Uncle John’s Log & Co.

March goes out
like a lamb (he pronounces too smugly).

What a glorious day to walk to campus and swim my first laps since making the decision to switch from the Wellness Center pool. I saw a friend on the way, so we chatted, although I should correct myself and point out that a conversation with Danny can hardly be called a “chat.” In 10 to 15 minutes we touched on Bruce’s ordeal, prayer, grace, the soul, despair, suicide, Socrates, Hunter S. Thompson, Hemingway, St John of the Cross, the death of Terri Schiavo, eternity, Thomas à Kempis, and the origins of monastic life. There’s never been time for “small talk” when Danny and I see each other, which isn’t often enough. When I got to Centre the water temperature and chlorine level were just right. The sun was pouring through the skylights. Even the shower-head couldn’t have been in more satisfactory adjustment. When I tested the speed of my freestyle stroke, I matched my personal-best, single-lap sprint time. Perfection.

I was just thinking back to a Labor Day weekend, seven and a half years ago. I’d just completed an annual event called the “Pound & Pedal” (which has a bit of a reputation in Central Kentucky), and was faced with a trivial choice: should I stick around to enjoy the post-race festivities or go home with my wife Dana?

Permit me to back up a little. In the P&P, two partners compete with other teams by alternating running and cycling— four five-mile legs for a race total of 20 miles. It’s fun if you get in shape for it. The guy who starts out on the bike drops it at the five-mile mark for his teammate, who picks it up and cranks it to the half-way point before his running cohort arrives. It works out best to have the stronger athlete start out on foot (similar to one of those mathematical story problems on an IQ test). With the exertion behind us for the day, my chum Roger had the blender fired up for the cactus juice, and the hot tub was being uncovered.

It was just about that time when we got the phone call. Bruce was going immediately into surgery. A matching kidney had become available. He’d made the nontrivial choice of accepting the sudden donation.

We dropped what we were doing and headed toward Lexington, with the full realization that another decision even more intense had been made at the same time. We found out later that the parents of a 13-year-old child (who’d reached the end of a life that was undeniably too short) had just given the difficult go-ahead to the ever-waiting organ harvesters…

Bruce was able to get on his feet with some help from the nurses today. He also spoke a few words to his mother on the phone. As he improves, many issues are presenting themselves, such as when will the system determine that he should be released, where will he go, and how will he receive the care that he’s not yet ready to provide himself? These are not simple matters, as they might be for someone who has full insurance coverage. Regular dialysis must now be factored in, including the ongoing logistics. A new set of stressful challenges are at hand, but they’re mild when compared to those of last week.

It would be nice if Bruce were making huge strides in his recovery, but we must take comfort in small increments instead. At least things are moving in the right direction. Only a week ago they weren’t. It seems like a month. Yesterday afternoon he was released from Progressive Care and was moved to a regular room in the Renal Unit. He’s still a very sick man, and drifts in and out of mild delirium. It could take many days before his system is clear of all the residual psychotropics, since his kidney can’t throw it off in a normal manner. He received dialysis again today and that should help.

Our Indy visit continues. Bruce has made much progress since Friday evening when we arrived, although most of his improvement is in the vital signs and test numbers. He sleeps a great deal, so there’s a minimum of lucid interaction.

I don’t often do it, but when I hopscotch through a chain of blogs, linking forward through one of the next favorites, it’s like jumping out the door of an “el” car, bolting across the platform, and then jumping back on another. It’s WILD! You can read anybody’s diary in the whole world, man!!

— I woke up this morning with a distinct phrase in my mind: magnesium fusion triggers. Look, I don’t drive the thing. I’m just ridin’ shotgun…

— Marty called last night and we talked about a subject that’s totally captured his excitement, the new Sony PS Portable. Hey, you’re allowed to get excited about something like this when you’re thirteen. For me, at that age, it was probably Art Linkletter’s “The Game of Life,” or something like that. However, I can’t help but think of this quote from Ben Stein: “I tremble for the day that the next generation has to provide for themselves with what they have learned from their video games.” Relax, Ben. They’ve probably learned more than I ever learned from watching too many hours of “The Avengers,” “The Prisoner,” “Hawaii Five-0″ and “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

— From what I can discern through the Associated Press, Josh and his 623rd Field Artillery unit was with the convoy that came under attack on Sunday morning, but it stayed with the trucks during the battle and sustained no casualties (from a Bruce Schreiner byline story).

— The new brochure we created for the Brass Band Festival is a major hit, according to our friend who’s retiring as director of the Visitor’s Bureau. I told her I hoped our work makes a good impression with her successor. She said she thought it would and will put in a good word for us. Sounds promising, but the new person brings strong connections to her former employer, a previous client of ours turned competitor. All I can do is stay positive and make my case at the appropriate time. I’d insert a link to the Festival, but the site is just too ugly. Wait a second! This is a job for Website Makeover™ Man!

— Dana and I are heading back up to Indy today to check on Bruce. Normally I have my Rotary Club meeting, but we’re dismissed for Good Friday, so we’ll deal with any urgent matters in the studio and then hit the road before it gets too late.

— I decided to google for “magnesium fusion triggers” and found myself reading an overview at GlobalSecurity.org about special weapons facilities on the Indian subcontinent. OK, so what am I supposed to be more scared of, the metastasis of the World Wide Web, unchecked nuclear proliferation in South Asia, or my own dadburn subconscious?

— Now that the corner has been turned, and Bruce’s life has been preserved, he faces a difficult future, short- and long-term. A tough row to hoe, as they say. Today it appears as though the doc has given up on salvaging his transplanted kidney—too little function, too much chronic deterioration. This means more dialysis, a process which Bruce grew to loath, and will surely dread to accept back into his life on any regular basis. It may be several more hours before his awareness clears enough for him to evaluate his choices (or lack thereof). He’s being moved from intensive care to progressive care, and taken off anti-rejection drugs, narcotics, steroids, and sedatives, plus he’ll be down to a single tube—oxygen. One of the reasons they doped him is because he became combative and ripped out the nasal/gastric tube at least twice (as I might have, too, had I been in his situation). Or maybe I have that backwards (side effects of medication causing aggressive behavior and colorful use of language). In any case, the outlook is encouraging, but I’ll keep up my prayers. It’s likely that there will be more bumps in the road…

— If I came up with an idea for a new method of capital punishment—slow death by starvation—would it be declared cruel and unusual? If authorities came into your home and discovered all the pets were dead, would they say, “…within his rights—slow death by starvation.”? Sorry, just thinking rhetorically here. (Did I do the punctuation correctly on that?) “…I can’t imagine why, the world has time enough to cry.”

— As an avid watcher of Brian Lamb’s “Booknotes,” I was disappointed when he wrapped the 800-show series on C-SPAN. Listening to writers talk about writing makes me want to write. Listening to politicians talk about politics doesn’t make me want to run for office. Listening to artists talk about art definitely makes me want to make art. Now the only other good interview show with the classic all-black set is Charlie Rose. I think Rose is at his best when he’s talking to artists. Not that he doesn’t demonstrate the same level of skill when interviewing journalists and politicians, but I guess he tends to insert more opinions that sometimes irritate me. His recent conversation with Daniel Day-Lewis and his astonishingly brilliant and beautiful wife, Rebecca Miller (daughter of the late Arthur Miller), was just about as good as television ever gets. How in the world does he get these creative people to relax and describe the inexpressible aspects of their talent and craft? His style is totally different than Lamb’s, but they both make it look so easy. Not the performance (if that’s what you can call it), but the technique of coaxing the guest to say things that are genuinely interesting. I made the mistake of watching a perfunctory interview with Clint Eastwood, leading up to the Oscars, and the interviewer managed to avoid steering him to a single topic that was remotely enlightening… quite a feat, actually.

Bruce has experienced the medical turnaround that he needed. Somebody’s been praying out there, and you know who you are! His wife, mother, and sister have been at his side, with so many others close to him in spirit. Today’s news is so much better than it’s been since Monday. Although I’m sure it was nothing compared to Dana’s ordeal, yesterday was a rather exhausting day for me emotionally, and not made any better by someone who called to ask about Bruce, and then, when the subject turned to my nephew Josh’s situation, launched into a scathing denunciation of the President of the United States and his Iraq policy. Even if I’d had the inclination or energy to disagree (which I certainly did not), what could I possibly have said to affect an opinion impervious to what others have already stated so ably in support of winning the war… others more influential than me, such as John McCain or Joe Lieberman; or more intellectually gifted than me, such as Jonah Goldberg or Christopher Hitchens; or more deeply thoughtful than me, such as Tom Friedman or Ben Stein? And for cryin’ out loud, it just wasn’t a decent time to kick-start that old debate.

my son, and brother in Christ…

“Let not your heart be disturbed. Do not fear any sickness or anguish. Am I not here, who is your Mother? Are you not under my protection? Am I not your health? Are you not happily within my fold? What else do you wish? Do not grieve nor be disturbed by anything…” —Our Lady of Guadalupe to Juan Diego

“Thou seest, O my Lord, Thy suppliant waiting at the door of Thy bounty, and him who hath set his hopes on Thee clinging to the cord of Thy generosity. Deny him not, I beseech Thee, the things he seeketh from the ocean of Thy grace and the Daystar of Thy loving-kindness…” —Bahá’u’lláh

“O, Mother, in thy Heart, I come to bury my anguish and to seek strength and courage. O, Mother, may my heart be hidden in thine and have no other love but the good pleasure of my Divine Master…” —Saint Bernadette

“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgiveth all thine iniquities, who healeth all thy diseases, who redeemeth thy life from destruction, who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies…” —Psalms 103:1-4

“I AM the Flame of Resurrection blazing God’s pure Light through me. Now I AM raising every atom, from every shadow I AM free. I AM the Light of God’s full Presence, I AM living ever free. Now the flame of Life eternal rises up to Victory.” —El Morya

Fully absorbed most of the day in the Salvation Army Advisory Board retreat— new member orientation, committee meetings, and strategic planning. When I got home I found out that Bruce has an inflamed pancreas and continues to be critically ill. Dana and daughter Terie (Marty’s mom) will head back to Indy in the morning. Somehow I’ll force myself to concentrate on client commitments and hold the fort in the studio while keeping our son in my thoughts and prayers.

Meanwhile, news arrives that nephew Josh has lost a brother in arms on an escort mission…

The past 36 hours have been exhilarating, frustrating, profound, hectic, gratifying, aggravating, sublime, surreal… A trip to Indianapolis to be there for my stepson Bruce, hospitalized with the potential loss of his transplanted kidney, and at the same time provide support for his wife Pam, and at the same time take my grandson Marty to the “INDY 2005″ Toy Soldier Show (one of our annual highlights of quality time together, sharing our passion for vintage plastic figures), and at the same time deal with all the monumentally exasperating aspects of a healthcare system run amok, stripped of all idealistic illusions as a result of far too many behind-the-scenes absurdities and ugly exposures of egoism… and at the center of it all, my calm, sweet mate… strong, loving, and wise.

Ok, allow me to put yesterday’s entry into perspective. Studies indicate that “leading edge” baby boomers (48 to 58 years old) perceive themselves as younger than their parents were at the same age, and resent being defined as “old,” which they describe as “over 80.”

What about those of us over 50 who perceive ourselves as younger than baby boomers?

I saw part of an interview with
Dennis Quaid. The other person, referring to scenes from a recent movie, remarked that he was in great physical shape for his age. Now, let’s put aside the fact that a Hollywood star can devote months of preparation before going in front of a camera, including personal trainers, nutritional advisors, plus hours a day in the gym leading up to a shooting schedule. Nevertheless, Quaid said something in response which was pretty powerful: “I got fit in my twenties and I never really let myself get out of shape.”

Important note to young people of either gender: It’s much easier to maintain youthful fitness than to rebuild it later in life after its been lost. Even if you haven’t been an athlete, it’s much easier to get in shape in your twenties and work to preserve it, versus putting it off until later, when you inevitably begin to dislike how your body is aging.

This may sound like a lecture, but uncles are allowed to instruct now and then, especially when it’s based on direct experience. Trust me, everybody over the age of 40 wants to be in good shape. It’s just a matter of whether you have a 20-year momentum to work with, or whether you have to start basically from scratch.

“Let there be polyethylene!”

It’s been a good day so far. Long-awaited check in the mail. Successful client presentation. And welcome confirmation that someone reads this log… and appreciates the quiet tragedy of hat loss.

You don’t have to explore the Web very long to discover a site that’s distinctive, substantive, and full of talent—

Jeffrey Luke’s Brazil Diary is one of them…

Today it looks like I must admit to myself that I probably lost my favorite hat, a white Polo cap with an American flag on the front. Nothing unusual, but I wore it with pride, especially after 9-11-01. That was the hat I took with me to run the Chicago Marathon, and when the going got rough a spectator shouted, “All right, Flag Man!”

It was on my head when I completed my day-long “50-on-50th” milestone event.

It was just a hat. Right?

I realized this morning that I’m currently working on three separate “Website Makeovers” and there’s a likelihood that we’ll get at least one more. And I’m not even counting the redesign of our own site, which is long overdue. Hey, maybe I can trademark that phrase— “Website Makeover.” Everybody in the world already has a Website, so we must be entering the Website Makeover™ era! Now Hollywood will have to deal with me when they plan the new TV series— “Extreme Website Makeovers!” Want to redo a Website? Go right ahead, it’s the age of the Website Makeover™ but you’d better not call it that unless you have my permission. And while we’re at it, I think that nobody should be able to call themselves a Webmaster unless they get an advanced degree by doing an Interweb Masters Thesis like Brendan! And Brendan will get his trademark— Interweb Master™ and we’ll put the fear of God into all lowly Web designers and so-called Webmasters. We’ll team up and biff ‘em on the head and have costumes and everything (but no capes). Yah-Haaa!

— We had no business doing it, but we purchased a DVD recorder for our TV/cable configuration at home. Dana’s testing it out today. My question is this: If I’m supposed to transfer my entire collection of Mission: Impossible from VHS to DVD in order to save space, does that mean I get to watch all of it during the dubbing?

— Last night Dana and I made pizza, opened a bottle of Australian Merlot (Black Swan), and celebrated 27 years since our first date. Positioned precisely six months across the calendar from our wedding anniversary, this special observation enables us to have two celebrations each year that honor our enduring partnership in all things.

— After hearing a remark by Charles Murray that the movie Groundhog Day is an “Aristotlelian moral fable” of profound significance that will stand the test of time as a great work of art, Dana and I watched it again and enjoyed it enormously. Yes, I’m aware that among some people, Murray (no relation to Bill) has a negative reputation (unfair, in my opinion), but how can a guy who lists P.J. O’Rourke and James Clavell among his favorites be all bad?

I can never explain exactly how these odd exercises get started, but it germinated while Dana and I were watching C-SPAN during breakfast. It took root in the shower and before long I was compelled to complete my list.

— — —

THE 30 MOST INFLUENTIAL MEDIA INNOVATORS OF MY LIFETIME

Edward R. Murrow, Ted Turner, Brian Lamb, Rush Limbaugh, Rupert Murdoch

Ronald Reagan, Don Hewitt, Steve Allen, Ben Bradlee, Matt Drudge

Oprah Winfrey, Roone Arledge, Jack Anderson, Phil Donahue, Johnny Carson

Woodward/Bernstein, Garrison Keillor, Huntley/Brinkley, Lorne Michaels, Lucille Ball/Desi Arnez

Tom Wolfe, Barbara Walters, Walter Chronkite, Al Neuharth, MacNeil/Lehrer

Mike Royko, Jeff McNelly, Bob Edwards, Charles Schultz, Norman Lear

— — —

For reasons I can’t explain to myself, I’ve left out the world of cinema, music, theater, and pure entertainment (the full spectrum of mass media). There seemed a need to have an overall public affairs orientation to it. Each figure meets the requirement of both influence and innovation, although some are weighted more to one than the other. Yes, it gets shakier and more subjective as I move down the list, and I’d be interested in the opinion of others. It wouldn’t be that hard to expand it to 50 names, to find room for many others worthy of consideration, such as: Jacques Cousteau, Ken Burns, Jann Wenner, Clay Felker, Charles Kuralt, Jim Henson, Paul Conrad, Malcolm Forbes, Daniel Shore, and Roger Mudd, etc., etc.

What do you think? Did I neglect the obvious? Who would you strike? Who would you add?

If you like this kind of history-of-mass-media material you’ll like the cybernewseum.

Damn. Some people probably get paid for thinking up stuff like this.

! ! !

— There’s nothing like a good ol’ ranting, stream-of-consciousness letter to the editor. I can’t even manage to achieve that in my own private journal or semi-private blog, and yet there will always be these bold, opinionated souls who’ll fire both barrels in the local newspaper for full public display.

— Why do some things have to get so complicated? I’m starting to become very sensitive to the chlorine at the Wellness Center pool, just when I’ve gotten into a beneficial groove with my swimming. This morning I did 80 lengths in a little over an hour and never felt so strong in the water, physically or aerobic-wise. We’ve decided to switch our membership to the new fitness club at Centre, partly to find a lower chlorine level, and that should take effect next month. Meanwhile, I had someone tell me that their natatorium is having trouble with its chlorine regulator.

— We finally got the pro bono brochure for the Band Festival out the door for printing. It’s alarming how long some of these freebie jobs take. Wouldn’t you think we’d know how much time something like this would require when we volunteer our services to the community? Oh well, it should be a nice piece.

The rhythmic perfection and exuberant athleticism of the KODO performance at Centre last night was powerful, mesmerizing, and deeply satisfying. I knew the word “Kodo” from my book by Kensho Furuya (Kodo: Ancient Ways— Lessons in the Spiritual Life of the Warrior/Martial Artist), but I wasn’t sure whether it literally meant “Ancient Ways.” The KODO artists boldly but reverently exalt “Taiko,” the traditional Japanese drum, which is the ancient symbol of rural Japan. Their musical interpretations connect at a fundamental human level that must be experienced to fully appreciate.

Trivia: What television theme features the Taiko? Answer.

Today’s Anacrusis story makes me think of Kethan Mortice. I guess you have to be a “Benedict’s 9er” to know what I mean.

At the same time, Kristi sends me the salvaged interactive stories, including the one that I thought had been lost! She’s thinking about starting up a new gathering spot to resurrect the activity. I know I’m not that good a writer, but is that any reason I shouldn’t compose fiction? Like I shouldn’t shoot baskets because I’ll never dunk the ball, or give up entering footraces because I’ll never break a seven-minute-mile pace, or (perhaps more to the point) refrain from playing my recorder because I’ll never be able to play a Telemann sonata?

Had a good phone conversation last night with Foot, my old chum from Tipp City. What’s happening with him is stark proof that good things can come out of nowhere to transform your life.

I’m reading what seems to me to be a jewel of a book by the poet and writing scholar Robert Graves. It’s called “The Islands of Unwisdom,” a novel of Spanish colonization in the South Pacific that takes place roughly in the same time period as Clavel’s “Shogun.” I don’t know very much about Graves other than he was a contemporary at Oxford of Tolkien and Lewis, but apparently had a less than admirable private life. He supposedly dismissed his historical novels as mere thrillers, but I find “Islands” quite captivating. I have no appetite for sentimentality in historical fiction, prefer it to be based on actual characters who lived, and enjoy insights into the clash of cultures, especially East and West. This work fits nicely into that niche, and I may also investigate his “Count Belisarius.”

I’ve spent a surprising amount of my day updating our family Website, “Clandestiny.” Joan wrote a wonderful poem, a tribute to Mombo for her 80th birthday celebration, so I put that on there. She’s so much more talented than she gives herself credit for. Today would have been Joe’s 57th birthday, so we talked briefly on the phone. We’d already agreed that it was appropriate to change the home page, even though it’s hard to remove Joe’s picture. I hesitate to put a link to the site. It’s really a private family newsletter. Those who are interested know how to get there. I wrote, “How superb a world of human feeling our Divine Source has crafted for us, that we can travel from such sorrow to such joy in so short a time, now that our Grammo has celebrated her milestone of years, which enables us to celebrate a milestone of family love.” I truly mean that. With each family event, happy or sad, our connection to each other deepens, while at the same time we draw apart as households. I suppose it’s just the natural course of things, even within close families. I wrote an open letter to the Clan last fall, and only one person replied, but already I think that much has improved for the better, despite our devastating loss. It should work that way, I guess. It has to.

Spent three hours today in front of a hot griddle at Kentucky School for the Deaf making pancakes for the Danville Rotary Club. Once a year I adopt my little-known identity as the greatest fried-foods artist since Neolithic times. Usually this annual fundraising event is scheduled around the middle of February, which enables me to show off by making heart-shaped pancakes. This year the timing was off, but did that stop me?

Modesty eludes me when it comes to my Rotary pancakes. I suppose they can only be described as perfect. Just ask any of my numerous pupils (the community’s best and brightest). That they hold me in total, ring-kissing awe on this particular day allows them to act like they don’t know me the rest of the year.

As far as Dana is concerned, it just makes me smell like grease.

Ah, the sorrow of genius…

A great page for fellow students of “Seinfeld.” Pathetic, aren’t we?

I like teeth. Teeth are good. Everybody needs teeth.

That’s right. A wake-up-and-smell-the-mouthwash moment at the dentist this morning. Flashing back to what Brendan said last year about his Dad—

05.24.2004 — 22:47 hrs (This is pretty gross.)

I like floss. Floss is good. Everybody needs floss.

— Month of February workout totals: Swim-5; Bike-5; Run-4; Lift-6.

— It’s snowy, windy, and the temperature is dropping. The forecast for the next few days is cold and wintery. In my book this will classify as “March comes in like a lion,” which is good news, because this natural equation has never been proven wrong for me, so long as I gauge the general trend rather than make the call based solely on the initial weather of March 1st. Ah yes, the season for cycling will start early, and March will “go out like a lamb.”

— Good heavens, I’m discussing the weather! This must surely qualify as a major “blogger’s blunder” of some sort. I probably can’t even refer to myself as a blogger if this is the kind of nonsense to which I fall prey.

— Well, it could be worse. I could be discussing the lead story on Action News 36: Inside “Wife Swap.”

— Help me here, I’m stuck in quicksand!