It is so strange to me, or maybe not, it’s really the strange is the norm with me sometimes it seems, that I would post what I did yesterday evening in a kind of seizure, and come to work today to find I had received a link to a story about someone retiring from Meggie. On the face of it, I should be disappointed, saddened, but from my heart to my bones, for some strange–there’s that word again–reason, I am at peace. It’s right. The right decision has been made. A settled feeling goes with it. Have so many questions, but I am feeling so oddly calm about all of this, that I know somewhere down the line I will know the answers. Good on you, pal o’ mine. Good on you.
Sitting in my living room, the windows splayed open to the trees, oaks, whatevers, palms dancing in the tropical wind born from Tropical Storm Cindy. It plays like a living canvas of grey and rain before my eyes. Well, I guess we’re in for it…we’ll be on the Eastern side, where there is the most rain…had to secure my plants, blue chair, and other things outside. Nursing a Manhattan, planning to sleep in the recliner where I can keep an eye on things…
Nevertheless, contemplating…chastity. Candlelight, all the candles are poised and ready to be lit, matches nearby, hurricane lamp with the oil ready…matches ready to grab…you, you, what would you do here now. Would it have to be important, validated, somehow received a seal of approval your sister would approve of, or would it just be for the sake of God’s sake? Pray it is the latter. Wind is picking up, palms outside the Ernest Hemingway Room doing their arabesques and stretches. Would it have to be something that would pass the questionable approval of critics who have not yet lived as you have, or would your opinion, your heart, your soul and its voice be enough? Hasn’t that always been the question; hasn’t that always been the question you have missed by those you felt you shouldn’t stand up to, perhaps because, it appalls you, that your innermost inclination would be to knock them flat, send them to hell? Where, perhaps, in the grand scope of your true destiny, they belong…and you would stand on the mountaintop, a free man, chained to nothing but the essence of your own soul and true desires…..
Sad, isn’t it? That it isn’t so. And the tropical wind doth blow…
Well Verne, I got a what-if for ye.
Back to DNA, but this just popped into my mind two nights ago. I’ve been thinking the Scandinavian connection in my bloodline possibly stems from Mom’s side of the family, but–oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness, watch if…it comes from Daddy’s side of the family. I say this because I’m sure we were Norse, just feel it in my bones, and the Vikings were seafarers. And Luis Frois was a seafaring priest who went to Japan in search of the unknown, but there is also that other Frois from Portugal who sailed with Magellan when he circled the world, and with Vasco de Gama, and sailed on his own expedition to South America…what if, Verne, they picked all of that up from the Vikings? Who, I am certain, discovered North America long before Columbus. This is all so fascinating, a wonderful mystery to unravel. This popped into my head after I kind of asked in my post about Daddy on Father’s Day to please explain the Scandinavian thing. More info needed!
Last night I watched, “Death in Venice.” I had taped it. Never saw it, but remember when it was released when I was a teen, and my cousin and I, when exhausted would say, Death…in Venice. Ha. Visconti. It was a long, drawn out movie, with gorgeous costumes, beautiful use of Mahler as a score, but long, long, long, long, and yet I watched, watched, watched watched. I always liked Dirk Bogarde, however. I didn’t dislike it, didn’t like it. I remember when it was released thinking how beautiful the young boy who played Thaddeus was, but watching it this time didn’t find him to be that so much. I’ve never read any of Thomas Mann’s novels, always wanted to try, “The Seven Storey Mountain” I think that was his–Mom had it at one point, but whatever. Dirk Bogarde gave a fine performance, but as I said, ambivalent about it as I admire the richness of its sets, costumes, nuance, but long, long, long. Glad I was stretched out en boudoir and not sitting in a movie theater because I’m sure I would have been fidgeting. I’m not sure Bogarde was right for the role, at least for the character as I gleaned him to be without having read the book. For some reason, he didn’t bring out the pathos in that character, or cut to the blackness within, or maybe it’s because I remember seeing Bogarde as fighter pilots, Brits fighting the Gerries, the Servant, etc.
Tropical system soon to be named Cindy is bearing down on us and New Orleans is going to be baptized in 8-10 inches of rain over the next three days. I wonder if they will close Tulane down tomorrow. Funny, that Tropical Storm that was really a minor hurricane that hit just before Katrina in 2005 was also named Cindy. Hope that’s not an omen.
Here is the trailer for, “The Long Ships.” Please watch it and wait for Sidney Poitier’s James Brown do. This movie was fun. A bit cliche ridden, but fun, and I’m glad I watched it.
This was the opening monologue from the last Greg Gutfeld show. It had me laughing out loud, was spot on completely and it just got another laugh out of me a few minutes ago.
Remember the good old days of, “Crossfire” on CNN, when CNN was actually a news network?
Just read my last post, and honestly,will have to edit it–auto correct is ruining me, but editing will wait a little.
Well, I suppose I’ve been in a Viking sort of mood, so I’ve just hit the pause button on a movie I taped last week called, “The Long Ships,” with Richard Widmark as the Norseman with an East Coast accent and Sidney Poitier as the moor sporing a James Brown do. Picked up some notable sayings, such as, “fill your horns and drink!”
Forgot to mention previously that Dr. Peterson, who, with wife Charlene, adopted a white stray cat three years ago they found after Mass in the parking lot of San Francis Xavier Church, naming him, “Mr. Bingle,” told me yesterday they adopted another cat. Dr. Peterson told me, “Jeanne, he comes from Mississippi and he’s gray, so what do you think I named him?” I immediately replied, “Rebel.” And I was right Rebel, the Confederate Cat. Yee-hah!
Well, guess I’ll return back to the Norsemen and the Moors. As dignified, talened and imposing an actor as Sidney Poitier has always been, watching him in this, I keep expecting him to go, Hah! I feel good…I knew that I would now…so good, so good, I got you! Yay!
The first wish for Father’s Day goes to my own father who has gone on to heaven, when he is not sticking around protecting me! On the news this morning, some of the hosts ask themselves and their guests what was the best advice your father ever gave you? I thought about it, and although I only had eight years with him, I realize there was something he told me that brought great comfort and laid a foundation that perhaps became sub conscious at times but was there. I was about maybe six and we were alone together on a Saturday morning in the winter on Joliet Street. The cottage on Joliet Street during winter could be very cozy, and it was no different that morning. I was afraid of something, a ghost story probably, a monster movie, or something my brother did to constantly frighten me. I was telling Daddy how scared I was, and he didn’t go to the there’s no such thing as ghosts things, but took me very seriously. He told me that once there was a great American president named Franklin Roosevelt who, in the midst of the Depression, the worst time ever, had told the American people, “all we have to fear is fear itself.” How Daddy reached me with that, because I just stared at him and realize that the fear I was in was far worse than anything that might jump out of the closet at me, stand over my bed…it had a huge effect on me and I won’t say I never got frightened again, but when I was I would remember what he said. So funny, a kid so frightened of ghosts grew up to go on ghost hunts basically saying, y’all come on! But, thank you Daddy for that…and for guiding me to the Mardi Gras skulls, and Luis Frois, the link to Japan, but please someone tell me where Scandinavia comes in!
Happy Father’s Day to you, and to good Dads too like you. I think you might especially know why I say that to someone who put his kids first no matter where he may have wanted to go.
After wandering what I was going to wear to the graduation yesterday, at the last minute just decided on white cotton slacks, a simple lavender T, and those silver filagree loops Mom gave me twenty-something years ago. In other words, simplify, simplify, simplify. Thought I might be too casual, but, any way took special pains with my hair pinning it up, and when I got there a few people told me how lovely the lavender was–so, good. I love lavender. It was a lovely ceremony, a lovely brunch, I sat once again with Dr. Peterson and his wife Charlene and we had a good time as usual. Meggie won Resident of the Year, I met her parents and we hit it off immediately. She had told me her Dad had also gotten his DNA done so I told him about mine, and in the course of it, joined by Dr. Daroca, Department Genius and totally nice guy, I told them about Luis and Japan. We had so much fun, a lot of laughter, champagne, the view of the Mississippi, and there I was also sitting beside Dr. Ghandour’s husband who are observing Ramadan, answering his questions about the Confederate monument and the Republican viewpoint. Totally civilized conversation between two people of different cultures, goodness, it can be done, PEOPLE!
Dr. Peterson also, like me, has ancestors who served in the Confederate Army, and he showed a minute lapel pin he was wearing: it’s of Lee Circle with Lee on his pedestal. I’m going to order a pendant.
Feel vegetarian today. So, right now in the oven, layers of eggplant, olive oil, portobello mushies, onion, garlic, tomatoes, Asigo cheese in a tomato gravy seasoned with basil, oregano and what not, is roasting away. Got some veggie pasta of different colors–beet, green, orange and regular and am just going to toss it in pesto.
If I could I would tell you more about what I think about you and Father’s Day, and what I touched up in this post, and it is all good, but so personal, I won’t.
turned out to be riveting. No gross autopsy photos of worm-laden body parts, as I feared. Just a fascinating case study of a man who had contracted a type of parasite that dwells in residential areas, swamps, mud, crud, in other words, wherever dogs and cats poop (I’m quoting my chairman, who has never said poop to me before). So, don’t walk barefooted through your neighborhood. Nor through any sand unless it’s near the sea or the river. Swamps are out, but I would never walk barefoot through a swamp anyway because of all of them damned schnakes. All ’round us. I don’t walk barefoot outside either, not even to ze pool. Remembering my near miss with that black snake in my sandals son the banks of the James River in ole Verginny. Virginia is for Lovers.
Need to run an errand after work and all I really want to do is go home and crash with three fingers of Jack on the rocks. Might just go home anyway.
It’s a lovely day, but so humid and hot; we’re in for it now: summer in New Orleans. There’s a tropical system forming at the lower edge of the Gulf of Mexico, stay tuned, we’ll know in five days what’s afoot with it. Please, no hurricanes this year.
Honestly. My Chairman has been out of town and this morning I told him I didn’t think I would make it through today’s Grand Rounds. “What’s the topic,” he asked. I replied: “Worms Gone Wild: An Autopsy Report.” His face lit up. “Ooh,” he said, “parasites!” I gave up.
Last night I watched part of the Congressional baseball game. It was really very moving. They raised over $1 million, and I have to say, the congressmen, at a distance, looked like professional ball players, not bad for some of the more seasoned ones at all. It was really moving when all of them, Dems and Repubs all knelt around 2nd base, the position Steve Scalise would have played and prayed for a long time. The Democrats won, but when they were presented with the trophy, they handed it back to the Republican coach (whose ten-year-old son was also on the practice field when the gunman started his rampage) to give to Scalise to place in his office once he recovered. What is it about baseball games that carry so much emotion? With football, it’s raw excitement and brutal, but baseball, Lord!
Tomorrow is the residents’ graduation. Meggie Doucet and Dr. Sullivan will be leaving along with Dr. Lewin. They sit together in the resident’s room and it’s going to be very hard to enter that room again once they’re gone. Meggie took her board certification exams this past week, two days of hell, and when she got back, she threw herself into my arms, “Miss Jeanne!” as though for comfort. I’m sure she passed beautifully, bless her heart. Going to miss her so much. She’s going to Texas for her fellowship.
The graduation will be at the Windsor Court same as last year, a brunch, and I’m glad we’re returning there. Hope they still have that Bananas Foster station. Oh, well, Obese Navidad in June!