"In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me sweet and twenty." (12th Night)

What's going on in this country and the world? In England a 54 year-old Greg Norman is leading the British Open. Here in the United States we have a black man running for President of the United States, and all the polls I've seen have him leading his opponent, John McCain. I call Obama a "black" man because if I call him an"African American"then I would have to call others ItalianAmericans,GermanAmericans,JewishAmericans, and Native Americans, etc. I don't want to get involved in that conundrum. Here in America, we have, basically, a heterogeneous group of whites, blacks, and Latinos. If this combination can ever get along with each other and work together to improve life in our country--well that's a lot of power and it can't be stopped. There is nothing like it in the rest of the world. Incidentally, call me "pisha", but I'm still voting for Obama. If you don't, you're making a huge mistake. ...

Moving on to another subject, which I'm certain irritates a lot of people is the habit of your friends, acquaintances, or even relatives, sending out inane e-mail jokes, or long political propaganda, or meaningless and mindless articles, or pictures of animals in cute poses, or anything but NEWS ABOUT THEMSELVES. Not only are you asked many times to pass these items that clog your inbox, to everybody you know, but most of them have a lengthy list of e-mail addresses along with the junk mail. It seems knowing how to blind copy (BC) is not one of the skills involved, and of course if the mail is one that's been forwarded several times, and you are 10th on the list, there must not be a "delete" button attached to their computer. At the very least this is discourteous computer behavior. I have people sending me this junk and never, ever writing anything about their daily lives that might interest me as I'm doing for them in these blogs. If this happens often, I put their e-mails on my spam list. I really can't understand what kind of pleasure people get by e-mailing these things in batches. Like Macbeth says, "When trouble comes, it comes not in single spies, but in battalions." Of course, if a friend sends me porn, that's a different matter. I have never lost interest or felt shame in viewing people sans clothing making consensual love. It's nature at its best.

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie..." (All's Well That Ends Well)

I just browsed through my publisher's web site and I discovered that I've got $21 in royalties saved there for distribution at the end of November. Actually, I wasn't expecting even that much, but it is satisfying to know that some friends have bought my books. I really don't mind the sales count; I just like publishing my books. There will be another one in a couple of months. Perhaps it might interest you to know that I decide the value of royalties to a book. So, I just keep it to a couple of books...er bucks so that they will be affordable.

Friday, August 18

This day didn't start off well. Rh+ had such a bad night coughing that in the morning she was definitely Rh-. Her lungs have never been too great so she was concerned about pneumonia. We went to our doctor and he prescribed two kinds of anti-biotics and one for blood pressure. And he took a blood test. He really wanted to put her in the hospital. However, we went to another office where she had a chest x-ray. Now, all we have to do is wait for the results. Bummer. I hate when she's sick. I also hate when I'm sick, but I hate it worst when she's sick...as a matter of fact, the doctor just called with the test results and told her she does indeed have pneumonia. Worst bummer! (See, Baron is right up to the minute here). Now we'll have to wait and see what the medications and the nebulizer do to alleviate the problem. If it doesn't help, she will have to go into the hospital.

"Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,

And study help for that which thou lament'st

Time is the nurse and breeder of all good"

(Two Gentlemen of Verona)

Brave New World Vol. II

Yesterday in my blog I used the metaphor of a flower pot with a tulip and a rose in it to describe my past and future. I now reject that image. I do not want my legacy to be a flower pot such as, "Red Baron, the blogger and his alter ego, Dr. Norman R. Ross grew up as two flowers in a flower pot." I can't think of any figure of speech sounding more "gay" than a flower pot with two flowers in it to describe a guy. So let's say instead that I grew up as two ballistic missiles; one with a nuclear device in it that has already been fired, and the other with a firecracker in the warhead that will also soon be fired. When the firecracker explodes, there will be 20 smoke trails representing all the years ahead of me. (I think I'm getting involved in too much poetry and wishful thinking here.) But I believe you will get my drift.

I went to my publisher on the Internet today to find out if I could get a distribution package and ISBN for the paper bound color version of "Memoirs of a Tail Gunner." If it could be done like my other books, it would appear on Google as well as all the online bookstores. However, I was told in the "chat" that if the book contains more than 200 pages with images in color, a distribution package could not be had. Fortunately, if someone is wealthy enough to buy it for $60, it can be purchased on "My Lulu Store"--the link to the right of my blogs will get you there. It's a beautiful book with cover design by my grandson, Adam Ross.

Brave New World

Yesterday Rhoda went to play cards, and I went to the casino. I played for about two or three hours and lost $10 an hour on the ten cent and five cent slots. There must be a trick to it, so I'll look it up on google. Then I'll go back to get my money. Yesterday, we both went to see "Wall-E" a sci-fi animated hi-tech movie which went on for about two hours with two words of dialogue: "Wall-E" and "Yvonne." That's it, folks--the only two words in the movie! (Well except for some obese military alien). Wall-E is an Earth bound robot, and Yvonne is a female robot from another world. The two of them fall in love and keep pronouncing each other's name to make sure they don't forget I presume. The visual effects were terrific until the animators went crazy and it got boring. I believe the geniuses who made this film must have had a few beers before they finished it. The final scenes were kind of sophomoric in that the guys and/or gals animators seemed to be showing off what they could do with computerized effects and forgot about a story line or the audience snoozing.

Speaking of special effects, I'm going to learn how to put together my scooter. It's like a Rubik Cube. Since Rho is an expert, I will learn from her, and when I can take it apart, put it in the trunk of my car, and then put it together again I will become a free man. A new man. As you may have gathered I have become depressed over the loss of my mobility. I have become more or less house bound. I can't play golf anymore, nor walk my three miles a day, nor go to a mall myself, nor do anything requiring mobility. I know. I know. I've been told to walk in the pool--I don't want to. It's too much of a hassle.

I've been told to exercise in the gym--pump iron, I suppose. I don't want to. It's a big bore. I just would like to do the things I did before I became immobile. Not possible. My golfing buddies all died. I can't play racquet ball, or any kind of ball. Well, I've got the solution to the rest of my life. I'm going to imagine that I am a flower pot and in this pot grew two of my favorite flowers--the tulip and the rose. The tulip grew wonderfully well for many, many years and then withered. However the rose is still there--growing, waiting to bloom. I will become the rose in bloom (a Jewish name!), and bring joy and beauty to family and friends for the next 20 years. I will teach Shakespeare courses, I will write a novel. (Yes, I will). I will read philosophy and try to find a Latin class in one of the colleges. I will try to get a part time job in the library. I will not "wither on the vine" so to speak. (If something withers on the vine, it is destroyed very gradually, usually because no one does anything to help or support it.) I'm thankful for the word, "gradually".

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety." (Antony & Cleopatra)

It just occurred to me that this will be the 235th blog I've written since August 8, 2007--almost a year. I can't really fully fathom the significance of this achievement and the reason for that is it probably is devoid of significance. Well, at least two good things have been the result of this retirement activity and that is two books have been published and I'm on the way to a third. I enjoy publishing books. I love the feel of the book in my hands, and I don't really mind if no one reads it--I know that I wrote it. Today is a lazy Sunday, and a good day for spring cleaning, except that we are a little late in getting to it. While Rho was busy straightening out the pantry and the closets, I took out two suitcases that were living behind the living room couch, and emptied the contents. These suitcases were Pre-Incan or even antediluvian in age. However, there were treasures to be found within. One of them was the tfilen and tallis from my Bar Mitzvah. Another was my custom made Navy uniform with caps and tie. I can only get one leg into it; the other leg can't quite make it to my ass. As far as the caps are concerned, my brain must have grown very large since 1942 because the caps would only lie on the top of my head; they would simply slide right off with the slightest movement. One thought is that this real live custom made WWII Naval Uniform might bring a price on E-Bay much higher than I paid for it. One more keepsake found in these two pieces of luggage was a plaque from the USS GUADALCANAL which Rho's son, Jon, brought here for safekeeping.

Yesterday, I wrote about all the things I did for RH+ as her J.A.P. loving husband. So I decided it's only fair for me to write about all the things she does for me as a loving spouse. First of all, she smiles alot, which always is a delightful experience. That's what attracted me in the first place. She is a gourmet cook, especially around holiday times. When you sit down to a dinner that she has made, you know you're in for a tasty time. Her brisket recipe by this time probably has circled the globe. Besides her culinary art, she does most of the domestic chores in our marriage--bed making, laundry, taking out the garbage, washing the dishes (by putting them in the dishwasher), and the usual traditional homemaking activities as is written in the Katuba. Sometimes I help with these things when she has to go to a luncheon, or to aerobics, or to a City of Hope Meeting which she presides over as President. But I probably should do more; I try. For me, especially, she helps me by putting on my socks, so I don't do more damage to my back. She helps me with my crossword puzzles when I get stuck with an author or actor's name; she puts bandaids on my wounds when I rip my skin, which occurs too often. When my legs cramp up in the middle of the night, she gets up from her sleep to massage them; she knows how to take apart and put together my scooter. When I'm having bad dreams or flashbacks because of PTSD, she brings me a xanax. I believe the things she does as a wife are more important than what I've done for her. She and I could most likely get along without all the baubles and beads I paid for, but I could never get along without what she does for me. Period