December, 2022
Friends—
Here's my annual end-of-the-year letter, the year in quick review, which is about all this message contains, like what normal people write, so not my usual lengthy tome. I wish you a joyful holiday season and a rewarding 2023!
The highlight of the year for me was that Elliott got married to Martha in April; it was a fun wedding. Now they face the daunting challenge of buying a house, which they very much want to do. *I* want them to be in a house so Elliott can resume oil painting, something that's difficult in an apartment because of the need to use varnish and paint thinner. They plan to have kids, also easier in a house than a small apartment. We all think 7% interest rates on mortgages are high; they are, compared to recent years, but as I recall Pat and I paid something like 13% on the first house we bought.
We went to Florida last January-March; we are going to do the same thing January-March 2023. We had rented a place in Cape Coral fo4 2023 (a location we didn't care much for but the pickings were slim); then the sister and husband of our friend Genie Dixon decided to move to New Mexico so made their townhouse in Naples available. We jumped at the chance to rent it, and it was not damaged by Hurricane Ian. We gave Elliott & Martha a pre-wedding present: a week in Florida with us (they even seemed to have a good time with dad & spouse/the in-laws). They had a sufficiently good time that they're planning on spending a week with us in 2023 as well.
We are at a period in life when funerals become a recurring obligation. I have attended three so far this fall. As my friend Regents Professor Emerita Ellen Berscheid put it in a message to me, sympathizing on the death of my friend and bridge partner of 49 years, Ann Sonnesyn, "I had been thinking myself just last night about how it is unavoidable that as one grows older more and more stars who have lightened our lives with their friendships and love, especially those with whom we have had very close relationships, just flicker and finally die out, leaving us in a darker surround until we, too, flicker and die." That, poetic as it is, seems bleak to me, but one of my friends told me he found it comforting.
One of the peculiarities of the age of modern communications technology is that when someone you know dies, you need to remove them from your contact list on both your phone and your computer (and maybe other places for those of you who use additional social media). It seems a little creepy and discomforting, as if you're deleting them from your life.
Both Kathy and I have continued to dodge COVID (and the flu and RSV), which I suspect is largely a matter of luck, although I believe being fully vaccinated and boostered probably helped fend it off, as did wearing masks in most public places. Where we—mostly I—am vulnerable is going out to lunch with friends, which I do at least once per week. It may only be a matter of time. . . .
As we do each summer, we spent a lovely few days at Leech Lake with our friends the Sonnesyns, who are kind enough to keep inviting us.
As we also do each summer, we spent a few days with my brother Tracy and his wife Joan at their lake home just outside Cumberland, Wisconsin. There was much talk and bocce.
As we do every October, we commemorated Krystin's birthday.
As I do on a recurring monthly basis, I had lunch with high school classmates, and Kathy & I had several over for deck gatherings last summer. Getting acquainted (in some cases, again) with classmates has been a pleasure, and several have become good friends.
As I do on a twice-weekly basis, I've played online bridge with friends; the pandemic was the precipitating cause of starting to play online but we've continued to do so even though we've also resumed playing in person monthly in the group that formed in 1978. As I do every week, post-peak-pandemic, I play bridge with a group of (now) friends who all decided to learn the game in their 60s; these instructional sessions have been going on for several years now, with only a coronavirus hiatus. As a result of the online version and the beginners, I've played more bridge in the last 3-4 years than I did in the preceding 30. (I'd like to think my own bridge game has improved with all this play, but I'm uncertain that's true.)
As she does almost weekly, Kathy had lunch with her mom and (sometimes) went shopping with her. Her mom is 91 and hearty and hale and still drives—and Kathy attests that her mom is a good driver.
As we both do every morning, Wordle. Elliott and Martha got me going on it when they were with us in Florida last winter; Kathy'd already begun playing it. Now I find it an entertaining morning pick-me-up (and exchange messages with a friend griping or exulting about how we did, as well as compare notes with Kathy). Maybe it helps keep my brain from deteriorating too rapidly.
So yes, lots of recurring behavior this year.
Unfortunately, Kathy's son Spencer continues to deal, largely unsuccessfully, with chronic, mostly debilitating pain. He keeps trying new treatments but none have been effective.
We were mildly envious: Many of our friends traveled domestically and internationally (the UK, France, Norway, Ireland, Croatia, New York City, etc.); we, COVID anxious, went nowhere. We postponed our November 2022 tour to Egypt to November 2023 because of concern about COVID (part of the trip is a cruise on the Nile for several days); that decision turned out to be wise because the pain in Kathy's hip became so great that she couldn't have toured around the back yard, much less in Egypt.
Given the pain, Kathy had hip replacement surgery at the end of November and is recovering nicely; beyond wanting my spouse healthy, of course, I also selfishly wanted her well so I don’t have to do all the driving to Florida. She went from a walker to two crutches to one crutch to a cane within about eight days. Both her walking and her mood improved dramatically after the surgery, no surprise. We were pleased and grateful that Pat invited us over twice in the week or so before the surgery for drinks and dinner, because Kathy was quasi-quarantining for the month in order to avoid contracting COVID or anything else that would have meant postponing the operation. The outings to Pat's—six blocks away—at least got Kathy out of the house.
My recurring balance and dizziness problem, which began in September 2020, has largely receded. I am not 100% but I can now enjoy a walk and I am not fatigued by it. It took me awhile to realize it had largely disappeared; it just dawned on me one day that I wasn't afflicted unless I turned around too quickly or got up from lying reading or napping too quickly. No medical treatment led to the improvement; it just healed itself. A mystery, but I'm glad about how it played out.
The routines of life go on.
With warm wishes—
Gary
No comments:
Post a Comment