Update, July 14, 2009: Another busy day, but I noticed something especially nice when I was in the kitchen this morning brewing my second cup. For no particular reason I raised my right knee so that my thighs were parallel to the kitchen floor. Then I lowered it and did the same with my 
left knee.
No big deal, right?
Except that it is a big deal, to me. Both movements were effortless, with no propping myself up, no effort, no nuthin.
I may still be a long way from joining my pal at her weekly yoga class, but this little experience in my kitchen this morning demonstrates a level of flexibility that, frankly, I have not experienced in years. I don't know if it comes from losing 20 pounds or from all the swimming. Probably both. In any case, I will take it gladly, and keep at the regimen.
Big Man Getting Flexible! Yeah!
Unspeakable sadnesses
Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Jeesh, is this what being in my late 50s is going to be like?
Yesterday I learned that a good friend from high school, Chris Kennedy, died of prostate cancer over the weekend.
A week ago, Randy Barnett died of a heart attack in his sleep at the age of 56. He and I knew each other only by telephone, where we had co-managed a fantasy baseball team years ago, but he was one of the best friends of one of my best friends, Larry Ginsburg.
They were both good and decent men, and they will both be missed. They both lived full and satisfying lives, but lives that were way too short.
When I was 14 I worked as a dishwasher at LaRochelle's Restaurant in East Sandwich, and my first real life mentor was the cook, Nick. He was a wise and interesting man who had been an actor until he was blacklisted and lost that career. He was, then, about my age now or a little bit older, and during his break every day he would sit at a table in the kitchen and read the obituaries. "Just keeping up with old friends," he would tell me.
I lost track of Nick, but I am starting to understand what he was doing on his break.
There's not a lot you can do, I suppose. When it's your time, it's your time. Randy smoked cigarettes, but otherwise he was in great shape, an athlete.
But we keep doing what we can. About 18 months ago, during a routine physical, I had a blood test come back that showed me at the bottom edge of the gray area for a heightened risk for, and possibility of, prostate cancer. I had follow-up exams that were inconclusive, and decided against a biopsy. Instead, after talking at length with three doctors, I decided on an approach that had the additional felicity of being called "watchful waiting."
I did more than wait. I read extensively in Phyllis Balch's Nutritional Healing book, cut way back on red meat and other problematic foods and began getting a lot of lycopene, fish oil and flaxseed oil into my diet. My numbers gradually moved back from the risky "gray area" to the safe area, and have stayed there as I have watched them since.
Yesterday I heard about a new study demonstrating a linkage between obesity and prostate cancer, so there's one more addition to the many reasons for the Big Man to Get Smaller.
Both my parents died in their 50s, but I expect, perhaps without supporting evidence, to live much longer. I don't think there is any real point in trying to organize one's entire life around the desire to live longer. I probably wouldn't be much good at it anyway. I want to live a long time, but even more than that I want to enjoy better health during whatever days I have left. Inner and outer health, I believe, are major keys to happiness.
When Larry came up for Randy's memorial we made plans to have breakfast. Then like an idiot I let work deadlines get ahead of me and I had to cancel at the last minute, which was a real failure to prioritize what is important.
It isn't easy to balance everything. There are so many things one must do to live a healthy life, inner and outer. It seems like there are a lot more of them than there used to be. There's work, family responsibilities, the laundry, and the daily administrative details like paying one's bills, getting to the bank, picking up groceries.
Now, in addition to all these other things, I have to add reading the obituaries. And mourning guys who were only 56 or 57.
But I am not complaining. Not even whining. I'm still here, grateful to be here, and daily more mindful that there is richness and soulfulness and even, sometimes, a path to joy, or a fleeting instant of possible awareness, in the unspeakable sadnesses of everyday life.
I thought some of you might be interested in sources of information about the Writers Guild of America (WGA) strike. Here are some links:
A petition of support:
http://www.PetitionOnline.com
A short presentation outlining the essential issues:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v
On-going LA Times coverage of the strike:
http://latimesblogs.latimes
UnitedHollywood.com blog:
http://unitedhollywood.blogspo
WGA, West Home Page:
http://www.wga.org/index.aspx
Steve also suggests this a site for good coverage of the strike developments:
For the best coverage of both sides people out here are going to Nikki Finke of LA Weekly. Her blog is deadlinehollywooddaily.com
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Two songs today, both written by heroes of mine. This first one would be a perfect fit for today's post even if Harry Chapin had not died at the age of 38 in the Summer of '81.
The other song was written by a great man named Si Kahn, an organizing mentor and colleague to me and many others as well as a terrific singer-songwriter and author. It's covered by Michael Johnathon.
The best book cannot grant self control and discipline.
Donna