Retirement Anniversary

Today marks one year since my retirement, though not necessarily since being a physician which has a way of appearing in different forms.  I've made one major trip, two brief overnight trips but not that much travel.  I still submit my monthly Medscape column, though it was a lot easier to do when part of medicine's pageant.  Even more so with KevinMD which has no forced deadline.  They have a dearth of retirees there.  I made sure that Sermo, which has funnelled into something of an echo chamber, gets rationed severely.  I don't miss it, even if it might have been my principle post-retirement connection to fellow physicians.  Facebook had become a time sink of little enduring value which I had to set limits twice, having failed on the first attempt.  My Ramapo High chums and less than chums have also largely retired.  I opted not to greet them panim el panim a few months ago for a lot of reasons ranging from expense to more fundamental principles of fairness and opportunity when they gathered for a 50th Reunion.  FB, while not an echo chamber, was a time sink that disclosed more about the people who lurk in cyberspace than I really want to know.

My house, long since paid for, has gotten attention.  The kitchen was redone while I was still working.  I struggle with clutter but enjoy using what is there.  My study has been recaptured as My Space, the kind of retreat, maybe even dorm room, that I was never able to afford, though not so elaborate as to be a monument to myself.  And clutter needs to be addressed, which I am doing one small piece at a time, though with a reasonably visionary end point.

I fish less, exercise more, garden about the same.  My need for dress clothing approaches nil, mainly synagogue.  And to my surprise, and maybe to my regret, I do not really miss or seek out the pageant that absorbed my working lifetime.

Cardboard Boxes

My concerted effort to create a single storage area of my house arrives at an important branch point.  I fill our recycling bin to the brim for its biweekly pick-up, tossing school papers, college and medical school papers, a surprising amount of unopened mail more than 20 years overdue for the donations being requested, some paper assigned to the shredding bin instead, and some toy fragments that go into large black plastic trash bags.  Before sorting, most of these items had found their way into corrugated cartons, as did an occasional transient mouse.  With the contents emptied, I now have to deal with the boxes.  Our recycler takes them but there are a lot of them.  It may be better to just transport as many as I can to the state corrugated recycling bins near the landfill.  That means flattening them, which will create a lot of floor space with its sweeping opportunity.  Pace myself, but get it done.

Senior Day at State Fair

It's been a few years since I've been to the Delaware State Fair.  It usually runs the last 10 days or so in July, has special attractions ranging from well-known performers to demolition derby, none of which I have ever, paid extra to see.   For my admissions free, waived for Seniors like me yesterday, it's a day to admire what my state has done for its citizens, which exceed what other states have done for theirs, and admire some of our agriculture, less than most other states but impressive just the same.  I promised myself not to have sticky fingers for freebies, as I am downsizing and already have too many pencils, note pads, plastic cups, and key rings.  My wife took a couple of tote bags, partly to carry this type of loot, partly to tote a soda that I bought, and partly to prepare for the demise of plastic bags from Shop-Rite in the near future.  I spun some wheels at the state exhibits which rewarded me with a fly swatter and a hand fan.  And I took a pen.

There are commercial exhibits with hucksters, from current Presidential trumpanzees to demonstrations of over-priced cookware to representatives of the Divine Revelation.  I remained friendly, keeping a successful 20 year promise to myself to not respond in a hostile way no matter how deserved.

But I'm there to admire agriculture, starting with plants.  Some have blue ribbons attached.  All look more luscious than the same vegetables currently in progress in my garden.  Sheep, some dressed as Klansmen, though without any Presidential seal.  In previous years, recently shorn sheep have been protected by a white canvas gown and a white hood with openings for eyes and ears.  The shepherds probably got some negative feedback from this, and maybe even lost sales, so for the first time I saw a fair number of body coverings in vivid pinks and greens.  Preppy sheep probably give better wool than racist sheep.  Pigs all seemed to be on siesta time during our tour through their pavilion.  I skipped the horses except the Budweiser Clydesdales on tour,  Cows all seemed contented.  And my favorite have always been the goats.  I have goat cheese in my refrigerator.  Goat milk is too expensive.  Kosher goat meat has never been available to me, though I have a recipe from an Italian Kosher cookbook.  These animals are more like pets.  Of all the livestock there, the goats are the most interactive.  They seem to like being petted.  It beats being schected.

Finally we saw the most distant pavilion with poultry and rabbits.  Delaware has a big chicken industry in our southern county.  The University teams are named the Blue Hens, and some real blue hen roosters were on display.  Presidential campaign dinners undoubtedly opt for the Plymouth Rock Whites, a very pretty bird.  It comes to those plates plucked, though so are we when their voters prevail.  Commercial ducks are raised and a variety of waterfowl, also on display, are available to hunters.  The rabbits seemed larger than those cute Easter Bunnies or the ones that run in front of my car.  More selective breeding than gene insertion most likely.


Not only was it Seniors Day, but it was Governor's Day.  The Governor made an appearance somewhere, some photo ops enjoying a ride in the midway and his wife sharing my fondness for petting goats.

Mostly fun for me and others in quest of the carnival element.  Though for the farmers, this was as much their convention as the annual Endocrine Society Meeting is mine.

Assembling

My new TV stand for My Space arrived promptly from Amazon.  While it had generally gotten good reviews once assembled, there were comments from previous purchasers about damage or missing parts.  Mine was left by the delivery people some distance from my front door.  It was too heavy to pick up but I have a hand cart so with some help I was able to move it from in front of the garage to my living room.  The following day I unboxed it and moved a few shelves at a time upstairs to be assembled in the room where it would be used.  The box had two breaks but more importantly, the hardware packet had a tear which left plastic caps and metal shelve pegs scattered within it, to fall randomly onto my living room carpet as I removed the wooden components.  Foam adequately protected everything but it was a crumbly foam that will add to a living room vacuuming chore later.  I retrieved the hardware, accounting for everything except two pegs.  The company, us costway,  must be used to less than content consumers, providing an email contact but no phone.  I told them about the missing pegs.  The next day they responded that they will send another packet of screws.  I have all the screws.

By now I've assembled enough flat-packed furniture that the absence of language on the assembly instructions does not deter me, though a number of former users noted on Amazon feedback that the instructions were not entirely self-explanatory.  Without the prior experience, I'd probably agree.

Tomorrow it goes up.  I think I might be able to get by without the final two pegs but I contacted them again and asked for shelf pegs, not more screws.

Minor Fasts

Our Jewish calendar has a six fast days, two major that go from sunset to sunset and are widely observed, and four minor, five if first-born male, that go from sunrise to sunset, less widely observed.  One commemorating the breaking of the fortification wall in Jerusalem as a prelude to destruction of the Holy Temple took place this week.  I did not fast but limited my intake to coffee, accumulating five cups and getting a bit wired by the end.  Ordinarily I do not go to shul either, long service which up until this year conflicted with work.  Acknowledge the history in some way, don't go to excess or even frum tradition.  What made this one different is that a friend had yahrtzeit so being of male phenotype, I agreed to help out in the late afternoon.  We did not assemble the needed 10 but I was told the attendance at the morning service was ample.  Mincha service just slighted added from the usual without the minyan but would have had Torah, Haftarah, Amidah repetition with it.  Not a whole lot else that I could have been doing instead, though my home had its air conditioning running and the synagogue did not.

Was I more spiritual?  No.  Happy to do my best for a friend?  For sure.

Big Screen TV

My Space, an initiative of the last six months, nears its conclusion.  Fore half of the former study is clean, vacuumed and demarcated with a round rug that I had kept in my office.  I opted to cover the deteriorating lounge chair rather than replace it as its comfort has served me well for decades.  I have a workable desk upstairs and downstairs.  Furniture is distributed around the perimeter of the room except for the wall near the entrance which is blank.  A mezuzah, tastefully crafted by a talented friend, notes the room as fit for habitation with me as the inhabitant.  A white board, still blank, is attached by magnets to the file cabinet just to the left of my desk.

Sitting at my desk chair and in my lounge chair, I surveyed the project and declared it good.  Sitting there with no purpose is fine but having a purpose is better.  I bought a 1980's compact stereo.  Now I need to install a big screen TV with cable and DVD.  Then it's My Space. 

Been to all places that sell a lot of TV's.  A 50 or 55" model will do, though I prefer the larger one.  That's easy.  How to watch it poses more options.  I could get a wall bracket.  Not being adept at wall studs or levels this far out from Jr. High Wood Shop, I would have to hire an installer.  There are free standing units with a sufficient frame that seem economical.  I could get a wooden or glass entertainment center and place the TV on top of it or add a tabletop frame that would allow me to reposition the TV.  I will need a place for the cable box, which I will have Comcast install and while I do not watch much DVD's, the players are not expensive at all and perhaps I should treat myself to movies that I can stop whenever my attention span begins to fail.  I ordered one with shelves which should arrive next week.  Best option for now.

Old Mansions

Economic inequality, that gap between the rich and the struggling, has gotten a lot of attention in recent years as the gap widens with some untoward public consequences.  Even so, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous had its mass audience.  People visit palaces where kings resided all over the world.  In America we have mansions, often monuments to the self as much as places to live and entertain.  Recently I toured one near my own home, not having been there before despite living nearby just shy of forty years.

Nemours is the estate of Alfred I DuPont, one of the largest stockholders of the company that bears his name and at one time its most influential individual.  While he never lost contact with the powder workers he supervised early in his career, he was not above some indulgences.  He collected clocks and played the violin.  His wife collected chairs.  He slept upstairs, entertained lavishly on ground level and created a Mancave for himself in the basement.  He had a swivel chair at his two desks, early versions probably not as good as the ones at my desk.  Two lanes of bowling, one ten pins, one duck pins, with a mini-movie theater occupied one room.  He had two billiard tables, one with pockets, one without.  He liked to hunt and at one time a living area had animal head, reduced to a single bison head over his main desk at the insistence of his last wife.  The rifle collection seemed ordinary, kept in a secure case in the billiards room.  Basically he knew how to pursue his highest level of amusement, the same pleasantries available to anyone else though without the private ownership of the means.

As I tour many of these gilded age homes, and this one in particular, I think about which elements are adaptable to my much more modest means.  What do I like to do?  Cook for sure, entertain not so much.  Sit at my own desk, high priority.  Hunting, not something Jews do.  Fishing, pleasurable but not a destination in itself.  Sleep in comfort, high priority.  Have a pretty yard, yes.  Do heavy work to maintain my pretty yard, no.  Collect vintage anything for the purpose of having it, no.

Mansion tours expose what is possible but they also offer a means of shopping downward to assess the features and set realistic priorities for my own less lofty comforts and indulgences.