Archive for June, 2008

The Continuing Saga of Bruce Joel

Thursday, June 26th, 2008

Here is Dana’s latest report—

Good news…

Some may know that John took Bruce to Emergency at UK last Thursday with what had become serious internal bleeding (he was given 4 pints that night). Bleeding ulcers were suspected, but an endoscope showed that he had developed variceals in his stomach. (Blood was backing up from an obstructed artery to the spleen…they think).

They also noted a hernia (he was already aware of that); then the CT scan showed a mass on his transplanted, nonfunctioning kidney. (There was no mass when he had abdominal surgery last October.) Instructions for a diagnostic MRI were not clear about the location of the transplanted kidney (in the abdomen), so the results were of the normal location for kidneys. A second MRI to get a more detailed view of the suspicious mass was scheduled for this morning, and a biopsy was planned for this afternoon.

The second MRI showed the “mass” to be the ureter from the kidney tangled up with the hernia. Then, instead of a biopsy, he was scheduled for surgery. Of course, the surgery was more complicated than for a typical hernia, as they didn’t want to compromise the ureter, which he’ll need for a new transplant, and they have to work around major scar tissue (the surgeon in October said it looks like a bomb went off inside).

The repair was made and he is back in his room tonight, although not all that comfortable, since pain medications (including morphine, fentanyl, and hydrocodone) are ineffective for him now because he was given so much a few years back.

It’s too bad he’s in pain, but we’re all very relieved that instead of a new malady and round of treatment, the problem was identified and repaired on the same day.

Now we pray that such a life-threatening level of hemorrhage doesn’t recur, but at least he’ll know what it is a lot more quickly. Again, we have much for which to be grateful.

Love to all…
Dana

Remembering Uncle Si

Tuesday, June 24th, 2008

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Yesterday, upon learning about the demise of George Carlin, I wanted to make an entry here and tell everyone that I thought he and Bill Cosby were the funniest men alive back in the 60s. I didn’t do it, because I realized too many of my entries this year were about dead guys—and then I got the phone call from Mombo that Uncle Si was gone… When I was growing up, it wasn’t unusual for me to witness my mother’s older brothers lose their tempers or foul the air with colorful language—except for Uncle Si—and, if he did cuss a bit, it always came with his joyous laugh. I don’t remember ever seeing him blow his cool. I had the sense that he just didn’t sweat the small stuff, and it wasn’t until later that I learned he had endured some major troubles in his life like everybody else, especially in business. I could relate to him as someone who had chosen the path of self-employment, with all of its advantages and disadvantages. I wrote here about my Uncle Si on his 90th birthday, and I’ll let that stand as my tribute to his character. Our extended family won’t be quite the same without his large presence.

Tonight’s essential triviality

Thursday, June 12th, 2008

• Composer Earle Hagen just died of natural causes, a few days short of his 90th birthday. Hagen did orchestrations for Rodgers and Hammerstein and major Hollywood movies before he hit it big with television music. I guess my favorite is the theme he created for I-Spy. Better known for The Andy Griffith Show and That Girl, he will nonetheless be remembered in the annals of Clan Hayride Lore for writing that obscure crowd-pleaser, Rango.

• Now that I’m thinking about television theme songs, I finally realized why I like the intro for Firefly so much: Joss Whedon simply lifted the best musical attributes of Tennessee Stud. All artists steal from each other, right? A long-standing tradition.

• Hmmm . . . now I’m beginning to wonder if Brendan swiped the 8-note melody of A Grandy-bo Christmas Surprise for his new podcast series.

From San Antone to the Rio Grande,
On mountain peak or desert sand,
Every outlaw feared the hand of danger,
This Texas Ranger—
Rango, Rango, Ra-ang-go-o-oh!

n b c a = t c h k

Monday, June 9th, 2008

Well, Brendan has finally gone and done it. He’s found a way to combine most of his favorite talents—music, satirical writing, cartooning, comedic performance, creative collaboration, and your basic web magic. The end product of this fusion? An outrageous repository of droll hilarity known as The Children’s Hour of Knowledge. The site is co-produced with Stephen Heintz, and so far, it has two episodes. I haven’t heard anything quite like this since I listened to “I Think We’re All Bozos on This Bus” by The Firesign Theatre. (And that was 36 years ago—around the time I first started to make landmark journal entries just like this!). Go listen for yourself. Perhaps the best way to end this post is with an excerpt from my nephew’s biographical blurb: “In a perfect world, Brendan would be swiftly hunted down by those determined to keep it that way.”

Various & Sundry, part seventy-six

Saturday, June 7th, 2008

— Month of May workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-5; Run-1; Lift-2; Yoga-0; Pilates-1; Lupus Drills-2

— When a boy makes his uncertain journey toward manhood, he will never forget the famous beauties that adorned his itinerary:
Charmian Carr — Connie Stevens — Donna Mills — Peggy Fleming
Diana Hyland — France Nuyen — Madlyn Rhue — Barbara Bain
Janet Leigh — Barbara Hershey — Julie Christie — Natalie Wood

— After nearly a month away from the weights, I found myself back in the gym yesterday, hoping to get my fitness regimen into balance. Hearing a Roberta Flack tune always gets me thinking of college days.clint115.gif Back in 1971, one of my earliest journal entries was about taking a date to see Play Misty For Me. The experience forever solidified my appreciation of Clint Eastwood as a cool dude, and I now regard that motion picture as the beginning of how he used his Dirty Harry appeal to negotiate with Warner Brothers a series of opportunities that would enable him to became one of the most extraordinary filmmakers of our time. If, like me, you have any libertarian leanings at all, you really have to admire a guy like Clint. He’s never been afraid to express his disdain for political correctness or those who shamelessly traffic in it.

— Not that there’s any reason for you to remember, but last summer I daydreamed in this space about my hope that a boyhood idol would eventually return to Central Kentucky (not as a mere beau, but as a performer). Needless to say, I’m thrilled to learn that my wish is granted.johnny115.gif Johnny Crawford is best known for playing Mark McCain on “The Rifleman” from 1958 to 1963. Unlike today, it was a time when the quality of the typical child actor in Hollywood would raise the mental question, “Whose powerful uncle pulled strings with the producer?” Crawford was one of a handful of young television performers—Patty Duke, Ron Howard, Tim Considine, Kurt Russell—that were cast for their obvious talent. Throughout his run on the popular series, he not only held his own impressively with star Chuck Connors, but opposite a constellation of entertainment heavyweights, including Dennis Hopper, John Carradine, Martin Landau, Kevin McCarthy, Sammy Davis Jr., Buddy Hackett, Warren Oates, and Michael Landon. Trite as it sounds—those were the days. The tube was small, but the icons were huge.

— The passing of Jim McKay makes me think of so many entertaining Saturday afternoons in the 60s, as we experienced the infancy of sports-casting through his distinctive coverage. A decade later, any of us who were watching in 1976 will always remember his marathon reporting from Munich, when his place in the history of television was secured. McKay and the late Roone Arlidge surely redefined the medium during those years, and, ever since, I’ve been as equally fascinated by the technology and professionalism of sports broadcasting as I’ve been with what happens before the cameras in a venue of competition. So far, 2008 has been a great year for upsets—beginning with an exciting Super Bowl, and on through another horse racing saga that culminated dramatically today. Zito has firmly established himself as the preeminent crusher of Triple Crown dreams—a class act, in contrast to the trainer of Big Brown, who, with his arrogant posturing, disqualified himself for much sympathy. Instead of partying with Trump in Manhattan, he’ll be, as Marty put it, “just another sweaty guy in a horse stall” tonight. On the other hand, one has to feel sorrow for the Kent D family and be concerned for the talented stallion himself. Yes, there’s only one compound phrase for it: The thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat. Let the summer games begin!

V & S