Monthly Archives: December 2013

Books read in 2013

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1) “Mr. Sammler’s Planet,” by Saul Bellow

2) “Ravelstein,” by Saul Bellow

3) “Bunner Sisters,” by Edith Wharton

4) “The Dean’s December,” by Saul Bellow

5) “Morte D’Urban,” by J.F. Powers

6) “A Theft,” by Saul Bellow

7) “The Bellarosa Connection,” by Saul Bellow

8) “Teeth, Dying & other matters,” by Richard G. Stern

9) “Tales of Grabowski,” by John Auerbach

10) “The Actual,” by Saul Bellow

11) “A Father’s Words,” by Richard Stern

12) “Other Men’s Daughters,” by Richard Stern

13) “A Widow for One Year,” by John Irving

14) “Natural Shocks,” by Richard Stern

15) “Stitch,” by Richard Stern

16) “Wise Blood,” by Flannery O’Connor

17) “Golk,” by Richard Stern

18) “My Life as a Man,” by Philip Roth

19) “Zuckerman unbound,” by Philip Roth

20) “Anatomy Lesson,” by Philip Roth

21) “The Prague Orgy,” by Philip Roth

22) “Framley Parsonage,” by Anthony Trollope

23) “Scoop,” by Evelyn Waugh

24) “The Moviegoer,” by Walker Percy

25) “The Counterlife,” by Philip Roth

26) “The Last Gentleman,” by Walker Percy

27) “The Facts,” by Philip Roth

28) “The Adventures of Augie March,” by Saul Bellow

29) “Patrimony,” by Philip Roth

30) “The Plot Against America,” by Philip Roth

31) “Sabbath’s Theater,” by Philip Roth

32) “Half a Life,” by V.S. Naipaul

33) “Staggerford,” by Jon Hassler

34) “American Hunger,” by Richard Wright

35) “Charles Dickens: Volume One,” Edgar Johnson

36) “The Staggerford Flood,” by Jon Hassler

37) “Jude the Obscure,” by Thomas Hardy

38) “The Great Dissent,” by Thomas Healy

39) “Eclipse,” by John Banville

40) “The Headmaster’s Dilemma,” by Louis Auchinloss

41) “The Rector of Justin,” by Louis Auchinloss

42) “Richard Wright: The Life and Times,” by Hazel Rowley

43) “Thornton Wilder: a life,” by Penelope Niven

44) “The Winter of Our Discontent,” by John Steinbeck

45) “Rex Stout: a biography,” by John McAleer

46) “The Idiot,” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Listen to your heartsoul

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Split word ladies dancing with broken song men

Me thinks I’m wise not going through all that again

Mangled dream weavers with songs sung off key

Wound the heartsouls of folks like you and me

*

Sincere hearted ladies dancing with strong souled men

Now that’s where I’m headed and stayin until the end

Honest lives live things from the inside out

Leaving no blood shed  no frightened shout

*

So sweet friend reader live things true

Your unflinching truth reveals the meaning of you

Better a dream half lived than not lived at all

Listen to your heartsoul answer its call

When pain strikes

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Monday morning just after one waking up doubled over in pain, lower back, lower left abdomen, thinking (foolishly), I must’ve slept wrong, shifting position – no relief. Standing up now, walking, thinking (foolishly) let me just move, loosen up, that’ll fix things- no relief. Lying down again no position working, the pain worsens, the sweat comes and then, no surprise, fear shows up saying, You’re dying, and me thinking in tears that I’m not ready, not yet, and sweat dripping from my face onto the floor which is where I am at this point, on the floor.

If you are waiting for maturity in decision-making to arrive I’d like to tell you it did, right away, but I am wedded to rigorous honesty so it was not until struggling with this pain for close to five hours that I drove myself to the emergency room.

In the E.R. now telling them I am in recovery, sober 11 years plus, so be careful with addictive pain meds but I’d be fine just fine if someone would be so kind as to knock me out with a rubber mallet; I don’t hold grudges. Dammed if they’re not all out of rubber mallets. The examination, the pain ebbing a bit, me wondering what the hell. The doctor talking about the fact the front and back pain started at the same time so he feels maybe muscles are pulled and let’s hold off on a complete work-up so he is prescribing a medication called Tramadol and me in pain asking if it came in the form of that rubber mallet I was asking him about and him saying, No, things haven’t advanced that far. Me thinking, Pity.

I take one pill on the mile drive home. Once home a sudden burst of pain that collapses me to the floor, my t-shirt soaks through, my sweatshirt almost as drenched, my old German Shepherd McKenzie licks the sweat from my face, gently, tending to me, watching over me. On the floor thinking, stand up, stand up. I do. Then, after about five minutes, the pain is gone – all gone. When the pain leaves the following moments give me a taste of heaven on earth.

Since then the pain has come and gone. Less severe each time. Things seem to be improving slowly. I do look back and realize I should’ve gone to the E.R. a lot faster than I did. Perhaps I can find some comfort, or sense of comradery, in one of Mark Twain’s more delicious quotes: “No one is a complete waste; they can always serve as a bad example.”