Day 71, slides, tour, fedex fandango

Saturday 2/9/2019

I spend a couple of hours reviewing two groups of slides, and select out about 2% of them for scanning, either because they are particularly fine scenics or because they show Marian and me in not-bad poses.

About photography and slides before 2005

There’s time to mull some more on the contradictory problem of why we kept the slides all those years and so rarely looked at them. In fact, one group I went through, “116 Eastern Canada 1996 (328 slides)” I am pretty sure had never been seen since 1996. It was a nice trip: in a rental car we hit Toronto, Montreal, Quebec, and Nova Scotia. On return we would have spent several evenings going through the slides and discarding at least half. Then Marian would have spent a couple of days cataloging and numbering them. Then we would have had Jean and Bill over for an evening and projected the final show for them.

Then they went into a box and probably stayed there undisturbed until today. So, why did we even bother? I can come up with an answer, not a good answer, but an answer. It’s that the taking of the pictures was an important, satisfying hobby for both of us. Looking for picture subjects added a lot to the experience of traveling. It helped us remain aware of the quality of light, the texture of the sky, the shape of the land. So did the activity of taking pictures, trying different angles and zoom ratios and ways of framing a scene, looking for just the right composition.

In those days the payoff for this effort was delayed until weeks later when the slides came back and we could project them. Then we could go through and critique what we’d got, congratulate each other for the good ones, select the best, decide how to sequence them for a nice program. That was fun and satisfying. And showing the final product to our relatives that one time, that was validation for our work.

From today’s perspective, having to finally do something with these relics, I kind of wish we had just dumped the slides into the trash at that point. But we had two reasons for keeping them. One, the finished set of slides represented so much time and care and effort, it would have been unthinkable to just throw it away. And two, there was always the possibility that someday we’d pull the set out, put the slides back into carousels, and project the show again. A few trips, we did show more than once. Very rarely more than twice.

This particular show, Group 116, seemed really flat. The scenery wasn’t dramatic; we didn’t get any super shots of quaint Vieux Quebec or anything. I set aside five (5) of the 328 for scanning.

Slides in the digital era

One huge difference in digital photography is that you know immediately, on the back of the camera or the face of the iphone, whether you got the shot you wanted. If you didn’t nail it, you can frame it up and take it again. Well, for scenery at least. People and animals may have moved away or stopped being cute. A second difference is the freedom to shoot many more exposures. We were always aware that every slide ended up costing 25 cents or more by the time it was processed; and always aware that the camera only held 36 exposures before you had to reload. You were miserly with your shooting.

A third difference is that you can fiddle and fudge and crop and edit the images after the fact, while a slide was a final product, unchangeable, its exposure and framing fixed at the instant you took it. One satisfaction of scanning old slides is that if I want to take the trouble, I can improve contrast or brightness, even edit out annoying wires (or people). So over the past decade I’ve moved quite a lot of our better work into the digital domain, on disk and into the cloud. Here’s one slide from Group 101, for example.

Hawaii 1982 (and 1988 and 2001)

Of the groups I’ve gone over in prior years I’ve scanned anywhere from 50% to 100% of the slides. I’m applying a much finer comb to the unexamined groups I’m going through now. Partly it’s impatience; I want to get this job done. Partly it’s that I feel quite ruthless; if a picture doesn’t engage me strongly for its own sake, it doesn’t make the cut. Previously I kept more pictures because Marian liked every picture to have a context, be part of a sequence. She’s not here to comment now, so I’m keeping only the ones that really pop visually, or really tell a story about us; and narrative be damned.

Docent  Tour

Normally there are two docents for the 2pm Saturday tour and we can split the groups. When I walked into the lobby today I could see the place was busier than usual. There was only one person on the front desk, so I helped for a while doing the bag-check thing. I was hoping another docent would show, but nope. So when I started I had a tour group of more than 40 people. I’m pleased to say that at least 30 were still with me at the end, an hour later, and several thanked me for my interesting talk.

Fedex Follies

My new/old laptop was to have been delivered Friday. Signature required. So I was home all day and it didn’t come. Tracking said it would be delivered “Tuesday by end of day.” But of course when I got home from the museum there was a FedEx tag on the door. Shit.

I tried to get into “my” FedEx online account to get more info. It has been a year or more since I last used FedEx. Apparently at that time (whenever it was) I created a FedEx account. I use LastPass, and it had a record of my FedEx user ID and password. FedEx recognized the user ID but said the password was wrong.

Ohhhh-kayyy, now what? Well, I can answer a security question. Good! “What is your father’s middle name?” What?!? My father never had a middle name, that I know of, and I would never have set that as a security question. Never mind, click the option to send me an email to reset my password. Ten minutes later — no email.

Ohhhh-kayyy, I will call them. Call the customer service number, which is answered by a pleasant female-voiced robot with a zero IQ. Please say, she coos, what you want to do. “Hold a package.” She gets that, but then, she wants me to “say” the door tag number. I read it out, “D T 7 3 3 0…” etc. “Sorry, I didn’t get that. Please say the tracking or door tag number.” “DEE. TEE. SEVEN. THREE. THREE…” “Sorry, I didn’t get that.” I start mashing the zero button until she deigns to connect me to a guy with a strong east-asian accent.

He is able to tell me where the package would be held, if it were held: Newark. If I want to hold it, he’ll have to transfer me to a different department! If I don’t hold it when will it come? He says because it is “FedEx Home Delivery(tm)” they deliver Tuesday through Saturday, so, Tuesday. Can he give me any time window? No, just before 8pm. I point out this is a twelve-hour window. (I don’t mention how it was supposed to have arrived before 8pm Friday and didn’t.) He can’t do anything.

I decide I will take my chances on delivery (but I double-dog betcha it comes Monday, not Tuesday); can he help me get a new password? No, that’s technical support, would I like that number? No, not really. I give up on the phone.

Back on the web, I just create a new “personal” FedEx account, different user id but all other info the same. FedEx has no problem with this; it is not bothered that the same address and email are (I assume) already registered. Well, perhaps not, as that password reset email never arrived (and yes, I did think to check Marian’s email account too). Might I have possibly created that account so long ago that I had a different email? It’s been at least five years since I had a different one. Who knows.

 

Day 63, tour and errands

Friday, 2/1/2019

Started the day with my third run of the week. I did a run rather than just a long walk because I didn’t exercise Thursday. Well, apart from four hours of pushing heavy machinery around, and stooping and standing, at Yosemite. Did yesterday’s blog post, then off to the museum to lead the 12pm tour group. Only five people initially, although three more joined on as we went along.

Drove to the credit union and deposited Marian’s life insurance check. Then to the cleaners, and the grocery store. At home, I found I’d received the Vite Ramen that I’d backed on Kickstarter months ago. Should I do a review for my youtube channel? Sure, why not? and I got out the camera and tripod and shot the material, and spent an hour with iMovie to edit it, and there we are.

I’ve been watching a lot of Adam Savage, both online and on his new Mythbusters series, and I’m afraid his hyperkinetic style is rubbing off on me.

Tomorrow is a big day, two ways. Mainly in the morning I get a tour of Webster House, the competition to Channing house. In the afternoon, a Stanford-Cal basketball game at Maples. Whee.

 

 

Day 57, museum, inspection, sale, play

Last night was the second time I’ve gone to a highschool game to see a future Stanford player. The last was on Day 33, to see Hanna Jump play at Pinewood. This trip was to Mitty HS in San Jose to see Haley Jones , considered the #1 recruit in the nation for the class of 2019. She was impressive for sure. Surprisingly for a 6-1 player (tall for high school) she ran the point most of the time, but also penetrated to score under the basket, and had lots of rebounds, too. Coincidentally the little group of 8 or 9 Stanford fans had picked an historic night to watch her. During the third quarter she broke the Mitty High record for career points scored, a 28-year-old record that had been set by — wait for it — Kerry Walsh, better known today as a many-time Olympic Beach Volleyball champion.

On the way back, Harriet and I talked about senior living issues. It developed that she has a friend who recently moved into Webster House, another ILF that I’m interested in. (It’s just on the opposite side of University Avenue from Channing House.) She is going to find out if her friend would be willing to show me around there.

Saturday, 1/26/2019

Went to CHM for the second Saturday in a row, to lead a tour of SCU students. Didn’t bore them too much, I think. Back home and changed to normal clothes; and went off to eyeball three ILFs located North of me, starting with

Voralto Belmont

I think this may have been a mistake by Alan, because the Voralto site says it offers “Concierge-Level Assisted Living & Private-Pay Skilled Nursing” — no mention of independent living. It’s an odd place, built like a castle on top of a steep knoll above Ralston Avenue. Down below, around Ralston and El Camino, there are plenty of restaurants, a Safeway, a Walgreen’s. It’s not a pleasant neighborhood, with six lanes of traffic intersecting four lanes, but there are lots of services. I am amused by the website linked above, which gushes that the Voralto (I keep trying to write Voltron) is

just steps from the Cal Train station, El Camino Real, HWY 101, Downtown Belmont,… within a minute’s walk from the many fine dining restaurants and boutique shops that Belmont Village has to offer…

The first 200 or so of those steps (and the final 200 returning) are on a very steep street with an elevation gain of at least 50 feet. Once on the flat, it is only a couple tenths of a mile to Caltrain, and there are quite a few local restaurants, if you want to call Panda Express “fine dining”.

Anyway, I think the Voltron is off my list because it isn’t really Independent Living. Next up was

Peninsula Regent

in San Mateo. The Peninsula Regent is a buy-in community: you buy a condominium apartment and then pay a monthly fee for food and services. In theory at least, you or your heirs will be able to sell your condo. (The website mentions the staff includes “licensed Realtors to help in purchasing or selling your membership and condominium”)

My first visual impression was of an old, respectable hotel. I mentally guessed it was of the 1950s. (I note the website has pictures only of interiors.) I didn’t take a picture but here’s a screen grab from Google Street View:

pregent

(The scaffolding is no longer there.) The impression is of a stately hotel of the last century. In fact, per the website, it went up in 1986, so not so old. Does that mean it is seismically safe? It offers mainly independent living, but also has 20 assisted living units. It is not clear how that transition is handled, if it can be temporary, etc. No skilled nursing.

Then I explored the neighborhood. It is located just outside San Mateo’s very pleasant downtown, ‘B’ street. What a nice walkable neighborhood! Not quite as nice as University Ave in Palo Alto but quite pleasant. My next stop was almost exactly as far from the  town center at 2nd and ‘B’ but on the opposite side,

The Stratford

which is very similar. The Stratford  describes itself as “a beautiful, 11-story condominium building… has the distinct look and feel of a 5-star hotel.” That’s the first impression it makes to the eye: a grand hotel of the last century. Like the Regent, their website doesn’t show any exteriors. Here’s a street view grab:

stratford

As a location, this is very good, just a couple blocks from that nice downtown and facing a park. Just like the Regent, it claims to have assisted living but not skilled nursing. In fact this and the Peninsula Regent are kind of twins in location, facilities, and price.

And probably too expensive for me. But I enjoyed looking at them. Then home to do a blog post. Later, I have a ticket for “Shakespeare in Love” at the Peninsula Theater.

 

Day 56, busy busy

Friday 1/25/2019

Started the day with a short run, only 25 minutes. Then after shower shave dress in my docent outfit (proper slacks and my official red Museum shirt) I sat down to clean up some deferred desk work.

One job was to get the form 1099R for Marian’s 2018 pension into PDF form. All the other 1099’s (of which there are 8 total) arrive as PDFs, or are downloadable from the provider, Schwab or whoever. But this one arrived in the mail as paper, and I need it as a PDF with the others to submit to our tax accountant. Well, not a big deal. That’s why we have an “all in one” printer that copies and scans. But I’ve never actually scanned off this printer. Just on instinct I opened the Mac Preview app, which is Apple’s swiss army knife for documents, looked under the File menu, and there it was: “import from scan” with a submenu listing the attached printer. Two minutes later, badda-boom badda-bing, PDF.

Next job was to call VIA Benefits, the IBM health agency. I want to know that Marian’s account is properly closed. I called them first on Day 13 when they couldn’t talk to me because they needed proof I was Marian’s executor. I’d sent a packet of proof then. So I called again today. The pleasant phone rep “Candy” told me she couldn’t talk to me because blah blah, I said, but I sent blah blah, she says, oh I see on the file a note here, the legal department said the document was “missing page three” so it wasn’t complete.

Rubbish, I did not say to Candy. I just had her verify the address to send, hung up, and prepared a new packet of copies of Marian’s will, death certificate, etc etc, making sure that every page was copied. Had it all addressed and sealed when I realized, her will names “my spouse” as executor. So I opened the package and added a copy of our marriage certificate just to prove that I was the “spouse” in question.

Then it was time to go to the museum to lead a tour, stopping at a post office on the way to mail that packet. It was a light day at the museum and my tour group numbered only four. I asked, they were not in a hurry, so I deliberately took it slow, made a couple of extra stops. Ran over the allotted hour by 20 minutes, but they stuck with me.

Did this post, and now I’m going to run up to Belmont and get a quote on a dash-cam. Later… Yes, I have booked installation of a nice dash cam for February 5th. I mean to get the car waxed soon, too.

I’m going to close out this blog post. Tonight at 6, I and another Stanford WBB fan are going to drive to San Jose, to Mitty HS, to see a highly-touted Stanford recruit play. I’ll tell about that tomorrow.

Day 52, Grief blips

Monday, 1/21/2019

By and large my emotions have been pretty upbeat and calm for a while now. What earlier on I called grief spasms have not been a problem, and I haven’t been troubled by that anxious “day late and a dollar short” feeling for some time. Which is all to the good. But there are little blips of grief that pop up from two sources. One is doing something that we did together, now for the first time alone.

Today I went out for groceries and went to DiMartini’s fruit & veg place in Los Altos, for the first time as a bachelor. For the last several years we always made that the first stop on our habitual Sunday grocery round. Marian loved that they provide samples of all the fruit. She enjoyed tasting all the different varieties of pear, for example, to decide which to buy. I wanted to go to DiMartini’s because I’ve been stocking grapes and oranges to eat with my meal replacement drinks for variety, and I’ve been unhappy with the quality I got at our usual grocery store. But walking around DiMartini’s, sampling fruit, without Marian, was… rough.

The other thing, that pops up quickly and annoyingly often, is my instant, unthinking reaction when I see something that she would have enjoyed. One of the plants alongside the path to the door is going nuts, popping up a mass of new sprouts and already showing buds. (I’m embarrassed to say I don’t even remember its name.) Every time my eye falls on this over-achiever the thought, “Oh, she’ll love that” starts to run through my mind and bangs into a wall of reality. I’m afraid spring is going to bring more of these.

I went for a run this morning, it went well, 45 non-stop minutes of my pathetically slow pace. But it is a jog, not a walk, that I’m doing. Then shower and shave and dress and go for the groceries. While putting away the groceries my eye fell on the bottom shelf of the door of the fridge. This shelf is kind of overhung and shadowed by the larger pockets of the door where we put eggs and milk and salad dressing and such. I had cleaned out those pockets earlier, during the first week as it came home to me that I’d never be cooking a “real” dish again. I kept the capers and the mustard and the mayo, though, because I’ve been making myself tuna salad, but a lot of things like tomato paste and lime juice and so forth went out.

Now I’m looking at the bottom shelf and realizing it is kind of a black hole where little-used bottles went for retirement. I emptied it of six or eight bottles of stuff: maple syrup (been at least 2 years since we made pancakes), molasses (no idea when last used), hoisin sauce (what? must have had a recipe that needed it, but which, and how long ago?), karo syrup… Emptied them all down the sink with hot water and put the containers in the recycle. (There’s a whole closet shelf of canisters with various pastas and such that I need to tackle, but not today.)

Blog post, then out to do a docent tour; the museum is open this MLK holiday and docents were asked to please try to cover.  If anything happens I’ll update or add to tomorrow’s entry.

Day 50, CHM and Channing House

Saturday, 1/19/2019

I started the day by leading a tour at the Computer History Museum for 15 comp. sci. students from Santa Clara U. When talking to people all of whom were born after Amazon.com was, I keep catching myself. There’s a point where I explain about vacuum tubes and how unreliable they were in the early computers. I say they are like incandescent light bulbs, they have a filament that burns out. Well you know, these students may have seen an incandescent bulb at some point, but a bulbs’ unreliability isn’t part of their daily experience.

So I managed to keep their attention for my 50 minute tour, then handed them off to the live demo of the IBM 1401 that starts at 11am every Saturday. I hung around to watch that; the docents who run it do a great job.

Home again and I put in about two solid hours adding some near-final touches to my program. It’s a game, and what I was doing at this point was adding sounds, bleeps and clicks and bonk noises. That entailed spending a lot of time prowling websites that offer free downloads of royalty-free sound effects, listening to various sounds and trying to pick out the right ones. But it all went together and now my game makes noises. There’s a couple more minor things to do and then I’ll let people play with it. When that’s done, I will turn to the two partially-completed books that have been simmering quietly on the back burner of my mind for months. However today at 4:40 I left for the short drive to

Channing House

and dinner with Craig and his wife Diane. They’ve been living at Channing House (click for official website) for six years, since they sold their home in Professorville. That’s the name for the residential part of Palo Alto on the North side of Embarcadero Road. I’m on the South side of it, and tonight I learned that because of that, my house will sell for more money than theirs. It seems that houses in that older part of town can’t easily be “scraped” and replaced with McMansions, like the place next door to our house was and like this house almost certainly will be shortly after I sell it. Fewer speculators are interested. But that’s by the way.

Financing and Governance

Unlike some other ILFs, Channing House is run by an independent, non-profit corporation. It isn’t part of a chain or owned by a for-profit corporation. A paid CEO runs the in-house staff under direction of a board of trustees. Two residents are nominated to the board, and also the president of the resident’s council — who is currently my hostess of the evening, Diane — sits in on board meetings to present resident concerns.

The organization is funded by people’s buy-ins and monthly rental. They have and are continuing to do extensive and expensive renovations; these are funded in part by contingency funds and in part by long-term bonds. Diane says the board includes a number of financial people who have worked out how to keep it solvent.

One of the renovations done just after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake was a seismic retrofit. In the basement you can see massive flexible joints that were installed in the building’s support structure. It should be able to function after an earthquake.

Layout

The House is eleven stories high. The top floor is a glassed-in penthouse used for social events. The ground floor has a large lobby, dining room, a performance space, and other public spaces. There’s a pool and fitness facility in the basement (Craig led me on a tour of all these areas). The second through tenth floors are divided into 2- and 1-bedroom and studio units, each with a balcony, looking West or East over Palo Alto depending on which side it’s on. Every floor has a pleasant public living room, a laundry, and a dining room with kitchen so you can entertain a group (something I’d never do, but there you are).

Originally, the second floor was a medical facility for rehab and assisted living, but just a few years ago, they built a new, separate, two-story health care center. Current residents can and do move back and forth between the IL part and the assisted-living part as their health varies. Craig had a medical incident recently that needed rehab so he slept in the health care wing for some nights to have access to an on-call nurse, but returned to their apartment during the day.

There was an unintended consequence of splitting out the medical facility to a separate building. The main building, when it housed a medical operation, had been under the jurisdiction of the State of California. When it became 100% residential, it moved into the jurisdiction of the City of Palo Alto, and in particular, the Palo Alto Fire Department. They recently decreed that the building needs to have a sprinkler system for every unit. That meant tearing out the ceiling on every floor.

The board decided that, since ceilings had to be opened up, they might as well replace the HVAC ducting and the electrical, tv and internet wiring at the same time (much of which dated to the original 1961 structure). This renovation is being done floor by floor, from the top down. Currently it’s the 8th floor that is closed off. People on that floor had to move to other units for a few weeks. I had a quick look at the refurbished tenth floor; it doesn’t look a lot different except that lighting in the halls is better.

Food Service

The dining hall serves cafeteria-style. (Note that at the ILF that I visited for New Year’s eve on Day 31, the dinner service was restaurant-style. The staff came to the table to take your order and bring your food to you. I think actually cafeteria style is more to my taste.) The evening’s menu was interesting and seemed well-prepared.

There’s no opt-out of paying for meal service unless you are going to be away for a week or more; then you can apply for a refund for that period. On the other hand, Craig said the actual amount you pay is calculated on the assumption that the average resident eats only 1.8 meals a day.

Social

Both  assured me that the other people living at Channing House were interesting, including many retired medical people and Stanford professors. There are active committees to organize musical performances and other entertainments. Craig is on a committee of resident nerds who help others with their computer, internet, and cable TV problems. “We take maybe two calls a day”.

Costs

Channing House is a “buy-in” place, where to enter you pay a sizable fee (on the order of $1M). If you leave during the first 3 years, you can get back a prorated portion of that fee. After that, not. And unlike some buy-in places, you aren’t actually buying anything. When you die, none of the buy-in fee will be available to your estate.

The reason is that your use of the attached assisted living and skilled nursing facility, short- or long-term, is included in the standard rental. There is no extra fee for assisted living care, nor for help with the medications or other nursing visits. (That’s not the case with other ILFs.) Basically, this is where your buy-in has gone; in effect, you’ve paid up front for a long-term care insurance policy.

Summary

As I said to Craig, this evening certainly set a high bar for other ILFs to meet. I already had a requirement that an ILF be easy walking distance to a town center. Channing House certainly meets that requirement, being only a couple blocks off University Ave. Besides that I will now be looking for:

  • Access to “continuing care” both temporary and permanent, the convenience of it and the cost to use it.
  • Ownership vesting: whether local corporation, regional or chain corporation, whether for-profit or non-profit.
  • A seriously good story on seismic safety (can you imagine your ILF being red-tagged?)
  • Resident participation and influence in governance.
  • Active resident-run committees for entertainment and other activities (as opposed to everything run by paid staff).
  • (late edit) Parking! since I mean to keep my car.

Channing house has basement parking but it is charged-for separately. I didn’t ask how much it was; but I don’t like paying for parking, nor do I like the idea of parking on the streets of Palo Alto as some residents do.

 

Day 35, quiet Saturday

The Stanford Cardinal edged out the USC Trojans. The game was close with SC sometimes ahead until the fourth quarter, when Stanford took a decisive lead and held it.

Saturday 1/5/2019

Quiet start to the day, with a grief-spasm. Scott had urged me to contact Craig, another ex-IBMer who lives in one of the retirement communities I’m considering. So I did email him, and since he wouldn’t have known, I included the link to Marian’s obituary from the PostHope website, the one I wrote back on Day 1. Which meant re-reading it, which led to quite a bit of emotion for a while.

Went to the museum to lead the 12:00 tour. Talking to my dashboard on the way, to get myself settled down and ready to meet a group of people who know nothing (and want to know nothing) about my personal life, just want to have fun learning about computer history. Had a large crowd, more than 40, which is awkwardly big, but I managed to keep at least 30 of them with me to the end and got a nice round of applause.

Back home, in the mail I received the package I’ve been waiting for from

IBM Benefits

They say Marian had a life insurance policy with me as beneficiary in the amount of $5000. I have to return a form and a death certificate to claim it. Also it contained this rather peculiar note,

Marian was receiving a Settlement Benefit from IBM and designated you as his [sic] Joint Annuitant. Therefore, you will receive $4.58 monthly starting January 01, 2019 and continuing for your lifetime.

Huh? I don’t know what this “Settlement Benefit” could have been. Anyway, $4.58? Why bother? Doesn’t it cost at least as much just to process it?

I am going to call the representative whose name is on the letter and find out if I can possibly, (a) get a lump-sum settlement (it comes to $55/year; gimme $500 and I’ll call it quits), or (b) get it paid annually so I won’t see $4.58 showing up in my bank statement every month, or (c), can you combine this with the $300/month pension I get from IBM, or (d) you just want to forget about it, I promise not to sue.

Anyway that’s some paperwork I will handle on Monday.

Swallowdale

In other news, in October I was going over my bookshelves with an eye to throwing stuff out or selling it, and found my collection of books by and about Arthur Ransome, the British author of children’s classics such as Swallows and Amazons. I thought I had all his books in Penguin/Puffin paperback editions I’d bought while in England in the 1970s. I also have books about him and about the locations he used for his stories (the Lake District, the Norfolk Broads). Looking over the collection I was surprised to find I was missing Swallowdale, the second book of the series. I’m sure I owned it at some time, but now it was just not there. Which rather squelched the idea I had at the time, to sell the collection on eBay.

So on this quiet Saturday it crossed my mind to find out what it would cost to get that edition of Swallowdale. I opened abebooks.com, clicky clicky, boom: price $1 plus $5 shipping. Hey, one month of IBM Settlement money covers it! On that basis I ordered it. When it comes, I’ll try selling the collection; if it doesn’t move, I am sure the FOPAL children’s sale will appreciate it.

 

 

Day 29, little grief, some dinner

Sunday, 12/30/2018

Started the day walking to the coffee shop on the old route. Maybe not such a good idea, because… Well, let’s back up to 5:40 AM when I woke up in a sweat with that something’s wrong, something’s undone, anxiety. Took a while to go back to sleep, but did. So two hours later, walking to coffee on the old route, the route we’d have walked a couple years ago when Marian was still healthy, and grief and regret swelled up in the back of my throat.

“Regret” is maybe not the word; is there a word for strongly wishing things were not such? For me, “regret” has links with guilt, or at least responsibility, but that’s not accurate here. I regret that my life is how it is, but I don’t rue that, it isn’t my fault; it just is the case and I would it were otherwise.

As I tried to work out that train of thought, my logical brain finally produced a little comfort with the thought, “Well, how would you have things be instead?” Followed by the realization that there is no credible alternative to how things are. Would I have it that Marian had not died four weeks ago? But what then? Four more weeks of the really miserable, feeble condition she was in? How is that desirable? Or, suppose I had a time machine and could go back to the start of this year, when presumably the cancer hadn’t blossomed in her pancreas? There would be nothing anyone could do, even with perfect knowledge, to prevent that. (Imagining a sci-fi scenario, a person from the future pops in and tells an apparently healthy woman, “You need to start a course of chemo, stat!” Right…)

So that helped a bit, actually quite a lot: to work it out that, despite how much I wish things weren’t as they are, there is no other believable way they could be. So… what? Blow your nose and soldier on, I guess.

Afternoon, I did a docent tour. Fortunately today there were two of us so I had a reasonable size of group, about 20. In the evening, I was invited to dinner with Nancy, Don and Kate. Everybody is being very nice to me, for which I am grateful.

Day 27, socializing

Friday, 12/28/2018

Went for a run first thing. Ordinarily my Friday exercise is a long walk, but I’d shirked exercise both Tuesday and Thursday. Passed the time unproductively until 1pm when it was time to go to the Museum to lead a docent tour. The Museum was unusually crowded and I was the only docent who’d booked for the 2pm tour. Ordinarily there’d be two on a holiday weekend, so we can split the tour crowd to manageable size. Not today; so I started off with over 40 people in tow. That’s too many; there’s just not standing space around the exhibits I want to talk about, and the people in the back can’t see. Well, the visitors solved that for themselves by just peeling off and leaving. At the end of the tour I had about 20 still with me, which was just fine by me; but I regret the other 20-odd having a frustrating experience.

In the evening, met Su for dinner at a restaurant (hi, Su!). A lot of the conversation revolved around retirement facilities: what we want out of them, what we know of them. That was fine (and informative to me). At least we did not talk about that perennial subject among elders, our medical problems!

Emotionally this was a pretty calm day, and at times I felt quite comfortable in my new skin. I’m only slowly grasping that this is really my life now, and it’s up to me to run it. You’d think I’d’a figured that out during the months of anticipation, and I did, at an intellectual level. But there’s an emotional settling-in taking place now which is quite different (and hard to describe).

Day 22, another Sunday

Well, that’s a boring title, innit?

Sunday, 12/23/2018

This Sunday I maintained my long tradition of doing the Sunday* NYT crossword, the big one, first thing. Time, 38:40, about average, and entered it into my spreadsheet of crossword times, now nearing its fifth year of daily crossword time records. Who’s an obsessive nerd? Not moi!

That brought me to 8am, and I went off by car to Baron Barista for an almond croissant and a cappucino. I didn’t walk, like last Sunday, because I needed to get back before 10. I think I’ll go back to our old haunt for Sunday coffee from now on, the one 1/4 mile away.

Showered, shaved, and at 11 headed off to the Computer History Museum to lead the 12pm docent tour. Sunday of a holiday weekend there should have been two docents, but none of the other volunteers signed up, so I got to lead a group of 30, about twice normal. I did it well and several people told me they enjoyed my presentation, so that’s nice.

On the way to and from the museum I was “talking to my steering wheel,” a habit I’ve had since I’ve had a driver’s license, to lecture my dashboard about what’s concerning me. Homeless people do it while pushing their shopping carts of trash through the streets, and look crazy. In your car, nobody can hear you — and if they notice you talking, these days they’d assume you’re on the phone, probably talking to (depending on your vehemence) your dealer, agent, or parole officer. But not crazy.

Anyway, I was explaining the reasons I’m quite sure I won’t be hooking up with another romantic partner. There’s a lot of things I don’t expect to do ever again; this morning for some reason it occurred to me I’ll probably never go camping again. But not taking another partner was one of the first decisions I made when I began thinking seriously about “being a bachelor”, months ago after Marian’s diagnosis. Then it was based on practical reasons. Now — as I explained to my dashboard — I have another and stronger reason, one I couldn’t have conceived of then.

It’s this (and here’s the kind of snappy dialog my dashboard is privileged to hear): At the very top of my list of experiences to never, ever have again, is the experience of supporting and nursing a loved partner as they fail and die. I did it once, did it I think as well as it could be done; but a saint I am not, and I am not going to put myself in line to do it again, thankyouverymuch. At my age, any anticipated pleasures of love are very much overtopped by the anticipated pain of that experience. Or by the pain of the alternative, being the one who goes through the dying process, dependent on the generous care of a partner. Nope. Not going to be in an emotional partnership ever again, because at my age, one of those scenarios is the inevitable end.

That settled, I was home at 2pm to enjoy the rest of the day. A pretty slow afternoon; I should have improved it with something useful, but didn’t. The only event of interest was the delivery of a new reading lamp, but I think I’ll write about that tomorrow.

*actually the Saturday NYT puzzle, but our newspaper has always printed it on Sunday.