reflections – Page 9 – Go Retire Psychiatrist

AI Does Your Laundry

Recently we had somebody from the appliance store check our brand-new washing machine. The tech said “the noises are normal”—and then told us that many of the functions of the washer are run by Artificial Intelligence (AI). That was a new one on us.

Don’t get me wrong. The washer works. What sticks in the craw a little is that many of the settings we took for granted as being under our control are basically run by AI nowadays. I guess that means you can override some of the AI assist settings (which may be adjusted based on grime level, type of fabrics and the relative humidity in Botswana)—at least the ones not mandated by the EPA.

Incidentally, I tried to find some free images to use as featured images for this post. The problem is, many free pictures on the web are generated by AI these days, which is why I used the non-AI part of the Microsoft Paint app to make a crude drawing of an AI controlled washing machine.

I realize I’ll have to give up and accept the inevitable takeover of much of human society by AI. On the other hand, the prospect reminds me of the scene in an X-Files episode, “Ghost in the Machine.” A guy gets exterminated by something called the Central Operating System (COS).

Use extra detergent and add more water at your own risk.

Reading My Old Book in a New Light

Sena bought me a wonderful new lamp to read by and it improves on the ceiling fan light I wrote about the other day (And Then a Light Bulb Went Off).”

The new lamp even has a nifty remote control with which you can choose the ambient feel. There are several selections, one of which is called “breastfeed mode,” a new one on me. There’s a light for that?

The lamp arrived at about the same time I got a notice from my publisher for my one and only book, “Psychosomatic Medicine: An Introduction to Consultation-Liaison Psychiatry,” that people are still buying—after 14 years! My co-editor was my former psychiatry department chair, Dr. Robert G. Robinson. As far as I know, Bob has dropped off the face of the earth. I hope he’s well.

Consultation-Liaison Psychiatry is probably about the same as I left it when I retired 4 years ago. I walked all over the hospital trying to help my colleagues in medicine provide the best possible care for their patients. I put in several miles and stair steps a day. I saw myself as a fireman of sorts, putting out fires all over the hospital. I got a gift of a toy fire engine from a psychiatrist blogger in New York a long time ago.

Now I walk several miles on the Clear Creek Trail, like I did yesterday and the day before that. I have shin splints today, which tells me something—probably overdid it.

So, I’m taking a break from walking and reading an old book in a new light.

Because I Wanted a Hurts Donut…

I got an urge for a Hurts Donut so I walked on the Clear Creek Trail to Coralville get to the little hole in the wall shop. You can easily walk to several places in Coralville on the trail. Actually, I wanted to also check out the Coralville Public Library and see S.T. Morrison Park. I’ve never been to that park so it was a novelty all by itself.

It took about 45 minutes to walk to that part of town. It’s great exercise and beats the traffic. You have to walk under some railroad tracks and there’s a sign warning you not to stand in the culvert below while the train is passing over the top. I can see why.

There are funny signs in the rustic Hurts Donut shop. You can see the corny “Wanna hurts donut?” jokes on the walls. There’s another sign saying “School is important but donuts are importanter,” which reminds me of my coffee mug which says sort of the same thing about cribbage: “Education is important but cribbage is importanter.”

The Old-Fashioned donuts there are so good, but so bad for you. I had two.

The Coralville Public Library has a beautiful skylight. I haven’t been in a public library for ages and so it was fascinating to see that libraries haven’t changed much.

In fact, after I found one of Dave Barry’s books, “Dave Barry Book of Bad Songs,” (published in 1997; I had a copy but it got lost in a move) I asked one of the librarians about the old rule I learned as a kid. You might remember it too if you’re old enough. When you pick a book off the shelf and go to a reading room to look it over—can you just put it back on the shelf where you found it or do you have to give it the librarian who will reshelve it?

If you guessed that you have to give it to a librarian, you’re right and you’ve probably dated yourself. The librarian joked that some things never change. Sometimes that’s a good thing.

Among the things that never change are the difficult to understand lyrics in some songs. Dave Barry wrote a whole chapter about it in the Book of Bad Songs, “Songs People Get Wrong.” He mentions one of them, which I always got wrong but never told anyone about it because it was embarrassing. It’s a lyric in the song “Blinded by the Light” that Barry said was done by Bruce Springsteen, but which I didn’t hear until Manfred Mann’s Earth Band covered it.

So, here’s my deal with that lyric. I always heard “wrapped up like a douche” instead of “revved up like a deuce.” Barry notes that many people made the same mistake. Funny thing, Barry never mentions what that common mistake is called and it’s a mondegreen (a misunderstood or misinterpreted word or phrase resulting from mishearing the lyrics of a song). Music is important but mondegreens are importanter.

I finally saw Morrison Park and it’s a very restful place. You can contemplate the sculpture which is placed in the center of a pond. Ducks paddle around it. It’s called “Silver Lilly” and it was made by Professor Hu Hung-shu. Art is important.

People Remember Hurricane Edna

The hurricane season this year continues to be deadly, and they are not named after women anymore. That stopped in 1979; how and why it stopped is quite a story in itself. The latest one is named Milton, which is a benign sounding name, but the storm is anything but that.

I was reminded of the custom of naming hurricanes after women last night when I reread E.B. White’s essay, “The Eye of Edna.” The essay is subtitled with place and date: Allen Cove, September 15, 1954. It was published in a collection “Essays of E.B. White in 1977 by HarperCollins. It was published originally in the New Yorker, according to an online quote from his essay.

I’m too young to remember Edna. When I did a web search of the term “The Eye of Edna,” I got many hits for both the essay and the hurricane. Reading White’s essay is a treat because he makes fun of how radio news reporters and the people in Maine who were listening to the radio reacted to the weather reports about Edna. Radio reporters often seemed disappointed about the lack of heavy rain and high winds.

I found the abstract of an article published a 1958 issue of the Journal of Meteorological Sciences which the driest summary of Hurricane Edna I could possibly imagine:

“Kessler, E., 1958: EYE REGION OF HURRICANE EDNA, 1954. J. Atmos. Sci., 15, 264–270, https://doi.org/10.1175/1520-0469(1958)015<0264:EROHE>2.0.CO;2.

Abstract

The eye region of Hurricane Edna (1954) is studied with the principal aid of radar and dropsonde data. Vertical sections show that over the eye there was a thick layer derived from the wall cloud which bounded the eye on the northeast. Precipitation fell from this upper layer into drier air beneath. A reasonable mechanism is thereby suggested by which large moisture values can become associated with air in the eye without producing the wet bulb potential temperatures or high winds characteristic of the rain-filled masses outside the eye.

Radar data giving the height of the “bright band” or melting level show that the warm core structure of Edna was most pronounced within the radius if maximum surface winds. The result is qualitatively confirmed by soundings and by comparison of surface winds and the speeds of radar weather elements in various portions of the storm. The radar photographs also show that heavy precipitation near the eye of Edna was bounded sharply in the western semicircle along an east-west line through the center of the storm. This boundary must be associated with a rather large change of vertical air speeds and therefore has special dynamic significance.”

If you read it the citation too quickly, you might misread the journal’s abbreviated name as my own. It’s actually J. Atmos—not J. Amos.

There is a much more vividly emotional account of Hurricane Edna in the Vineyard Gazette’s 2014 online story, along with a video.

The bottom line is hurricanes are deadly storms, no matter what people name them. Everybody, including E.B. White, would agree on that.

And Then a Light Bulb Went Off

I was sitting in my office last night trying to read a book and noticed that the overhead light on the ceiling fan wasn’t providing enough light. The next morning I flipped the switch and could see through the glass globe cover that one of the bulbs was out. It flickered on about a half hour later and then went out again.

When I got the ladder out and tried to remove the cover, it wouldn’t budge. There weren’t any screws on it, so I looked at a few YouTubes to learn how to remove it. Lot’s of people were using tools and, of course, duct tape. Some methods looked dangerous.

For me, the most helpful hint came from a Wikihow lesson. The first example suggested using those rubber dishwashing gloves. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it right away because I use them to twist off stubborn lids on food jars. It worked on the fan light cover.

Sometimes the simple, old-fashioned tricks for solving problems are the best. In fact, it reminded me of what I’d been reading by the dim light. It was an essay by E.B. White from his book, Essays of E.B. White. The title was “The Winter of the Great Snows,” published by HarperCollins in 1977. Copyright restrictions prevent me from quoting directly, but his point was that tackling challenges with common sense and safety in mind is a good idea.

There are many light bulb moments in life that I’ve missed. I appreciate any help I can get.

Thoughts on the Big Mo Pod Show “Funkin’ Down the Highway”

This is a post about the Big Mo Pod Show we heard last night on the KCCK FM radio dial 106.9. Incidentally, the KCCK fund drive was enormously successful this year, earning $100,000 in donations, according to Big Mo (aka John Heim) himself.

One item is the cover by Buddy Miles of the song “Tobacco Road.” This rendition was different from performances by other artists. Big Mo liked it and so did I. I did a little web search on it because I couldn’t catch all the lyrics. It was originally done by John D. Loudermilk in 1960. Miles’ version is essentially the same.

What interested me even more about “Tobacco Road” are the associations I have about it with specific literary works. I’ll admit I’ve never read nor seen the film adaptations of Erskine Caldwell’s books, “Tobacco Road” and “God’s Little Acre.” But one of my favorite short stories by James Thurber is “Bateman Comes Home,” which was published in a collection entitled “The Thurber Carnival,” in a hardcover edition in 1945. You’ve got to read it to get a sense of how comical the parody is of the regional dialect used in Caldwell’s novels. In fact, Thurber himself gives the game away about his intent in writing “Bateman Comes Home” by adding a wry comment as a subtitle:

Written after reading several recent novels about the deep south and confusing them a little—as the novelists themselves do—with “Tobacco Road” and “God’s Little Acre.”

He also adds another comment at the end of the short story: “If you keep on long enough it turns into a novel.”

The other thing I noticed about the podcast last night is that one of the songs which was not included in the list, “Joliet Bound,” was performed by an artist I haven’t heard of, the Reverend Shawn Amos, who is no relation to me, of course. But my background as a psychiatrist made me take special notice of details about his family, one of which is that his mother, Shirl-ee Ellis, a singer herself, had been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. Sadly, she eventually died by suicide. Shawn Amos is also the youngest son of the Famous Amos chocolate chip cookie founder, Wally Amos (again, no relation), although I’ve gotten a lot of friendly ribbing about that.

The song “Joliet Bound” is about a guy who expresses that he’s wrongly accused of killing a man over a woman and is on his way to Joliet prison in Joliet, Illinois. The Joliet Prison is a tourist destination nowadays and has other distinctions attached to it. It was featured in the 1980 film, the Blues Brothers. There were some famous inmates there, among them John Wayne Gacy, who was once evaluated and diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder by psychiatrists at The University of Iowa in 1968 as described in Dr. Donald Black’s book, “Bad Boys, Bad Men: Confronting Antisocial Personality Disorder (Sociopathy).”

Congratulations KCCK Radio!

Notes on the Blues and Rivers of Whiskey

I listened to the Big Mo Blues Show last night on KCCK radio (88.3 on your dial) as I usually do on Friday nights. It runs from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm and you can learn a lot from Big Mo (aka John Heim) about the blues.

He also has a podcast called the Big Mo Pod Show, which is based on his blues show. He gets quizzed about some of the songs he played on Friday night by Producer Noah (as Big Mo calls him). Last night he was on target for all 5 of the songs he played and why he played them.

One of the songs I’ve never heard before but it was done by Taj Mahal and Keb Mo, artists I’m familiar with just from listening to Big Mo’s show. The title was “Diving Duck Blues. The chorus goes “If the river was whiskey and I was a diving duck, I’d dive to the bottom and I’d never come up.”

That led to a discussion of how alcoholism was sometimes (maybe more than sometimes) a part of the life of blues musicians. In fact, the lead off song last night was “Big Road Blues,” sung by Tommy Johnson. His last name just happens to be the same as Robert Johnson who made the song “Crossroads” famous because he claimed he sold his soul to the devil in order to become a great blues musician. Several blues artists made the claim, which Big Mo debunked as a ruse to get fans to pay more money to hear them perform.

But Tommy Johnson struggled with alcoholism and, according to Big Mo, was driven to the point of drinking Sterno, which was poisonous because it contained methyl alcohol.

This can lead you to think that maybe all blues music is gritty, played by alcoholics, and even depressing as declared by the lead character, Navin Johnson, played by Steve Martin in the movie “The Jerk” (a white guy raised by a black family).

Incidentally, this reminds me that a recent study showing that digital cognitive behavioral therapy is effective for those suffering from alcohol use disorder.

Anyway, blues musicians don’t always play sad, gritty music and die from drinking Sterno. One that is actually funny is “You Left the Water Running” by Otis Redding. You can look up the lyrics or listen to anyone who covers the song and it would be difficult not to laugh out loud.

And speaking of covering a song, Bill Withers originally wrote and sang “Lean on Me” back in 1972 which Keb Mo covered recently. I think it’s one of those uplifting examples of blues music which won’t send you diving to the bottom of any whiskey rivers.

University of Iowa Writing Programs Get High Ranking from U.S. News & World Report

The University of Iowa ranks No. 9 across all universities in the country for its power in the writing disciplines., according to the 2024 U.S. News & World Report.

The school is well known for its writing programs of which the The Writers Workshop is the best known.

The University of Iowa also gives medical students a leg up on writing in its Writing and Humanities Program, which offers courses such as writing and medicine and editorial writing.

This reminds me of a couple of things, one of which was the University of Iowa medical school note service. Many medical schools have note services so that not all students have to write their own lecture notes. It’s ironic in a way that one of the best known public medical schools didn’t encourage all the medical students to labor over their own class notes. I volunteered once to write notes for the class. It was hard work.

The other thing writing education at the University of Iowa reminds me of is the Iowa Avenue Literary Walk. There are several plaques along Iowa Avenue which honor famous authors who had Iowa connections, often through the Iowa Writers Workshop. My favorite is one by Kurt Vonnegut, a former teacher at the workshop.

Thoughts on X-Files Episode “Sunshine Days”

I saw the X-Files episode “Sunshine Days” again last night. It’s the second time I’ve seen it. It’s about a guy who calls himself Oliver who has telekinetic power and who yearns for a father-son relationship with a paranormal researcher (Dr. Reitz) who studied him when he was a kid named Anthony.

The set of an old 1970s TV show “The Brady Bunch” was used. It was something Oliver created using the power of his mind. As a child, he used to insist that he and Dr. Reitz watch the show regularly. In his mind, it was the perfect family he always wanted but never had.

Anyway, Oliver (Anthony) endangers his life when he uses his telekinetic powers as an adult. He can’t control them and nearly dies from using them. He ends up near death in the hospital after showing the FBI agents including Scully and Doggett (who replaced Mulder) his miraculous ability. The agents and Dr. Reitz are ecstatic because they think it will change the world and humanity.

But after they realize the life-threatening nature of Oliver’s powers, they all agree, including Dr. Reitz, that Oliver should never use them again. Dr. Reitz even tells Oliver (who now wants to be called Anthony) firmly that he can’t use his power, to which Oliver replies that he can’t be alone. Then, Dr. Reitz tells Oliver that he’ll never have to be alone because he’ll always be with him.

A lot of fans hated it because it was the penultimate episode before the final show of the 9^th and final season of the X-Files. It was one of the many Monster-of-the-Week (MOTW) shows that had nothing to do with the extraterrestrial mythology.

I liked the MOTW episodes better the ET/conspiracy shows, and Sunshine Days is one of my favorites. However, I never watched The Brady Bunch and the whole perfectly happy and well-adjusted family idea was ridiculously implausible in my opinion.

I doubt there is such a thing as a perfect family. Mine certainly was not and look how well I turned out. Even in nature, there are examples of savagery that can make you doubt the ultimate wisdom of whoever or whatever is in charge of evolution.

For example, birds can be exquisitely cruel. Cowbirds lay their eggs in the nests of completely different species of birds, where the cowbird chicks bully their weaker nestlings. And surely just about everyone has seen the pitiless pecking of the larger of the two shoebill chicks in which the parents calmly watch as the smaller chick gets stepped on, pushed out of the next and essentially murdered by the bigger chick. This is because the parents know there is not enough water for both.

Even the song “A Boy Named Sue” is based on the natural law of survival of the fittest, which has nothing to do with kindness. Incidentally, that song came out in 1969, the same year that The Brady Bunch show began.

On the other hand, the reconciliation of Anthony with Dr. Rietz always fills me with joy.

The Incredible Shrinking Headshrinker

Last week we saw the 1957 movie “The Incredible Shrinking Man” on the Svengoolie show on the MeTV channel. We’ve never seen it before and it actually got pretty good reviews back in the day. The main character, Scott Carey, was played by Grant Williams. You can watch the movie for free on the Internet Archive.

According to some interpretations, the story uses the metaphor of diminishing size to highlight the diminishing role of masculinity in American society in the 1950s or human notions in general about one’s self-worth in society.

It got me thinking about how the challenges of adjusting to retirement as a process has been (and still is to some degree) for me. I started out with gradual reduction of my work schedule in the form of a phased retirement contract. It was difficult.

I was reminded of how difficult it was to slow down, especially as a teacher of residents and other health care trainees, when I was going through some old papers after the recent move to our new house. They included teaching awards I’d received over the years.

I was struck by how small my self-perceived role in psychiatry and medicine has gradually become in the last few years. I’ve been shrinking, similar to Scott Carey. In fact, I’m a shrinking headshrinker.

I don’t want to spend too much time ruminating about what retirement means to me. I think it’s a very common response to perceive the world gets smaller when you retire.

It doesn’t help much to intellectualize about shrinking in this way. Scott Carey eventually accepted his diminishing stature, even to the point of disappearance. Grief about this kind of loss is normal, although I’m realizing that grief might never completely disappear.