"How poor are they who have no patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees." (Othello)

Tomorrow is the day I start my water therapy. I'll have a therapist march me across the YMCA pool and then march me back. Well, I'm just guessing about that. Maybe I'll have to do it myself...and I don't know how many times. I do know when I first came to Florida, I used to swim 80 laps every day in our clubhouse pool. I measured it off and 80 laps equaled one mile. I hope they don't have me walk 80 laps now. I'll probably require oxygen. Yesterday, Rhoda and I went to Sports Authority to find a pair of pool shoes. I never even heard of pool shoes until I learned it would be required of me at the Y. When I first came down here, I got a job in the summer as a swimming instructor at St. Andrews. I had a Red Cross instructors badge. Bob Beamon was also a counselor at that camp. He once broke the world record for the long jump in the Olympics...29 feet. It would take a normal person about 3 jumps to get that far. Well, we finally found a pair of pool shoes. They had little holes in them, I imagine to let the water out. It'll take me an hour to put them on. You ask "Why are you taking this water therapy?" My answer is I haven't a clue. I suppose it's because I'm not walking straight, and I have no balance. I know when I walk, I look like a drunken sailor. I told the therapist at the evaluation last week that I have no faith in the process...but we'll see. One of my readers--Phil B., the Governor of Gutenberg, N.J., wrote a comment to my previous blog that he is happy I am doing this. He's not the only one...so I'm doing it to make everyone happy.


In order to be allowed in this pool, however, you're not supposed to have any open wounds on your legs that might bleed...and I have several. In fact, until today, I had six band aids on my body, three of which were covering squamous cell casanovas which my Germatologist removed after biopsies showed two casanovas on my arms and one on my right leg. Not only do I have these casanovas, but several other ailments; to wit--Intermittons Claudication which causes severe pain in my legs after walking a few yards; PTSD which you suffer from after severe experiences in a war; Angelo Fibrillation, commonly known as A-Fib. Because of this one, I've had a pacemaker implanted in my chest. My Newroligist says I have "newropathy"--which means under both feet it feels as though I'm walking on a lump in each foot. My Orthopenis says I have "spinal stenosis" which doesn't really bother me until I try to lift something heavy. Finally, I have COPD--Chronic Obstructive Pulmonmary Decease. For this, I have a "puffer" which I use when I'm out of breath. Right now, though, I'm about out of words.

IKE

It's a frustrating time now; Rhoda is expecting to go to New York on Thursday and Robin is expected to visit here on Friday--so is Ike. All we can do now is sit and wait around to see what happens. If Ike veers off and goes somewhere else, we'll be OK. I'm supposed to start my water therapy on Monday and then on Friday when Robin comes in. I'll pick her up at the Boca Raton Airport and then we'll decide on a place for dinner. I don't know if she's coming in from Montana or Tallahassee. I suspect I'll find out.

As for IKE, I don't fondly remember Hurricane Wilma that came here a couple/few years ago. It's something I don't want to experience again. We were nine days without power. Luckily, the weather was cool so we didn't really miss the air conditioner very much. Of course, there was no food in the fridge and only canned stuff in the pantry. We had a big cooler, but finding ice was like looking for gold. The front side of the cane was bad enough, but the back side was a killer. There were about 60 cars in one of the parking lots that had every window broken from pebbles blown off the roofs of the condos. We also lost about 200 trees, some of which still haven't been replaced. If we can get out in time, next time a hurricane is imminent here, Rho and I will be heading North. I realize this blog is short and boring, but right now, I have very little else to say.

WATER THERAPY? IS IT THE SAME AS THE WATER BOARD?

Last week my primary internist gave me a prescription which was for "water rehab" that he insisted I try out. So, today we went to the Bethesda Hospital rehab center at a YMCA in Boynton Beach that has a swimming pool they use for water therapy. Which means, I suppose that they teach you to walk on water. This should make Phil B. and JR happy that their dreams have come true. But today was simply for an evaluation of how serious my symptoms are, etc. and I start this therapy on September 8 and then every Monday & Friday. The pool is about 1000 ft. from the front door, and since I can only walk about 6 inches, there will be a wheelchair provided but no one to push it when I get in. So, I'll have to motor it to the pool on arm power of which there is not much left. If I can only use one arm to propel the chair, it means I will take a long time to get to the pool because with one arm, the chair will be propelled into a circle. This should get very interesting.

Continuing the fruitless debate about the right to express an opinion, but no right to respect for it if people disagree with it, (in my opinion, with which you don't have to agree; therefore you don't have to respect). Notice how in the last convoluted parenthetical phrase, I discretely avoided ending my sentence with a preposition. But finallly (I hope), Webster's definition of "respect" is as follows: "a: esteem b: the quality or state of being esteemed; high or special regard." Now, then, esteeming someone's opinion if you don't agree with it, having "high or special regard" for it seems silly--it's an oxymoron. Now if you really want to be "disrespectful" say "I don't agree with your opinion; it sucks to high heaven; and with that opinion, you should be arrested. Please don't bother me any more; I have to find pool shoes and a bathing suit."

LABOR DAY 1952 to LABOR DAY 2008

1952 was a year not much different from this. There was an important election and since Harry Truman chose not to run, the Democratic Party chose an intellectual whose name was Adlai Stevenson. His adversary in the Republican Party was the popular war hero, General Dwight Eisenhower who won the election in a landslide. I imagine the country wasn't quite ready for an intellectual. We're still not. John McCain graduated from the Naval Academy 894 out of a class of 899. Eisenhower's selection for Vice President was Richard Nixon, and we know his history. Coincidentally we were in a war in Korea for two years in 1952 and Americans were tired of having their sons killed in a war they didn't understand. Also, Joseph McCarthy was busy hunting communists and spies in the entertainment industry and everywhere else while the country was in the "cold war" with Russia.

I was due to start teaching right after Labor Day in 1952 so the wife and I got two babes into the car and drove from the Bronx to South Orange, New Jersey. We did find an apartment we could afford there. It was in an attic that was at the top of a very long flight of about 75 crooked and rickety stairs. When we finally arrived up there without the benefit of oxygen or a Sherpa, we found that the floor in the living room was somewhat tilted toward the kitchen, and that if you weren't careful, you could slip and slide all across the room into the kitchen stove. It would help if you wore golf shoes with spikes. But this was the best place we could find on our limited budget. And so it was on Labor Day, 1952 that we left the Bronx forever. The bad news on that day was that there was a torrential rainstorm and driving was quite hazardous. But we arrived safely and we each carried a kid perilously up the stairs. And while I was climbing this long flight with Robin, age 2, in my arms, I kept thinking of the myth of Sisyphus, a character in Greek mythology who, because of his wicked deeds, was sentenced in Hades perpetually to roll a large boulder up a mountain peak, only to have it eternally roll back down into a valley. And that's how long and terrifying this climb into our apartment seemed to be; and how my life seemed to be up until that moment. I vowed never to let Robin roll back down those stairs.

But now on Labor Day, 2008 Robin is no longer a babe, and she could climb those stairs better than I can at the moment because my age has made me immobile. But, at least my brain is still mobile and I need to use it now to clarify a position or an issue that I brought up in a prior blog. It is now an election year as important...or more...than that in 1952. A military man, an American hero is, again, a candidate for one party, and a bright, articulate African American is the candidate for the other party. It is a year when citizens must debate the merits of each candidate and listen to, watch, and read all they can about each of them in order to cast a responsible vote--a vote that will put the right man in office--a man who will lead this country in a new and better direction than the man who is currently in office. I said previously that I believe every person has a Constitutional right to express an opinion--not only on the election, but on any subject. But, (and please try to understand this) I don't believe a person has any Constitutional right or any other kind of right to have his opinion respected. Get it? If you don't like someone's opinion you can disrespect it. A person might say, "At least respect my opinion." I say, "Nah!" State your opinion, but don't expect me to like it if I don't like it. Why be dishonest with yourself -- or your friend.

Anyway, Happy Labor Day!

Key West

We have returned from our mini-vacation to Key West and we really had a very nice relaxing few days. We started out on Tuesday and stopped at the ISLE casino for a couple of hours where I won $275 on the slot machines. I'm an expert slot machiner. We did lunch in the deli on the premises. I had a triple decker sandwich with pastrami, corned beef, turkey, cole slaw, & Russian dressing. And for dessert there was this lovely slice of chocolate checkerboard cake. We left there about 3pm and drove to Key Largo. We stayed one night at the Marriott Resort Hotel which was right on the Gulf of Mexico. We had dinner at the restaurant there and then went on our way to Key West. We stayed at the Crown Plaza La Concha Hotel right on Duval Street...the street in Key West with all of the "action". Our first night there we went to a sea food restaurant where they were serving all-you-can-eat King Crab legs. I must have devoured two pound of them. Where were you Bobby? In the evening, Rhoda and a bell hop set up my scooter and we went up and down the street looking into the quaint shops. Robin we discovered a store selling the soft fabric great t-shirts you had sent to us. I bought one that said "Renaissance Man" and a blue one that said "Life is Good." Rhoda bought one that said "Positive Altitude" and another that also said "Life is Good." The name of the store is Jake's Key. For the cost of a t-shirt, we could have had a good lobster dinner.

On Thursday we bought tickets to a trolley tour of the city. The trolley made about 12 different stops along the way and you could get off and go to a museum or whatever and get back on another trolley which came every 15 minutes. Rho got off in Mallory Square, sat me down in a cool mall while she went to the Truman House nearby. I ordered an orange frosty and waited at the same bench for her to return in about an hour's time. I didn't go with her because now I simply can't walk more that a few yards. If we could have gotten the scooter on the trolley, it would have been a different story. That night we went to an Italian restaurant a short distance from the hotel and had an elegant dinner which was hard to believe. Then later that night we heard Obama make his acceptance speech which was astounding. Even more astounding was McCain's choice of a Vice President whose claim to fame is that she was once a mayor of a small town. Talk about a "lack of experience"! NowJohn is a nice man but is over 70 and if he should die in his sleep imagine who would be Commander-in-Chief. Ohmygod!

Phil B. and Robin left comments on my blog of August 23rd, and Robin disagrees with my position on whether you need to respect the opinion of someone debating candidates or the issues with you. How can you respect his/her opinion if you disagree with it or even detest it? Surely, as I've said, you can respect the right of someone to have and to express an opinion, but that's not the same thing. The fact of the matter is that Robin never expresses an opinion anyway so there is nothing to discuss or respect. The email article from Defenders of the Wildlife Action Fund was not vicious and somewhat innocuous...written by someone who does not like Palin's position on wildlife issues and says so. What's wrong with that? In her comment, Robin said she was offended by that e-mail. But, of course, never said why.

"Of all the kids I've known before, who walked in and out my door..."(Willy Nelsonish)

As I believe I've spoken about it before, I was invited to the 50th Class Reunion of the graduating class at North Shore H.S. in 1958. The reunion is to be held in September at the Swan Club in Glen Head, L.I. I would like to attend but I simply do not have the energy to fly again. However, I did write a letter and e-mailed it to the committee chairman, Peggy Roberts. I asked that it be read at the celebration and I include it here as a matter of record.

Dear North Shore HS Class of 1958:

I am so terribly sorry that I am unable to be with you to celebrate this beautiful event. Just think…50 years! That’s definitely an accomplishment, and I suspect that most of you are in your 6os and have worked hard at your chosen professions and have raised beautiful families. And do I ever remember you guys! After all, I spent four years with you, and you have definitely left an indelible mark on my psyche. Naturally, time has run its course on me as well, and though I cannot recall all your names, I do remember Betsy Krumrine, Allyson Rose, John Sege (those two and Mrs. Comfort combined to write the school’s alma mater). Then there was Carole Schutzman, Henry Goldman who was given a free train ride to Glen Head from Washington D.C. one year, Al Weyhretter, Peggy Gremelsbacker, shy Dennis Jamieson, Georgie Coyle, Peggy Roberts…red of hair, and Alex Terentiev, just to name a few…

I have led a good life since your graduation. I stayed at North Shore until 1982 when I retired and moved to Florida. Prior to that, I had taken a sabbatical leave, bought an Around-the-World airline ticket from SAS and traveled around the world for a year. When I returned, I married Rhoda after a divorce from my first wife. Rhoda and I just celebrated our 25th Anniversary. I raised four children who also graduated from North Shore. Robin, my eldest daughter retired from the US Marine Corps as a Lt. Colonel. Her husband, Richard Higgins, was a Marine Corps Colonel who was captured by the Hezbollah in Jordan in 1988 and was murdered by them. There is now a guided missile destroyer with his name on it, the USS Higgins. We are proud of that. My other three children also are now leading distinguished careers and you can read all about them and my whole life in my book, “MEMOIRS of a TAIL GUNNER”. ( Just go to Google, type in “Norman Ross, ‘Memoirs.’”)

You never knew I flew 60 combat missions in WWII and was awarded two Distinguished Flying Crosses and 11 Air Medals. These days no one knows what they are. However, these medals were only recently awarded. But I’m happy to apprise you of that right now that I am 84 years old. Back then I didn’t see what the war had to do with Shakespeare. I can’t get around very well, anymore. Difficult walking, but I do have a scooter. If I could scoot to the Swan Club from Florida I would. I can think of no greater pleasure that I could have than to reacquaint myself with the wonderful class of 1958.

With fondest love,
Dr. Norman Ross

Now it's time for me to pack for our mini vacation to Key West, so I'll have to skip a few days of blogging. But I will document the trip when I get back. And as a matter of documentation I am going to include comments, letters, and e-mails I have received from former students. They might not mean much to those who read these blogs, but the blogs are someday going to be published in a book, and I'd like my grandchildren to know what people have thought of their grandfather, and if we had been closer, perhaps I might have influenced them in some positive ways as well.

DR ROSS ALWAYS MADE A BORING DAY INTERESTING WHEN IT WAS TIME FOR HIS CLASS. HE MADE US UNDERSTAND THINGS LIKE NO OTHER COULD!

Teachers often influence us in ways we don't appreciate at the time. Do you recognize this question you posed to your students in 1970 or 1971, Dr. Ross: "What is a spoon?" Do you have any idea of the powerful message this conveyed to one impressionable (albeit seemingly uninterested) student?

You inspired, in me, a fascination with language (and a lifetime of angst)...
Who else would launch a class by asking us to answer, "What is a spoon?" He inspired us look at language and communication in a non-threatening, fun way. But I'm forever cursed, always wondering how I could have said something better. Usually it's after-the-fact that I realize I've botched my intended message again. Oh, why didn't I attend more classes???

B. Smith '71

"I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people." (Macbeth)

I'm really getting tired of August. I hate August. I really don't understand the purpose of this month. It wouldn't bother me if we just dropped August from the calendar and went from July to September. August is just named for some old Roman emperor who, when living, was a pain in the butt. It seems that every August either Rhoda gets sick or I get sick, or we both get sick. The month just crawls by like a crab at the bottom of the sea. In Florida, August is simply filled with daily rain, or temperatures in the 90s...or we get hurricanes and tornadoes. I keep remembering Henry Higgins' suggestion to Eliza that in "Hartford hurricanes hardly happen." Of course, I don't know that August is any better in Hartford then it is here. Consequently, RH+ and I are going to get out of here on Tuesday and take a leisurely drive down to Key West. A "Mini" vacation. Perhaps while we are there a hurricane or a tidal wave will happen, and won't that be exciting. Its name will have to start with a "G" because we've already had a "Fay". Maybe George or Gertrude or Gary or Greco or Gallago??

I've been getting emails from my students who graduated in 1958 from high school and they are have a 50th Anniversary Reunion in September. Unfortunately I'll be unable to go, but I did write a letter which I hope they will read at this affair. I'm attaching a couple of the emails here for your reading pleasure

I got another email out of the blue today from Ellin Bliss, a student of mine in 1958. In the letter she said that I made a difference in her life. I keep getting these kinds of emails from former students. It's really hard to understand how or why I made a difference. At the time I was teaching them, it didn't seem as if they were listening. I also got an email from Wendy Martin who now is a Professor of English. I'm very proud of these people.

I've been reading your blog, and I'd like to think you remember me: Ellin BLISS Jaeger. You were the teacher who made a difference in my life. And I smile when I see your quotes from Shakespeare in your Blog. For the 5th year, my husband Klaus and I will be going to Canada to attend the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford (and the Shaw Festival in Niagara on the Lake, not so fond of Shaw but they do many other plays as well, also not only Shakespeare at Stratford).
I am retired (almost) after working as a Social Worker in Home Nursing and Hospice for 29 years and a few years in mental health. I'd like to tell you my story of the 50 yrs since we've been in touch, but not today. Suffice it to say: I remember an awful incident where tapes you were using for your dissertation were vandalized and I remember your tattoo! I am not going to the reunion either but am finding it interesting learning about my classmates. My sadness is the one friend I kept in touch with over the years, Nancy Horton, (our class Salutatorian) died a few years after several years of a debilitating illness. Also you will be interested in knowing that Wendy Martin is a college prof and a published author and editor. Google her.
I'd like to read your Memoir. (I think you must have been 30 when you first taught us 54 years ago?)

Dear Norman Ross,
What a special pleasure it is to hear from you and to know that you are doing well and that you have written so many books! Of course, I am sure many of your former students have thanked you for the powerful background you gave us in literature; you have been an inspiration to generations -- certainly, to me.
I still remember your comments about the need to improve the punctuation in one of my papers: " it is like pouring vinegar into fine wine!" Trust me, my punctuation is much improved since then!
You will be much missed at the Reunion -- I do hope that our paths will cross before too very long. In the meantime, thank you for inspiring me to follow the path of literature!

Yrs. Wendy
Wendy Martin
Vice Provost
Transdisciplinary Studies
Chair
Department of English
Claremont Graduate University

I'm being overwhelmed by these 60+ year old people. I don't remember a single teacher of mine whom I can say inspired me or who made a difference in my life, and so these letters are a mystery to me but they are bringing me a lot of joy and satisfaction that my teaching years meant something. But it wasn’t I that was the source of their inspirations; it was Beowulf and Chaucer and Keats, Shelley, Byron, Wordsworth, Shakespeare, and on and on. All a teacher has to do with these great authors is to open their worlds to students by showing them your love for literature. Most of all, the teacher should feel just the kind of ardent, personal passion that inevitably drives an artist to work. And passion -- or, more specifically, intensity -- was the recurring motif of my career. Once when reading about the witches’ cauldron in Macbeth, I set fire to the paper in the wastebasket. Again when discussing “A Streetcar Named Desire” and the “torn shirt” school of acting, I ripped my shirt to shreds. Of course I had to answer to this when I got home. My wife was less than inspired.