Ten Places I've Always Liked to Be

1. Blood Bank

For decades I've been a donor.  There was an incentive initially, membership in the Blood Bank which in a Tit for Tat arrangement insured my household for blood products in exchange for a periodic donation whenever they asked for one.  Later they tapped me as a platelet donor.  Ever since I've been one of their reliable repeat donors.  There have been misadventures, one episode dizziness, some minor hypocalcemic symptoms, one major infiltration, and a few aborted donations with single arm plateletpheresis when the line failed.  I've been put on hold due to anemia and once due to a cruise that allowed me to disembark in Belize.  But whatever the outcome, I am invariably treated nicely and somebody who I don't know might get some longevity.

Initially platelet donors got an premium, maybe a hat, travel mug, fleece blanket, any number of t-shirts.  Enough to compete with a Blood Bank Museum.  And I got discount coupons for a brew pub.  None of that matters.  What matters has been that I am always treated professionally, never badgered, and invariably find myself in my most cordial disposition, from the time I arrive until I depart from the post-donor canteen.  It's a culture where people always seem appreciative of each other.  My visits there, whether completed donation or aborted, always leave me returning home having been to the right place.

2. Mercy Philadelphia Hospital ICU

For my eight years there, every consultation or follow-up that brought me there had importance.  I could make a similar comment about the ICUs of other places I've worked other than my residency.  There is something special about the challenges of patients brought to the physiological extremes.  Records to read, often lengthy and complex.  Answers from the lab still pending in a situation of forced anticipation of what they will be.  And even when there is no uncertainty, whether a new diabetic already controlled by my arrival, a person admitted for something else noted to have a calcium that needs attention later in the office, or funky thyroid tests that pose no harm, the people there want my expertise.  And grand people they are.  Nurses of top skill, residents working their tails off as I once did there, senior ICU physicians who amid the calamities that they do their best to remedy still offer some playful banter or insights of the working environment of medicine.  It's a place where I am always welcome, indeed always part of the team that called me in.

3. Chinatown Bus

It takes about two hours on the road to get from the pick-up to the drop-off points between my home town and mid-town Manhattan.  While the sponsoring company has had its episodes of instability, I've never had a regrettable trip, often valuing those 4-5 hours seated on the bus more than the comparable time exploring various delights of Manhattan.  Fare is reasonable.  Departures and arrivals have always been timely.  Once the driver had to exit a highway to refuel, filling the diesel tank to over $300 worth, but for the most part they drive fast.  While one driver, usually nationals of Mainland China who have limited facility with English, got suspended for racing a semi in the adjacent lane, the drivers of the buses that transported me always made good time without a hint of recklessness.

Usually I drive a comparable route, never with Manhattan as my destination, though someplace else in or through metro NYC prompting the travel.  As the driver, one not used to the bridges, tunnels, or volume of other cars, my attention goes entirely to safety and staying on my planned route.  Being a passenger, especially one with a seat next to a picture window in a soft high-backed seat, affords me a chance to look around.  I cannot see the road.  usually I select a seat on the passenger side which allows me to see buildings with company names.  WiFi availability on the buses makes the travel more intersting.  I like searching the names on my device to see what these usually high-tech enterprises do.  There are a fair number of warehouses off to the side of the Turnpike.  As the bus approaches and then exits the Lincoln Tunnel, I get to see some waterfront and some of the secondary structures of Manhattan somewhat west of the core sections of mid-town.  Exit bus, get my bearings, make sure I know where the pick-up for home will be, not in the same place for each trip.  Then some tourism or visiting a friend.  Then an equally peaceful return trip, more often than not after dark.  Same seats.  The return route ends a little differently than the outbound route started.  It takes me through some battered sections of my home town, places I would not ordinarily drive, especially after dark.  But it's interesting to see how the marginal neighborhoods get by with gas stations and places for takeout and small businesses that have closed for the day.

The bus station, while I wait for my wife to retrieve me, always feeling more rested and more accomplished than when I left early in the morning.

4. In my green swivel chair

It currently sits in front of my desk in My Space.  It probably always took that position, though until my retirement access to my desk needed some navigation through clutter.  Creaating My Space took priority once I no longer had to go to work daily.  The desk, really a black laminate flat top measuring 36x72 inches straddled across two low off-white metal file cabinets, all purchased at the same time at Conran's, for the purpose of being my desk, now serves as my daily destination.  I do not know if there is still a Conran's, the founder being a British interior design icon of the 1980s.  I also don't know when I got my beloved green swivel chair, though I know where I got it.  The DuPont Company used to clear surplus office furniture once a month.  Hundreds of people would go there on a Saturday morning, mostly small business owners looking for cheap office furniture.  The line grew quite long by opening.  The rule, raise your hand and it's yours for the specified price.  Browsers, which included me the first few times, fared poorly, as the good stuff would be sold in minutes, leaving a few electric pencil sharpeners or plastic trays for dawdlers.  I learned quickly to enter the door with a desired purchase in mind, go for it, and raise your hand without hesitation.  I needed a desk chair and I got one.

Unlikely I would have purchased one like mine from a store.  Swivel and recline mechanisms have served me well.  Spring cushion lasts forever.  I don't know when it was built, probably not long after World War II and likely purchased for somebody whose salary wasn't all that high.  Seat made of cloth the texture of burlap, a shade of green with maybe a hint of yellow in the dye.  It's frame is faux silver base metal, four pedestal base which gives it a tad less than optimal stability.  The armrests are a brighter green, maybe a shade deeper than a traffic signal, and with edges that have worn through the vinyl in a few places.  Yet always adaptable to my seated comfort, bringing me within arms reach or a quick swivel to anything on my desk that attracts me.

5. Trader Joe's

After a number of years, I've accumulated products that I preferentially seek at TJs.  Bread for sure.  Alternate over several kinds, but gravitate to their pumpernickel.  Risk having some staples withdrawn, as happened to me biweekly purchase of four top notch minichallot for shabbos motzi.  And cheese.  They list ingredients.  Without getting into controversies, I accept microbial enzymes or microbial rennet as a non-animal product, irrespective of who adds it to the huge commercial vat.  I'm not much for snacks, but sesame crisps, fruit bars, and TJ cheese curls often have a place in my cart.  Frozen tuna, if I can find two relatively equal size steaks of about a half pound each.  Almost like nutritious fast food once defrosted.  And best price on eggs, salad greens, and bananas.

Lots of places sell food.  TJ also sells wanting to be there.  Start with being among other shoppers who also want to be there.  Displays easy to locate, nothing shelved so high that an attendant needs to be summoned.  Never had a dysfunctional shopping cart.  Even at the height of Covid, when the number of shoppers inside the store at any one time was capped, the line never had aggressive customers pushing beyond their turn.  Once inside, shoppers do not clog aisles with their carts nor do vendors create aisle obstructions with delivery or shelving.

My state does not permit alcohol sales in supermarkets.  It is sold in other TJ states, and at an impressive discount.  Even without this inducement, I've never left TJ feeling irritated.

6. The UPenn Campus

I've had three sessions, an undergraduate experience, my specialty fellowship, and my children's time there.  And from time to time, I've returned to the campus for a variety of activities that could be completed in one day.  It's large.  It's diverse, which is what attracted me to attend as an undergraduate.  Yet from the Children's Hospital at one end to the Dental School at the other, it can be comfortably walked.  I always found quiet spots, from my dorm room, to a pond, to unoccupied nooks in their central and specialty libraries.  When hungry, I could go to a hoagie place as an undergrad or a lunch truck as a medical fellow, always within my willingness to pay what they charged.

A university depends on the diversity of its people.  As an undergrad, it bordered a scruffy neighborhood with hoodlums in training who would push people off the sidewalk when unsuccesssful at extorting a quarter.  The university took security very seriously as these incidents moved from annoyances to threats.  The campus had museums, worship, sports, an international center, people handing out leaflets or protesting some injustice.  I could be part of the crowd rooting for the Quakers.  Or I could read the Wall Street Journal by myself on a recliner in the Medical Library just an elevator ride downstairs from my department's laboratories.  But whether part of the pageant or self-isolated from it, I could always find for myself the best place at the right time.

7. Cruise Ship

There's a lot to do.  Time at sea.  Time eating. Time getting wet. Time exploring new places.  I've taken three cruises, the Western Caribbean, Alaska's Panhandle, The Adriatic.  Each with a different cruise company.  While none of these were the biggest on the Seas, they all had lots of people, some more eager than me to engage with other travelers, some less.  The crew originated from everywhere, often the only person I ever met from that native country.  Cabins are small enough to discourage camping out there for extended times.  Walk around.  Stop for food scattered multiple places on pretty much any route taken.  I like hot tubs, less attracted to pools, though they are warm and one had a Thessaloniki theme that I never quite figured out.  Array of food maybe too vast.  Attracted to meatless things not readily accessible at home, but hard to pass up pizza lying on a tray for the taking, croissants and similar breakfast pastries, or a tuna sandwich at midday when I'm used to eating nothing at midday.  I rarely attend shows, but always enjoyed whichever I watched on a cruise.  Ports of call bring me to places I've not been and likely will not return.  At home I have things.  At Sea I generate experiences and memories.  While I've been imprinted to be wary of people who are paid to be nice to me and to avoid people who indulge me, the liners do their best to hire people who are innately motivated to show their good dispositions and the pampering fits the job description.  So for a week I can be a sport and let people do things for me that I would do myself pretty much everyplace other than a resort.

8. Talley Day Park

Go To quiet time.  The park, part of the county recreation system, sits adjacent to my Go To library.  They share an access road and the few outdoor picnic tables and benches at the library face the park.  They have very different purposes.  The park is a small one as parks go.  Facing the main road, kids play mostly league soccer on an athletic field.  At the opposite end, farthest from the road, sit two fenced dog parks, one for small dogs which I usually find vacant, the other for large dogs whose owners sit on benches while their pets romp with each other.  I've been to the large dog section a few times while trying to improve my camera skills.  The dogs are fun to watch and will sometimes come over seeking attention.  My destination on nearly all visits, though, is an unfenced central field in the middle, surrounded by parking spaces.  A covered pavilion can be rented for birthday parties or similar events.  The county provides a couple of grills, kept fairly clean by users or staff.  A playground attracts mostly preschoolers.  My destination, though, is a seat at one of the metallic benches made of parallel rods.  Comfortable.  Usually no competition with anyone else for a seat.  I sit down, usually with some pre-determined expectation of for how long.  Rarely more than 20 minutes.  I will look at the cell phone screen but not do any exploration with the device.  I have taken pencils and a pad to draw, but I usually don't.  There are metallic picnic tables a few steps from some of the benches.  I've sipped a soda, ate a sandwich once.  Never brought any food from home there.  But mostly I sit for the allotted time, facing the playground, its activity having no material influence on my experience there.  I come for a few minutes of quiet time, not in my car, not reading anything, not interrupting another destination to be there.  And the quiet break that I seek always happens.

9. Standing in the surf

By now I've been to a lot of large salt-water bodies with waves.  Atlantic. Pacific.  Caribbean.  Mediterranean.  No water park wave pool comes close.  Some are places near where I lived.  Rockaway to visit the Great Aunts whose primary address was Beach 19th Street.  My first liking to waves.  Then the Cape and coastal New Hampshire while living in Boston.  Not very many of these trips.  Short rocky beaches, often chilly.  Then the Delaware Beaches, for some years with kids, more recently alone or as a couple.  Another Aunt lived near the Jersey Shore, which included a municipal beach pass.  Kids enjoyed it, even my infant son.  Great waves.  Lot of jellyfish.

And then distination travel.  Never vacationed with a beachfront as primary attraction until my honeymoon.  The two years later, bargain airfare made the visit to California too hard to pass up.  While Disneyland and Beverly Hills took top priority, my most enduring memory may be time on Redondo Beach in mid-June.  Not at all crowed.  Waves larger than anything I'd experienced at Rockaway, though not so powerful as to upend the young me.  Just pleasant crashing.  My job afforded ample income to sample many others, maybe one every two or three years, whether Virginia Beach with my toddlers as an alternative to Rehoboth or a once in a lifetime journey to Tel Aviv.  While standing amid the waves constitutes a tiny fraction of my time at each place, even those like Acapulco or Hawaii that would deplete their tourists in the absence of a beach, the attraction remains the same.  A few minutes at a time venturing about waist deep, watching for the next crest, positioning myself, having nature change that position, then feeling the undertow as the wave the just moved me invisibly receeds.  One of my favorite bodily pleasures, replicated over decades in numerous locations, but always with the same elemntal pleasure.

10. A brewery I've not been to before

Each brew sample intrigues me in a different way.  Few really warrant a second visit.  As a student in St. Louis, the Annheuser-Busch complex stood in walking distance from my apartment.  One afternoon I committed myself to a visit, only repeated one more time.  Tourists, and there were a substantial number even on a weekday afternoon, were shuttled on a tour, where the guide, a college classmate who I didn't know but dressed to be on display with A-B logo printing all over his conspicuous red and white pants, took the group around, pressing buttons that would turn on advertising tapes of Ed McMahon, giving the spiel that he memorized, and evading any serious inquiry about the products but reminding us how wonderful they were.  Amid this, tuning out the guide and Mr. McMahon, we could see the actual production and packaging of their beer.  A quick visit to the Clydesdales followed, magnificent creatures, then what any just of age visitor would wait for, a trip to their tasting room where each visitor was allotted two plastic cups of the brews of their choice.  Cheap stuff I would buy myself.  For me it was Michelob and one forgettable other.   One later visit, also A-B complex, this on a trip to Williamsburg with amusements at Busch Gardens.  A shuttle train brought us to the brewery, this smaller than St. Louis but without the hype.  

Craft beer then edged its way in.  Many varieties, each different, each personalized by a brewmaster.  What was available depended on what day you arrived.  Early Dogfish Head, a slew of different ones on a visit to Denver, a few very small ones near me.  The State of Delaware tried to promote its own industry.  Visit the requisite number, I forget how many, get the promotional passport stamped, and they would send you a glass stein with state decal, which I've still never used.  The project took me to numerous small towns in rural parts of the state, places I would never consider driving to without this incentive. Some were basically converted warehouse space with tanks.  But those were the ones where the owners conducted the tour, generating enthusiasm for their product in particular and beer recipes not yet created in general.  Each one with its liquid creativity to admire.

Interactive

I've given myself a respite from my own shul this winter.  I've not been absent entirely but absent enough to see if anyone takes attendance.  In all likelihood nobody misses me.  This winter brought my monthly day trip, Rosh Chodesh across town, a chance to sample an attempt at transdenominationalism across town, my periodic platelet donation, one weekend as Ba-al Shacharit at my own place and next shabbos I return as Torah reader.  While I cannot say whether anyone missed me, I can say that I found the absence welcome.  Nobody there seems obligated to respond to me, whether I comment on our service or on the experience someplace else.  Judaism in my mind is ultimately about the exchange of ideas, some welcome, some not.  Our sages were constantly engaged in dialog and current students thousands of years later learn by chevruta. I tap into my own sources, primarily yutorah.org, where no interaction is expected.  The lack of interaction where I do expect it creates a negative.  I run my medical teaching in an interactive way, whether with patients or residents or students.  I ask them questions, pose something perhaps provocative in the way of science or they query me.  At Mercy Philadelphia Hospital ideas create energy.  On Sermo somebody posts a comment and dozens of comments from people I am never likely to meet ensue.  On Facebook an article from The Forward will generate a dozen responses.  Some of my FB Friends post items of interest to them that will have been read by thousands with remarks from dozens.  This doesn't seem to happen at AKSE, or if it does I am isolated from it.  Trying to generate an AKSE Academy generates less enthusiasm each year, including from me.  The Rabbi for all intents and purposes never makes comments that generate discussion or even incite people to send cards and letters.  The President might but he controls discussion.

In a setting where mode of worship can never be regarded as inviting to large segments of the community, some form of compensation needs to be implemented to attract attendance.  Embracing/Engaging/Enriching, the logo, can providing there is really a commitment to innovation and advancement.  It just hasn't been there.  I'm not sure too many people recognize its absence.

Suggestions to make a shul more interactive would be welcome.

Incomplete Tasks

This weekend I had devoted to catch-up on a very long list.   I managed to get my overdue lab results from my doctor and acted on it.  Mercy Philadelphia Hospital has its first week of Computerized Physician Order Entry, known as CPOE, which occupied much of my work week to the neglect of anything else.  I had a few deadline items such as doing shacharit at AKSE and learning the third aliyah of next week's Torah portion, which I got done.  There was a semi-deadline for a blog contract with Medscape that I pretty much did as well.  And then we have the many things that have to get done or should get done but do not really have deadlines and sometimes not even end points.  This week I will have to update the hospital billing and change the system around to make the billing more timely.  The Department of Labor has sending me notices for a year even though I have not had employees during that time.  I finally took my fifty year old Schwinn out of the garage, put air in the tires and took it to Sports Authority for a safety and function inspection with the intent of riding it for exercise.  I can sit at my desk.  My new briefcase has sufficient content to transport things that I need to keep in my possession.  There is a menu for Mother's Day and I even got a card.  So it wasn't a total non-productive week or even weekend.

Just shy of two months remain in my semiannual intentions.  I may still be able to bring a cleaning crew in next month if I get the Family Room more accessible.  My monthly outings remain on schedule and I have some growth to the culinary herbs outside the front door and in the aerogarden.  I've done nothing of note financially. I've written nothing even close to submission for public consumption.  My research project remains largely neglected.  I'll try to plod along with these in the coming week.

Two Days Off

Two vacation days to try out retirement.  That was not the initial purpose, which really included neglected chores like my finances, taxes, dental work, auto service, and drivers license renewal, all of which got done.  Most of it got done the first day, leaving me with some open ended time the second day.  I do not expect to last a whole lot longer at Mercy Philadelphia Hospital.  As much as I like being with the patients and meeting the residency program challenges, the time and effort involved have taken its toll on me personally.  I work at higher volume than what the people who run the place are used to and try not to be too demanding.  While I keep up with the work, the interest in removing the impediments which would enable me to do things that cannot be done when people are just tossed at you with little notice or planning just isn't there.  They are happy with having me as a Golden Goose and don 't realize that they will eventually slaughter it.

For me the question has been what would I do instead if I did not have to schlep off to work each day.  Might it drive me nuts?  So far it hasn't because I have other things that I might like to do instead.  I'd certainly like to get my house up to speed and have the funds to do it now.  My finances also need to be brought up to speed.  In both cases the rigors of my job have been real impediments.  I listened to a full lecture on yutorah.org for the first time in a while.  I used to listen to this a lot but I come home from a long day wanting nothing better than to be left alone while I see who posted what on Facebook.  I travel once a month as an escape.  I'd much prefer to travel as a destination without a clear deadline for getting back.  While getting my car serviced, I decided to write an essay that I've neglected for some time.  For an hour I had no place to go and no distractions.  I jotted down the thoughts though not having done this for a long time, I struggled with the actual composition.

A Facebook Friend recently allowed me to get reacquainted.  I knew he became an attorney and has what seems to be a solo practice, on only his name as the identity of his firm.  I also learned from his postings that he has become a ski enthusiast and a cycling enthusiast, spending a fair sum on each to say nothing of prioritizing them into his personal schedule.  Myra has her dogs.  Irene has Torah Portion Humor and Choral Music.  I never really developed an insatiable interest in anything, even though there are many things I like doing.  One probably does not really need that to retire successfully but there has to be some type of activity agenda.  I learned from my two days for myself that I can occupy my time in a productive way, both accomplishing a doable list of well-defined chores and absorbing time in a suitable way when it comes in a more amorphous fashion.

Paperwork Days

Up early, partly due to insomnia, partly due to need to accomplish things like getting shabbos dinner into crock pot and finishing the fleishig dishes.  I'm not tired right now but will probably be before long.

My weekly morning free of office patients awaits me.  Last week I took all my papers:  day sheets with billing records, forms to renew medicines and the like and stuffed them all into my briefcase where they still sit.  I allot two hours each Friday morning to contact patients about their lab work.  And I am not going to the hospital this weekend unless there is a medical urgency so Sunday is also allocated to paper.  My DEA comes up for renewal.  My drivers license comes up for renewal, something the State of Delaware made non-trivial.  My bills are all up to date but I have a bunch of checks that may be mine from the old offices or may be the property of Mercy Philadelphia Hospital for people I saw there.  And taxes need to be organized, my father's estate has been procrastinated for two years.  I just do not particularly like sitting at my desk processing paper.  It is one of those things that needs doing but also needs overcoming excuses for not doing. This morning some, Sunday the rest, with shabbos for other things.

Ready for Work

It's still early, my second cup of coffee dripping from the Mr. Coffee discounted Keurig brewer.  A Black Tiger Extra Bold K-Cup splashed with Cinnamon Dolce Cream International Delight creamer that has a longer refrigerator life than real milk.  My morning usually starts something like this.  The electric toothbrush has already done its work, other grooming and dressing for the pageant of the workplace will come shortly.

There is still about an hour before I actually have to turn on the ignition, put on KYW Newsradio 1060 to hear Traffic on the 2's so that I get to Mercy Philadelphia Hospital in advance of the first patient.  I sort of outline the day's tasks:

1. Morning at the 52nd Street Satellite location
2. Update the February Billing so I can submit it next week
3. Assign a couple of consults to my Resident
4. Maybe contact somebody from the Leonard Davis Institute about a Research Project
5. See whoever comes into the office
6. Round in the hospital
7. The usual phone calls
8. Maybe catch up on prescription faxes

Everything adds up.  There is stuff to do at home as well, particularly polishing this week's Torah reading project for which I left myself too little preparation time and decide how I want to spend my monthly outing the following weekend.  I used to plan all this every Sunday in my Franklin Planner but now that would be a hopeless task so I use some morning time to outline what I should be doing during each day.  Some interruption usually arises and my own dedication to schedule has never been faithful so what I intend in the morning rarely reaches completion by quitting time.  At least I start today reasonably rested, not irritated with anything or anybody, and generally ready if not enthused to tackle the various short term tasks and long term projects.

Prosperity

Each day I trudge off to Mercy Philadelphia Hospital to take care of whoever somebody asks me to see.  Insurance companies pay them for what I do.  In exchange a deposit of a larger sum than I've ever earned before finds its way to my account at PNC Bank biweekly which then accumulates until the Washington University tuition payment becomes due.  When I take $60-100 from the cash machine every couple of weeks for my own expenses, the balance on the receipt seems to grow most of the time.

Yet I do not live differently or even have these proceeds earmarked for anything in particular other than those relatively finite tuition payments.  Prosperity has both a reality and a mindset.  "Who is rich?  One who finds pleasure in his portion." [Pirke Avot 4:1]  There is a challenge to earn that income, a satisfaction inherent in acquiring skill and applying it for a purpose that has value.  Accumulating money, though, should never be an end in its own right.  There are funds for personal maintenance, investments in the future, protection for the might happen, some for generosity to others, and some for indulgences that bring their own pleasure but are of low priority.

Earning this comes at the expense of time and energy.  The day usually starts while still dark outside and ends while darkness has reappeared.  Much of the time is spend with patients and junior colleagues, which may be a form of indulgence in itself, considering what most other people do for their livelihood.  For all the strains and periodic pressures, I am hard pressed to think of anything else I would rather be doing from one day to the next.  Maybe having a little more protected time to write or to do a research project without patients coming at me randomly in some form.  But for the most part the means of earning income has its own personal satisfaction so spending those proceeds on my own hedonism is probably less of a goal for me than for others who accumulate their extra funds in a more onerous way from which they have a greater need of escape.

As I approach a year and a half of salaried employment, I find myself less generous rather than more in my tzedakah.  I still give the same amount, allocated each month with a note of appreciation to every recipient.  But the donations no longer occur on time, instead getting clustered into a few at a time.  I've not given to United Way or my alma mater or even the WashU Hillel, not because of any reduction in fondness for them but because of competing strains on more limited discretionary time.  I've made an effort to schedule some time with myself, usually to go out for breakfast on either a Saturday or Sunday morning.  This may be a concession to more money, since in the past I would go to Sweeney's Bakery around the corner on Saturday morning for a $1 coffee and on Sunday to Einstein Bagels with my 99 cent refill mug and my Franklin Planner to look over the week.  Now the breakfast is only one day but more ample.  It has been my custom for a couple of years to go to a place I've not been before once a month.  Usually it is someplace local like a new store but now I travel a little farther on a day trip once a month with a budget of about $100, maybe a little more if I start doing overnight excursions this coming spring. And if I get a performance bonus I would like to replace the ordinary tub in the main bathroom with a jacuzzi.  My concession to creature comfort that I would not have otherwise afforded myself.


Yes, prosperity is a mind-set.  Frugality a beneficial habit that has served me well and is unlikely to undergo drastic revision by a larger savings account.

Me Time

Yesterday I redefined shabbos as a break from what I usually do, whether that be the six days of labor or the seventh day of avoiding activities which occupy the other six days.  I took a day off dedicated to myself and my inner spirit.  This included a certain amount of Avot Melacha, and maybe stuff that I could have done today instead but yesterday was the better time for it.  Kohl's opened for pre-Valentines Day at 7AM so they were about the only place open when I started.   They were clearing out their winter duds so I picked up two winter hats, a new pair of leather gloves and a scarf made something that resembled wool but wasn't.  I really do not need any of these, having always lived in a place that has four seasons which enabled these acquisitions over time.  Moreover, I almost never have to go outside, my day beginning with a few meters walk from the front door to the driveway, followed by a parking space in the hospital's covered garage, then the reverse order home.  Even on shabbos, it is not far from the AKSE parking lot to the front door.  But this was a day of indulgence so for less than $16 for all the stuff I could not go wrong.

Next stop the new Panera Bread Company for a Mediterranean Breakfast Egg White sandwich which I ate there while wearing my new gray driving cap with the ear flaps tucked under and a large dark coffee which I nursed in the car's cup holder all the way to my next destination, Historic Cape May off season.  My GPS has  a bias for the Interstates but the official State of New Jersey Transit Map that I picked up a couple of years ago at a state highway rest stop had more inviting routes that I planned out the night before though I still got snookered off course by the GPS.  Since I had no other destination and both routes took me places that I had never traveled before, it did not matter much which road I drove on, keeping the map open next to me in the passenger seat which allowed me to reconstruct my preferred route as I traversed the width of South Jersey.  Like many of my previous day trips, the path there creates more interest than the final destination.  I think of the New Jersey of my youth, populated by cousins who failed to follow the rest of the family east to Long Island, a connection between Rockland County where I lived and Manhattan where I wanted to go.  Even now when I live literally minutes from the bridge that give me access, it is still a barrier to crossing the border at the other end to get where I want to go in New York.  It is rarely a destination for its own merits.  This time, though, as Route 49 took me through Salem, then Bridgeton, then Millville, finally making the rest of the ride along Route 47 which has its eastern terminus in the resort town of Wildwood with little else in-between, there was real farmland, a huge state prison without a lot of citizens nearby to object to its presence and as the shore loomed, some places that people might like to retire to.

Once nearby I again needed the GPS to find my way to the Emlen Physick House at 1048 Washington Street, the town's main attraction.  Cape May runs a year-round tourism project with a guided tour by trolley around town, which has been designated an historic site due to its abundance of Victorian style houses, some in lurid colors.  Over the years I've become familiar with old mansions, paying admission to acquire inspiration for what I would like to do with my house but haven't.  One of the observations that has always intrigued me but seems fairly constant from place to place is that the country squires who own them never really keep pace with the technical advances that develop while they reside there.  Despite the unquestionably prosperous Physick family staying until 1935, there was no telephone service, lighting was still done by gas, and there was no radio.  To maintain the many houses in town would take a lot of artisans but no body quite knows where they or their shops are.   There is a second mansion that I could have toured as well but opted to walk around town on my own.  Most of the places were closed but they have a pedestrian mall where some of the shops stay open on weekends so I bought a bag of Kosher-certified salt water taffy and had it placed in a box that resembled one of the town's Victorian structures.

By early afternoon I was a little hungry.  There was a sandwich shop near the lot where I placed my car, so I purchased by customary tuna hoagie, eating half there then half to be stored on the front seat for later.  Next stop, the Hawk Haven Winery nearby.  Finding it did not go easily as my GPS did not include any of the Cape May County wineries in its directory.  The girl at the Wawa who I expected to know a major regional destination was underage but one of the customer was not, so he pointed me in the right direction but it was still not easy to find, the vines being on one side of the street with the tasting room discretely placed on the other.  They hosted an advertised event of wine and chocolate pairing which made this the most crowded winery I've ever visited since the Bar Mitzvah class took their phony ID's to the Manischewitz plant.  The owner just brought his first newborn home from the hospital the day before so Grandpa and an employee held the fort.  Despite the crowd, it went well, though I think I liked the various types of chocolate squares better than the wine.  Next stop, en route home, the Natali Vineyard which also had a special event, a local vendor selling baked goods and a local artisan displaying and selling valentines candles.  The lady at the tasting room did not use a measuring pourer and had a generous hand.  The final two liquid specimens, intended for dessert included 15.7% alcohol versions of banana wine and port.  Upon departing, I took the second half of lunch from its wrapper and finished it before moving on the Route 47 for the non-stop return home.


Did I achieve my highest level of amusement?  Probably not yet.  I did learn a little more about me than I realized before.  First, I like visiting old mansions.  My house, built in 1967 and occupied by me since 1981 may have done a little better in some ways than the owners of the homes in Hyde Park, Winterthur, or the Emlen Physick house.  My house gets advanced.  A visitor to my place would find things in it that did not exist at construction time in 1967.  We have modern central air conditioning.  The antenna attached to the chimney came down with the last roof revision, to be replaced by cable transmission.  We have appliances that did not exist when we first moved in.  Somebody touring our house would find a flat screen TV of recent vintage, a small TV in the bedroom purchased around the time my daughter was born in 1983 and on my desk a 1960's black and white portable TV.  There are electric typewriters now obsolete.  There is a stereo with turntable and cassette deck.  But my house is not a museum.  As better devices come along, they find their way into how I actually live.

I also appreciate my time a little better.  As one of my six semiannual projects, I designate one day a month for a day trip to a place I have not been before.  Sometimes my time has to be truly mine, not a lot of it, but some.  It does not belong entirely to the patients and housestaff of Mercy Philadelphia Hospital, not to my family, not to the synagogue, or since that time may be allocated on shabbos, not even to HaKodesh Barachu.    Some measure of defined time has to belong to me alone, to be separated from other things that fall into have to do categories.  Yesterday defined one of those necessary dedicated blocs of  me time.

Evening of Learning

Tisha B'Av 2011/5771.  It was an ordeal to get home in time for the fast, having gotten some patients who needed the healing hands before I could head home.  Rather than cut it tight, I stopped off at a buffet with a reasonable amount of vegetarian not far from Mercy Philadelphia Hospital which would assure me some nutrition in advance of the fast.  I ate quickly, arriving home in time to get to either AKSE, Chabad or Beth Shalom, where my wife was chanting Eicha Chapter 2, barely in time to go to any of them.  I decided to stay home and observe Tisha B'Av evening with the insights of the cyberspace Rabbis instead of rushing to hear Eicha.  Since we are not permitted to greet people that evening, nobody would feel slighted by my staying home

Yeshiva University has an extraordinary program of recording lectures from all sorts of venues, then making them available for download at http://www.yutorah.org/.  They had an entire Tisha B'Av program so I started with an presentation of about a half hour's length by Rabbi Kenneth Brander on Lessons of the Destruction of the Second Temple which was destroyed due to Sinat Chinam and never rebuilt.  Then an intro to Eicha by Rabbi Einhorn who does the synagogue development program for the Orthodox Union.  Then one more less memorable and I fell asleep.  The following night the fast had not yet concluded so I listed to another iPod presentation. 

None of these are interactive, which should be the prototype of rabbinical education, yet there was an elegance to each of the presentations that rarely comes my way live.  We are fortunate to live in a time where the ideas of learned people are so readily accessible and if you want the learning and don't particularly desire the university degree or other credential, they are available at nominal cost.

Day Off

It was supposed to be.  Unfortunately Mercy Hospital does not afford me real coverage so except for a brief time under anesthesia this morning my beeper has remained live even if I could not be physically present.  My nurse practitioner got more than she bargained for trying to cover the hospital.  I definitely need a real vacation and there can be no compromise on this.  As is I do not really get time off, only postponement of the tasks.  But those few minutes of propofol and what was probably forgetable extacy was most welcome.

Passover 2011

Less than an hour until the closing days of yontiff.  I did not get to take the yom tovim off due to obligations of the new job but I got a long weekend for Good Friday, one of the fringe benefits of working for the Catholic Church.  I recycled my Bar Mitzvah Haftarah for Shabbat HaGadol, had a relatively placid though late First Seder with the G's but without Bob and Stanley.  Second Seder a sedate and minimal frills effort, just Irene and me.  Good Friday a little stressful making dinner and trying to keep from having to drive to Mercy for an urgency that could have been easily handled by telephone.  Shabbos morning at AKSE where my shacharit went OK though a little off-form perhaps, the Rabbi got miffed when the Cantor departed the Bimah for the mixed Shir Ha-Shirim, a quiet not too stressful afternoon at the hospital on Saturday afternoon and a restful Easter Sunday.  There was a fair amount of stuff open but I did not stop anywhere except the Gulf Station.  I needed the rest.  Next long weekend not that far off, Memorial Day.

Winter Storm

For my first nineteen years of practice, somebody else took weekend call when the big snowfall hit, then last year, my final one at Christiana, the lot fell to me.  I stayed overnight there for two nights, handled one emergency from ten miles away and scratched the fender of my car on a snow bank.  Now I am in Philadelphia where I take call half the weekends so having to cope with the Big One becomes inevitable.  So it is this afternoon.  I knew that the white downpour would arrive at about mid-day so I went to Mercy Philadelphia Hospital a little earlier than has been my Sunday custom, saw all the follow-ups and three new consults, then headed home with the expectation that I will be devoting tomorrow morning to shoveling rather than office patients.  I'd have closed my own office in these circumstances as few people can get around, though a few hardy folks always manage to show up.  Somebody is on site at the hospital so people receive the care they need though often from somebody who will need to catch up on sleep as soon as the relief crew arrives.

This time also offers an opportunity of a few hours without the usual intrusions.  It becomes a chance to do things that are important when most work days are devoted to shuffling the urgent.  Time has come to set the semiannual tasks, work on my two upcoming talks, tone down my ornery disposition by a vigorous session or two with a white driveway.  No need to arise as soon as the alarm buzzes tomorrow.

Hanukkah

We lit the first candle last night.  This year, in our silver oil menorah, we used shabbos candles instead, as the oil can be quite messy and the shul's gift shop did not have any this year.

Hanukkah has multiple themes:  victory by underdogs, living on one's own terms, recognizing the value of small amounts of good oil when usable but defiled oil exists in abundance, adding a new candle each night as there is more to celebrate as the days proceed.

In the late afternoon, not long before the sun set, one of my favorite pharmaceutical rep pairs who used to call on me to Wilmington stopped by the suite at Mercy to deliver some Novo insulins and Victoza samples.  I was having a wicked day, ultimately seeing a personal record of eight consults before I departed for home long after most people had kindled their first Hanukkah light and munched their first latke.  I interupted my tasks in the hospital to visit them for a few minutes.  Drug reps make good spies, since their rounds take them to many places and they hear a lot of candid comments from doctors and office staff.  So I caught up on some poop at Christiana and the welfare of my former colleagues.  While I am rather content with my surroundings, despite not having the day to day control of my activities that I had in my own office, I've been treated rather well thus far and really like the people I've met along the way.  All eight of the patients I saw as new consults probably benefited from what my skill provided them.  I suspected that my colleagues at CCHS struggle more with their employer than I do with mine.  That turned out to be the case.  I think at least half of them are virtual serfs, tilling the exam rooms and wards under difficult circumstances, seeing large volumes of patients who get processed through more than they receive the individual attention than my partner and I are able to give and who need the medical care a lot less than most of the people that I have been seeing.  While my path of least resistance as my office became less viable last year would have been to have them annex me, that shidduch was not to be.  Those left on the outside but with a mission in mind sometimes really do triumph over the dominant players.

New Job Upcoming

We settled on a start date for Mercy Philadelphia Diabetes Program, the Monday after Rosh Hashana.  Not having patients for the last month has made me a little stir crazy but it is also an opportunity to do stuff that I've neglected due to work obligations and fatigue.  Unfortunately, I've been less than diligent about my writing and finances and housekeeping but much better than before about studying parts of endocrinology that I have neglected.  I've tried hard, though with less success than I had hoped, at creating a schedule for myself to keep while my time resembles a blank canvas.  It's easy to create time slots, harder to self-impose deadlines.