Category: reflections

Happy 46th Wedding Anniversary!

It was 46 years ago today Sena and I were married at the Little Brown Church in the Vale in Nashua, Iowa. I was a skinny guy with a big afro. She was and is a beautiful bride.

We cut the wedding cake together. We fed each other big bites. It was the biggest event of our lives.

There were other big events. The trip to Vegas and marveled at the Bellagio fountains. The helicopter ride over the Niagara Falls. The view over New York City from the Empire State Building. That was my first senior discount ticket. Sena holding a little alligator in Miami. The Lincoln Book Tower in Washington, D.C. Festooned with the birds of Hawaii.

Wherever we went, whatever we did, we were always together. She’s always fearless. She’s gone with me wherever I went, even when I was wrong. I am often wrong—but I was right about marrying her.

Rube Goldberg Contraptions and Other Updates

Just random updates for now. That 2-person 6 ball pass juggle Sena and I made a YouTube about? We could barely complete a couple of volleys, and we didn’t think we’d ever make much more progress. However, yesterday, we were starting to make 3, even 4 passes and cascades. Just when you think it’s hopeless….

What about me and the shower juggle pattern? I have not stopped trying—but I’m really no further ahead than I was 6 months ago. It wouldn’t feel right to quit. Success could happen tomorrow.

I remember watching an X-Files episode a while ago, “The Goldberg Variation.” A Rube Goldberg Contraption is a machine that is built of a lot of complex parts that in sequence result in solving a simple task. The main character in the episode is Henry Weems, who is incredibly lucky. His life is a series of improbable, complicated sequences of events that either make him rich or foil his enemies.

Unlike most people, Henry wants to use his incredible power for good, specifically to help a kid get a special treatment for liver disease which is killing him. The results he gets are wacky and complicated and result in good things happening to others.

I wonder what makes Rube Goldberg Contraptions so focused on trivial results? I think it would be nice to build one that—write your wish here.

Note: Rube Goldberg cartoon in public domain (source Wikipedia article, “Rube Goldberg machine”).

Food for Thought

I’m giving a shout-out to a couple of child psychiatrists, one I know only from a blog, The Good Enough Psychiatrist. The other is an assistant professor in the University of Iowa Child Psychiatry Dept. I’ve never met her.

Since Jenna gives her name in the About Me section of her blog, I’m going to call her that because it’s easier. Jenna writes many thought-provoking posts, but I really admire the one titled “Amae.”

Dr. Ashmita Banerjee, MD wrote an essay titled “The Power of Reflection and Self-Awareness.” It’s published on line in the Mental Health at Iowa section of The University of Iowa web site.

As a relatively recently retired consultation-liaison psychiatrist who is also a writer, I feel a strong connection to them. In addition to being very glad that extremely talented persons are filling the ranks of a specialty which suffers from a serious manpower shortage, I get a big kick out of reading what really smart people write.

Here’s where a geezer retired psychiatrist starts kidding around. Jenna, a fellow blogger, is used to my habit of deploying humor, admittedly often as a defense. Dr. Banerjee doesn’t know me.

What is it about these essays that reminds me of the X-Files episode “Hungry”? It’s a Monster of the Week episode from the monster’s perspective. This monster looks like a human but sucks brains out of people’s skulls. He’s conflicted about it and even sees a therapist. But in the end his dying words were, as Agent Mulder shoots him down, “I can’t be something I’m not.”

If you read Dr. Banerjee’s essay and followed one of the links, you would have caught the clue that I actually read it because I consciously substituted the word “What” for “Why” in the previous paragraph. I could have as easily asked why instead of what—but it’s less helpful in gaining self-awareness.

And I haven’t sucked anybody’s brains out of their skulls in, what, over two weeks now! Upon reflection, I’m very aware of being incorrigible. Food for thought.

Jenna’s description of the Japanese concept of the word “amae” and Dr. Banerjee’s examination of the Japanese word “kintsukuroi” fascinated me. What made both writers consider human emotions using a language which captures the nuances so deftly?

I was a first-generation college student. There was a time in my life that a path to medical school seemed impossible. At times I probably thought I was trying to be something I’m not.

I’m just grateful for the new generation.

Speaking of Spanish

Every once in a while, I get an urge to try to learn to speak, or at least read Spanish. Recently, Men in Black was on the Telemundo broadcasting network. I tried to watch it but gave up after a few minutes. The dubbing was disappointing because the actors don’t speak Spanish and the dialogue sounds weird.

I enjoyed my basic Spanish courses in my freshman year of college at Huston-Tillotson University (then Huston-Tillotson College). I think I impressed my teachers simply because I could mimic the sound of Spanish. That’s only because our family lived next door to a Spanish-speaking family. As a child, I got so used to hearing it that I must have absorbed the sounds and cadence.

That didn’t help me in actually learning to speak Spanish in college, though. My teacher, Dr. Whitby, gave me a book of jokes and funny stories titled “Risas Y Sonrisas.” I think he gave it to me because I did my homework and, at least on paper, did well on written exams. I found a book with the same name on Amazon that was originally published in the late 1940s. The title can be translated as “Smiles and Laughter.” My teacher translated it more loosely as “Giggles and Grins.” I kept the book for many years, but it got lost in a move. Toward the latter part of the first semester, Dr. Whitby invited a native Spanish-speaker who was a senior to class one day. The idea was for us to use what language skills we had tried to learn to communicate with her. None of us could even bring ourselves to say Como Esta used! I was extremely shy and embarrassed.

When I was working as a consulting psychiatrist, I always used a translator service that health professionals could access by telephone. It was a little awkward, but handy when a Spanish-speaking translator was not available in person.

There are free Spanish lessons on the web and other ways to learn that cost money. I’m leery of both. If I could find a course in Spanish that didn’t cost an arm and a leg, I would consider trying it.

Then I could say some of my favorite Men in Black quotes in Spanish. I found out Tommy Lee Jones (who plays Agent K) actually can speak Spanish. I have to use the Google Translate application:

Men in Black quote:

Edwards: Why the big secret? People are smart. They can handle it.

Agent K: A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you’ll know tomorrow.

Men in Black quote in Spanish:

Edwards: ¿Por qué el gran secreto? La gente es inteligente. Pueden manejarlo.

Agent K: Una persona es inteligente. Las personas son animales peligrosos, tontos y asustados, y tú lo sabes. Hace mil quinientos años todo el mundo sabía que la Tierra era el centro del universo. Hace quinientos años todo el mundo sabía que la Tierra era plana y hace quince minutos sabíamos que los humanos estábamos solos en este planeta. Imagínate lo que sabrás mañana.

Falling Leaves

The leaves are falling everywhere, including our back yard. Just watching them drop like a snowfall is mesmerizing. It feels like it’s going to snow. Temperatures have been low enough for frost and freeze warnings around here. The mowers were bundled up, wearing stocking caps and gloves yesterday.

Fall is Sena’s favorite season. Temperatures are cooler and the changing colors of the leaves makes us wonder how the trees know when it’s time to drop them.

When I was a kid, I and a lot of neighborhood kids jumped off a small cliff at a park into a huge pile of leaves. It was a big deal to take the leap. We felt like we were flying. The bits of dry, brown leaves got in your hair and down your back under your shirt, making you itch.

I remember raking leaves in an old guy’s yard once. I got blisters on my hands and he didn’t pay me much. I didn’t like that part of fall and still don’t.

That’s why spring is my favorite season.

Kindness Is Still Out There

The other day, Sena and I were talking about growing up in Mason City, Iowa. As kids, both of us were the ones who lugged the groceries home. That was back in the days of paper sacks and, for me and her, food stamps. The food stamp program got started during the Great Depression. The goal was to keep people from starving and farmers from going under. In other words, it was kindness.

Food stamps were a sign of hard times and I don’t think that has changed much, except now I think you get a debit card instead of stamps.

I did grocery shopping at Fareway Store, which got its start in Boone, Iowa. Sena did hers at Grupps Food Center.

When it comes to shopping, I followed what my mother put on a list. I got the items and paid with food stamps. I can’t remember ever coming up short. I think I just gave them the cashier the stamps and they took what was needed to cover the price. I walked to Fareway and then I just walked home carrying two or three paper sacks of groceries. It was about a mile trip up and a mile back. My arms were pretty sore when I got home.

On the other hand, Sena came up short on stamps one day. It was embarrassing enough to have to pay using food stamps. But it was awkward as hell when you didn’t have enough to pay. At that time, the cashier was a guy named Bud Grupp. Bud was Carl Grupp’s son. Carl bought the store in the early 1960s.

Bud counted out the stamps and had to tell Sena that there wasn’t enough. She didn’t know what to say. People were lined up behind her and they could probably tell something was wrong. Bud just said “We’ll put you on credit,” and that was that. He sacked all of the groceries like there was nothing out of the ordinary. Sena didn’t know what was done about the balance on credit, whether it was ever settled or it became just a running bill that never got paid off.

Sena also had to walk home carrying bags of groceries. One winter day during a light snowfall, she dropped all of the bags in the snow. They got wet and all torn up. A woman saw it, came out of her house with some bags and helped Sena get the groceries sacked up again. She got home alright.

About a year ago, Sena was in line waiting to check out groceries. An elderly woman was ahead of her and came up short on money to pay for her few items. She fished in her purse and looked embarrassed and pathetic. Sena was thinking about paying for them herself but just before she could, a guy behind her handed the cashier his credit card and told her he would cover it.

Regardless of what you see in the news, kindness is still out there. Our Christmas cactus is already blooming.

Thankful for Peaceful Fall Days

The other day we took a walk in a different direction on Scott Boulevard. Sometimes the scenery is just as beautiful in the west as it is in the east.

There were three trees turning a bright red. Maybe there were maples. The birch trees are pretty any time of the year, but for some reason they’re majestic in the fall.

I don’t know what kind of birds those were soaring in the sky, but they were magical.

Autumn Walking Colors

Sena got some new pants with an autumn leaves print. It fit really well with the colors we saw on a walk down Scott Boulevard.

We always see something a little different along the way. We never noticed that the Sitting Man pedestal has a hole in it shaped like a heart. It could have been chipped into the stone intentionally.

There was a lot of golden rod but we didn’t see any ragweed—which I’m very allergic to this time of year.

The trees around the Harvest Preserve property are changing colors. The old barn across the street from it looks a little more weathered. We don’t know whether the staff will decorate it into a haunted house again for Halloween. They did that last year and it was a hoot.

The walk up the hill to the Sitting Man seemed a little steeper this year. I don’t remember exactly when I got so bow-legged. A runner easily ran up the hill and still had breath to say “Hi” on the way back down. He never missed a step, even though I personally know there are a lot of irregularities in the ground.

Get your walking pants on.

Autumn Miracles

We saw the miracles of autumn the other day, out on the Terry Trueblood Recreation Area. It was quiet, only a light breeze set the flowers and grasses swaying.

There were almost no birds out. No ducks were out on Sand Lake.

On the other hand, I guess there were birds, sort of. We greeted other walkers, an older couple who turned out to be snowbirds. They’ll be heading to Florida soon for the winter. They had no worries about the weather down there. They’ll be in the middle of the state, presumably far away from storm surges. They stay in an RV park over the winter months. It’s not far from a place called The Villages, which is a famous planned retirement community, which got a reputation for being a haven for older but wilder swingers. They have a very large Homeowners Association (HOA), which is sort of a very large and expensive Disney World for older retirees. It’s often called a golf cart community because that’s how most residents get around the place. While there are no HOA fees per se, there is a community development district fee of around $120-220 a month. Dave Barry wrote a chapter about The Villages in his book “Best State Ever: A Florida Man Defends His Homeland.” I told the couple about Dave Barry’s take on The Villages. I don’t think they ever heard of him. They’re excited about returning to the RV park soon.

I was a little alarmed by a loud voice, calling out like a policeman, “Get on the ground!” I looked up ahead and didn’t see a policeman. But occasionally, we heard the barking order, “Get on the ground!” Eventually we saw a young man on a walk, apparently under someone’s supervision. This was the man who was yelling “Get on the ground!” He greeted us politely. As he passed by, every so often he blurted out, “Get on the ground!” I wondered if he might be someone with a form of Tourette’s Disorder, compelled to blurt out something every few minutes. The supervisor was walking side by side with a man who seemed uncomfortable, holding his hands up to his eyes which appeared sunken in the sockets. He made no sound at all. I wondered if, peaceful as we thought the day was, whether he found it difficult to bear what might have been a sensory storm for him. The supervisor was polite to us and paid close attention to the other two men.

Mostly we watched the breeze blowing the grasses and the flowers–and were grateful.

Thoughts on Jack Trice

I was outside doing yard work the day before yesterday and my neighbor across the street walked over to say hello. We got to talking about sports and football came up. His wife stopped watching football because it was so violent—but then switched to watching hockey. He wondered when the Iowa Hawkeye vs Penn State game was going to be on. No, I’m not going to discuss that any further.

Anyway, that led to my mentioning how brutal college football was back in 1923 when Jack Trice, Iowa State University’s first black athlete was killed on the field during a game with the University of Minnesota. My neighbor was incredulous. He’s in his 80’s and he’s never heard the story.

In fact, I had just learned about the whole Jack Trice story and commemoration event in his honor the day before that, only because Sena told me about it.

All this year long there has been a 100-year anniversary commemoration of Jack Trice, Iowa State University’s first African-American athlete. The program will culminate on October 8, 2023 with the closing ceremony.

Football was a rough game in that era—but rougher still because Trice was black. Many believe his injuries were deliberately and maliciously inflicted because of his race. It’s more than plausible. In 1997, the football stadium was renamed Jack Trice Stadium. It’s the only major college football stadium named for an African-American.

Sena and I moved to Ames in 1981 so that I could enroll in Iowa State University. I was so immersed in my studies that I never gave a thought to Jack Trice. I don’t remember the football field being named Jack Trice Field in 1984.

As I looked through the commemoration website, I wondered how it was possible for me to have ignored the story of Jack Trice while I was there.

I think it’s for the same reason I never knew anything about James Alan McPherson, the first African American to win the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and who was teaching at the Iowa Writers Workshop during the entire time I was in medical school, residency and a faculty member at The University of Iowa Hospitals & Clinics.

I was working hard. I finally found out about McPherson after reading a news item about a neighborhood park being named after him in 2021.

I should pay more attention. Anyway, Iowa State University did a tremendous job putting this commemoration event together.