More Sorting

Took Lyft to the city and met Aidan at my old apartment. I threw out boxes of files and clips and filled two boxes with keepable, now down here. I've also got four more boxes to sort this week.

Julia couldn't join us because she is working across town and she leaves for Baltimore tomorrow. bummer that I didn't get to see her before she leaves.

Aidan is progressing well with his EMT training and likes the work.

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Sleep When You Want to Sleep

Up at 2:30 a.m. after fitful sleeps spanning five hours. Out of bed by 4 a.m. So who cares? You're retired, free as the wind that rattles your windows. Rain may or may not be on the way.

As I contemplate the present day I anticipate working until 7 a.m. on my memoir, going downstairs for breakfast, then coming back up here to rest. Maybe even sleep.

No appointments this morning. I can write. I can sleep. Nobody cares, least of all me.

this afternoon Aidan will come to take me to SF so I can continue the arduous work of throwing away my old life and preserving the seeds of the new. I'm supposed to see my youngest, Julia, today as well before she heads back to college in the East.

Retirement is a strange state for the likes of me. I don't know how to accustomize myself to having nothing much too so. Maybe a new kind of work will find me.

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Old Friend's Visit

David Talbot came by today. The founder of Salon has a new book out about surviving a stroke. We caught up on many topics and memories; we've been through a lot together.

I've been listless; sore everywhere.

It is even hard to write in this case.

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Goodbye to 50 Years

I'm sorting and discarding decades of files. It amazes me how much paper we generated in the pre-Internet age. Boxes and boxes of clips and letters regarding my books Circle of Poison and The Bhopal Syndrome are biting the dust during this transition.

In the process, I am revisiting old thoughts and feelings about my work. In there too are files, clips and copies about/of Fusion, a magazine my kids published in Mill Valley when they were teenagers. Also, flyers for their "band jams" in Petaluma. That stuff, too, has to go.

As I "recycle" these materials, it is as if a whole lifetime is disappearing. But there is no alternative to letting it go.

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Honors

I have learned that in March I am to awarded a career achievement award. It is meant to be secret for now.

But in anticipation of accepting this award I have been studying the inspirational quotes of James Madison, author of the U.S. Constitution:

“The advancement and diffusion of knowledge is the only guardian of true liberty.” 

“No nation could preserve its freedom in the midst of continual warfare.” 

“All men having power ought to be distrusted to a certain degree.”

Then there is my favorite quote of Madison's:

"Where in the hell is Millbrae?"

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The Way of the Mind

So I worry a lot. My mind categories the current slate of worries by priority. It isn't always a logical list but it works for me.

Yesterday and today I've been downloading tax documents. It's a long time until tax season but my forms arrive via email and if I don't download them immediately they go way down in the queue and then I can't locate them.

Another priority today is to do my laundry. It requires going to a different floor and walking a long way.

I also hope to go to Happy Hour here and introduce myself.

Two friends are to visit tonight.

Living down here in Millbrae, I miss my family.

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Progressing

The occupational therapist said I am doing so well she has no recommendations for me. The rest of my day is sorting files, rereading old journals, writing, going downstairs for meals, watching the impeachment trial, watching movies, and napping.

The dark clouds have yielded to blue skies as I gaze north toward San Francisco (which is on the other side of San Bruno Mountain). I do miss the city and my many years there.

But the staff is friendly and attentive here and I have most of what I need.

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Transitioning Between Worlds

Dark clouds visible from my window. Rain?

I ended a decades-long relationship with USAA; don't need insurance any longer.

Have been reading old journals. Little of use for memoir -- it's almost all personal. Clearly my first divorce was a traumatic transition for me.

My file boxes are a mess -- items thrown in willy-nilly with no themes or patterns. I'm just throwing most of that stuff away.

How to assess the quality of the memoir? Will it ever find an audience?

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THE SORTING PROJECT

I didn't mean to shout that title. My left hand quivers and when I am typing it sometimes hits the "caps lock" button.

There was a fascinating person at lunch. She is of Central or South Asian extraction -- probably India -- and she is deaf. She speaks with gestures -- sign language. I don't know sign language, but I wish I did.

She was at the next table and we smiled at each other.

I've succeed at today's task, finding an optometrist down here, quite near by actually. I'll go to see her in about two weeks. Maybe then we can find a way to improve my eyesight.

The visitor I planned to see today had to cancel; he said he'll come on Friday instead. My nurse came, again excoriating me for giving money away, but saying my progress health-wise is good. I think an OT is coming this afternoon.

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36,000 Words

That's where my memoir stands this morning.

Again, I slept pretty well and got up by 4 a.m. What am I waking for? I'm not going anywhere outside of this building unless for a short walk.

It's not cold; it's not hot. It's 52 degrees in Millbrae. This is "winter."

Writing is my best habit. As soon as I make it to my computer I start. Time slows to the point I don't notice time. Every now and again I do stop in order to check the time. It might be time for a meal or to meet somebody.

It -- time -- advances in increments. It's relentless but fungible. Hours race; seconds crawl. Whatever cadence is there remains imperceptible to me.

If I wish I were somewhere else I don't know where that would be, because it wouldn't help me escape or master time. Place matters but it is simply an overlay over time. A layer.

As far as I see it, therefore, I might as well be in Millbrae at a place called Cadence.

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Found Again

The day turned in a better direction and it is no mystery why. Human contact.

Mirna drove me to my new pharmacy and I got my medications.

Kelsey called and told me about her first week in the D.A.'s office.

Shareen, a home health care PT came and put me through the balance tests.

***

I love people; isolation is my enemy. Contact is my friend.

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Lost Day

Since waking up at 4:30 am, I have been listless today -- almost completely lacking in energy. I can't write or do any meaningful research. TV news is boring to me.

I went through a box and discarded almost 50 years of tax records. What good are they? The only sheet of paper among thousands that interested me was an index of my income and expenses starting in 1973.

According to the sheet, Alison and I made $4441 that year and spent $4566, a net loss of $125.

That wouldn't account for one month's expenses these days.

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Daisy Chain

My granddaughter made one for me yesterday. She is six and amazingly charming.

Amid everything else I am trying to do -- regain my health, move in here, move out of Hampshire, identify a new doctor (I may have done that), locate a new pharmacy (I may have done that), get a new neurologist, get a new eye doctor, get a new dentist, sort through my files, read my journals, write my memoir, eat three healthy meals a day, make new friends, remain in touch with old friends, find things that have gone missing, keep enough clean clothes on hand to be sensible, network with an eye toward new income possibilities, not be consumed by worry over money -- I have run out of blood pressure medicine on a long holiday errand.

So it is not surprising I am up at 4 a.m., consumed with worry.

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Subday Visitors

Laila and her family came over today; the kids told me all about their six months in France -- what it was like going to school, playing soccer, shopping and living day to day speaking French. We had a great visit.

Also my KQED colleagues Audrey and Arash stopped by. Both are former interns I hired and worked with. They are thriving in their young careers. This, too, was a great visit.

More progress on memoir -- now it is over 35,000 words.

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