SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI

 I managed to make it through college, graduate school, and a Harvard instructorship without owning a car, but in 1961, As I set out from Cambridge, Massachusetts to find out whether there was a world beyond Harvard Square, I decided I needed transportation, so I bought Sam Todes' ancient Plymouth for a $100.  The next year, when I got married, I decided wanted to get rid of the car but I could not find anybody to buy it or even take it away. I will never forget calling the police department and having a Sgt. lean in conspiratorially to the telephone as he said "dump it in the river." Eventually i did find a garage that would take it away for $25 (that is to say, I paid them $25 to take it away.)

Now, 63 years later, I have decided my car owning days are over, so I shall do something or other with my 20-year-old Toyota Camry and rely from now on on the transportation of others.As losses go, it is small one.

SAD NEWS

Yesterday, by way of an anonymous comment on this blog, I learned for the very first time the devastating news that Noam Chomsky a year ago had a massive stroke and is still recovering slowly from it.  There is really nothing I can say save to hope that he makes a full recovery in time. Norm is five years older than I and I suppose it is hardly surprising that he is having serious health problems, but if anybody wants further proof of the nonexistence of a good God one can simply reflect that Henry Kissinger lived to be 100.  Lord knows, it is long past the time when my prayers would have any effect even if I knew to whom or to what to direct them. If anyone has recent news of how Norm is doing. I would appreciate an email.

DON'T KNOCK TECHNOLOGY UNTIL YOU HAVE TRIED IT

In the past three weeks, I have suffered a dramatic and significant decline in my mobility, for reasons that my doctors have not yet figured out.  My ability to get around with a three wheeled roller is almost nil, I have fallen four or five times at home although fortunately have not hurt myself seriously, and even getting to and from my car is almost impossible for me. However, I have just discovered that my retirement community has just purchased a bus that is wheelchair accessible. Today, when I went to see my doctor, I got on my three wheeled electric scooter, which I use everywhere in my home, went down via elevator and out to meet the bus, got on the bus, got off the bus, made my way to my doctor’s office, saw him, came back home, and never once had to get off my scooter until I was safe at home. That may not seem like much to you youngsters in your 60s and 70s but believe me, to a 90-year-old with Parkinson’s disease it is miraculous

 

Now, if I could just fix the world everything would be fine withal

THOGHTS BY A NINETY YEAR OLD ON THE 80TH ANNIVERSARY OF D-DAY

 

Dylan Thomas

1914 –

1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light