Cemetery

 Today the flowers are still in bloom:

Around the House:

 

"Heaven" on Earth

 A tale from long ago emerges now on a recurring basis:  A man (always a man back then) dies and wakes up to a scenario of absolute peace and beauty, surrounded by beautiful sights and sounds and friendly and welcoming people. All his needs are met; he has no tasks to perform or responsibilities to uphold. He feels delighted to enjoy all that the afterlife has endowed him with. But, before too much time passes, he starts to feel somewhat disillusioned, even restless. He asks his nearby neighbor if he too finds Heaven boring. "Heaven?" says the guy, "You're not in heaven. This is Hell."  

   Earthly Corollary: If you live your life abiding by life's strictures and rules, and work industriously toward the time you will not need to work but are able to comfortably retire, you may at last be admitted to that long-anticipated  place of sanctuary.  A place of peace and quiet, beautiful in its serenity where all your needs are met. No need to concern yourself with commonplace issues such as heating the house, tending the lawn, maintaining an automobile, cleaning your space, doing your laundry, and even shopping, preparing and serving your meals. Everything you need is done for you in a sociable manner. The only exception to the  perfect existence cited in the above tale is that your still mortal coil is subject to the inevitable  vagaries and ills wrought by the passage of time. So the one thing that prevents a perfect heavenly existence may be that which precludes living in a perfect Hell. 

   "What fools we mortals be."

RIP, Ryan Class

 Some years before enrolling in Veteran's benefits, Dave was in need of help negotiating our front steps, which had never had a  railing. We sought help from TRIP, a Rensselaer County agency which provided certain services for homes in Rensselaer County. *  The representative, carpenter, who showed up at our house was Ryan Class. He engaged with Dave and soon built a front entry railing, and not of  the plain ordinary sort, but one with attractive carved spindles. The railing was certainly a help, but Dave felt it could better suit his needs in some way. Ryan worked with him and atached a supplemental section to the top of the rail. Perfect now. He asked Dave if there was anything else he could  do for him and Dave admitted he also had some difficulty navigating the steps to the deck of the swimming pool. Ryan Class fashioned additional support rails atop the old. Dave really appreciated the special improvements so agreeably implemented. Ryan left Trip soon after, and we were no longer eligible for that program anyway,

but I always remembered his kindness and good nature in working with Dave.

* As I recall, the homeowner paid for the materials, and the labor was at no cost.

Lost in the translation

 Reading comprehension is eluding me. I just read a report of an accident in Pownal involving a Schaghticoke man. Police found  "two cars in a position of uncontrolled rest."  I suppose that could be a technical expression or maybe the writer aspires to be a poet. (Both cars were totaled but both drivers okay.

O, The Devastation

   I can't decide which was the greater disaster, seeing the mess in Troy, with ruptured water lines undermining the city, or watching the ACM awards honoring the award winners., and annihilating what is left of the genre of country music. 

    In truth, I missed the opening part of the show, but settled in front of the tv for the bulk of the performances. I sat through what could have been the worst song ever sung, "The Shirt."  When I was a young child, I was brought to tears whenever I heard the song, "Old Shep." Of course, that was a maudlin enough tale, of most likely fictional origin. But at least it was about a man's love for an animal, his boyhood companion. But how desperate must one be to fall in love with a shirt, recount its history, and have listeners believe it is still being worn, even after a litter of kittens was born in it, with one even dying. I tend to save things, but I would have disposed of the shirt right there and then. 

  Then there was a song called "80's Ladies" with  a youngish singer recounting a lookback at all the fun and adventures the girls experienced, from the viewpoint of being "All grown up."  No kidding.

 Nelly, renowned country star, sang something. I don't know what. Following was The War and Treaty, another famed country duo who sang--I've already forgotten, or else couldn't understand. I was hoping for maybe a more traditional closing act. That was some newcomer Barbie-inspired  cutie dressed all in pink and mouthing the words to some tuneless number. Country Music has been buried on the lone prairie.

Medical Care---Or Not

 I don't needlessly complain or harass my medical providers, and I do have a rather involved medical history. Most of the doctors who treated those fairly recent conditions are no longer practicing, or withdrew from the practices I visited:  Doctors Almonte, Agrawal, Carrozza, Constantino, Goldstein, Mastrianni, Petersen, Pietracola... All of whom provided care in a satisfactory, courteous, seemingly caring manner. 

 Of late, not so much. Dr. Gupta, gastroenterologist,  admitted he was unable to perform a necessary procedure. Dr. Bloss, gynocologist, advised, following unfounded reason for surgery he recommended, that I would not need to follow up any further. (No kidding). Dr. Bourla, nephrologist,  advised in July, that I no longer needed his services, though Dr. Ubaid, neurologist, disagrees. Dr. Shuman, urologist, advised in May, that he "unfortunately" has no further suggestions and that "The girls" in his office would contact me in future.*   (No, thanks,  to that offer.)  Primary referred me to another urologist, whose earliest appointment is February 2024. Cardiologist Papaleo has evidently negated the need for any routine testing, including eeg, and mostly addresses from his computer, which is in the back of the room, and he exits in less than 7 minutes, if that. My primary, McNeil, believes that breast cancer has been over-diagnosed, though she did consent to writing a script if I wanted, and evidently sees no need for any follow-up blood labs. 

  Gastroenterology is of most concern, and is presently at  a standstill. Lesson: After you have successful treatment at the hands of a highly rated surgeon, your follow-up care and concerns are delegated to the old farts or young morons.

  * The Girls, speaking possibly on behalf of the doctor, see no difference between a finding of "may enhance" and "is enhanced."  I maintain there is indeed a difference. As did Doctors Almonte, Marshal,  and  Amirbekian, for which I underwent surgical intervention several years ago.

 Ophthalmic care is another convoluted issue. To be resolved (or not) later.