Thoughts on Regrets

I’ve been thinking about Dr. Moffic’s article on regret, posted on February 16, 2023 in Psychiatric Times.

I’ve dwelt on it long enough that I feel compelled to inject humor into the subject. It’s one of my many defenses.

There’s a quote from Men in Black 3 involving a short telephone conversation between Agent K and Agent J:

Agent K: Do you know the most destructive force in the universe?

Agent J: Sugar?

Agent K: Regret.

You could probably sense that joke coming. Whenever there is talk of regrets, I always recall maybe one or two remarkable episodes which led to lifelong regret. Because regret is pretty corrosive, as noted by Agent K, I need something to counter it.

My trouble is that I have many regrets. Am I so different in that regard?

Sometime in mid-career, a very important leader told me, frankly and calmly, “You’ll never be a scientist.”

Well, by then it was far too late for me to change life course. It was true; I’ve always been the rodeo clown, never the matador.

On the other hand, I know one thing I’ve never regretted and that’s my retirement. At least I think I haven’t regretted it. I have this recurring dream. It’s not every night, but often enough to make me wonder what I should do about it.

In the dream, I’m late for an exam or class and I fear I’m going to flunk. I look for the building where the exam is going to be held. I can never find it. Hallways appear and look vaguely familiar, but as I wander about looking for the bookstore or classroom or exam room, I feel like I’m in a maze, climbing stairs, almost like an Escher drawing.

That reminds me. Incidentally, several years ago, one of the medical students rotating on the psychiatry consult service drew a picture entitled “The Practical Psychosomaticist” which contained images of stairs running in different directions similar to an Escher drawing (see the featured image). It was really just her expression of how I got around the hospital. I avoided elevators and always took the stairs.

Anyway, I’m carrying several notebooks and loose papers keep falling out. I get lost in this jumble of halls and stairways, never finding my destination.

The dream is probably just me telling myself I’m failing at something in my waking life. It’s not like I need a dream to notify me.

This is a long way of saying I have many regrets, and that I may not know exactly how many. Some of them are less important than others. Take the “I’ll never be a scientist” theme. I’m not terribly broken up about it.

After all, rodeo clowns do pretty important things.

Jim on a Winning Streak on the Bigfoot Cribbage Board

Ever since we got the Bigfoot cribbage board, I’ve been winning. If you believe in lucky streaks, I’m on one. However, Sena wins most of the time when we play on the jumbo cribbage board.

Is it the Bigfoot cards? Is it the Bigfoot pajamas? Sena was so overwhelmed she put her house slippers on backwards.

My reward was to put together more knockdown furniture.

Iowa Snowstorm Aftermath

We got 10.5 inches of snow from the storm yesterday, according to National Weather Service statistics. It was in the single digits and about 3 below zero with the wind chill this morning. We had to shovel one more time. It was slippery because there was ice on the driveway and sidewalk underneath the snow.

Yesterday the snow plow plugged our driveway and the curb ramp. We managed to get the driveway cleared. I had to clear the curb ramp this morning.

Then the plow came through again. But he didn’t plug the ramp again. Instead, he carefully scraped around it—maybe because we were outside watching him at the time. Thank goodness for small miracles.

It’s chilly but sunny. The ice is melting. The forecast says it’ll be icy next Wednesday. Furthermore, there is more snow coming next Thursday. That’ll make 3 Thursdays in a row that snowstorms hammer us.

What is it about Thursdays?

Big Wet Heavy Snow for Epic Snow Juggling!

Well, today’s snowstorm was a mix of fluffy as well as wet and heavy. The latter made for pretty good snowballs, which led to epic juggling on a windy day, snow blowing in my face while I juggled.

We had to clear the sidewalks and driveway first. I’m sure we got over half a foot of snow.

Sena shot the video while I tried to increase my throw count, which meant I had to make a lot of snowballs.

One clip showed a group of deer across the street. Neither one of us noticed them. I didn’t see them because I had my back to them and was concentrating on my juggling. What’s surprising is that Sena didn’t notice them either, even though they were clearly in the shot, trotting across the neighbor’s yard and across the street.

She was focused on my juggling too.

We made the YouTube video without music because we want you to count the throws along with me and hear our reactions.

Fluffy or Heavy Snow Tomorrow?

We’re going to get another several inches of snow tomorrow. Whether it’ll be a heavy, wet or fluffy snow is apparently up for debate among weather forecasters. We definitely got the heavy stuff last week. I made great snowballs for juggling.

We’re going to be shoveling it, fluffy or heavy and wet. Sena noticed I was “flinging” snow from my shovel last week and wishes I would not do that. It’s a push-plow type shovel and I can’t get enough snow in it to lift a heavy load of the stuff.

But I will try not to fling my snow. We’re hoping for the fluffy stuff. If it turns out to be heavy, I might juggle more snowballs. We’ll see.

Our New Front Door

We got a brand-new front door today. Of course, because the old one had to be removed, it got a little chilly in the house. We didn’t mind because the new door is handsome and has pearl privacy glass.

We were always a little uncomfortable with the clear glass sidelight and door windows on the old door. Anybody could peek inside.

The tradesmen got here at 11:00 AM and were done by 3:00 PM. We turned the furnace off because the door was off-for several hours. It wasn’t a terribly frigid day, but we still had to put jackets on. Outside it was in the 40s for the most part and only got up to the low 50s. It got down to 64 degrees inside.

The color of our new front door is grey, a color that is thought to be dignified, intelligent, and balanced.

Doorways also are said to represent transitions or passages from one stage of life to another.

One thing our new front doors says is that, at this stage in life we feel a whole lot better when nobody can spy on us.

Big Mo Blues Show KCCK and MayRee’s Hand Battered Catfish

I heard John Heim (aka Big Mo) on KCCK talk at length about MayRee’s hand battered catfish tonight. There was much more detail than usual. I can’t remember all of them. One I do remember is that her joint is on the corner of Highway 6H and Snowflake Road-sort of.

MayRee will give you a choice of 3 beverages that sound like a crazy cross between a soft drink and white lightning moonshine or something. One flavor is “clear” and another could be something like pumpkin spice, but I probably misheard that.

I got a comment from a blogger, Everyday Lillie. She has not heard of nitrates in catfish but appreciated the information.

MayRee cooks them with “manic delight.” They are really something, I guess.

I heard this Sonny Landreth piece tonight on the show.

Snowstorm Today Perfect for Deer Zoomies and Snowball Juggling!

Today we got a fair amount of snow dumped on us. It gave the deer the zoomies. They ran around in it like they were having a lot of fun.

It was a heavy, wet snow. So, we took some time out from shoveling so I could make some snowballs and try juggling them. It didn’t work so well about a month ago when the snow was in brittle clumps. Today it worked pretty well, after I got the hang of shaping the snowballs.

We made videos. Enjoy!

I Got The Greatest Shout Out Today

I just got the greatest shout out from one of my heroes, Dr. H. Steven Moffic, MD. The link to one of his regular Psychiatric Times web (PT) articles, mainly on what’s in the daily news that impacts psychiatry or vice versa, is on the menu of my home page.

The title of the PT article in which I get a shout out  is “A Tale of 3 Retirements: Football Star Tom Brady, Black Psychiatrist James Amos, and Me.” He got my retirement date wrong by 20 years, but what the heck; no big deal. He did his homework otherwise just fine.

In fact, I didn’t know that Dr. Moffic even noticed that I had a blog. I have written articles for PT in the past. You can still find them by searching my name on the web site. One was on stress and the psychiatrist and another was on how consulting psychiatrists can be helpful in recognizing and managing delirium.

And today, Psychiatric Times (PT) contacted me to make a video about my juggling hobby. I gather it’s a regular series about what psychiatrists do outside of their work/practice. Imagine that; PT wants to see ugly juggling! How did PT know about that? Dr. Moffic mentioned my name.

In return, I’d like to give a big shout out right back to Dr. Moffic and also to other psychiatrists. One is Dr. George Dawson, who writes the blog Real Psychiatry. Another is TheGoodEnough Psychiatrist. These are featured on the main menu on my blog. I can name another who also writes for PT and this is Dr. Ronald Pies.

In Search of Al Martin

Today, I was thinking of a guy named Al Martin, who was one of the few African American role models for me when I was a teenager in Mason City, Iowa. I thought of him a couple of years ago, googled his name and couldn’t find him. I mentioned him anyway in a blog post at that time, “Snow Moon Reflections.” A major topic was black male role models.

Today, for some reason I thought of him again. I googled his name once more and found an obituary for a man named Allen Henry Martin. This particular Martin was a black man who was 83 years old when he died just this last November of 2022. The obituary stated that he was a talented artist, just as I recall. Despite the many decades gone by, his photograph looked familiar to me.

He was a sculptor and photographer as well as a painter. He worked several different jobs. He had a great sense of humor. He worked as a land surveyor for several years, which I connect with because I did that for a while when I was young.

I’m not absolutely certain that Allen Henry Martin is the same Al Martin who I looked up to when I was at a tender age. But for now, I’m going to assume they were one and the same.

One time, Al Martin took me to an art show where he set up many of his pictures. It was a brisk autumn day. We drank a lot of coffee, partly to keep warm. I remember how uncomfortable I felt because of my full bladder. The wind was cold.

I don’t know why I remember this, but Al one time spoke of his children and he happened to mention what he did when they felt sick to the stomach. It sounds gross, but he made the story comical and said something like, “Many a time I caught vomit in my hands!” It was disgusting—but funny at the same time, the way he told that little story. You really had to be there to get it.

As I read this, I catch myself thinking I should have something more solemn and dignified to say about Al.

But this is not an obituary. These are just my memories of Al Martin which are fading the older I get, and I’m entitled to them. Al Martin was a great guy.