"I have lived long enough: my way of life is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf..." (Macbeth)-

If a blog is a venue for recording daily, minor, significant, and important events in a blogger's life...and if it's also a place to express feelings and emotions, then I confess that I feel "cabin'd, cribb'd, confined." And to continue with the Macbeth thing, "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace...." In the past, when I awakened in the mornings, I went to work. I could hardly call it work to be surrounded by hundreds of teenagers; and to think I used to get paid for having fun all day. And I do mean, "all day", because after the classrooms closed, I went down to the field to coach the soccer team in the fall, and the track teams in the winter and the spring until about 5pm. Going home, I had more fun with my four teenagers and their mother. Even after their mother split, I used to run the 10 miles to get home...and that was euphoric. After I came down to Florida with Rhoda, she went to work as a receptionist for a doctor or as a salesperson in a shop with products for the handicapped, while I usually was off to the golf course with my buddies, or to the weight room to pump iron or to the pool to swim a mile of laps--80 laps actually. But what about these days? I've lost my mobility among other things. Golf is a lost cause--even if I could play without pain, the buddies are all gone. My life is becoming a big yawn. Once upon decades ago, I had goals which seemed unattainable and what were they? First, to engage in combat in WWII which came along just as I graduated from high school. The plan was to avenge the affliction my father suffered from being gassed in WWI. My other goals were to get into college, graduate, and get a PhD in English education; marry, raise a family, and have a teaching and coaching career; run the New York Marathon; take a year to travel around the world; break 80 on the golf course; perform in Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, play Tevye in "Fiddler on the Roof", and write a book. Now, when I look back at all these goals, I wonder how the hell I managed to do all that.

I survived WWII (barely & hardly) but now I am trying to survive aging. My pill box is loaded every day. I have doctors to tend to every part of my body--outside and inside-- and two to tend to my brain. This is not fun. And now that I've finished pining and whining, I'm off to lunch and await the arrival of Pat, the physical therapist. And tomorrow is Saturday.

"Afh yenems tukhes is gut sepatchen."

Good day, my friends, enemies, and relatives. This is my 225th blog, not that I'm bragging--just counting. I can't believe that I've had that much to say, but it's my way of communicating to the outside world--telling it how I feel and what I'm thinking. Who knows? Perhaps there's a shrink or two out there who is reading these who may have some advice. Although in the past couple of days I'm been getting a lot of advice, and complaints from the advisors that I'm being "stubborn". I have written to them and said that because they call me stubborn doesn't mean that it is so. It simply means that since their advice, well meant, is in a state of equilibrium, and I'm not immediately accepting of it, in their minds I'm "stubborn". Not.

Now, if we continue on the theme of calling people by names that may or not apply, or which may or not be well meant, I've been reading a lot of news items regarding Muslims referring to non-believers in the Koran as "infidels". It is my understanding that the word was first used in the Christian Church to refer to those who did not believe in the divinity of Jesus. In Islam, "infidel" refers only to those who do not believe in the one God, with the exception of the extremists who believe it's OK to kill all infidels who do not accept the Muslim faith. Well, to those extremists--like Al Qaida and Bin Ladin--I say that Judaism is going to fight back. For example, if they call us infidels, then we can call them "schlemiels" or "schlamazels." If they declare a jihad against us, why not hit them back by letting them know we are visiting upon them a "vicious varnishke"? That should frighten them because surely they don't know a varnishke from a kasha. Now also, they've come up in the past with something they call an "intifada". Why not taunt them back by declaring a "gefilteknish" against them? That should strike a note of terror. After they suffer from that catastrophe and declare that those affected are "martyrs" why not say that our guys are "fartyrs". Their martyrs, we should mention, will not get 79 virgins when they leave this world, but 79 "farshlepteh krenks". When we sneak one of our fartyrs aboard one of their buses, and he explodes, then they'll know what terror is all about. And on our side, we have the Father of All Fartyrs in Sir Mike Herbstman who is the resurrection of the Dybbuk himself. Finally, in our own retaliatory arsenal we can release

our own version of Bin Laden in the GOLEM! (In Yiddish, pronounced "goilem"). He is resting in the Old-New Synagogue in Prague in a crypt all his own. When they experience our Golem, the whole Islamic world should sue for peace.

(Translation: Someone else's ass is easy to smack) GOLEM

"O! How full of briers is this working day world." (As You Like It)

Went to Dr. Rebello today and since everything checks out OK now, he wants me back in two months. I don't really know if I want to go back to him, since I can't understand what he says half the time. I believe he's Indian or Pakistani or something like that. I'm glad Rhoda came along to translate what he had to say. Anyway I'm really very tired of seeing doctors for this pain and that pain, and I'm tired of taking this pill and that pill for I don't know what reason. If Rhoda goes before me, I'm a dead duck, because I haven't the foggiest notion of what pills go into the 7 day pill holder she loads up every week. She is going to have to leave instructions in her will.

We have cancelled the Anniversary cruise we had planned to Scandinavia. I just wasn't going to get sick and find myself in a foreign hospital. Too much of a chance to take. We already got back half the money from Celebrity Cruise Line, and now we have to go through the process of filling out all sorts of forms for the insurance company. They will owe us the rest of the money...almost 5K. But the good news is that we have booked another cruise leaving Dec. 17 for the Caribbean which is much closer to home. It will stop at some ports that we have never been to. The rest of the good news is that we will get a handicap room that will allow us to bring my scooter. It's an outside stateroom with a veranda (whatever that is). My guess is that it's a balcony. Anyway, it will still be our Anniversary cruise; although I feel really guilty about getting sick at the wrong time so that Rhoda will not get to see all the things she was looking forward to in Scandinavia. But, as they say,

"C'est la vie;" or "Que sera, sera;" or "s_____happens."

Tomorrow we are going to the Mardi Gras Casino in Hallandale. We've never been there, but we are looking forward to making a bundle on the slot machines. The secret of winning at the slots is that you have to walk around until a certain machine calls to you; that is, you and the machine make a magnetic connection. Sort of ESP. No kidding; try it.

"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us." (King Lear)

I've been watching the EUR0 soccer tournament, and even though I've coached H.S. soccer for over 25 years and won over 100 games on the Varsity level, averaging 10 wins a year for 10 years, I still marvel at the beauty of the game as played by these national teams. Yesterday the Netherlands played Russia and even though the Dutch were favored, Russia won the game 3-1 when they scored two goals in the second 15-minute overtime. That put them in the semi-finals when they will play the winner of today's game between Spain and Italy. Spain has never beaten Italy in a big tournament, so perhaps there will be the makings of another upset. The Holland-Russia game was frantic from beginning to end. One needn't worry about the low scoring in soccer, if you just concentrate on the skills displayed. The way goals are scored is incredible quite often. They just come so suddenly. And you have to be amazed at how fit these players are to run their hearts out for 90 minutes. There are no time outs in this game! Hurray for Pele and Beckenbauer and even Chinaglia!

I'm feeling a lot better in the past couple of days, but I still have to see the internist tomorrow at 2pm. I'm getting really tired of going to doctors and doctors and doctors of all sizes, shapes, and forms. And besides that, I'm just damned tired. It's just very confusing...every test I've taken to find out why I'm having pain in various parts of my body has come back negative. By that I mean that the tests don't show anything wrong; which I suppose is a good thing. But the bad part is that I still don't have a clue as to what put me in the hospital for four miserable days. And the pills are multiplying exponentially. Also, I'd rather not fly anywhere again--and if I could, I'd get on my scooter instead and drive it across country to establish a World Record for my age group in scooter driving. At least it's a goal. But where would I put Rhoda? The basket is not comfortable, I understand.

By the way, Spain won.