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Mountaintop

December 24, 2024 by mountainmornings

It’s Christmas Eve in Tinseltown

I didn’t know a city could twinkle. Ever since we landed I’ve been pleasantly surprised – the orchestral music in the Uber, the view to Santa Monica with the sea beyond.

My son the Rocker and Aunt Kiki are nesting here among the red tail hawks. There’s an ancient olive tree bending over the hill, welcoming this Nashville branch of the family.

We are building new traditions. Abrahamic descendants baking date bread and frying latkes. My wish for your holiday is simple, be kind to one another. Leave room for love to bloom unrestrained from sarcasm and doubt.

Merry Everything

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Hands Free

December 17, 2024 by mountainmornings

Yesterday my wrist splint came off so I’m hands free! Still doing PT but feeling lighter, like a bobble head doll stuck in a cage and not so much a soft shell crab.

To celebrate, I made the mistake of watching Rachel Maddow last night with Bob. It was either that or the Menendez Brothers’ story on Netflix. She was all about the OLIGARCHS, a word I thought was Russian; but actually Aristotle first used the term in relation to a coercive, oppressive rule by the rich, as opposed to an aristocracy. Its modern day usage centers on the corrupt control of government after the fall of the Soviet Union by extremely wealthy citizens.

“…one of a small group of powerful people who control a country or an industry.”

And what Maddow was saying last night was wake up and smell what’s happening right now in our country. We saw Elon Musk attached at the hip to Mr T, basically buying his way into political influence at a time when legislators are about to pass a bill about collecting (or NOT collecting) data on driverless cars, mostly Teslas. Maddow showed footage of a full self-driving (FSD) Tesla that stopped short in a tunnel causing a nine car pile-up. One FSD Tesla went around a stopped school bus and plowed into a child. There have been at least 13 fatal accidents since this hands-free feature debuted on Thanksgiving Day 2022.

I was reminded of the ability of gun lobbyists to keep the NIH from collecting data on gun deaths.

But for my own sanity, I prefer to think of all the things I can do now with my own two hands: I can knit, I can wash my own hair, I can open some bottles, and brushing my teeth is a lot easier! Maybe I should try flossing? I won’t be able to drive for six months but that’s because of my neck – another month in the C collar with no sudden twists or turns for me.

Maddow introduced a Yale Professor of History last night, Timothy Snyder, to discuss our current state of affairs. His current book, “On Freedom,” follows a seminal work about oligarchs titled, “On Tyranny,” and attempts to deliver strategies for democracies to avoid authoritarianism. He told us we must not keep looking back, but instead hold the GOP accountable each and every day for their twisted policies; you know like separation of families at the border.

“…he identifies five key determinants of a truly free society – and it seems highly appropriate that those tenets can be counted on the fingers of one definitely raised fist. Each one leads to the next. The foundation is sovereignty (not the resolve of narrow nationalists but the creation of political conditions in which individuals are safe and enabled to make meaningful choices about their lives, underwritten by empathy). That in turn leads to “unpredictability”, the freedom to behave in ways that authority (and algorithms) cannot control; and mobility (the possibility for young people, in particular, to “break free of the structures (and people) that allowed them to become [sovereign]”. That is only possible with the freedom of “factuality” (“the grip on the world that allows us to challenge it” – Snyder makes a particularly impassioned argument about the devastating effect of local news deserts on democracy); and finally, “solidarity”, the recognition that these freedoms are not just for the privileged 0.1%, but for everyone.” https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/sep/23/on-freedom-by-timothy-snyder-review-an-essential-manifesto-for-change

So I am 2/3 free at the moment with just an Aspen aka Cervical Collar on my neck. I want to stay optimistic, I’m determined to keep typing, to keep you informed of my family foibles and all the while shine a light on our paradoxical politics. Merry Everything Everyone!

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Another Distraction

December 10, 2024 by mountainmornings

We are a distracted world. Look around you, wherever you go, people are looking down at their phones. In France, most everyone walks around tethered to their phones by a lariat around the neck, all ages and genders – exactly like Grandma Ada and her assisted-living cohorts.

Not me. I lose my phone on a regular basis. For awhile I liked the whole Millennial, ‘shove it into your back jean’s pocket’ approach; but after a near drowning in the toilet and the switch to yoga pants I’ve just given up. The worst is when I’ve switched off the ringer, which i do on a regular basis, then all bets are off. I might find it poised on the toaster in the kitchen, or buried in the bedsheets! Bob, the Saint of Lost Things, usually saves the day.

The Groom thinks losing my cell is a good sign, it means I’m not so attached to a screen. I thought it meant early onset dementia.

This morning I got a bit of bad news at the spine doctor’s office. He pulled up the CT scan from the day of my injury over a month ago and compared it to the one taken yesterday. It looks like the odontoid fracture of my neck (C2), isn’t healing as well as we all hoped. He wants me to wear my cervical (C) collar for another month and then we can reevaluate – surgery is still a possibility. Living in a state of flux, not knowing if I’m one wrong step away from disaster, is not what I wanted to hear.

“I don’t like the distraction,” the doctor said.

In orthopedic speak, a distraction is the separation of the odontoid via the longitudinal axis. It was a small chasm on the computer screen between the fulcrum that allows my head to turn. My eyes could see it, but my brain wasn’t processing his words. He was explaining the types of surgery he might attempt on my balsa bones and I’m sure Bob was listening but I’d tuned out. The holidays would go on without me.

Like Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll deal with that next year.

It’s warming up again here in Nashville, from 17 degrees to 57 in a few days, so I can walk outside which is my best therapy. We all walked to the Farmers Market on Saturday after a quick breakfast of Nutella crepes at the Bride’s house. It was a beautiful, sunny crisp day. She whipped her scarf around my neck to hide the dreaded C collar and we laughed to think I could look semi-normal. The good news is I can sleep with a soft collar now.

Have you heard that Australia is banning social media for children under the age of 16? That high schools that ban cell phones are happier places – less disciplinary calls and more student achievement? I think I’ll keep my phone on silent for a few days, let Bob turn his notifications on. Also, I’m less likely to be scammed. Let me know what you’re streaming since I’m all about distracting myself this holiday season.

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Pardon Me

December 3, 2024 by mountainmornings

There’s much ado about Hunter Biden’s pardon. One of the things I learned in Catholic School was to ‘put myself in someone else’s shoes.’ What if you were President Joe for a day – would you want to pardon your son with a history of drug and alcohol addiction who had turned his life around after a long political investigation? He lied on a gun form while high on crack cocaine and didn’t pay his taxes. OTOH, he didn’t intimidate witnesses or try to overthrow the government. So, YES, I’d pardon my son.

Then again, whenever I bump into someone in a crowd, I usually say, “Pardon me.” So I’m an equal opportunity pardoner.

It’s a habit I picked up when I was first living in Boston, Massachusetts in the 60s, and continued while living in the Berkshires. Back in NJ the usual retort was a quick, “Sorry,” but not for me. Maybe my old Catholic school upbringing was to blame; how many times had I blurted out in confession, “Pardon me Father….?” It just seemed a bit more dignified, maybe even a little royal, to pardon people. According to the Cambridge Dictionary, the word PARDON means to FORGIVE:

“to forgive someone for something they have said or done. This word is often used in polite expressions…. If someone who has committed a crime is pardoned, that person is officially forgiven and their punishment is stopped:“

Forgive me if i see nothing polite about the politics of this week’s Presidential pardon of Joe Biden’s son Hunter on gun and tax evasion issues is nothing new.

In fact, George Washington dismissed charges in 1795 against two Western Pennsylvania farmer/rebels, John Mitchell and Philip Weigel, involved in the Whiskey Rebellion! It would seem prescient that our young nation’s first crisis was a result of Hamilton imposing a tax on a domestic product that was grown and manufactured on the frontier – whiskey. The farmers refused to pay the tax and the resulting violent conflict was framed as a Federalist vs Anti-Federalist issue. Indeed, when Thomas Jefferson was elected President he repealed the Whiskey Tax!

“Residents viewed this tax as yet another instance of unfair policies dictated by the eastern elite that negatively affected American citizens on the frontier.” https://www.mountvernon.org/library/digitalhistory/digital-encyclopedia/article/whiskey-rebellion

Let’s jump ahead, past Confederate and Jimmy Hoffa pardons, to the one I remember in September, 1974. I don’t remember where I was at the time, but I do remember the feeling. Like our nation had gone through so much pain with the Watergate hearings and someone had to pay for trying to interfere with our election. When Gerald Ford pardoned Richard Nixon I felt betrayed, not just because of his covert shenanigans, but because he had lied about stopping the war in Vietnam. I actually hated that man!

Deep down I knew that Ford was right by not being vindictive and preemptively saving us from a long trial. After all, Nixon resigned.

Today we have a twice impeached, convicted felon about to re-enter the White House. Mr T never thought to give us the courtesy of resigning, instead he sat idly by while insurrectionists attacked the Capitol. He wanted his Vice-President to overturn the will of the People. And one of his most controversial pardons was issued to his Son-in-Law’s father, Charles Kushner in 2020 after being convicted of “… tax fraud, witness tampering and making false statements to the Federal Election Commission.”

Just knowing that one of Mr T’s first acts as President may be to pardon the Jan 6th rioters makes me sick. But like the BBC once said, one person’s terrorist is another person’s freedom fighter. It’s just that ever since a hanging chad in FL and a 5-4 Supreme Court vote stopped the five week fight in 2000 of Al Gore vs George Bush, I’ve been disenchanted with our Electoral College. Gore won the popular vote by more than a half million votes. I wonder where we would be now if Gore had been elected when 9/11 happened?

My point is, Democrats didn’t storm the Hill and defecate in the halls of Congress.

My idea of ‘freedom’ certainly differs from the MAGA crowd. They want to be free of government interference, but the funny thing is so do we. We don’t want legislators in our doctors’ offices and they don’t want them in their business either. We also don’t want religion in our public schools or censorship in our libraries, conversely MAGA wants more God in our public places and they love pulling books off shelves.

I’m nostalgic for the good ole days when Washington DC could function, when deals got done and a consensus was reached. When senators went out to lunch together and congressmen and women played baseball together. When truth and trust were collective values. Pardon me for thinking we might return to a more congenial, centrist government eventually – a time when the farmers and the cowboys, the coastal elites and the working class middle of the country could be friends.

Here is the Bride’s Thanksgiving American pie!

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Talking Turkey

November 26, 2024 by mountainmornings

I’ve been accused of falling to avoid cooking for Thanksgiving; it is always said jokingly, and I usually laugh along. But I’m missing the whole chopping and shopping and planning phase because for me it’s all about the sides and the table decor! The Bride’s Virginia in-Laws have already arrived and will be picking up the slack, but she has tasked us with cooking the turkey. There is a cute little Butterball defrosting in our refrigerator, and today we will bake a loaf of corn bread for the stuffing. This is our traditional recipe, classic corn bread stuffing cooked in the bird and not in a casserole dish.

My left hand is pretty free these days, the splint goes on only when I’m outside or around children and dogs. You can barely see the surgery scar. My right hand has to wear the splint all the time for the next three weeks. I’m not supposed to lift anything or exert any force on any one hand – so trying to pull the microwave door open was a mistake. I can push down the seatbelt to unhitch, but I can’t push it in. I feel like Goldilocks, forever looking for that sweet spot between comfort and pain.

My plan is to have Bob chop up all the vegetables for the stuffing the night before and Thanksgiving morning we’ll begin – I will pick parsley and sage in the garden, and I will be able to crumble the bread into the sauteed mirepoix. In fact, this will be hand therapy for me! But Bob will have the heavy lifting; he’ll be brining the bird and assembling the stuffing and getting ole Tom into the oven. Which is fine with me. The Bride is in her happy place baking up a storm of pies and biscuits.

I was invited to see Wicked last weekend with the Bug and I couldn’t resist. Three generations at the movies with candy and it was a marvelous escape, the seats even reclined! Still, it was hard to feel engaged, my head was stuck in its Aspen collar looking straight ahead so I couldn’t gauge the Bug’s reactions. Every now and then I’d throw my splint across her body and I never knew whose hand I was holding. But we all loved it, the costumes, the singing, the fantasy of it all.

I held my box of Goobers with my right hand and carefully picked out one nut at a time with my left – hand therapy with rewards!

On the way home I asked the Bug if she ever felt different. Like Elphaba, did she ever feel the need to defend herself? I said that I always felt different as a child: my last name was different than my foster parents; I had blazing red hair and I wanted black hair; plus I had the whole two mother, two separate families thing. She thought about it for awhile.

“Well Nana, I really don’t feel that different,” the Bug said.

And I felt a calmness seep into the car because we talked about her girl friends and her height and all the tween drama that’s happening. And I understood that this one has a bit of her Grandma Ada’s energy – a willingness to help, a compassionate perspective. It’s almost like the Bride’s yoga study and Ada’s counseling skills found their match in this next generation. I know these are the Wonder Years, and we have high school on the horizon next year, but dear God please keep this child safe.

And thank you for not killing me when I slid into the end table! Here is my left hand at occupational therapy… and Happy Thanksgiving All Y’All!

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Fingers OUT

November 19, 2024 by mountainmornings

The past two weeks have been surreal. One moment I’m toiling away happily at the NYTimes Strands puzzle, and the next I’m laying flat out on the floor. Time and bones fractured. I like to blame things for my maladies – the mosquito for West Nile, the coughing stranger on a plane to Nice for Covid. But this time, I can only blame myself. It was early morning, I was holding my phone and rushing to the door to corral an escaped Little Emperor when my Ugg slipper caught on the rug.

The day before the election I spent in my daughter’s ER. That whole day went by in a blur of x-rays and a neck MRI. The spine NP wanted to admit me, but the neurosurgeon showed up and discharged me into the care of two ER docs! The next morning I woke to the election results – “President Elect Donald Trump.” My cervical collar, my splinted hands, was this all a nightmare? Was I still dreaming? I didn’t want to believe the news and so I told myself that I’d wait until all the votes were counted. Besides, I was due in surgery for my left hand, no coffee no food just Gatorade. I turned off the TV. I couldn’t handle (get it, handle) anything other than the next step in my recovery.

We had to wait a week for repeat scans, thankfully I wouldn’t need neck surgery.

Denial is a powerful tool. Bob would not listen to any election post-mortems, and our daughter is following suit. I’m not willing to go into the weeds of WHY Kamala lost – numbers, ethnicity, socio-economic standing. But this is who we are… this is who we Americans are and where we are right now. The Bride helped me to understand this on a cellular level one night early on when I was going out of my mind with panic, feeling choked by the C-collar and imprisoned by pain. She talked me through in her physician/yoga voice, telling me to embrace my suffering because this is where I am right now... right now… but not forever.

We are still on a news sabbatical, watching Netflix and The First Ladies on PBS, walking outside for exercise whenever possible. I have the best neighbors, delivering the most delicious soups, breads and treats and of course the Bride shows up every day mainly to support her father who has been the real hero in this drama. Along with my left hand, my right wrist is also fractured so Bob right now is both of my hands.

If you recall, he had to wear a C collar for months after his neck surgery that resulted in a cerebellar stroke and I now have a new respect for his strength and resilience. If all goes well, I should be out of my ‘cone of shame’ by mid-December. Meanwhile, my emotions have run the gamut from self-loathing for wearing fancy lug-soled Ugg slippers, to such incredible gratitude for my network of friends and family.

I heard one interview on CNN of a middle-aged couple who came here illegally from Mexico and were granted asylum under Reagan. Their adult children were living the American dream – college educated, good jobs etc. when the reporter asked them why they voted for T they said, “Because these immigrants are criminals!” Can you guess where they get their news?

We Democrats are all suffering through the stages of a collective grief; but my reality right now is singular. I am grieving the loss of my youth when I could slide into second base at Camp St Joseph with ease. I remember vividly twirling around on my knees and sweeping the floor with my hands at the Martha Graham Dance Studio. My body has betrayed me and now my country seems to be hell bent on doing the same.

The only other time my body wouldn’t cooperate with my brain was when we were trying to have baby number two. I had to learn to let go, I had to become the trapeze artist and trust in the safety net beneath me. The Rocker’s birth was a miracle and I have future grandbabies to consider, I need to practice dancing to Adelaide’s lament. “I love you a bushel and a peck you bet your pretty neck I do.”

We took the Harris-Walz signs off our yard but kept the American flag flying on the porch. You can still love your country even when it seems to be slipping away from its foundation right now. I can remove the left splint and move all my fingers so I decided to get a manicure – a rare luxury for me. But we must practice gratitude this Thanksgiving and every single day. Now more than ever.

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Spooky

October 28, 2024 by mountainmornings

The French Roast pod clicked into my Keurig, I pushed the blinking blue button and went to the front door. This is my routine most mornings, start coffee, turn off front porch light and open the door. I want the morning sunlight to hit my face and jump start the old circadian rhythm, but it’s just pre-dawn and still gray when something catches my eye, something black, and velvety. There’s a huge spider sitting on the ribs of the life-size skeleton relaxing in my rocking chair.

The skeleton I arranged just a few days ago – one leg draped onto a column with the opposite arm raised in greeting. But the Big, beautiful, black spider?

Don’t get me wrong, I love most bugs! And spiders eat mosquitoes so they are doubly loved but I didn’t put this stuffed one on my porch. I asked Bob if he was the culprit – he just looked perplexed and asked if it was a real spider. So, there is the opposite of a porch-thief in our neighborhood; someone is adding to the Halloween decorations! And since my brain doesn’t function until an hour after the coffee kicks in, I put this particular conundrum on the back burner and made my breakfast – yogurt with a ripe pear.

Once our nest emptied out, Halloween lost most of its cache. We never had any trick-or-treaters in the Blue Ridge, and living in downtown Nashville meant drunken bridezilla/hen parties instead. But this is a neighborhood in the best sense, Mr Rogers sense of the name. There’s a Golden for every family and a Doodle for every couple. Les walks her granddog Teddy, a tiny white Shih Tzu, in a doggy pram and was among the many who left me food while I was recovering from Covid Rebound. Aha, of course… I was betting on Les for the spider.

Our porch looks festive, but not over the top. I gave up on pumpkins years ago when we moved to the South. No use in watching them rot in our hot Fall, southern-exposure front yard. But this skelli presented itself to us, it was lying around in our alley one year like a recalcitrant teenager. It was like the yoga ball that rolled into our yard just when I was thinking I needed a yoga ball! The Flapper was right – what the mind can conceive you can achieve! She was a real positive thinker who collected buddhas in the latter part of her life.

The Rocker called to ask if I had a picture of him in his Sonic the Hedgehog costume, the one I made when he was about the Pumpkin’s age. Seems he was working on the new animated movie, and he did make the cutest little hedgehog. I loved sewing Halloween costumes out of felt and cooking up a big pot of chili while baking cornbread. Ha, I was a real multi-tasker back in the day! But I never went in for Halloween decorating in or around the house. Now I’ve made patchwork cloth pumpkins and thrown a few gourds in a bowl on the dining room table and put mums and a skeleton on the….

Today we Americans spend around 11.6 BILLION dollars on All Hallows Eve.

Why? Is it the candy? Are we beginning to embrace death as just another part of life? Why am I so sad about streaming the last few episodes of The Good Place? I never felt like this with Netflix, like I didn’t want a series to end. I thought I’d get tired of the endless references to David Hume, but it is the antidote to this election season. We humans can get better, we can learn, at least I want to believe we can.

The Bug is dressing up in one of Taylor Swift’s Eras tour outfits, and the Pumpkin will be dressed like an old man. The end is near I’m afraid for these pre-teenagers. The Bride told me her Parisian friends admitted that Halloween is catching on with the French, but mostly just for parties and costumes. They would never send their children out into the street begging for candy! Zut Alors!

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Sequestered

October 22, 2024 by mountainmornings

Yesterday, Bob took me out for a ride. We drove through a McDonalds for two fish sandwiches like two old people, then we came home where I could lay in an anti-gravity chair in the warm sun. You see, within 48 hours of arriving home from France and visiting a dentist to have my tooth replaced, I tested positive once again for Covid. Rebound Covid. Nearly 50% of people, taking Paxlovid or not, will experience rebound – in fact, Joe Biden got it again! Only this time, the second time around, one cannot take Paxlovid; you’re required to just suffer in silent isolation.

What to do, what to do? During the first few days I simply existed with a brown paper bag sitting next to me filling up with tissues. I was counting the hours between Tylenol and sleep, sweet, sweat-drenched sleep. On Air France I watched “The Regime” with Kate Winslet, where she plays a wild and disinhibited dictator of some fictional European country, but back in the States my appetite changed. Now I needed pablum – we’ve started watching “The Good Place” on Netflix and it’s exactly right. And once the fever broke, I started reading again.

This month’s Atlantic must have read my feebled mind, the cover story is titled “The Case Against Pessimism; the West has to Believe That Democracy will Prevail,” by Anne Applebaum.

“Since 2018, more than 116,000 Russians have faced criminal or administrative punishment for speaking their mind. Thousands of them have been punished specifically for objecting to the war in Ukraine. Their heroic battle is mostly carried out in silence. Because the regime has imposed total control on information in Russia, their voices cannot be heard.”

Applebaum makes the case for war, and I never thought I’d agree with such a premise, but fascism in the form of Putin today, is on the march. Fascism hides beneath many names: Sovietization, Russification and even a German word: Gleichschaltung. She posits that IF Germany had armed Ukraine in 2014 when Russia first invaded Crimea, if the West had not looked away, this current war might not have happened. And now, after the full-scale invasion of 2022 and initial call to help Ukraine, western democracies’ support is starting to wane. She warn us:

“Complacency, like a virus, moves quickly across borders,” she writes. https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/10/russia-ukraine-democracy-applebaum/680318/

My virus flew across the ocean courtesy of Air France. But I refuse to be complacent about our election. Our twice-impeached ex-President, you know the Apprentice candidate who sent Putin Covid tests for his own personal use before we Americans could get our hands on them, wants another crack at autocracy. Remember back when our friend and neighbor who had been in construction gave us K95 masks for our daughter the ER doctor? Mr T admires tyrants, and Arnold Palmer is running around naked in his head. It’s been a week.

This morning I tested negative for Covid!! We voted early! Instead of going to the movies afterwards, Bob wheeled me around Lowes looking for mums. I didn’t wear white like I did when I voted for Hillary, I’m lucky I got dressed at all. I’ve been humbled, and not by children, by the fragility of our democracy. This is not a forkin joke. Please remember to vote like your life depends on it.

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Oh La La La

October 16, 2024 by mountainmornings

Bonjour Everyone! How do you say, “We have reluctantly returned home from France?” in French? We landed in Nashville last night after touring most of Kennedy Airport between connections. And I have three takeaways:

I didn’t think about our election much. We had to decide where we would go for dinner. Should we walk with an umbrella around a mountainous ancient city on the Cote d’Azur? How many Salades Nicoise is too many Salades Nicoise for lunch? But we did pass by a golden poster on the Metro advertising a new movie, “The Apprentice,” where Jeremy Strong plays the kingbuilder Roy Cohn. How could I not have even known about this movie? It’s about to be released in Europe but is currently playing here. This is about the ex-president as a young real estate tycoon in New York, about the time we met him at a Vikings game. My plan is to vote early for Harris/Walz, and cap it off with the movie!

You cannot go back! I mean you can go home again, but it’s never the same. In Paris for example, we couldn’t even get close to the Eiffel Tower without standing in a long line because it is now barricaded. On our Bateau Mouche cruise, we didn’t pass by the monuments because the Seine is too high! Mon Dieu. Only the diffuse light and delightful French people were similar to past tours. And having the Bride and her family with us for our last weekend was the icing on the gateau! They were visiting the Groom’s colleague and his family near the Place de la Republique, and so the Grands got a taste for real Parisian life.

But for the first part of our trip, Bob and I were two for the road and started off in Nice. We sat in the blue chairs on the Promenade des Anglais and watched the Mediterranean sea. In fact, we saw a man dressed in a black wetsuit swimming far, far out who came closer to shore with what looked like an orange balloon tied to his waist. When he emerged on the rocky shoreline and took off his cap and gloves, we could see it was a buoy. He just walked down the Prom like Jason Bourne! I was too stunned and jet lagged to film it. Bob and I have never been to the southern coast of France, so everything was new.

We strolled through mansions of the Belle Epoque – one on the sea, Villa Massena, and one on a mountaintop, Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild. Everything was over the top! But the story of Beatrice Rothschild captured my interest. In 1883, her marriage was arranged (at the tender age of 19) to an older Parisian/Russian banker, Maurice Ephrussi, who almost immediately infected her with “an illness.” This illness compromised her fertility, and as a result she kept many small animals in the villa who were pampered as only the French can do. After her divorce from Maurice, she spent every winter in her villa, throwing parties, collecting art and gambling in Monte Carlo! The casino, built in 1863, was the only gambling establishment in the world to allow admit women!

“The Baroness Ephrussi de Rothschild made her Villa a true haven for art collectors with porcelain, furniture and paintings by the Great Masters. The Villa was decorated in the Rothschild style, i.e., with the best from each era, resulting in a somewhat eclectic mix!” https://www.villa-ephrussi.com/en

The Pandemic was real, and still has reprecussions.

Traveling over 4,000 miles has some risk. And unfortunately for us, we contracted Covid early on – even though we wore K95 masks in every airport. My companion, the ER doc, brought along Paxlovid just in case, and we had just been vaccinated so I cannot complain. Well, I can complain about losing a tooth after biting into a hard baguette because I had to eat something before taking the pills. Then, after searching for an English language book at Charles de Gaulle Airport, I hastily picked up Stephen King’s “Holly” for the plane. I have never read one of his books, but I had no choice. Billed as a crime novel, I was hoping for minimal horror but the timeline includes early pandemic and Mr T days, and I remembered that the sheer terror of that time was real.

How could we as a nation have forgotten? How can it be that a tyrant with small hands and delusions of grandeur think he could possibly win another term? He bungled our response to a worldwide novel virus, creating a culture of Zoom funerals. His incompetence was likely responsible for several hundred thousand deaths. Marie Antoinette offered her subjects cake, Caesar suggested ‘bread and circuses’ to keep his citizens happy, and what does Mr T offer? A CIRCUS with LIES.

Okay, so I’m back to thinking about our election. Vote early people, and remember “…we are never ever ever ever getting back together… Like, ever.” Taylor Swift

Except well, I did get back together with this guy 45 years ago, and I think I’ll keep him! Here we are with Monet’s Water Lilies.

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When Water Rises

October 1, 2024 by mountainmornings

What’s happened to the Appalachian Mountains post Hurricane Helene is apocalyptic.

And we are no strangers to hurricanes. When you marry an Emergency Physician, you learn to live with contingencies. We would fill up the bathtub so we could flush our toilet in the Berkshires before a Nor’easter. We had a generator in our garage on the Jersey Shore.

But last week in Nashville, Bob was walking around the house muttering about emergency back-up plans, or the lack thereof. He needs to know that everything will fall seamlessly into place when all else fails… I mean he used to write disaster plans! This is why doctors seem so serene in the midst of chaos, they figure they have everything covered. We even have a mophie wireless charging brick just in case we lose power.

But last week we didn’t lose power, we only lost internet service for four days.

This is day FIVE since Helene roared her way up from Florida, leaving over 100 dead and 600 missing. We had dinner with Les and her husband Saturday night and she got us up to speed on Asheville. She and her husband David own a condo in the middle of town and she told me she spoke for less than a minute with one of her neighbors before they lost cell service. She was starting to pack her car when she heard the roads were gone and only emergency services were allowed in.

Roads in and out of Asheville have washed out. Cables are gone and cell towers toppled. They had a boil water alert before they lost water altogether. Power and internet service is down and food is running low. Every creek and river overflowed after being drenched the week before, then Helene dropped the amount of FIVE Septembers of rain. The hospital there, Mission (recently bought by HCA) was running aground before all this happened. Doctors and nurses are living on-site with the help of generators.

People in North Carolina, Tennessee and Georgia have lost everything. It is unimaginable but not totally unexpected. Most people living in the Northeast don’t understand how a mountainous area can flood, but climate change has challenged that belief. The once every hundred year flood is happening every few years. I checked on the Facebook page of a widowed friend living in Haywood County, NC. Her daughter is a physician who works with the Groom, and she worked as a journalist for a newspaper in her younger years. The Bride thought we’d have a lot in common, and we do. I found a picture on her timeline of a coffee cup a friend posted for her with this caption:

“She’s hand grinding her own coffee beans and using a camp stove.”

I was relieved to know she’s alright. Of course she is, she roasts her own coffee beans on her front porch! If you would like to help people recover from this storm, all the usual sites are accepting donations – Red Cross, the Salvation Army and United Way. Also you can register online if you live nearby to help with food: “World Central Kitchen, which set up meal service Monday at Bear’s Smokehouse BBQ, welcomes volunteers who have registered online.” There is also: https://mercychefs.com/helene-response and https://www.heartswithhands.org/

In retrospect, losing Google Fiber for four days was nothing compared to Helene’s wrath. And please remember when you vote next month, one ex-president’s response to a disaster was to throw paper towels out to victims after a hurricane hit Puerto Rico. And vote accordingly. Wonder Woman painting by Ashley Longshore.

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