me go out and buy a new outfit for my new niece. And off I went. I remember seeing Kristin in the hosptial; I remember holding her for the first time when my brother and his wife brought her home, walking back and forth like a guard at Buckingham Palace. I was so nervous, so excited, I didn't know what the hell to do first. When she got a little older, I s