"I drink Heartbreak Motor Oil, and Bombay Gin.
I'll sleep when I'm dead.
Straight from the bottle, twisted again.
I'll sleep when I'm dead."
--Warren Zevon, I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
"Shadows are falling and I'm running out breath;
Keep me in your heart for awhile.
If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less;
Keep me in your heart for a while.
***
These wheels keep on turning but they're running out of steam;
Keep me in your heart for while.
--Warren Zevon, Keep Me in Your Heart, The Wind, 2004
Another sort of seismic shift this past week . Sleep has gone from bad to absolutely horrible. I'm afraid the end is in sight. 90 minutes here, up for 2 1/2 hours, 75 minutes there, up for another 1 1/2 hours, maybe 2 hours after that. This is with Atavan (a supposed sleeping aid/anti anxiety pill.) Hell, the only thing I'm worried about is not sleeping.
Say what you want about coke, crack, methamphetamine, etc,. As far as I'm concerned, the Devil's own is Decadron. It prevent swelling in the brain, apparently by keeping the blood flowing in the brain full blast 24/7.
On a completely unrelated note, donations are being taken for my children's college fund until Friday this week, for the publication or non publication of photos arising out of a certain party on May 19, 2007. :-)
Monday, May 28, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
How do they do it?
Whatever gets you through the night,
it's all right, it's all right.
--John Lennon, "Whatever Gets You Through the Night" (1974)
"The Strongest Man in the World is the Man who Stands Alone."
--Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People, Part 5 (1882)
She went to undergrad at the University of Iowa at the same time I did, and then went to work in another city as I was going to law school. Our marriage has always truly been a partnership; the things she's good at I'm not; and vice versa.
One thing I have steadfastly refused to do since I was diagnosed with with brain cancer in 2002 is fool with the medical bills . It's not that I couldn't do it; hell, I did it all the time in divorces, personal injury cases, and workman's compensation cases. If there was one thing I spent a lot of time with, it was these bills--they are the bread and butter of the legal profession for attempting to value and settle cases. But I couldn't bear to fool with my own stuff (a) while I was trying to work; and (b) while trying to recover from news and treatments emotionally, physically, spiritually and otherwise.
Melissa stepped in and never missed a beat. What you must realize, is that nearly every service you receive a bill for is double, triple and sometimes quadruple billed. These are often sent simultaneously with nasty letters telling you pay some outrageous copay or sometimes the whole bill, or otherwise make payment arrangements or else they will ruin your (or worse yet, your spouses' credit rating). Basically, unless you tell them to fuck off, get there bosses on the phone, threaten them with violations of the Fair Credit Reporting Act (which they have almost inevitably committed) , they will try to force you into some sort of "payment plan" for those items which they claim are not covered by your health insurance. The funny (odd, definitely not ha, ha funny) thing is these charges are all fungible. Once the billing people have decided they have choked as much money as they can out of you, they move on.
Melissa and I have had several experiences with a neurosurgeon who I consider to be the most most brilliant neurosurgeon in the Central United States, bar none. Some people don't like him because they say his beside manner manner leaves something to be desired. This is probably true for a lot of people,who want their hand held throughout the the process. I'm not one of them. I, like the good doctor, but I am an extreme, type "A" personality. Tell me what you know for sure, what nobody knows, and what given my overall condition you think is going to happen. This guy does that. In fact, all my doctors now do. I can't afford to waste time listening to a bunch of happy horseshit about how some people beat the odds; we all are pretty damn sure I won't; so skip the platitudes. My time used to be worth between $175 and $250 hour, depending on the case. Now, it's priceless.
This particular neurosurgeon invested in a clinic about 15 miles away from the hospital I'm at , which is new, very nice and does MRI's (a necessity when gauging cancer treatments) amongst other things. After one or two times there, we refused to keep going there because they charged $300.00 more for an MRI than the facility next door to the hospital. The equipment was the same; (there was no more detail from the MRI in the equipment from the newer facility), only the cost (and inconvenience) was greater, which in turn made our co-pay greater. The good doctor gave Melissa a bunch of grief about it until Melissa explained why to him. He couldn't believe it until he looked into it and, found out she was correct about the substantial rate difference. He could hardly believe it himself.
This kind of crap goes on all off the time. My favorite though, is charging for procedures never performed and things (e.g. medication, health aids, etc.) never received. Melissa, bless her heart, not only was present for every medical procedure our children went through, but for all of mine. She knows what was done by the Doctors, nurses, etc., what was not done, and makes sure the bills are adjusted accordingly. At times, she has had to direct our own insurance company not pay certain bills. It is who we are and where we come from.
If they start in with threatening us about the bills, the first thing we do is ask for an itemized statement, right down to every last Tylenol, every 7up, etc. They will be shocked when you ask for this. That's okay. Let 'em be. Next point you make is that they and their bosses will have jobs for about 30 seconds after you report their doctor to the medical board for fraudulent charges on your bill which are nearly inevitable. It is really fun to to tell them how you are directing your insurer not to pay certain items because the the services were not performed. It is amazing how easy it is to work out a payment plan at this point in time and get agreements (in writing of course), that your credit will not be affected, and any previous blemishes removed.
But others are not nearly as well educated as we are; do not have a veritable army of lawyers ready to go to the mat for them; do not care about being overbilled; cannot comprehend one bill sent to them, must less three bills for the same damn thing. "Negotiated rates", the euphemism for for what insured people are charged for a certain procedure, go out the window when dealing with uninsured people. They are headed to bankruptcy court come hell or highwater as far as the medical profession is concerned. The same MRI which costs us $1200 -$1500 with insurance, suddenly becomes a $2250 charge with no insurance; it is one of the the dirty little secrets of the medical profession and at least one of the reasons doctors and lawyers tend to become natural enemies. [Although in all fairness, I've known many a lawyer willing to set up "payment plans" for clients who couldn't pay their bills. "Coincidentally", perhaps, these are the same lawyers who generally aren't very good.] Doctors generally feed their billing out to a third party.
Finally, there are doctors everywhere looking for glory in the form of publication of new treatments, i.e. studies . These experimental studies are the bread and butter of the medical profession, especially for certain doctors. (Hence the saying, "Publish or perish".) In a smaller town like Des Moines, (Metro population about 400-500 K) they really try to push "qualified" candidates into their studies. These doctors tend to be a hell of a lot more worried about their precious studies than they are about the patients. Since most studies turn out to be garbage (at least from the patient's perspective), this is not necessarily a good thing. Patients are generally given limited information about the risks, the possible benefits are played up, and boom, they are in the study. The only possible defense is to study up on the proposed treatments and make sure you are making an informed decision. When dealing with a primarily older population, whose minds are clouded by radiation and/or chemo drugs, you can pretty easily guess the way most of those conversations go, preying on the fears of the elderly, etc.
How do they do it? Not very well, I'm afraid unless they get the right doctors by chance.
it's all right, it's all right.
--John Lennon, "Whatever Gets You Through the Night" (1974)
"The Strongest Man in the World is the Man who Stands Alone."
--Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People, Part 5 (1882)
"I hate those Internet fuckers."
--3 Doctors overheard speaking to 3 other doctors on seperate occassions at IMMC (Des Moines), Mayo Clinic (Minneapolois-St.Paul), and M.D. Anderson (Houston) 2003-2007.
She went to undergrad at the University of Iowa at the same time I did, and then went to work in another city as I was going to law school. Our marriage has always truly been a partnership; the things she's good at I'm not; and vice versa.
One thing I have steadfastly refused to do since I was diagnosed with with brain cancer in 2002 is fool with the medical bills . It's not that I couldn't do it; hell, I did it all the time in divorces, personal injury cases, and workman's compensation cases. If there was one thing I spent a lot of time with, it was these bills--they are the bread and butter of the legal profession for attempting to value and settle cases. But I couldn't bear to fool with my own stuff (a) while I was trying to work; and (b) while trying to recover from news and treatments emotionally, physically, spiritually and otherwise.
Melissa stepped in and never missed a beat. What you must realize, is that nearly every service you receive a bill for is double, triple and sometimes quadruple billed. These are often sent simultaneously with nasty letters telling you pay some outrageous copay or sometimes the whole bill, or otherwise make payment arrangements or else they will ruin your (or worse yet, your spouses' credit rating). Basically, unless you tell them to fuck off, get there bosses on the phone, threaten them with violations of the Fair Credit Reporting Act (which they have almost inevitably committed) , they will try to force you into some sort of "payment plan" for those items which they claim are not covered by your health insurance. The funny (odd, definitely not ha, ha funny) thing is these charges are all fungible. Once the billing people have decided they have choked as much money as they can out of you, they move on.
Melissa and I have had several experiences with a neurosurgeon who I consider to be the most most brilliant neurosurgeon in the Central United States, bar none. Some people don't like him because they say his beside manner manner leaves something to be desired. This is probably true for a lot of people,who want their hand held throughout the the process. I'm not one of them. I, like the good doctor, but I am an extreme, type "A" personality. Tell me what you know for sure, what nobody knows, and what given my overall condition you think is going to happen. This guy does that. In fact, all my doctors now do. I can't afford to waste time listening to a bunch of happy horseshit about how some people beat the odds; we all are pretty damn sure I won't; so skip the platitudes. My time used to be worth between $175 and $250 hour, depending on the case. Now, it's priceless.
This particular neurosurgeon invested in a clinic about 15 miles away from the hospital I'm at , which is new, very nice and does MRI's (a necessity when gauging cancer treatments) amongst other things. After one or two times there, we refused to keep going there because they charged $300.00 more for an MRI than the facility next door to the hospital. The equipment was the same; (there was no more detail from the MRI in the equipment from the newer facility), only the cost (and inconvenience) was greater, which in turn made our co-pay greater. The good doctor gave Melissa a bunch of grief about it until Melissa explained why to him. He couldn't believe it until he looked into it and, found out she was correct about the substantial rate difference. He could hardly believe it himself.
This kind of crap goes on all off the time. My favorite though, is charging for procedures never performed and things (e.g. medication, health aids, etc.) never received. Melissa, bless her heart, not only was present for every medical procedure our children went through, but for all of mine. She knows what was done by the Doctors, nurses, etc., what was not done, and makes sure the bills are adjusted accordingly. At times, she has had to direct our own insurance company not pay certain bills. It is who we are and where we come from.
If they start in with threatening us about the bills, the first thing we do is ask for an itemized statement, right down to every last Tylenol, every 7up, etc. They will be shocked when you ask for this. That's okay. Let 'em be. Next point you make is that they and their bosses will have jobs for about 30 seconds after you report their doctor to the medical board for fraudulent charges on your bill which are nearly inevitable. It is really fun to to tell them how you are directing your insurer not to pay certain items because the the services were not performed. It is amazing how easy it is to work out a payment plan at this point in time and get agreements (in writing of course), that your credit will not be affected, and any previous blemishes removed.
But others are not nearly as well educated as we are; do not have a veritable army of lawyers ready to go to the mat for them; do not care about being overbilled; cannot comprehend one bill sent to them, must less three bills for the same damn thing. "Negotiated rates", the euphemism for for what insured people are charged for a certain procedure, go out the window when dealing with uninsured people. They are headed to bankruptcy court come hell or highwater as far as the medical profession is concerned. The same MRI which costs us $1200 -$1500 with insurance, suddenly becomes a $2250 charge with no insurance; it is one of the the dirty little secrets of the medical profession and at least one of the reasons doctors and lawyers tend to become natural enemies. [Although in all fairness, I've known many a lawyer willing to set up "payment plans" for clients who couldn't pay their bills. "Coincidentally", perhaps, these are the same lawyers who generally aren't very good.] Doctors generally feed their billing out to a third party.
Finally, there are doctors everywhere looking for glory in the form of publication of new treatments, i.e. studies . These experimental studies are the bread and butter of the medical profession, especially for certain doctors. (Hence the saying, "Publish or perish".) In a smaller town like Des Moines, (Metro population about 400-500 K) they really try to push "qualified" candidates into their studies. These doctors tend to be a hell of a lot more worried about their precious studies than they are about the patients. Since most studies turn out to be garbage (at least from the patient's perspective), this is not necessarily a good thing. Patients are generally given limited information about the risks, the possible benefits are played up, and boom, they are in the study. The only possible defense is to study up on the proposed treatments and make sure you are making an informed decision. When dealing with a primarily older population, whose minds are clouded by radiation and/or chemo drugs, you can pretty easily guess the way most of those conversations go, preying on the fears of the elderly, etc.
How do they do it? Not very well, I'm afraid unless they get the right doctors by chance.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Today's Top 10
Another Guest Columnist, Dean Schmitz, (Hey, I can get used to this!) , that is one of my oldest friends. Without further ado:
Top 10 Things I’ve learned from Tommy Clarke in the 25 years I have known him:
Lists are for geeks, so here is mine.
10. Well, the very first thing I learned about Tom was that he was smarter than me. Learned that right away when I met him. And not just book smart, but wise to the world smart. He knew things that I hadn’t ever thought about. Heck, still haven’t thought about them. He opened my eyes to many things beyond which I was aware.
9. Even smart people can be wrong. See Tom’s thoughts on the Hawkeyes vs. the Cyclones. Go CLONES!
8. I learned a lot about music. I have always considered myself a music geek, but learned about a lot of good music through Tom. Joe Walsh/James Gang, Creedence, Cougar, Jackson Browne, etc.
7. Treat people right. I think he learned this from his parents. Tommy has always been good to people. I really don’t remember him ever treating anyone badly. Unless they deserved it of course. But, in general, Tom is very thoughtful, caring and interested in others. Sounds like that continued into his career, which is a wonderful thing.
6. Let’s just say that Tommy “improved” my drinking skills. He also taught me to like beer - the hard way (we got way too drunk on vodka and I have never felt worse the next day). Don’t drink before a Physics final with Tom – he will pass and you will not.
5. Humor. Tom is funny as all get out. I still have multiple letters that I received from Tom during our college years, before the Internet made writing physical letters on paper a thing of the past. I still get them out every once in a while and read them. Sarcastic, cynical, whatever. Laughing is a good thing and Tom always makes me laugh.
4. The importance of good conversation. Tom is always ready for a good conversation. This is probably connected to #6 above. I don’t believe I am a very good conversationalist, but with the right people and the right topic, I can get going. I need to get better at this, because as Tom has shown me, there is a lot to learn from others, just by joining them in conversation.
3. Surround yourself with good people. Tom has been lucky like a lot of us to be born into a good family. But he also surrounded himself with good people who he calls friends. Then he met Melissa and realized he had another good person that he needed in his life. I am also lucky to have a good people in my life (especially my wife) and am very thankful for it.
2. There is always time to say hello (again). I spent a decent amount of time hanging out with Tommy in high school and somewhat kept in touch in college. From there, we lost touch as friends do. I hadn’t seen Tom in a long while and then talked to him at our 20th year high school reunion. Since then, I have been back in contact with Tom, trading emails and CDs. It has been great as I always enjoy his company. You can always say hello to a friend, no matter how long it has been since you last talked.
1. New things right up until today. From this blog alone, perseverance & inner strength. To enjoy life. To love the people in your life with all your heart. The importance of making a positive difference in people’s lives. To “shock” people by using common courtesy. Be thankful for the small things and don’t forget to read the bible.
Top 10 Things I’ve learned from Tommy Clarke in the 25 years I have known him:
Lists are for geeks, so here is mine.
10. Well, the very first thing I learned about Tom was that he was smarter than me. Learned that right away when I met him. And not just book smart, but wise to the world smart. He knew things that I hadn’t ever thought about. Heck, still haven’t thought about them. He opened my eyes to many things beyond which I was aware.
9. Even smart people can be wrong. See Tom’s thoughts on the Hawkeyes vs. the Cyclones. Go CLONES!
8. I learned a lot about music. I have always considered myself a music geek, but learned about a lot of good music through Tom. Joe Walsh/James Gang, Creedence, Cougar, Jackson Browne, etc.
7. Treat people right. I think he learned this from his parents. Tommy has always been good to people. I really don’t remember him ever treating anyone badly. Unless they deserved it of course. But, in general, Tom is very thoughtful, caring and interested in others. Sounds like that continued into his career, which is a wonderful thing.
6. Let’s just say that Tommy “improved” my drinking skills. He also taught me to like beer - the hard way (we got way too drunk on vodka and I have never felt worse the next day). Don’t drink before a Physics final with Tom – he will pass and you will not.
5. Humor. Tom is funny as all get out. I still have multiple letters that I received from Tom during our college years, before the Internet made writing physical letters on paper a thing of the past. I still get them out every once in a while and read them. Sarcastic, cynical, whatever. Laughing is a good thing and Tom always makes me laugh.
4. The importance of good conversation. Tom is always ready for a good conversation. This is probably connected to #6 above. I don’t believe I am a very good conversationalist, but with the right people and the right topic, I can get going. I need to get better at this, because as Tom has shown me, there is a lot to learn from others, just by joining them in conversation.
3. Surround yourself with good people. Tom has been lucky like a lot of us to be born into a good family. But he also surrounded himself with good people who he calls friends. Then he met Melissa and realized he had another good person that he needed in his life. I am also lucky to have a good people in my life (especially my wife) and am very thankful for it.
2. There is always time to say hello (again). I spent a decent amount of time hanging out with Tommy in high school and somewhat kept in touch in college. From there, we lost touch as friends do. I hadn’t seen Tom in a long while and then talked to him at our 20th year high school reunion. Since then, I have been back in contact with Tom, trading emails and CDs. It has been great as I always enjoy his company. You can always say hello to a friend, no matter how long it has been since you last talked.
1. New things right up until today. From this blog alone, perseverance & inner strength. To enjoy life. To love the people in your life with all your heart. The importance of making a positive difference in people’s lives. To “shock” people by using common courtesy. Be thankful for the small things and don’t forget to read the bible.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to You…..
Today is THE day of TOM (Golden Boy)…..since I met Tom almost 18 years ago, the month of May has always been about him!! TOM, TOM, TOM.
Tom has always loved his birthday month and makes no bones about it. Even our boys think that the month of May is all about him. Forget Mother’s Day, that is just another obstacle in the way of celebrating his day! (For those that may think that this is insensitive, to date I have always been treated like a queen on Mother’s Day by all my boys!)
Recently, Tom wrote about the changes he has gone through with “The Cancer” and even though he has had these changes, his vitality, spirit and strength still go on. “The Cancer” has literally knocked both of us on our butts and to be perfectly honest, many times Tom gets up before me after another blow. This man whom I have been blessed with is charged with so much strength, he has shared his strength with many of us.
Today, we celebrate you Tom and all that you mean to us. You are such a great influence for our boys. They are becoming strong, caring little men who have learned early the importance of family, love, prayer and friendships. For the rest of us, you have been a great listener, drinking buddy and an advisor about life and keeping things in perspective.
We celebrate that you are still here with us and that each day with you is a gift. From here on out, our motto is 3 days at a time, and I will along with many others are going to make the most of each of those 3 days at a time with you.
“TODAY is your day, today is about you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you”
Dr. Seuss, The Birthday Book
All my love,
Melissa
Tom has always loved his birthday month and makes no bones about it. Even our boys think that the month of May is all about him. Forget Mother’s Day, that is just another obstacle in the way of celebrating his day! (For those that may think that this is insensitive, to date I have always been treated like a queen on Mother’s Day by all my boys!)
Recently, Tom wrote about the changes he has gone through with “The Cancer” and even though he has had these changes, his vitality, spirit and strength still go on. “The Cancer” has literally knocked both of us on our butts and to be perfectly honest, many times Tom gets up before me after another blow. This man whom I have been blessed with is charged with so much strength, he has shared his strength with many of us.
Today, we celebrate you Tom and all that you mean to us. You are such a great influence for our boys. They are becoming strong, caring little men who have learned early the importance of family, love, prayer and friendships. For the rest of us, you have been a great listener, drinking buddy and an advisor about life and keeping things in perspective.
We celebrate that you are still here with us and that each day with you is a gift. From here on out, our motto is 3 days at a time, and I will along with many others are going to make the most of each of those 3 days at a time with you.
“TODAY is your day, today is about you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you”
Dr. Seuss, The Birthday Book
All my love,
Melissa
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Shelter from the Storm
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood,
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud;
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.
* * *
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail;
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.
--Bob Dylan, "Shelter from the Storm" from Blood On the Tracks (1974).
I think, therefore I am.
--Rene Descartes, Le Discours de la Methode, pt 4 (1637).
I think I am, therefore..?
--Me ( 2007)
I've had my head cracked open and half of a baseball sized tumor removed. 31 fractions of "targeted" brain radiation. Brain chemotherapy with Temodar. 37 fractions of radiation for the lung tumor. Carboplatin and Taxol chemotherapy. Stereotactic radiosurgery for brain metastases. A second stereotactic radiosurgery for new brain metastases.
It's all taken quite a mental toll. I'm not talking about psychologically, although all of the treatment does exact a toll in that manner, too. I am talking about physical, structural changes to the brain. While the cancer researchers and companies that employ and/or finance them, are always quick to trumpet the latest "breakthrough" treatment which generally involves squeezing a couple more weeks (and occasionally, a month or two) of life out of us, there is almost never any talk about the mental deterioration that takes place with the "treatment advances."
If you have time, take a look at the letters that go with this link on Leroy Seivers' cancer blog on the National Public Radio site dated 5/1/07:
http://www.npr.org/blogs/mycancer/2007/05/why_is_cancer_news.html#commentSection
I've experienced nearly every type of instance mentioned in the letters that accompany that blog. I've come home with milk from the store and immediately put in in the cupboards with the dishes. I've gone to the grocery store intending to purchase one specific item, ended up coming home with two or three bags full of groceries, but still missing the item I went to the store for in the first place on several occasions. Forgetting what I went out to the kitchen to get, and returning to the family three or four times in a row before finally being able to get whatever I had intended to get, and sitting back down with the item in my possession. Short term memory seems most severely affected. Long term memory hasn't really been affected. I remember telephone numbers that people had 20 years ago, but can't remember details of conversations that I had yesterday. Names, even with people I've known for years, are sometimes impossible.
Everyday objects are sometimes the toughest to remember. Give me one of those things you put the coffee in (mug). Losing your train of thought in mid-sentence. I used to know all twenty-nine exceptions to the hearsay rule. Now, don't even bother asking me .
I used to know the artist for every one hit or two hit wonder band from the 60's, 70's and 80's (e.g. "Car Wash"--Rose Royce (1976)). "The Night Chicago Died"--Paper Lace, (1974). I remember one time sitting with my friend Bruce and Melissa in a bar in Omaha, and they had a D.J. giving away free beer and t-shirts and other assorted crap for people who could name the title of the "obscure" songs he was playing. I was not only naming the songs, but naming the band, the year, the album and really pissing the the D.J. off until he decided our table couldn't win anymore. (the three of us had several t-shirts and about six pitchers of beer on table at that point). So I started feeding answers to the other tables near us. I think the game ended a little earlier that night than it usually did. I wasn't trying to show off (well, maybe a little :-)) ; it was just something I knew.
Now, I usually have to look the stuff up on the Internet if I want to find it. And still, that doesn't always work. People (especially Melissa ) used to be able to ask me what song is "Da na na, Duh na na" and I could say, "You Dropped a Bomb on Me", The Gap Band, (1980), " no problem. I can't really do that anymore.
As one of the letters to the NPR blog says "My mind used to be a steel trap. Now it's a colander." An extremely apt description, unfortunately. Sometimes my mind can find a circuitous route and come up with the correct answer; other times, it tries to make the direct leap across the colander, and the information goes down the hole like so much water. Another person commented that we need to stop giving these conditions such silly names like "chemo brain" and "radiation fog", so doctors, researchers, and others take these things seriously. I agree wholeheartedly.
Now, what in the hell did I just agree to?
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud;
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.
* * *
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail;
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.
--Bob Dylan, "Shelter from the Storm" from Blood On the Tracks (1974).
I think, therefore I am.
--Rene Descartes, Le Discours de la Methode, pt 4 (1637).
I think I am, therefore..?
--Me ( 2007)
I've had my head cracked open and half of a baseball sized tumor removed. 31 fractions of "targeted" brain radiation. Brain chemotherapy with Temodar. 37 fractions of radiation for the lung tumor. Carboplatin and Taxol chemotherapy. Stereotactic radiosurgery for brain metastases. A second stereotactic radiosurgery for new brain metastases.
It's all taken quite a mental toll. I'm not talking about psychologically, although all of the treatment does exact a toll in that manner, too. I am talking about physical, structural changes to the brain. While the cancer researchers and companies that employ and/or finance them, are always quick to trumpet the latest "breakthrough" treatment which generally involves squeezing a couple more weeks (and occasionally, a month or two) of life out of us, there is almost never any talk about the mental deterioration that takes place with the "treatment advances."
If you have time, take a look at the letters that go with this link on Leroy Seivers' cancer blog on the National Public Radio site dated 5/1/07:
http://www.npr.org/blogs/mycancer/2007/05/why_is_cancer_news.html#commentSection
I've experienced nearly every type of instance mentioned in the letters that accompany that blog. I've come home with milk from the store and immediately put in in the cupboards with the dishes. I've gone to the grocery store intending to purchase one specific item, ended up coming home with two or three bags full of groceries, but still missing the item I went to the store for in the first place on several occasions. Forgetting what I went out to the kitchen to get, and returning to the family three or four times in a row before finally being able to get whatever I had intended to get, and sitting back down with the item in my possession. Short term memory seems most severely affected. Long term memory hasn't really been affected. I remember telephone numbers that people had 20 years ago, but can't remember details of conversations that I had yesterday. Names, even with people I've known for years, are sometimes impossible.
Everyday objects are sometimes the toughest to remember. Give me one of those things you put the coffee in (mug). Losing your train of thought in mid-sentence. I used to know all twenty-nine exceptions to the hearsay rule. Now, don't even bother asking me .
I used to know the artist for every one hit or two hit wonder band from the 60's, 70's and 80's (e.g. "Car Wash"--Rose Royce (1976)). "The Night Chicago Died"--Paper Lace, (1974). I remember one time sitting with my friend Bruce and Melissa in a bar in Omaha, and they had a D.J. giving away free beer and t-shirts and other assorted crap for people who could name the title of the "obscure" songs he was playing. I was not only naming the songs, but naming the band, the year, the album and really pissing the the D.J. off until he decided our table couldn't win anymore. (the three of us had several t-shirts and about six pitchers of beer on table at that point). So I started feeding answers to the other tables near us. I think the game ended a little earlier that night than it usually did. I wasn't trying to show off (well, maybe a little :-)) ; it was just something I knew.
Now, I usually have to look the stuff up on the Internet if I want to find it. And still, that doesn't always work. People (especially Melissa ) used to be able to ask me what song is "Da na na, Duh na na" and I could say, "You Dropped a Bomb on Me", The Gap Band, (1980), " no problem. I can't really do that anymore.
As one of the letters to the NPR blog says "My mind used to be a steel trap. Now it's a colander." An extremely apt description, unfortunately. Sometimes my mind can find a circuitous route and come up with the correct answer; other times, it tries to make the direct leap across the colander, and the information goes down the hole like so much water. Another person commented that we need to stop giving these conditions such silly names like "chemo brain" and "radiation fog", so doctors, researchers, and others take these things seriously. I agree wholeheartedly.
Now, what in the hell did I just agree to?
Friday, May 18, 2007
Mom Does Blog
A Special Guest Author today. Someone Near and Dear to my Heart: Mom.
I went sky divin'
I went Rocky Mountain climbin'
I went 2 point 7 seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.
And I loved deeper,
And I spoke sweeter
And I watched an Eagle as it was flying;
And he said someday I hope you get the chance,
To Live Like You Were Dyin’
Chorus , Live like You Were Dyin’ -- Tim McGraw
One of the interesting threads running through cancer blogs is “what would you do if you only had [insert number] months to live?” Since Tom was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I’ve noticed how often brain tumors occur in novels, TV dramas, soap operas, and movies--way out of proportion to the relatively rare occurrence in real life. I call it “brain tumor as literary device.” Those of us who haven’t faced x-rays and scans predicting our demise usually say that the first thing we’d do is quit out job.
Aaron [Pollack (of "Where's My p53" fame)] , however, chose to continue working as long as he can because he believes so strongly in what he’s doing. I admire that. Tom wanted to take some trips. He has had some wonderful experiences in the last few months: the baseball tour with his Dad and Joe; a Notre Dame game with Bruce and Joe; Palm Springs with all the Melleckers, and of course, Ireland. But these days, the things that seem so sweet to our family are the ordinary moments: the boys’ baseball games, sitting together on the patio in the evening, Jack climbing on Tom’s lap, eating pizza, having a beer, talking about Steph’s wedding. The only good thing that I can see about terminal cancer is that it reminds you to do some things you‘ve always wanted to do, and to “talk sweeter’ and “love deeper". And, guess what? We all have the chance to live like we were dying.
I went sky divin'
I went Rocky Mountain climbin'
I went 2 point 7 seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.
And I loved deeper,
And I spoke sweeter
And I watched an Eagle as it was flying;
And he said someday I hope you get the chance,
To Live Like You Were Dyin’
Chorus , Live like You Were Dyin’ -- Tim McGraw
One of the interesting threads running through cancer blogs is “what would you do if you only had [insert number] months to live?” Since Tom was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I’ve noticed how often brain tumors occur in novels, TV dramas, soap operas, and movies--way out of proportion to the relatively rare occurrence in real life. I call it “brain tumor as literary device.” Those of us who haven’t faced x-rays and scans predicting our demise usually say that the first thing we’d do is quit out job.
Aaron [Pollack (of "Where's My p53" fame)] , however, chose to continue working as long as he can because he believes so strongly in what he’s doing. I admire that. Tom wanted to take some trips. He has had some wonderful experiences in the last few months: the baseball tour with his Dad and Joe; a Notre Dame game with Bruce and Joe; Palm Springs with all the Melleckers, and of course, Ireland. But these days, the things that seem so sweet to our family are the ordinary moments: the boys’ baseball games, sitting together on the patio in the evening, Jack climbing on Tom’s lap, eating pizza, having a beer, talking about Steph’s wedding. The only good thing that I can see about terminal cancer is that it reminds you to do some things you‘ve always wanted to do, and to “talk sweeter’ and “love deeper". And, guess what? We all have the chance to live like we were dying.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Wild Eyed Liberals. . .
. . . and Stem Cell Research
Here's an Interview from May 3, 2007, with that well known liberal, Orrin Hatch, sent to Congress by all the radicals in Utah. From that publication with a well known liberal slant, The New England Journal of Medicine:
http://content.nejm.org/cgi/reprint/356/18/e18.pdf
Here's a link to the audio interview:
http://content.nejm.org/cgi/content/full/NEJMp078082/DC1
And no, I'm not dropping this until our government is supporting stem cell research. It is not a religious issue, or a moral issue, it is a right versus wrong issue. Please read and/or listen.
Tom
Here's an Interview from May 3, 2007, with that well known liberal, Orrin Hatch, sent to Congress by all the radicals in Utah. From that publication with a well known liberal slant, The New England Journal of Medicine:
http://content.nejm.org/cgi/reprint/356/18/e18.pdf
Here's a link to the audio interview:
http://content.nejm.org/cgi/content/full/NEJMp078082/DC1
And no, I'm not dropping this until our government is supporting stem cell research. It is not a religious issue, or a moral issue, it is a right versus wrong issue. Please read and/or listen.
Tom
Thursday, May 10, 2007
One Year Out
He said I was in my early 40's,
With a lot of life before me,
And a moment came that stopped me on a dime.
I spent most of the next days, lookin' at the x-rays,
Talkin' 'bout the options and talkin' 'bout sweet time.
Asked him when it sank in, that this might really be the real end.
How's it hit ya, when you get that kind of news.
Man what ya do.
--Tim McGraw, Live Like You Were Dyin'
"Ninety percent I'll spend on good times, women and Irish Whiskey. The other ten percent I'll probably waste."
--Tug McGraw (Tim's father), after signing a $400,000.00 free agency contract, circa 1976.
Well the years start coming and they don't stop coming
Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running
Didn't make sense not to live for fun
Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb
So much to do so much to see
So what's wrong with taking the back streets
You'll never know if you don't go
You'll never shine if you don't glow
Hey now you're an All Star get your game on, go play
Hey now you're a Rock Star get the show on get paid
And all that glitters is gold
Only shooting stars break the mold
--Smash Mouth, "All Star"
365 days under my belt. Since what? Since the diagnoses of lung cancer on May 10, 2006.
To refresh a few of you who have been around since the beginning (and to inform many of those who have not), I was first diagnosed with oligodendroglioma (brain cancer) in late 2002. It is technically not cancer, because it doesn't spread, the problem is that the skull is of limited size, and the "benign" tumor begins pushing the brain into the hard skull, and that causes all sorts of mean and nasty problems. So I had surgery, and my surgeon was able to remove about half of the baseball (6cm *5cm *4cm) sized tumor. The rest had to stay because of its location along the motor strip, which controls the body's ability to speak, and move, etc.
I was encouraged by the radiation oncologists to have the remainder radiated. My surgeon was non-committal. After much research and soul searching, I decided to defer radiation. This is because there is a problem that they have given the rather innocuous sounding name "delayed radiation necrosis" . This essentially means that the radiation itself as opposed to the cancer, rots your brain and kills you. These problems don't show up until 7-10 years down the road, which didn't used to be a problem, because they really weren't able to identify cancer soon enough (i.e. before stage IV) to do much good. Find the cancer radiate, and 9 months later you were dead. Thanks to advances in knowledge, imaging equipment, etc., this is no longer the case. They discovered mine at Stage II(C) maybe early stage III, so I had a decision to make. The radiation oncologists all say, well, we're targeting radiation now, but when you ask them to point you to a study (from any country), and they can't. So I deferred, and we monitored the brain with MRI's and the occasional CAT scan for the next 3 years or so. In late 2005, we were informed that the tumor was growing and it was time to radiate.
I underwent 37 (38?) fractions between January and March 2006, and then started on an oral chemotherapy pill (Temodar) after that. I wasn't doing too bad at this point. Hell, my life expectancy was still between 2013 and 2016, and who knew what scientists might be able to come up with by then?
I had this cough I couldn't shake throughout April, and Melissa insisted that we get it checked out. She thought I had walking pneumonia or something. Isn't that just like women??!! Well, as she was right as it turned out . Lung Cancer. Stage IIIB, maybe stage IV. The hits kept coming. Inoperable. Life expectancy of 12 -18 months. 31 more fractions of radiation. Chemotherapy. when you get down to being a short timer, like I am now, I didn't hear the 12 months part, only the 18 months. I figured, well , so be it, November, 2007. So in June 2006, I took a leave for disability from my job.
Still, after 69 fractions of radiation, and a couple of rounds of chemotherapy, the hits just kept on coming. January 8, 2007, learned of brain cancer metastases. Stereotactic radiation surgery. New drop dead date of July 9, 2007.
And the hits are still coming. May 4, 2007. New metastases. May 8, 2007. Another stereotactic radiosurgery. And here I am. I've still have my friends, my family, my boys, and best of all, Melissa. 60 days. Bet the over. I am alive and kicking.
What you gonna do when things go wrong?
What you gonna do when it all cracks up?
What you gonna do when the Love burns down?
What you gonna do when the flames go up?
Who is gonna come and turn the tide?
What's it gonna take to make a dream survive?
Who's got the touch to calm the storm inside?
Don't say goodbye
Don't say goodbye
In the final seconds who's gonna save you?
Oh, Alive and Kicking
Stay until your love is, love is, Alive and Kicking
Oh, Alive and Kicking
Stay until your love is, love is, Alive and Kicking
--Simple Minds, "Alive and Kicking" (1985)
With a lot of life before me,
And a moment came that stopped me on a dime.
I spent most of the next days, lookin' at the x-rays,
Talkin' 'bout the options and talkin' 'bout sweet time.
Asked him when it sank in, that this might really be the real end.
How's it hit ya, when you get that kind of news.
Man what ya do.
--Tim McGraw, Live Like You Were Dyin'
"Ninety percent I'll spend on good times, women and Irish Whiskey. The other ten percent I'll probably waste."
--Tug McGraw (Tim's father), after signing a $400,000.00 free agency contract, circa 1976.
Well the years start coming and they don't stop coming
Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running
Didn't make sense not to live for fun
Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb
So much to do so much to see
So what's wrong with taking the back streets
You'll never know if you don't go
You'll never shine if you don't glow
Hey now you're an All Star get your game on, go play
Hey now you're a Rock Star get the show on get paid
And all that glitters is gold
Only shooting stars break the mold
--Smash Mouth, "All Star"
365 days under my belt. Since what? Since the diagnoses of lung cancer on May 10, 2006.
To refresh a few of you who have been around since the beginning (and to inform many of those who have not), I was first diagnosed with oligodendroglioma (brain cancer) in late 2002. It is technically not cancer, because it doesn't spread, the problem is that the skull is of limited size, and the "benign" tumor begins pushing the brain into the hard skull, and that causes all sorts of mean and nasty problems. So I had surgery, and my surgeon was able to remove about half of the baseball (6cm *5cm *4cm) sized tumor. The rest had to stay because of its location along the motor strip, which controls the body's ability to speak, and move, etc.
I was encouraged by the radiation oncologists to have the remainder radiated. My surgeon was non-committal. After much research and soul searching, I decided to defer radiation. This is because there is a problem that they have given the rather innocuous sounding name "delayed radiation necrosis" . This essentially means that the radiation itself as opposed to the cancer, rots your brain and kills you. These problems don't show up until 7-10 years down the road, which didn't used to be a problem, because they really weren't able to identify cancer soon enough (i.e. before stage IV) to do much good. Find the cancer radiate, and 9 months later you were dead. Thanks to advances in knowledge, imaging equipment, etc., this is no longer the case. They discovered mine at Stage II(C) maybe early stage III, so I had a decision to make. The radiation oncologists all say, well, we're targeting radiation now, but when you ask them to point you to a study (from any country), and they can't. So I deferred, and we monitored the brain with MRI's and the occasional CAT scan for the next 3 years or so. In late 2005, we were informed that the tumor was growing and it was time to radiate.
I underwent 37 (38?) fractions between January and March 2006, and then started on an oral chemotherapy pill (Temodar) after that. I wasn't doing too bad at this point. Hell, my life expectancy was still between 2013 and 2016, and who knew what scientists might be able to come up with by then?
I had this cough I couldn't shake throughout April, and Melissa insisted that we get it checked out. She thought I had walking pneumonia or something. Isn't that just like women??!! Well, as she was right as it turned out . Lung Cancer. Stage IIIB, maybe stage IV. The hits kept coming. Inoperable. Life expectancy of 12 -18 months. 31 more fractions of radiation. Chemotherapy. when you get down to being a short timer, like I am now, I didn't hear the 12 months part, only the 18 months. I figured, well , so be it, November, 2007. So in June 2006, I took a leave for disability from my job.
Still, after 69 fractions of radiation, and a couple of rounds of chemotherapy, the hits just kept on coming. January 8, 2007, learned of brain cancer metastases. Stereotactic radiation surgery. New drop dead date of July 9, 2007.
And the hits are still coming. May 4, 2007. New metastases. May 8, 2007. Another stereotactic radiosurgery. And here I am. I've still have my friends, my family, my boys, and best of all, Melissa. 60 days. Bet the over. I am alive and kicking.
What you gonna do when things go wrong?
What you gonna do when it all cracks up?
What you gonna do when the Love burns down?
What you gonna do when the flames go up?
Who is gonna come and turn the tide?
What's it gonna take to make a dream survive?
Who's got the touch to calm the storm inside?
Don't say goodbye
Don't say goodbye
In the final seconds who's gonna save you?
Oh, Alive and Kicking
Stay until your love is, love is, Alive and Kicking
Oh, Alive and Kicking
Stay until your love is, love is, Alive and Kicking
--Simple Minds, "Alive and Kicking" (1985)
Monday, May 07, 2007
Misc. Thoughts on Ireland
I'm going in tomorrow for radiation to zap the brain mets. Here's the last post on Ireland, at least until I get something from Ben and Wendy on the "International Jam Incident."
I think the problem with Ireland is that they're just not quite used to the hospitality industry. The owners of the B&B's place too much emphasis on the breakfast part of the deal, and not enough on the room.
First off, I understand it's the off season and maybe some places need a fresh coat of paint, or holes in the wall need filling, or the towels are raggedy or whatever. We don't care about any of that. I could care less about t.v., too, though one seemed to be included in every room we stayed in. But really, there's no excuse for light bulbs that are burned out and not replaced, door handles that don't work (Melissa almost was trapped in a bathroom because the door handle literally came off in her hand), mirrors falling off walls, and "complimentary" coffee (that instant Nescafe crap) where only the decaf got refilled.
Speaking of coffee, what is with the three foot cords to the little pots to boil water in? There's no where to plug them in? We literally ended up holding the pot while the water boiled because there was no where to set it (The plug outlet was too high on the wall to set it on the floor). Spend 20 Euro's on a Mr. Coffee, provide real coffee, and charge me 5 Euros more for the room.
Those torture devices they call water saving devices in the showers ought to be used against suspected terrorists at Abu Garhib. They have these nasty little boxes that spout out freezing cold water to start with. You can't really wait outside the shower for it to get better, because most of these "bathrooms" with 3/4 baths were literally built in the closets of the homes. Because of the way the shower door opens you are forced to stay inside or you will flood the floor. Inevitably, you overcorrect and it immediately goes to scalding hot. Then you end up punching the control buttons to turn down the heat on on this evil little control box and the water immediately goes to freezing. And so it goes back and forth. What we eventually discovered was the if you touch the box even once, it starts back over at freezing cold. The guy that invented this "water saving device" ought to have his ass kicked. On the other hand, you always could tell who was awake and getting ready for breakfast from the screams of "Shit! Fuck! and Goddammit!" coming from the rooms.
Finally, what's with the hide the hairdryer game? All of the people at the B&B's and hotels acted either annoyed and or surprised that we couldn't find the hairdryer in the room. No, we didn't expect to find the hairdryer in whatever dresser drawer you hid the hairdryer in. We expected to find it near a mirror, or at least near an outlet.
The following comments apply both to the hotels and to B&B's.
1. Breakfast. We can accept that things are out of season. Do not ever, ever, feed me canned fruit on your "fresh fruit" buffet.
2. Can't anyone make eggs over easy? If you don't know how, or refuse to serve them that way for some reason, let me know and I'll get something else. Only three places (out of 8) could make an egg over easy (the rest were over hard).
3. Ditto coffee, with the hotels, oddly enough, being the worst offenders.
4. What's with trying to pass off two super single mattresses as a king size??!! It's the hotels, too! There's a real opportunity here for a mattress company to move in and make a pile of money.
Good things.
1. The people. You will not meet nicer people in you lifetime.
2. The scenery. It's not as good as you've heard. It's better.
3.The pubs. I didn't really identify what it was (besides the fresh Guinness) that made Irish pubs better than American bars. It's not the music. Frankly, although it's something different, the novelty wears off rather quickly for me. After about my sixth Guinness one night, I discovered what it was. No television. Oh they all have one, but the only time it's on is for a national rugby or soccer match, and for the national news for half an hour in the early evening. What a novel idea! When the Irish talk about going to the pub for the craic (conversation), it's because they can. We need some places like that here in the States. By the way, don't miss:
a. Morrissey's
b. Davey Byrne's
c.The South Pole Inn
d.Foxy John's
e. Jack C's
f. The Brazen Head
4. The food. No, I'm not joking. Along the southwest and western borders, the seafood is especially good. The beef isn't bad and people on the east coast in the U.S. would consider it to be very good. The problem is that we're from Iowa, and all of our cattle is corn fed. It is the best in the world.
5. Bed and Breakfasts. Don't Miss:
(1) The Marless House, Galway, Co. Galway. The nicest hosts you could ever have, American controls on the shower, good breakfast, a hop, skip and a jump from the downtown action. Best of the lot.
(2) Walsh's Townhouse B&B, Dingle, Co. Kerry. Very friendly hosts, knew how to cook an egg over easy, good coffee (which made up for the canned pineapple), Americanized controls on the shower, right in the heart of Downtown, conveniently across the street from a fine pub.
(3) Palm Lodge, Mitchelstown, Co. Cork. Friendly service, the best coffee of any of the places we stayed in Ireland (fancy hotels included), wool blankets on the beds, and delivery service to church. Made up for the unspeakable watersaving box on the shower, which was the first (but unfortunately not the last) we encountered on our journey.
Bad things.
1. Tourist towns. Overpriced, bad service, and many shops, restaurants and pubs closed down during offseason, presumably because they make so much money during the high season. These towns were really the only places where we encountered rude people in Ireland.
2. Skip the following B&B's:
(1)Rockcrest House. Kenmare, Co. Kerry.
(2)Ashgrove, Kinsale, Co. Cork.
All in all, one of the best vacations I've ever taken. See the April 24, 2007 blog entry for my advice on travel agents and transportation.
I think the problem with Ireland is that they're just not quite used to the hospitality industry. The owners of the B&B's place too much emphasis on the breakfast part of the deal, and not enough on the room.
First off, I understand it's the off season and maybe some places need a fresh coat of paint, or holes in the wall need filling, or the towels are raggedy or whatever. We don't care about any of that. I could care less about t.v., too, though one seemed to be included in every room we stayed in. But really, there's no excuse for light bulbs that are burned out and not replaced, door handles that don't work (Melissa almost was trapped in a bathroom because the door handle literally came off in her hand), mirrors falling off walls, and "complimentary" coffee (that instant Nescafe crap) where only the decaf got refilled.
Speaking of coffee, what is with the three foot cords to the little pots to boil water in? There's no where to plug them in? We literally ended up holding the pot while the water boiled because there was no where to set it (The plug outlet was too high on the wall to set it on the floor). Spend 20 Euro's on a Mr. Coffee, provide real coffee, and charge me 5 Euros more for the room.
Those torture devices they call water saving devices in the showers ought to be used against suspected terrorists at Abu Garhib. They have these nasty little boxes that spout out freezing cold water to start with. You can't really wait outside the shower for it to get better, because most of these "bathrooms" with 3/4 baths were literally built in the closets of the homes. Because of the way the shower door opens you are forced to stay inside or you will flood the floor. Inevitably, you overcorrect and it immediately goes to scalding hot. Then you end up punching the control buttons to turn down the heat on on this evil little control box and the water immediately goes to freezing. And so it goes back and forth. What we eventually discovered was the if you touch the box even once, it starts back over at freezing cold. The guy that invented this "water saving device" ought to have his ass kicked. On the other hand, you always could tell who was awake and getting ready for breakfast from the screams of "Shit! Fuck! and Goddammit!" coming from the rooms.
Finally, what's with the hide the hairdryer game? All of the people at the B&B's and hotels acted either annoyed and or surprised that we couldn't find the hairdryer in the room. No, we didn't expect to find the hairdryer in whatever dresser drawer you hid the hairdryer in. We expected to find it near a mirror, or at least near an outlet.
The following comments apply both to the hotels and to B&B's.
1. Breakfast. We can accept that things are out of season. Do not ever, ever, feed me canned fruit on your "fresh fruit" buffet.
2. Can't anyone make eggs over easy? If you don't know how, or refuse to serve them that way for some reason, let me know and I'll get something else. Only three places (out of 8) could make an egg over easy (the rest were over hard).
3. Ditto coffee, with the hotels, oddly enough, being the worst offenders.
4. What's with trying to pass off two super single mattresses as a king size??!! It's the hotels, too! There's a real opportunity here for a mattress company to move in and make a pile of money.
Good things.
1. The people. You will not meet nicer people in you lifetime.
2. The scenery. It's not as good as you've heard. It's better.
3.The pubs. I didn't really identify what it was (besides the fresh Guinness) that made Irish pubs better than American bars. It's not the music. Frankly, although it's something different, the novelty wears off rather quickly for me. After about my sixth Guinness one night, I discovered what it was. No television. Oh they all have one, but the only time it's on is for a national rugby or soccer match, and for the national news for half an hour in the early evening. What a novel idea! When the Irish talk about going to the pub for the craic (conversation), it's because they can. We need some places like that here in the States. By the way, don't miss:
a. Morrissey's
b. Davey Byrne's
c.The South Pole Inn
d.Foxy John's
e. Jack C's
f. The Brazen Head
4. The food. No, I'm not joking. Along the southwest and western borders, the seafood is especially good. The beef isn't bad and people on the east coast in the U.S. would consider it to be very good. The problem is that we're from Iowa, and all of our cattle is corn fed. It is the best in the world.
5. Bed and Breakfasts. Don't Miss:
(1) The Marless House, Galway, Co. Galway. The nicest hosts you could ever have, American controls on the shower, good breakfast, a hop, skip and a jump from the downtown action. Best of the lot.
(2) Walsh's Townhouse B&B, Dingle, Co. Kerry. Very friendly hosts, knew how to cook an egg over easy, good coffee (which made up for the canned pineapple), Americanized controls on the shower, right in the heart of Downtown, conveniently across the street from a fine pub.
(3) Palm Lodge, Mitchelstown, Co. Cork. Friendly service, the best coffee of any of the places we stayed in Ireland (fancy hotels included), wool blankets on the beds, and delivery service to church. Made up for the unspeakable watersaving box on the shower, which was the first (but unfortunately not the last) we encountered on our journey.
Bad things.
1. Tourist towns. Overpriced, bad service, and many shops, restaurants and pubs closed down during offseason, presumably because they make so much money during the high season. These towns were really the only places where we encountered rude people in Ireland.
2. Skip the following B&B's:
(1)Rockcrest House. Kenmare, Co. Kerry.
(2)Ashgrove, Kinsale, Co. Cork.
All in all, one of the best vacations I've ever taken. See the April 24, 2007 blog entry for my advice on travel agents and transportation.
Friday, May 04, 2007
"He's got high hopes. . ."
. . .He's got high hopes,
1960 is the year for his high hopes.
So go on and vote for Kennedy,
vote for Kennedy,
vote for Kennedy, Jack;
'cause Jack is on the right track.
--1960 Kennedy Campaign Song, sung to the tune of "High Hopes"
Rusty Dennis: First you told me he was gonna be retarded, then you told me he was gonna be blind AND deaf. If I'd dug his grave every time one of you geniuses told me he was gonna die, I'd be eating fuckin' chop suey in China by now!
--The Mask (starring Cher, not Jim Carrey), 1985
Rocky Dennis: What's his problem, Ma?
Rusty Dennis: Nothing. He's just another asshole. You let that negative dreck in and it'll put ya away. You can be a chicken shit and die or be a mensch and keep makin' yourself well.
--The Mask, 1985
I think Nixon's Campaign song was "Crazy Train", by Ozzy Osbourne. No wait; 1960 was be before he started howling at the moon in public--It must have been "Mack The Knife."
Anyway, that's a conversation for another time. I'm getting fitted for the mask today, and we're scheduled for stereotactic brain surgery (again) next Tuesday. This is the same semi-humane procedure I did back in mid- January. Obviously, the MRI last Friday did not bring good news. A pile of new tumors showed up on the MRI--we're going to try to zap the biggest six. I think Melissa was crushed by the bad news; I was saddened, but pretty much expected the bad news. At this point, we (the cancer-ridden people) pretty much know what our bodies are telling us better than anyone else including the doctors, and mine hasn't been whispering sweet nothings to me.
I have high hopes about the surgery. Not as high as Kennedy, mind you; he was hoping for 4-8 years; I'm hoping for another 4-8 months. See my little sister get married, see both boys play a little football this fall, celebrate one more anniversary with my wife, and watch the Hawks kick the shit out of the Cyclones one last time---maybe then I'll be "ready" (or as ready as I'm going to be) to move onward and upward.
For my birthday, Melissa got tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld for tonight, and I'm really looking forward to it.
1960 is the year for his high hopes.
So go on and vote for Kennedy,
vote for Kennedy,
vote for Kennedy, Jack;
'cause Jack is on the right track.
--1960 Kennedy Campaign Song, sung to the tune of "High Hopes"
Rusty Dennis: First you told me he was gonna be retarded, then you told me he was gonna be blind AND deaf. If I'd dug his grave every time one of you geniuses told me he was gonna die, I'd be eating fuckin' chop suey in China by now!
--The Mask (starring Cher, not Jim Carrey), 1985
Rocky Dennis: What's his problem, Ma?
Rusty Dennis: Nothing. He's just another asshole. You let that negative dreck in and it'll put ya away. You can be a chicken shit and die or be a mensch and keep makin' yourself well.
--The Mask, 1985
I think Nixon's Campaign song was "Crazy Train", by Ozzy Osbourne. No wait; 1960 was be before he started howling at the moon in public--It must have been "Mack The Knife."
Anyway, that's a conversation for another time. I'm getting fitted for the mask today, and we're scheduled for stereotactic brain surgery (again) next Tuesday. This is the same semi-humane procedure I did back in mid- January. Obviously, the MRI last Friday did not bring good news. A pile of new tumors showed up on the MRI--we're going to try to zap the biggest six. I think Melissa was crushed by the bad news; I was saddened, but pretty much expected the bad news. At this point, we (the cancer-ridden people) pretty much know what our bodies are telling us better than anyone else including the doctors, and mine hasn't been whispering sweet nothings to me.
I have high hopes about the surgery. Not as high as Kennedy, mind you; he was hoping for 4-8 years; I'm hoping for another 4-8 months. See my little sister get married, see both boys play a little football this fall, celebrate one more anniversary with my wife, and watch the Hawks kick the shit out of the Cyclones one last time---maybe then I'll be "ready" (or as ready as I'm going to be) to move onward and upward.
For my birthday, Melissa got tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld for tonight, and I'm really looking forward to it.
Monday, April 30, 2007
IT’S OUR BLOG NOW (written by Bruce and Megan)
A special guest author appearance from two of this blogs most esteemed (and only) readers:
Because mutiny on the bounty's what we're all about,
I'm gonna board your ship and turn it on out.
No soft sucker with a parrot on his shoulder,
'Cause I'm bad gettin' bolder - cold getting colder.
Terrorizing suckers on the seven seas,
And if you've got beef - you'll get capped in the knees.
We got sixteen men on a dead man's chest,
And I shot those suckers and I'll shoot the rest.
-- Beastie Boys, “Rhymin’ and Stealin’”
February 18, 2007: Paris and the Mutiny (that didn’t happen)
The mutiny on the HMS bounty that took place 218 years ago today was nothing compared to the mutiny that took place amongst weary travelers in Dublin, Ireland on February 17th – 18th…
After traveling and staying in a different place for almost 10 nights in a row, the aspect of traveling again was daunting…the part of Fletcher Christian was played by Bruce, who suggested to Megan that rather than traveling to (the godforsaken French city) Paris with the rest of the group, that we stay behind in Dublin…keep in mind the weather was gorgeous, no rain in sight and both us had been to Paris before…
After much deliberation (and because we love our Captain(s) Bligh), the entire group decides to go to Paris. Lucky for us, the weather after we leave Dublin becomes rainy and miserable, and the weather in Paris was beautiful for our entire stay.
The first thing we’d recommend to serious tourists when going to Paris is to purchase the museum pass at the airport. This will help you to avoid lines if you have a short period of time in which you are hoping to see many sights (as we were). Bruce had a clear interest in seeing Sainte-Chapelle and the Palais de Justice and Megan wanted to see the D’Orsay museum (both of us had been to the Louvre before).
The hotel in Paris was in the Trocadero district…it was awesome. The website is:
http://www.heart-of-paris-hotels.com/hotel-EN-18-garden_elysee_hotel.html
We had a great bartender at the hotel, named Pascal, who seemed to have his hand in everybody’s pocket. According to Bruce, Ben immediately develops a serious man-crush on Pascal. Pascal was able to give us some names of places for dinner (some good, some not-so-good)…the first of which was awesome (and not just of because of the name), La Butte…
La Butte Chaillot 110 bis av kleber 75116 PARIS tel : 01 47 27 88 88Beautiful setting, friendly service, inventive French cuisine that is very well presented.
We were able to have a great dinner to reconcile the mutiny that didn’t happen and to walk down to Trocadero and see the Eiffel Tower for the first time as a group. On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a nice café for a night cap. Wendy breaks a glass and, as we found out the next night, apparently bankrupts the place. It is closed for the rest of the trip.
February 19, 2007
I ate the last mango in Paris
Took the last plane out of Saigon,
Took the first fast boat to China
And Jimmy there's still so much to be done.
-- Jimmy Buffet, “Last Mango in Paris”
We didn’t find mangoes, but we did find a great breakfast café along Kleber…neither of us can remember the name, but the omelet, croissants, and coffee were out of this world. With sustenance on our side, we head to the metro (map in hand, of course) to go sight-seeing. After several trips back and forth between metro platforms, Bruce concedes Megan is right and we get on the correct train to Sainte Chappelle/Palais de Justice/Notre Dame.
Neither of us had been to Sainte Chappelle before and we feel it is highly worth visiting…GO UPSTAIRS. Viewing it in the sunlight is like seeing heaven. Notre Dame is beautiful, but no hunchback, and we’re both too lazy to climb stairs to see any special views…so we find a café to drink (wine).
The neat thing about Paris is you can just wander around and find things you are not looking for. We stumble upon the Pantheon, and the Sorbonne. We have more wine and a great bowl of Onion Soup at Crepes-a-go-go (Megan has crepes). We find out that the French in French Onion Soup is presumed and somewhat redundant.
On the way to finding the metro station, we find the Luxemburg Palace and Gardens. It’s a beautiful day and we enjoy the people-watching.
We meet back at the hotel with the group, and have several drinks with the group and Pascal. We dine in a restaurant with no other patrons -- the sign of either a crappy place or the most exclusive restaurant you’ve ever patronized (it was the former).
Like the old man in the Jimmy Buffet song, life is something that should be savored and enjoyed like every day is the last. Go to Paris while you are young and in love.
February 20, 2007
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
--Don McLean, “Starry, Starry Night”
Okay, so this particular painting is not at the D’Orsay, but you get our drift. This is one of the museums for which the museum pass is definitely worth it (after figuring out which entrance to go in). We skip pretty much to the 5th floor to see the impressionist artists that Megan is anxious to see. Bruce misses Manet (no, not Monet).
After seeing (almost) everything we wanted to see, we stop at a café across from the Louvre (which is closed on Tuesdays) and people-watch while sipping on red-wine. We shop in the basement of the Louvre for French rap for Megan’s friend Marit and perfume for Megan’s friend Steph. We then walk through the Palais Royale to another café (more red wine).
We take the Metro to Printemps so Bruce can buy gifts for his children. After purchasing the latest in knight and princess fashions, we stroll along the Champs Elysees.
We meet back with the gang at the hotel where Melissa has gifts for all of us….red wine for Bruce and Megan, liquor for Ben, and JAM FOR WENDY (if that is not a set-up, I don’t know what is)… Pascal helps Bruce buy wine to take back to the States and Bruce immediately develops a man crush (bigger than Ben’s) on Pascal . . . After that night, we eat at another restaurant recommended by Pascal. The appetizers include ‘snakes’ according to the English speaking (as a second language) waiter. Melissa decides to be adventurous and tries the (as it turns out) snails. This goes down as Megan’s favorite night when Bruce makes a huge blunder and is forced by the group to eat a snail.
Because mutiny on the bounty's what we're all about,
I'm gonna board your ship and turn it on out.
No soft sucker with a parrot on his shoulder,
'Cause I'm bad gettin' bolder - cold getting colder.
Terrorizing suckers on the seven seas,
And if you've got beef - you'll get capped in the knees.
We got sixteen men on a dead man's chest,
And I shot those suckers and I'll shoot the rest.
-- Beastie Boys, “Rhymin’ and Stealin’”
February 18, 2007: Paris and the Mutiny (that didn’t happen)
The mutiny on the HMS bounty that took place 218 years ago today was nothing compared to the mutiny that took place amongst weary travelers in Dublin, Ireland on February 17th – 18th…
After traveling and staying in a different place for almost 10 nights in a row, the aspect of traveling again was daunting…the part of Fletcher Christian was played by Bruce, who suggested to Megan that rather than traveling to (the godforsaken French city) Paris with the rest of the group, that we stay behind in Dublin…keep in mind the weather was gorgeous, no rain in sight and both us had been to Paris before…
After much deliberation (and because we love our Captain(s) Bligh), the entire group decides to go to Paris. Lucky for us, the weather after we leave Dublin becomes rainy and miserable, and the weather in Paris was beautiful for our entire stay.
The first thing we’d recommend to serious tourists when going to Paris is to purchase the museum pass at the airport. This will help you to avoid lines if you have a short period of time in which you are hoping to see many sights (as we were). Bruce had a clear interest in seeing Sainte-Chapelle and the Palais de Justice and Megan wanted to see the D’Orsay museum (both of us had been to the Louvre before).
The hotel in Paris was in the Trocadero district…it was awesome. The website is:
http://www.heart-of-paris-hotels.com/hotel-EN-18-garden_elysee_hotel.html
We had a great bartender at the hotel, named Pascal, who seemed to have his hand in everybody’s pocket. According to Bruce, Ben immediately develops a serious man-crush on Pascal. Pascal was able to give us some names of places for dinner (some good, some not-so-good)…the first of which was awesome (and not just of because of the name), La Butte…
La Butte Chaillot 110 bis av kleber 75116 PARIS tel : 01 47 27 88 88Beautiful setting, friendly service, inventive French cuisine that is very well presented.
We were able to have a great dinner to reconcile the mutiny that didn’t happen and to walk down to Trocadero and see the Eiffel Tower for the first time as a group. On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a nice café for a night cap. Wendy breaks a glass and, as we found out the next night, apparently bankrupts the place. It is closed for the rest of the trip.
February 19, 2007
I ate the last mango in Paris
Took the last plane out of Saigon,
Took the first fast boat to China
And Jimmy there's still so much to be done.
-- Jimmy Buffet, “Last Mango in Paris”
We didn’t find mangoes, but we did find a great breakfast café along Kleber…neither of us can remember the name, but the omelet, croissants, and coffee were out of this world. With sustenance on our side, we head to the metro (map in hand, of course) to go sight-seeing. After several trips back and forth between metro platforms, Bruce concedes Megan is right and we get on the correct train to Sainte Chappelle/Palais de Justice/Notre Dame.
Neither of us had been to Sainte Chappelle before and we feel it is highly worth visiting…GO UPSTAIRS. Viewing it in the sunlight is like seeing heaven. Notre Dame is beautiful, but no hunchback, and we’re both too lazy to climb stairs to see any special views…so we find a café to drink (wine).
The neat thing about Paris is you can just wander around and find things you are not looking for. We stumble upon the Pantheon, and the Sorbonne. We have more wine and a great bowl of Onion Soup at Crepes-a-go-go (Megan has crepes). We find out that the French in French Onion Soup is presumed and somewhat redundant.
On the way to finding the metro station, we find the Luxemburg Palace and Gardens. It’s a beautiful day and we enjoy the people-watching.
We meet back at the hotel with the group, and have several drinks with the group and Pascal. We dine in a restaurant with no other patrons -- the sign of either a crappy place or the most exclusive restaurant you’ve ever patronized (it was the former).
Like the old man in the Jimmy Buffet song, life is something that should be savored and enjoyed like every day is the last. Go to Paris while you are young and in love.
February 20, 2007
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
--Don McLean, “Starry, Starry Night”
Okay, so this particular painting is not at the D’Orsay, but you get our drift. This is one of the museums for which the museum pass is definitely worth it (after figuring out which entrance to go in). We skip pretty much to the 5th floor to see the impressionist artists that Megan is anxious to see. Bruce misses Manet (no, not Monet).
After seeing (almost) everything we wanted to see, we stop at a café across from the Louvre (which is closed on Tuesdays) and people-watch while sipping on red-wine. We shop in the basement of the Louvre for French rap for Megan’s friend Marit and perfume for Megan’s friend Steph. We then walk through the Palais Royale to another café (more red wine).
We take the Metro to Printemps so Bruce can buy gifts for his children. After purchasing the latest in knight and princess fashions, we stroll along the Champs Elysees.
We meet back with the gang at the hotel where Melissa has gifts for all of us….red wine for Bruce and Megan, liquor for Ben, and JAM FOR WENDY (if that is not a set-up, I don’t know what is)… Pascal helps Bruce buy wine to take back to the States and Bruce immediately develops a man crush (bigger than Ben’s) on Pascal . . . After that night, we eat at another restaurant recommended by Pascal. The appetizers include ‘snakes’ according to the English speaking (as a second language) waiter. Melissa decides to be adventurous and tries the (as it turns out) snails. This goes down as Megan’s favorite night when Bruce makes a huge blunder and is forced by the group to eat a snail.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Back to Dublin
And now for something completely different."
--Monty Python's Flying Circus Episode 2 (1969)
Actually, back to our regularly scheduled programming.
February 17 and 21, 2007
Back to Dublin
What we actually did was head to Dublin from Galway, spend the night of the 17th in Dublin, head to Paris later on the 18th, and then went back to Dublin on the 21st and went home the 22nd. I'm going to talk about our experiences both times in Dublin in this blog and then let Ben, Wendy, Bruce and Megan do most of the writing on Paris since Melissa and I didn't do much there (I was running down).
I think we should handle "Wendy and the International Jam Incident" separately, since there doubtless will be much to write on that. I 'll write the outsiders' perspective, but we need the inside scoop from Ben and Wendy for that one. I'm going to have an MRI and see the radiation oncologist on Friday, so if you guys (all four of you) can have something to me on Paris by Monday, that would be great. Just e-mail me.
--Monty Python's Flying Circus Episode 2 (1969)
Actually, back to our regularly scheduled programming.
February 17 and 21, 2007
Back to Dublin
What we actually did was head to Dublin from Galway, spend the night of the 17th in Dublin, head to Paris later on the 18th, and then went back to Dublin on the 21st and went home the 22nd. I'm going to talk about our experiences both times in Dublin in this blog and then let Ben, Wendy, Bruce and Megan do most of the writing on Paris since Melissa and I didn't do much there (I was running down).
I think we should handle "Wendy and the International Jam Incident" separately, since there doubtless will be much to write on that. I 'll write the outsiders' perspective, but we need the inside scoop from Ben and Wendy for that one. I'm going to have an MRI and see the radiation oncologist on Friday, so if you guys (all four of you) can have something to me on Paris by Monday, that would be great. Just e-mail me.
We head to Dublin with Gene at the helm. This is our last time we'll see him (at least for the immediate future) and I think we are all a bit saddened by the prospect. We get a goodbye picture of Gene (above). Goodbye Gene, we hardly knew ye. Some free advertising for Gene and our travel agent Chris Woolson:
The boys head off to the Vesey Arms pub, which at one time belonged to some of Bruce's relatives. It's a nice place, former home to the Italian Embassy, and recently remodeled so the decor is quite a bit different than the pubs which we have frequented other than the ceiling and a couple of chandeliers. The bartenders and waitresses are all drop dead dead gorgeous. Most of them appear to be from former Soviet bloc countries such as Romania, and a couple of Asian women are thrown in for good measure. Ben says to Bruce, "looks like your relatives did okay for themselves," in the wry way that only Ben can.
We then head off to the Guinness Brewery for a tour, but after an hour or so in line, it becomes apparent that we not going to get in, get through the tour and get back to Davy Byrnes' Pub by the agreed upon meeting time. So we split and meet up with the girls at Byrnes' . By this time, we are powerful thirsty from standing in line so we knock back a couple of drinks before going in search of "traditional" Irish music. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find something other than American rock and roll in Ireland. (Still the Irish do a pretty good job of that: Van Morrison and U2 is pretty damn good for a nation of 4million people.) We head to a place named the Dublin Porterhouse that brews their own beer, which is the only thing available on tap or in bottles, besides "imports" like Bud Light.
Melissa hates brew pubs where basically you have to drink the house stuff or pay a fortune for an import bottle. We have several of these type of places in Des Moines, but she's right: you either have to drink their crap or imports in bottles. I drink their stuff which isn't half bad, and Melissa tries a sip or two of their stuff and orders a gin and tonic. We go to the Dublin Chop House for dinner, and it is unmemorable (or at least I don't remember it ). We then seek out some Irish music.
We eventually find some in the strangest pub I've ever seen. On the first floor it is basically a 20's pickup joint with fairly decent American rock n' roll playing. We decide to go upstairs where the bartender says the traditional Irish music is playing. We all get a drink and start toward the stairs. As we near the stairs, we encounter a couple a guys dressed as chicks. I think it's a little strange and wonder if there 's some fraternity prank or some weird Irish holiday going on. We make it up to the second floor, and I'll be damned if it isn't full of transvestites dancing to that techno music crap. Who would have thought??!! We head up to the third floor, and find Traditional Irish music and a ton of people in their 50's. It is absolutely packed. Apparently, the art of traditional Irish music is hard to come by in the off season. The locals have to play it during the busy season, and so they are reluctant to play or listen to it in the off season which I can certainly understand. "Danny Boy" is nice once in a while, but I imagine it gets pretty old ten times a night every night of the week.
We listen for about two more drinks worth and then head back to the hotel for tomorrow's trip to France. (I (We, hopefully) will be writing about France in another Chapter of this blog. So for now, we are skipping ahead to our return from France on the 21st wherein we spent about 1/2 day and the night in Dublin).
After returning from that godforsaken country, we discuss what else we want to see. We go see the Book of Kells, one of the world's oldest and most Beautiful Bible at Trinity College. Definitely worth seeing. We buy some trinkets and trash at the bookstore and then head to the Guinness Brewery again. Again, we are shafted in the long line but do take the opportunity to look for trinkets and trash in their gift shop. We meet up with everyone for an appetizer dinner at Kennedy's (about three blocks from the Mont Clare Hotel where we are staying). For our last stop, we go the the Brazen Head, which is just your ordinary 800 year old tavern. (Established in 1198). Here's a picture which is one of my favorites:
Here's a couple More:
Feck the French. Kinda sums it all up doesn't it? We posted this in the Brazen Head (the small room off the Main bar by the fireplace).Wednesday, April 18, 2007
"I'm a man with a mission. . .
. . . in two or three editions,
And I'm giving you a longing look,
Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book."
"Everyday I Write the Book", from the album Punch the Clock (1983)
--Elvis Costello
[Socrates speaking] "Life without this sort of examination is not worth living."
Apology, 38a.
--Plato, Greek Philosopher, 429 B.C. - 347 B.C.
"For when the One Great Scorer comes to write
against your name,
He marks--not that you won or lost--but how
you played the Game."
Alumnus Football, l. 63(1908)
--Grantland Rice
Most of them never had a chance. I'm speaking of course about the Virginia Tech University murders. Three things need to be done to cut down on the probability of carnage on such a massive scale occurring again:
1. Ban certain styles of handguns. I did some quick research on mass murders involving guns in the United States since 1990. There have 16 such items that type crimes since 1990. Of those, I was able to find what weapons were used in 10 of crimes. 7 involved 9mm weapons. Easily available at any gun store, the clips and semi automatic firing capabilities of these weapons need to be banned. You NRA types can save it. Don't even bother writing. We'll allow you to trade in your weapons that have clips and semi-auto firing capability for weapons that don't have those capabilities. You want sporting? Shoot shotguns and bolt action or hand cocked rifles to your hearts content. That's giving a sporting chance, not just slaughtering an animal because you can. You want man-stopping power for personal protection? Well, hell yeah, you can trade in your 9mms for .357 Magnums. Is it going to completely stop these type of murders? No, but will cut down on the amount of carnage when they do occur.
2. Institute a massive tax on ammo for 9mm and other semi-auto guns. I didn't come up with this idea (I think comedian Chris Rock did), but instead of banning the weapons he suggested putting a $5,000.00 per bullet tax on 9mm ammo. I suppose that could work, too.
3. Why, during this day and age (i.e. post 9/11) are we allowing someone who is less than a full citizen to purchase firearms? Any politician with half a lick of sense should strike while the iron is hot on this one.
But in the end, does it really matter how they died? They died far too young with lots of accomplishments , hopes and and dreams in front of them. But far more young people (for the sake of argument, let's just call them people between 18-22 years old) die senseless deaths every day in car accidents and from cancer, for example, than died from the horrific mass murders that took place the other day. We need to take the time on a daily weekly and monthly basis to examine how we are writing the book of our own lives. Are we playing this little game we call life only for own benefit or for the benefit of others, as well?
P.S. I woke up about 4:00 a.m. and I see that NBC is parading around a bunch of crap that the Va. Tech. killer mailed them. Do me a favor and don't dignify it by watching it. Or e-mailing that stuff. Or calling him by name.
And I'm giving you a longing look,
Everyday, everyday, everyday I write the book."
"Everyday I Write the Book", from the album Punch the Clock (1983)
--Elvis Costello
[Socrates speaking] "Life without this sort of examination is not worth living."
Apology, 38a.
--Plato, Greek Philosopher, 429 B.C. - 347 B.C.
"For when the One Great Scorer comes to write
against your name,
He marks--not that you won or lost--but how
you played the Game."
Alumnus Football, l. 63(1908)
--Grantland Rice
Most of them never had a chance. I'm speaking of course about the Virginia Tech University murders. Three things need to be done to cut down on the probability of carnage on such a massive scale occurring again:
1. Ban certain styles of handguns. I did some quick research on mass murders involving guns in the United States since 1990. There have 16 such items that type crimes since 1990. Of those, I was able to find what weapons were used in 10 of crimes. 7 involved 9mm weapons. Easily available at any gun store, the clips and semi automatic firing capabilities of these weapons need to be banned. You NRA types can save it. Don't even bother writing. We'll allow you to trade in your weapons that have clips and semi-auto firing capability for weapons that don't have those capabilities. You want sporting? Shoot shotguns and bolt action or hand cocked rifles to your hearts content. That's giving a sporting chance, not just slaughtering an animal because you can. You want man-stopping power for personal protection? Well, hell yeah, you can trade in your 9mms for .357 Magnums. Is it going to completely stop these type of murders? No, but will cut down on the amount of carnage when they do occur.
2. Institute a massive tax on ammo for 9mm and other semi-auto guns. I didn't come up with this idea (I think comedian Chris Rock did), but instead of banning the weapons he suggested putting a $5,000.00 per bullet tax on 9mm ammo. I suppose that could work, too.
3. Why, during this day and age (i.e. post 9/11) are we allowing someone who is less than a full citizen to purchase firearms? Any politician with half a lick of sense should strike while the iron is hot on this one.
But in the end, does it really matter how they died? They died far too young with lots of accomplishments , hopes and and dreams in front of them. But far more young people (for the sake of argument, let's just call them people between 18-22 years old) die senseless deaths every day in car accidents and from cancer, for example, than died from the horrific mass murders that took place the other day. We need to take the time on a daily weekly and monthly basis to examine how we are writing the book of our own lives. Are we playing this little game we call life only for own benefit or for the benefit of others, as well?
P.S. I woke up about 4:00 a.m. and I see that NBC is parading around a bunch of crap that the Va. Tech. killer mailed them. Do me a favor and don't dignify it by watching it. Or e-mailing that stuff. Or calling him by name.
Friday, April 13, 2007
'Tis the season. . .
"The Income Tax has made more Liars out the American people than Golf has. Even when you make one out on the level, you don't know when it's through if you are a Crook or a martyr."
--Will Rogers, The Illiterate Digest (1924) (capitalization retained from original)
For taxes, that is. Got my stuff together, and in enough order that the CPA should be able to make some sense of it. Will return to regular posting on Monday or Tuesday next week. We'll be back to Ireland and a weekend filled with AAU baseball (Joe has four games on Sat. and Sun.).
--Will Rogers, The Illiterate Digest (1924) (capitalization retained from original)
For taxes, that is. Got my stuff together, and in enough order that the CPA should be able to make some sense of it. Will return to regular posting on Monday or Tuesday next week. We'll be back to Ireland and a weekend filled with AAU baseball (Joe has four games on Sat. and Sun.).
Thursday, April 05, 2007
The Cliffs of Moher
February 16, 2007
"Don't believe the world owes you a living; the world owes you nothing---it was here first."
--Robert Jones Burdette, U.S. Clergyman and Humorist, quoted by Evan Esar (1949)
"The Harder They Come, The Harder They Fall, One and All."
--Jimmy Cliff , "The Harder They Come" (1975)
Hey, it's hard to find good quotes and good music about cliffs. We went the Cliffs of Moher today and spent about 3 hours there, give or take, and I was overwhelmed by their beauty. They rise out of the Atlantic are are between 700 and 1200 feet above the water. Anyone who doesn't believe in God needs to see these before making that decision. This was me and Melissa's favorite part of the trip. I'll stop blabbing and let the pictures speak for themselves:
And let me tell you, the pics don't really do it justice. We head on toward Galway, and observe the cows sunning themselves on the rocks along the Atlantic Ocean. Gene, who had obviously been keeping an eye out for this, finds a pub named O'Brien's (my mother's maiden name). It is beautiful inside and very large. The service is the absolute worst we've had in Ireland. We ask the bartender about a well a mile up the road that we had stopped at. It is now a wishing well. You can guess what I was wishing for as I tossed in my coins. She has no idea what we're talking about. The well is right on the main highway and there isn't a lot either leading into town or the town itself. We ask the bartender (who is allegedly married to the owner of the place) what the best Irish whiskey she has is. "I don't know. This one is the most popular." I try another tact. "What is your most expensive Irish whiskey?" "I don't know", she responds. At this point, I'm incredulous. Ben and I finally convince her to take down a couple of bottles from the top shelf and we choose one for her to pour. The service is so slow and bad that even Gene makes fun of her after we leave. I guess the O'Brien's were meant to be served, not to serve others. :-) Here's one of Meg and I:
We head on to Galway, where we go to the Marless House operated by Mrs. Mary Geraghty. I think Gene is tired about us bitching about the B&B's, because he makes a point of mentioning that Chris (our travel agent) really likes this place and stays here all the time. Hey Gene, I just call them as I see them.
Turns out Chris is right. Mary greets us warmly. Both Mary and her husband are very engaging and have what James Joyce called the "gift of gab". We talk for nearly an hour with them in their kitchen before going out of the evening. The showers have both Americanized controls and most importantly, great water pressure. The breakfast is very good. Highly Recommended.
We head out to dinner after a couple of drinks at Sonny's which is a crowded but neat pub. None of us can decide where to go so we end going for pizza at a place called Finnegan's. Rule of Travel #183: Never eat pizza at a place in Ireland that advertises on trash cans. We didn't notice that last little part until we left the place. The best part of the meal was water. We head back to the B&B a short time later.
P.S. You know they always talk about the local color when you visit a place? This picture was taken from the front seat of our vehicle:
Friday, March 30, 2007
There once was a driver named Gene. . .
who kept his bus very clean.
At a very low cost,
we never got lost;
even while looking for Kilbeheen.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Even with that pathetic bit of doggerel, you can guess where we passed through today. It's a dumpy little industrial town, the only place we saw in Ireland that wasn't really pretty. Think Gary, Indiana, or maybe a small version of Philadelphia. The Clarkes originated near Limerick and I was hoping to at least have a drink in a pub named Clarke's but no such luck. The owner of the place we do stop in at says he hasn't even heard of any pubs called Clarke's so we give up after a couple drinks and meet Gene back at the bus.
Even so, getting to Limerick, we passed through several mountain passes and although the fog is in and out, it is still breathtaking. See example below:
On our way into Limerick, Gene stops and we all take a drink from a cold mountain stream.
After Limerick, we head toward the Dromoland Castle where we will "demand the exemplary service demanded by the O'Brien's." But first we stop at the Bunnratty castle just outside Shannon. The castle is closed for tours, but Ben and Wendy track down someone who agrees to give them an abbreviated tour. Luckily, for the rest of us there a pub next door. Even better, it is one we are (sort of) familiar with. Durty Nellie's, has some history with us because Melissa, myself, Bruce and Megan went to a knockoff called Dirty Nellie's located on the Riverwalk in San Antonio, Texas about 5 years ago when Iowa went to the Alamo Bowl. It was a piano bar, and we had a great time. The original is very cool. Not your ordinary 150 year old pub, this place was established in 1620. Yep, Same as when the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. I'll bet the folks at Durty Nellie's had a better time. I know we did. Yours truly:
At a very low cost,
we never got lost;
even while looking for Kilbeheen.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Even with that pathetic bit of doggerel, you can guess where we passed through today. It's a dumpy little industrial town, the only place we saw in Ireland that wasn't really pretty. Think Gary, Indiana, or maybe a small version of Philadelphia. The Clarkes originated near Limerick and I was hoping to at least have a drink in a pub named Clarke's but no such luck. The owner of the place we do stop in at says he hasn't even heard of any pubs called Clarke's so we give up after a couple drinks and meet Gene back at the bus.
Even so, getting to Limerick, we passed through several mountain passes and although the fog is in and out, it is still breathtaking. See example below:
On our way into Limerick, Gene stops and we all take a drink from a cold mountain stream.After Limerick, we head toward the Dromoland Castle where we will "demand the exemplary service demanded by the O'Brien's." But first we stop at the Bunnratty castle just outside Shannon. The castle is closed for tours, but Ben and Wendy track down someone who agrees to give them an abbreviated tour. Luckily, for the rest of us there a pub next door. Even better, it is one we are (sort of) familiar with. Durty Nellie's, has some history with us because Melissa, myself, Bruce and Megan went to a knockoff called Dirty Nellie's located on the Riverwalk in San Antonio, Texas about 5 years ago when Iowa went to the Alamo Bowl. It was a piano bar, and we had a great time. The original is very cool. Not your ordinary 150 year old pub, this place was established in 1620. Yep, Same as when the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. I'll bet the folks at Durty Nellie's had a better time. I know we did. Yours truly:
Ben, Corky (I mean Bruce), and I:
After a good time was had by all, and we had purchased numerous trinkets and trash, we headed to the Dromoland castle located in Newmarket-on-Fergus. Here's what you see as you pull in (note our bus on the right):
Dromoland was built in 1543 by the O'Briens (my mother's maiden name) who were barons of Inchiquin, and direct descendants of the High King Brian Boru the "valiant leader of a victory over the Danes in 1014. Today, the eighteenth baron of Inchiquin still lives on the grounds" (which consist of over 370 acres, including an 18 hole golf course, horseback riding and shooting). Who would have guessed we descended from the landed gentry? Even more impressive than the outside is the inside:
The doors in the place ranged from 10 feet to 12 feet high. We showered before dinner, not necessarily because we needed to, but because they were hot showers with blasting water and normal controls. Robes and slippers were provided and so were complimentary aperitifs in the room. We were supposed to have jackets for dinner, but luckily they provide one for me. It is nice to see everyone dressed up, and we have a cocktail in the "lounge" before dinner. The lounge is an area with very old and expensive looking furniture, huge portraits 10' x 6' (maybe?) and ceilings that are probably 20' high. We are seated for dinner, and we are usual selves which the staff seems to enjoy since their other customers are there for a particularly stuffy wedding rehearsal dinner. We have a great meal, very good desserts and the company is even better. Don't miss this place if you ever go to Ireland. After dinner, we all retire to our bedrooms and Melissa and I almost immediately fall asleep.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Doing Nothing
"Let me say to you now that to do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world, the most difficult and the most intellectual." Gilbert, Intentions, Part II by Oscar Wilde
"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone. . .but they've always worked for me." Hunter S. Thompson, quoted in Life, Jan. 1981
I went to the Stoddard Cancer Center yesterday. Got a CT taken, as well as blood counts, and went to see my oncologist. The tentative plan was to do another round of chemo unless the cancer had spread so far in the lung as to make chemo irrelevant.
I had been antibiotics for the previous 10 days ending Sunday and the cough and hacking I had was gone. After I stopped the antibiotics, the cough has come back some, but I'm no longer coughing up the white crap.
So we go in to see Dr. Heddinger, and he said that after reading the CT I have a partially collapsed right upper lung lobe and I could do one of three things: have chemo again, do a bronchoscopy (the procedure where they stab you in the back with a humongous needle), or do nothing. The CT showed stable tumor (at least in the lung), so he wasn't going to recommend chemo. The bronchoscopy is highly invasive, hit or miss on results, and in all likelihood would only reveal the partially collapsed lung which we can't do anything about. That left option three: Do nothing.
As an attorney, this was often my advice especially in criminal cases. It's hard for the attorney to give, because he or she isn't making any money doing nothing. It's hard for the client, because they want to feel like they (or their attorney) was hard at work on their case. So usually, they were too dumb to follow the advice and would either open their mouths as soon a cop asked them a question, or often, would actively seek out the police to "tell their side of the story." They ended up screwing themselves, of course, whereas the people who followed the advice often ended up with their cases dropped by the county attorney, or sometimes (if they came to me early enough) not even being charged.
Similarly, doctors don't make much if they are not performing procedures or surgeries and only running diagnostic tests. It's hard advice to give and to take. So I admire Dr. Heddinger even more for giving this advice.
This doesn't solve the brain mets problem upon which I'll probably have stereotactic surgery (again) in mid-May. But for now, it's morphine, Crown Royal and Smithwick's. Breakfast of Champions (with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut).
"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone. . .but they've always worked for me." Hunter S. Thompson, quoted in Life, Jan. 1981
I went to the Stoddard Cancer Center yesterday. Got a CT taken, as well as blood counts, and went to see my oncologist. The tentative plan was to do another round of chemo unless the cancer had spread so far in the lung as to make chemo irrelevant.
I had been antibiotics for the previous 10 days ending Sunday and the cough and hacking I had was gone. After I stopped the antibiotics, the cough has come back some, but I'm no longer coughing up the white crap.
So we go in to see Dr. Heddinger, and he said that after reading the CT I have a partially collapsed right upper lung lobe and I could do one of three things: have chemo again, do a bronchoscopy (the procedure where they stab you in the back with a humongous needle), or do nothing. The CT showed stable tumor (at least in the lung), so he wasn't going to recommend chemo. The bronchoscopy is highly invasive, hit or miss on results, and in all likelihood would only reveal the partially collapsed lung which we can't do anything about. That left option three: Do nothing.
As an attorney, this was often my advice especially in criminal cases. It's hard for the attorney to give, because he or she isn't making any money doing nothing. It's hard for the client, because they want to feel like they (or their attorney) was hard at work on their case. So usually, they were too dumb to follow the advice and would either open their mouths as soon a cop asked them a question, or often, would actively seek out the police to "tell their side of the story." They ended up screwing themselves, of course, whereas the people who followed the advice often ended up with their cases dropped by the county attorney, or sometimes (if they came to me early enough) not even being charged.
Similarly, doctors don't make much if they are not performing procedures or surgeries and only running diagnostic tests. It's hard advice to give and to take. So I admire Dr. Heddinger even more for giving this advice.
This doesn't solve the brain mets problem upon which I'll probably have stereotactic surgery (again) in mid-May. But for now, it's morphine, Crown Royal and Smithwick's. Breakfast of Champions (with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut).
Friday, March 23, 2007
St. Valentine's Day
February 14, 2007
[You can't ] "wallow with the eagles at night and then soar with the pigs in the morning." --Hunter S. Thompson, The Great Shark Hunt
We wake up having got our best night's sleep in God knows how long. The shower is hot and there is plenty of water. We call room service and have them bring us coffee and a soda while we are getting ready. It is a rested casual morning. We go down to breakfast. We get a great window seat in the restaurant. Service is marginally better than we've had. They at least fill our coffee and other drinks and bring us soda bread. The buffet itself is very good, but frankly, after seven days, I'm ready for a chocolate doughnut. We have to track down the waitress to get her to bring more juice and coffee. Ben is not feeling well this morning. Apparently, too much booze and rich seafood has done in he and his stomach. Wendy tells us this. My wife and Megan immediately volunteer to stay another night in this beautiful hotel, but I'm non-plussed. If we weren't on such a tight schedule, I'd go along with staying another night, but if I miss stuff now, it's not like I can come back next year or some other time. I indicate to Wendy that we are pressing on. Wendy says that if we give Ben until 11:30 a.m. he can move on. We're not on that tight of a schedule, so we give Ben an opportunity to man up.
My wife bought me underwear and t-shirts at a Target type store yesterday, so I use the additional time to return my 60 Euro underwear. The dollar is falling so fast against the Euro that I actually make $0.24 on the exchange. Ben, does in fact, man up, and we move on shortly after the noon hour. It is not a long drive to Dingle, but it is beautiful. Cattle laying down right by the shoreline. Damnedest thing I've ever seen, except maybe the cattle on the mountains on our right. The cattle are negotiating the mountains!!
We stop at Tom Crean's South Pole Inn in Annascaul or "Áth na Scal" (Ford of the Heroes). Most people in the pub speak Gaelic. It helps that Gene does too. Crean went the South Pole twice, once each with the well known explorers Robert Scott and Earnest Shackleton. He also single handedly saved a member of the expedition when most people would have left him for dead. If you're really interested, a link is here:
We then head into Dingle, where we check in at Walsh's Townhouse B&B. We are actually warmly greeted by the owner, and she doesn't complain about the fact that we are early. Good first impressions are usually correct, and in this case they turn out to be. The Rooms are small, but clean. The shower has American type controls on it. The breakfast room has been recently redone, and the lights work. We meet across the street at the an drocied beag (Gaelic for "the small bridge"). Ben, Wendy, Bruce and Megan decide to take Gene up on his offer to show them the "beehive" huts. Melissa and I decide to stay back at the pub where we are seated by our usual spot near the fireplace because neither of us have much interest in the beehive huts and it is getting cold and windy out. After awhile, Melissa and I walk up and down Main Street during which we discover that Doyle's, the place where I was planning on taking everyone to dinner, is closed. We stop at another Pub (Sheey's) and ask for a recommendation from the owner for dinner and she mentions Ashes, down Main Street.
We then head down Main, window shopping, until I spy a place called Foxy John's Bar and Hardware. I insist on stopping in, and damned if it isn't a bar on one side and hardware shop on the other. While I'm drinking a pint, two people actually make hardware purchases. You can see Foxy John and I in the photo above. I'm the ugly one on the right. Note the girl's bicycle in the left window in the lower photo on the left.
We meet back up with gang at "the small bridge" and are also told by the people there to go dinner at Ashes.' Dinner is very good, one our best in Ireland. We finish the night at the Small Bridge where they have live Irish music every night. You'd be surprised how many places have only American rock'n'roll. I'm pretty tired, so Melissa and I call it an early night.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
My Greatest Albums (CDs) of All Time
Okay. I admit it. This is a cheap easy column to substitute for actual thoughtful reporting that I usually (try to) do. Yet it is sure to engender a lot of discussion. Please feel free to add your top 25 (or top ten or five) of all time, too. I assume that most people noticed I included a couple of bootlegs you probably haven't heard. If you want copies let me know.
Only two rules: (1) No anonymous lists or anonymous criticism of mine; and (2) no greatest hits or boxed set compilations. Without further ado:
My 25 Favorite Albums of All Time as of March 18, 2007 (In no particular order)
1. Van Morrison Street Choir
2. Alanis Morrisette Jagged Little Pill
3. The Who Who Are You?
4. Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon
5. Bruce Springsteen The Saint, the Incident and the Main Point Shuffle (Bootleg 2/2/75)
6. John Cougar Mellencamp Pink Houses
7. The Band The Band
8. Van Morrison Into the Music
9. Delbert McClinton One of the Fortunate Few
10. Warren Zevon The Wind
11. Run DMC Raisin’ Hell
12. The Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill
13. Little Feat Waiting for Columbus
14. Shelby Lynne I Am Shelby Lynne
15. John Lee Hooker Live in Montreaux (Bootleg 7/15/83)
16. AC/DC Back In Black
17. Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti
18. Indigo Girls The Indigo Girls
19. Norah Jones Feels Like Home
20. Jackson Browne Running on Empty
21. The Beatles Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
22. R.E.M. Document
23. Matchbox 20 Yourself or Someone Like You
24. Bob Dylan Blood On the Tracks
25. The Pretenders Learning to Crawl
Hopefully back to Ireland and cancer next column.
Only two rules: (1) No anonymous lists or anonymous criticism of mine; and (2) no greatest hits or boxed set compilations. Without further ado:
My 25 Favorite Albums of All Time as of March 18, 2007 (In no particular order)
1. Van Morrison Street Choir
2. Alanis Morrisette Jagged Little Pill
3. The Who Who Are You?
4. Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon
5. Bruce Springsteen The Saint, the Incident and the Main Point Shuffle (Bootleg 2/2/75)
6. John Cougar Mellencamp Pink Houses
7. The Band The Band
8. Van Morrison Into the Music
9. Delbert McClinton One of the Fortunate Few
10. Warren Zevon The Wind
11. Run DMC Raisin’ Hell
12. The Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill
13. Little Feat Waiting for Columbus
14. Shelby Lynne I Am Shelby Lynne
15. John Lee Hooker Live in Montreaux (Bootleg 7/15/83)
16. AC/DC Back In Black
17. Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti
18. Indigo Girls The Indigo Girls
19. Norah Jones Feels Like Home
20. Jackson Browne Running on Empty
21. The Beatles Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
22. R.E.M. Document
23. Matchbox 20 Yourself or Someone Like You
24. Bob Dylan Blood On the Tracks
25. The Pretenders Learning to Crawl
Hopefully back to Ireland and cancer next column.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
"Many Sanks"
"I want to thank everyone who made this day necessary."
---Yogi Berra, on Yogi Berra Day, 1947
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
This is what the interpreter for the French people kept saying as the proprietor was trying to get them out so could serve us breakfast. She kept handing her all these worthless brochures (I know these were worthless because I had looked at them on the way in), like those "guidebooks" full of coupons for the town they were leaving. Also featured, since, they were going to Dublin, was a three year old map of Dublin, which didn't even include the new highway (I think it's the M1) that encircles Dublin. Every time the proprietor handed the French interpreter a map or brochure, the interpreter would repeatedly say "many sanks" (i.e., many thanks). We were in the the sitting room, waiting for breakfast, just off the entry way where this "conversation" was taking place.
We were desperately waiting for coffee, (even the nasty instant coffee placed in the room was decaf), but it was so damn funny listening to this, because the harder she tried to get rid of them, the longer and and more repeated the cries of "Many Sanks" became. This became one of the catchphrases for our trip except in France where it became "une petite thanks" for snotty desk clerks, waiters, etc.
As soon as got in the breakfast room, we were told we were sitting at the wrong table. How we supposed to have figured this out, I'm not sure. However, we moved and we finally got coffee. After a pretty good breakfast, Gene had arrived, but it was still raining. Before we leave Kenmare, we visit one of the stone circles. It is known locally as the “Judge and Jury” as it consists of thirteen stones with a central bolder burial. It is the center piece of a complex astronomical calendar, which includes both solar and lunar cycles. Monuments on the horizon mark the rising and setting of the moon on significant dates.
We head on toward Killarney, and the scenery, even in the rain and fog, is beautiful. In several places, we see palm trees growing. Who knew? We stop at the Muckross House, which is a national park. Unfortunately, it is raining and the Park is closed for renovations until mid-March . We get out and take a look anyway. It's pretty impressive. It starts to pour. We run into the visitor center which is more or less closed except for the cafe and the trinkets and trash store, i.e. the gift shop. We spend an hour buying trinkets and trash and then head into the cafe. It is a beautiful cafe where you can watch the storms roll in and out through the large glass windows.
We make the rest of the short trip to Killarney, where our hotel is. After circling the hotel several times, and being unable to approach the hotel within 3 blocks our driver Gene does what we do in American cities: park illegally, and then ask the person who tells you to move for directions. Unlike Chicago, however, they are a lot more personable in Ireland. We unload most of our luggage, and the smartly dressed hotel desk clerk jumps in the van with Gene and she not only gives him directions on where to park, but a recommendation on where to go for dinner tonight. The hotel lobby is absolutely gorgeous and the service is top flight. It is easily in the top five hotels I've stayed at, including Ritz Carlton, Marriott resorts and so forth in major American cities. We are shown to our rooms by the bellman and flop onto the comfortable bed.
The guys and Wendy go to Ross Castle, which is a 14th century castle just outside of Killarney. The other two girls go shopping (or at least so we thought) in town. The castle is closed; however, they let us wander around the grounds where we run into a former tour guide who gives us the history of the place.
After rounding up everyone, we head to Hannigan's, a pub that is a James Joyce Award winner. Bruce and I split up from the girls and go in search of a laundromat. We find a laundry, but they can't guarantee the clothes will be done by the time we leave in the morning. I go to a men's store and drop 60 Euro's on new underwear and t-shirts. Bruce and I head to place named Tattler Jack's quaff a couple of Guinness's and then it occurs to us that tomorrow is Valentine's Day. We quickly purchase some flowers, a card, and a bottle of wine for the girls. Hope Ben remembered to do the same.
We meet back at the hotel and go to Lord Kenmare's, the place the desk lady recommended for dinner. It is fantastic and we have a great time. For a nightcap, we head to Jack C's, a place Melissa and Megan discovered while they were out earlier. It is a tiny place that seats a total of 14, but it's great, The owners are very personable and we stay until nearly closing. Tomorrow we are off to the Dingle Peninsula.
---Yogi Berra, on Yogi Berra Day, 1947
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
This is what the interpreter for the French people kept saying as the proprietor was trying to get them out so could serve us breakfast. She kept handing her all these worthless brochures (I know these were worthless because I had looked at them on the way in), like those "guidebooks" full of coupons for the town they were leaving. Also featured, since, they were going to Dublin, was a three year old map of Dublin, which didn't even include the new highway (I think it's the M1) that encircles Dublin. Every time the proprietor handed the French interpreter a map or brochure, the interpreter would repeatedly say "many sanks" (i.e., many thanks). We were in the the sitting room, waiting for breakfast, just off the entry way where this "conversation" was taking place.
We were desperately waiting for coffee, (even the nasty instant coffee placed in the room was decaf), but it was so damn funny listening to this, because the harder she tried to get rid of them, the longer and and more repeated the cries of "Many Sanks" became. This became one of the catchphrases for our trip except in France where it became "une petite thanks" for snotty desk clerks, waiters, etc.
As soon as got in the breakfast room, we were told we were sitting at the wrong table. How we supposed to have figured this out, I'm not sure. However, we moved and we finally got coffee. After a pretty good breakfast, Gene had arrived, but it was still raining. Before we leave Kenmare, we visit one of the stone circles. It is known locally as the “Judge and Jury” as it consists of thirteen stones with a central bolder burial. It is the center piece of a complex astronomical calendar, which includes both solar and lunar cycles. Monuments on the horizon mark the rising and setting of the moon on significant dates.
We head on toward Killarney, and the scenery, even in the rain and fog, is beautiful. In several places, we see palm trees growing. Who knew? We stop at the Muckross House, which is a national park. Unfortunately, it is raining and the Park is closed for renovations until mid-March . We get out and take a look anyway. It's pretty impressive. It starts to pour. We run into the visitor center which is more or less closed except for the cafe and the trinkets and trash store, i.e. the gift shop. We spend an hour buying trinkets and trash and then head into the cafe. It is a beautiful cafe where you can watch the storms roll in and out through the large glass windows.
We make the rest of the short trip to Killarney, where our hotel is. After circling the hotel several times, and being unable to approach the hotel within 3 blocks our driver Gene does what we do in American cities: park illegally, and then ask the person who tells you to move for directions. Unlike Chicago, however, they are a lot more personable in Ireland. We unload most of our luggage, and the smartly dressed hotel desk clerk jumps in the van with Gene and she not only gives him directions on where to park, but a recommendation on where to go for dinner tonight. The hotel lobby is absolutely gorgeous and the service is top flight. It is easily in the top five hotels I've stayed at, including Ritz Carlton, Marriott resorts and so forth in major American cities. We are shown to our rooms by the bellman and flop onto the comfortable bed.
The guys and Wendy go to Ross Castle, which is a 14th century castle just outside of Killarney. The other two girls go shopping (or at least so we thought) in town. The castle is closed; however, they let us wander around the grounds where we run into a former tour guide who gives us the history of the place.
After rounding up everyone, we head to Hannigan's, a pub that is a James Joyce Award winner. Bruce and I split up from the girls and go in search of a laundromat. We find a laundry, but they can't guarantee the clothes will be done by the time we leave in the morning. I go to a men's store and drop 60 Euro's on new underwear and t-shirts. Bruce and I head to place named Tattler Jack's quaff a couple of Guinness's and then it occurs to us that tomorrow is Valentine's Day. We quickly purchase some flowers, a card, and a bottle of wine for the girls. Hope Ben remembered to do the same.
We meet back at the hotel and go to Lord Kenmare's, the place the desk lady recommended for dinner. It is fantastic and we have a great time. For a nightcap, we head to Jack C's, a place Melissa and Megan discovered while they were out earlier. It is a tiny place that seats a total of 14, but it's great, The owners are very personable and we stay until nearly closing. Tomorrow we are off to the Dingle Peninsula.
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