email to my sister

Hi Sister-

Charlie here.

I spoke the nurse praticioner in Ct.
She will call me with an appointment in 10 days.

She used to run Columbia. She told me that there are problems up there and that Mitzumoto is having his own problems and any problem/incident had nothing to do with me.
She told me others left Columbia for Hopkins too.

Dr Belock's office called me and wants me to pay for EKG's he said I had through his office.

This man is out of his mind.
I told the accoutant that this was an outright falsity.

I would remember having a EMG for lord's sake.
She says they have a report.

My goodness.

I told her I will not pay for something that never happened, I won't have my insurance pay it, and it's this craziness on the
doctor's part which led me to see other doctors!

This guy has problems.

How does someone like that stay afloat?

I'm off to the Cape tonight.
I'll see Dad on Sunday and Monday.

I'll go back up again in August.


;- ) Charlie

I speak to ...

a nurse practicioner who specialize with motor neuron disease.
She used to run the clinic at Columbia Presbyterian.

I like her.

What I want her to say, however, is that in some cases the disease ends.
She does not say that. She does say that the disease in some cases hits a plateau.

We'll speak again in two weeks.

BOOK

I ordered a book from Amazon.
I thought I was getting a book concerning (mind over matter).
Turns out, it's about Kabbalah.

The next time you see me I may have a little red string tied around one wrist.

THIS IS NOT AN EXIT

At Tenth Church on Wooster Street tonight:

He that believeth shall never see death.
The only inevitable is eternal life.
Divine love insists that there is no loss.
Refuse disease (error) pray and refuse!


I am friends with the people of 1Oth church now.

I particularly like Setterly, a tall blond woman with good humor and a social bent.
She always compliments other's testimony. She's always grabbing someone (at the end of the service) to grab a bite in SOHO.

She is a good person to have around.

After the service, by the front door on Wooster Street,
Setterly tells me that her mother (a devout Christian Scientist) died a few years ago in her early sixties.
She tells me her friends questioned Setterly about it. How could she die if she was a Christian Scientist?"
Setterly tells me she thinks her mother made the choice to die. She was unhappy in her marriage, a marriage she couldn't escape, so, she chose to leave.

Setterly also tells me that she went to a funeral last year for a good friend.
Adjacent to the coffin, above a door was the sign, "THIS IS NOT AN EXIT".

CAR

Hi CAR,

I'm going to Hopkins this Tuesday the 28th.
Appointment at 1:30 for a three hour clinic.
I'll take the train from Penn Station.

Charlie

the ride home

CAR & KITE

Yo. You seen The Wire?

Is it time to get a big screen hi-def TV or what? Then you could upload your movies!!!

If I come to NY and we go to the Empire State building with the Leica THEN can we go buy you a TV? I'll take you on the schooner afterwards.... I could come next weekend! Get the money from your Mom! You need a whole multimedia package.

Then you got to see The Wire.
________

Hi CAR,
I'm off to the Cape today.
I'm looking forward to taking the train.
But once I get to South Station... I have to walk a block and a half to the bus depot. There's the rub.
My Mom turns 80!
Next weekend is the Woods Hole film festival.
Hopefully I'll be there for it.
I'm going to try to rent a moped or something.

BUT... I need to kick it up a notch to stop this shit.

The Wire? Is that a television program that is broadcast for the general public? TV. Interesting idea.

I sent you a dvd of our three nights.
it contains Kite's Coralline scene.
To borrow from Kite, "It is a bit intense".
________

What do you mean you have to "kick it up a notch to stop this shit"?
and what is your answer to next weekend and TV shopping -- will you be in the Cape?

My dear Charles.
________

aw. when will you be back? how 'bout utah?
________

I think I have to focus on doctors and treatments now.
________

when can I come up next? I will call you now.
________

Hey CAR,

That movie is funny and you and Kite make a good comedy duo.
It is super easy to make in i-movie. There is nothing to it.
It takes time and patience. Something you don't have much of these days (I would wager)
I wonder what Kite thought about it.
Maybe he worried about the music.
The Eric Clapton guitar. It seems to go on without an ending.

I've been in Falmouth with the family.
I got into a mood with my family.
Still, we had a lot of good food and wine. And I swam in the ocean for 45 minutes. I have a '70's sunburn.

And now I am dealing with insurance and doctors and bills.
Kind of happy to take it on.

Jackie (my neighbor) just came by with a little dog.
Complaining to me about her cholestrerol.
She is reading a book about Betty Grable.
She is trying to get me to go on food stamps.

Ha ha ha. I live in a dramedy.

I tried to read Prufrock and Wasteland on the train.
I like the melody but can't make sense of it.

Let us go, you and I...
(enjoyable)

I had fun with you and Kite and am glad I made a little record of it.

Love CR

Off to Woods Hole on Friday.

when the bell rings

I take the train from Penn Station to Boston.
Balancing my way down the stairs of Penn Station (a step at time, slowly, methodically), I am stopped by a strange man.
He asks if I need help. (He is in search of a tip)

"N0, I'm good."

"Then why are you stopped?" he persists. I am a target.

I spot the kiosk and buy my ticket. And then I realize I've timed this all wrong. I thought I was early for my departure. Looking up at the big schedule board I discover it is (now) past the my train's departure time.

But the train has been delayed! And they are boarding right now! And the gate is miraculously right in front of me!

I find a seat easily.

I have good train karma. I feel safe and content on a moving train.

(I think I love the train because of all the commuting I did as a kid on Metro North.
In the old days, riding the commuter train was a delicious escape. Camped out with your Budweiser and cigarettes, your tab and giant pretzel, your Time magazine or your Sony Walkman, you were unreachable)

At South Station, I make my slug like walk to the Bus Station. It takes me 40 minutes to walk one block, buy a ticket and get on the bus.

Mom picks me up at the charming Falmouth bus station formerly an old train depot.
This station exudes Norman Rockwell.

Getting in the car I make a choice to hug my Mom with a big "Happy Birthday!"
She is stiff and uncomfortable (agitated). She has just left my father at rehab.
My father is sounding delusional. He thinks he is ready to come home.

"Let's go. I'm ready" he says, gathering his things. But my father can't walk without assistance, can't use the bathroom without assistance, can't do many things without assistance.
My mother (who is now 80) doesn't have the strength to take care of him.

My mother's cellphone rings (or barks, my mother has it set to a dog barking)

It is Ellliott (my brother in law). I answer my mother's phone,

"Shall I pick up the fish at Rosche Brothers?" he asks.


______________________________


I am in my parent's home, an attached condominium on a big golf course. (The last time I was there I was totally mobile).

This condo (curiously) came with an electronic seat that carries you from the lower level to the upper level, a sort of elvator. It was installed for an old person or an invalid. My father's father used one in their house in Oak Park.

I swear, sometimes I think my father bought this condo just for this device. It reminded him of his father (who he worshipped).

This electronic seat would be a perfect device for me to use.
I refuse to use it. I grip the wall and the railing like I am scaling a small mountain.

My brother in law arrives (with the fish) and then my sister. They have driven in separate cars. My sister will stay the week to help out.

I go upstairs to the top level to gather old clothes I have left in an antique dresser. I never pack enough to wear, so I always leave a supply of clothes behind. I never remember what clothes are there and enjoy reacquainting myself with old polos and cut-offs.

As I hunt through the dresser, my sister pops in. She has a gift for me, a new long sleeve t-shit with a cool graphic. It's snug and not too blousey, the way I like them. This thoughtful of her.

My sister has gifts for everyone. An old CD I had loaned her, a ring for my niece, a box of wine for the family, a wind ornament for and a bottle of Dr. Bronner's Castile Soap for my mother.

My family has always enjoyed Christmas. We pass objects along the way other families pass around political views.
(My father (in particular) shows his love with symbolic gifts. He has always known the correct watch to buy, the best waterproof parka, the latest Swiss army knife gadget, and of course... cameras.

We are all collectors. Except my mother who enjoys throwing things in the trash. There is mental illness here on both of my parent's parts. My father (even now) collecting outdoor cooking grills and portable folding chairs ... he'll never use. My mother secretly throwing out small antiques, books and boxes of photos because she can't stand the site of too many things, the unending chaos.

I like to collect things and I like gifts, but I rebel against them too. Sometimes a gift feels like a bribe. I lose things deliberately. And the demands of caring for an object, some thing that is so new, protecting it from its first dent or scratch, this is too much pressure for me.

So I have inherited both compulsions. I covet, I collect, I put things out on the curb.

I thank my sister for the shirt. I hug my sister. But I play the role of the brother in trouble. So my thankfulness is forced and labored. I really DO like this shirt. If I was winning (in life) I might be ecstatic, but since I am loosing, it is small consolation.
It's my sister's fault, I seem to be saying.

I carry the shirt and my old clothes (which have the hopeful smell of being packed away, cool to the touch - they smell of some time last year) I carry them down to the lower level where I will sleep on a pull out couch.

I pour a glass of wine, (not Shiraz... that other mixed wine from South America... what is it?)

and sit on the deck overlooking the gulf course. It is a lovely July dusk. There are golfers in golf carts in the distance.
There are the echoes of a far away vigorous high spirited game of golf.

I sip my wine and read Vanity Fair. I read about Heath Ledger - (I went to a private screening of "Broke Back Mountain" and he did a talkback afterwards, he was SO shy) The article about Heath Ledger is juicy and gossipy. My Mother bought this Vanity Fair. My mother confesses to enjoying Vanity Fair. This admission seems odd to me.

It's windy and I am a little lonely. It is lonely by this vast golf course.

I hear my brother and niece pull up in the driveway. I hear them and decide not to announce,

"They're here!!!"

My present voice does not carry. And anyway I've never understood that "They're here" thing. We will all see that, know that, soon enough.

Am I a scroodgy old man in development... Incubating for my final sour old man performance?

My brother and niece join me on the deck.
I don't stand to greet my brother or niece. I stay seated as we hug and joke. So far so good. I am just a brother, an uncle sitting in a chair on a deck. Later, later we shall discover my mumbling tongue, my staggering on the sidewalk, my inability to climb out of the ocean by myself.

My niece looks pretty. She is prettier than the last time I saw her. Her skin has cleared up. She has highlighted her hair, just right. She has studied or been told just what cute shorts and double tank tops to wear. All the kids know what to wear these days.

(Later on in the weekend I ask her, in my oddball questioning way -( I should have been a journalist)- I ask her " how would you dress if you didn't dress the way you dress now?"

She tells me , " i think I would prefer to dress like a hippy. i'd like to wear one of those headbands."

We have a fish dinner, scallops and clams? My sister puts on Bonnie Raitte's newest CD.

My father is five miles away in the hospital right now so we have more control of the music, the wine and when we have dinner.

Instead of my father's jazz, my mother requests the CD of the musical Chicago.

This seems wrong. This is clearly an indication that our family is going through a change.

I notice my niece mouthing the words to all the songs of Chicago. I don't know my niece at all (I realize). I see (now) that she is a nerdy performer. She wants to perform and act funny.
Her parents insist she play the role of a smooth coiffed sorority type. My niece looks glum sometimes.
She is talented at impressions. She is a closeted weirdo. And of course I mean that in the best way. The girl has hidden comic charisma.

Malbec! We drink Malbec! (now I remember)

My brother and sister and mother tell old time family stories.

Seconds are had, wine glasses refilled and topped off.

We talk about New Canaan. But my brother and sister are 6 and 7 years older than me. Their history, (although I am familiar with it) is NOT my history. I have no younger sibling to rhapsodize about my days spent at the pool & tennis club, or my peculiar day camp experience at the local YMCA.

I am mute. Mostly.

This is my way.



_____________________________________________




The next day we visit Dad at Rehab. The rehab place is super nice (I think). It resembles a traditional sprawling colonial home.
Wains coating and bay windows, a large flagstone patio, flower boxes in the windows.

As I walk the halls, as I labor through the halls, I wonder if any of the PT's and special aides observe me, take notice of my issue. I note the irony of my own health decline. But I steel myself. I am stronger (still) than these very old people.

My Dad is in his chair as my brother, my niece , my mother and I enter his shared room. The room looks out to the patio and gabled roof. My father has some difficulty speaking, so do I, but I try to cover it up. I feel ashamed, slightly defended when he asks how I am. (I am fine, don't drag ME into this) is the melody my emotions play.

When my sister and Elliot join us, we venture out to the patio and sit around an umbrella table.

On the patio, we talk about how Dad must do his exercises! if he wants to go home. He must eat! If he wants to go home. He has to have the ability to get up and use the restroom by himself! if he wants to go home.

I lose interest. I am passive to my mother and sister.

I glimpse at my iphone. A message has come from Olivia with suggestions for my OWN health care. I feel violated. I know this is silly... bit i am so independent I can't help myself. I can do this on my own. What health issues? (absurd) What health care? I am sinking. I am in a foul mood.

It is time for us to go. We must leave because my Dad has physical therapy.
Shouldn't we all go with Dad to his PT session? I think? But we don't.

And as we go, it is clear to me to be true to yourself. Be honest with yourself. Take responsibility for yourself.
OR, eventually, others will make choices for you.



_________________________________________________


Elliot, my sister, my brother, and my niece have decided to go on a bike ride to Woods Hole. Four bikes have been secured to the car.

I am livid. I can't look at my brother or sister. We are here for 3 days together. I can't (or shouldn't) ride a bike. Perhaps we might do something that we can all do (together)! Biking would be the FIRST thing I would want to do, if I could.

I end up at the beach with Mom. We have an absurd squabble about Al Franken.

(After their bike ride, my sister finds me at the computer in the den looking at Facebook. I still can't look at her.

She says she is sorry about the biking. It was supposed to be a bike ride for her and Elliot. And anyway she didn't know that I couldn't or didn't want to bike.

I tell her that my lower back and hips aren't right. And I keep remembering what the doctors said, what everyone has told me along the road of my neurological adventure so far, "listen to your body." I have listened, and my body is whispering to me, my body is hinting to me, don't push so hard on the bike.

I drop my guard. I give into my sister. I warm up to my sister. I give in through a window of self pity for myself and show her the message that Olivia sent me about health options.


We review the options Olivia has suggested. And given my decline, given what Shelmutter said to me about how I should get RIGHT on this. Given Mitzimuto's ego and indefensible behavior (that terrible last meeting ... It is now clear to me how wrong and weird that was.

Given all of this, I decide to go home on Monday to begin to make aggressive calls and appointments to see new doctors and therapists.

(Our last night, at Shuckers in Woods Hole, sitting around waiting for the check, my brother, sister, and mother get into an endless conversation about the people who have died from their High School class, some from cancer, some from disease.

I sit at the table white knuckling it. And I wonder at the human brain. Surely one has the ability to edit a conversation in one's mind, surely one can edit what they speak before it comes out of their mouth.

I try not to bring things up that might alarm people. I steer away from it. How genteel of me.

But, I think it is part of our peculiar human behavior to create angst, to mess things up, to stir the pot.

Perhaps by being so bold (with their topic of disease and death) perhaps by speaking so freely, they were reassuring themselves and admonishing the G-ds, that this is NOT something that will occur in their OWN backyard.

I end the conversation with a snappy "LET'S GO!"

and,
we all get up at once, like impatient students when the bell rings.

PENZANCE POINT

Hoffman,

Charlie here.

I'm still on Cape but will be training back this afternoon.

Stopped by Woods Hole last night.
I Had dinner at Shuckers. We dined In the back, on the harbor, on a deck, right at sea- level. Very private feeling.
Lobster, oysters, clams and a little cabernet. Food was great!

There are posters and catalogs around.
This might be another sleepy festival but the setting is SO ideal, who cares?

Driving to the restaurant at Woods Hole last night, my mother began to tell a story about spending $300 for 4 tickets to go on a house tour of tony, gated, Penzance Point.

"Penzance Point!" say I.

(ding ding ding)

"I think I've been invited to a private brunch at Penzance Point for the film makers" (I brag to the carload of people).

"Well, you've got to go! The houses are huge and very old and the area is exclusive- like a mini New Port" says my mother. "Can you bring your mother?"

"No, it's only for film-makers."

"I'm not chic enough for my son." (and this sadly, might be true)

So, there it is.

Also,

My Dad is in the hospital right now. The house is emptyish.
If you'd like, I would love it, if you would stay at my parents Saturday night, and even Friday (if you care too).

It's nice. Condos in a gated community on a gulf course.
Not ye old Cape Cod, not my style (or yours), but we could have drinks at 5? on their deck and then drive over. See the film and then the opening night party.
Helen could come too. Or anyone you might want to bring. The more the merrier.

Heads up. However. RE: me.

I am in issue land and don't want to rain on your parade.
I am slower now. (yikes)

Still, I am game. And you can put up with me for 48 hours, or less. Maybe?

If you drive, perhaps I could keep you company in the car.

Or I'll take the train or... OH!

...also, this year, they have started a ferry boat that leaves from the pier at 34th street in New York and goes directly to Woods Hole (through labor day).

Let me know if any of this appeals to you.

Of course, do what you want. I am good to go in any direction.

Charlie


_________________________________________________________

Dearest CR,

I am on board for all the fun. I will have my car, and all of my Manhattan duties are finished by Thursday afternoon. So let's go up on Friday and stay with your mom, and let's go to the brunch and everything else. Will you RSVP for us? After the fest, I will likely go up visiting in Wellfleet/Ptown. I'm still up in Woodstock, will be coming to NYC tomorrow evening. I spoke with Merrill yesterday! She's happy that we're spending the weekend together. So am I. Later.

Hoffman


______________________________________________________

Hoffman-

This is great.
I'll RSVP for Penzance.

I must ask you to prepare yourself, for moving along with me.
Prep yourself for patience mode.

I can get around but I can not hop around (right now).
This would annoy me unless I was forewarned.
So please prepare.

And, we can be independent of each other and then come together. This is good for me.

I'm looking forward to it. I'll bring my good camera and my new flip.

What do you think about bringing your video camera. Too much of a hassle?

-CR

___________________________________________

I hear you. I am patient. We will work it out.

H

FERRY TO OAK BLUFFS

Martha's Vineyard
Originally uploaded by Charlie Roberts

voice

I get residuals today, for AT&T, Verizon, and Pizza Hut.
(My old voice) is still out there, in the ether.

Message from Utah

Hi Chuck,

You know, your voice has always sounded fine to me, even when tired. I hear you, not your voice. You are well and strong and true!! I like the Aroo and Kite photos, and I remember that Black cat you made unferal. Was his name Tom?

The image of you and CAR and Kite biking down to Soho and on the boat is very clear and timeless in my imagination.

I think you should have your book sent out to editors. Might as well make some money and be a little wined and dined. It isn't so much a blog as it is a book since it is not shared with the masses, so go ahead and share it in print on paper and be famous now as Charlie Roberts. Or just reveal yourself and in so doing, heal thyself. Like Jesus. In the light.

Love,

Merril

craniosacral

Hi Mattie,

I liked my craniosacral therapy yesterday.
Gabe is named for Gabriel the Angel, so ... that's a good sign, right?

That space on 30th and Sixth, that studio at Backbone and Wingspan, was so peaceful, so fengshui'd.
I'd love to live in an environment like that. All white and communal, a big open space, organic and scrubbed wood...cubby holes for shoes.

And Gabe was good. A bit uptight at first, but he delivered.
I imagine you have to have pretty strong hands to do it well.

It is expensive (however).

Still, Gabe was good for my hope quotient.
He prayed (sort of) before we started.
He found all of my difficult areas.
My skull is pretty tight (he told me).

At one point, I wanted to make a noise, (or cry or something). Maybe because he suggested that I it could get emotional.

One hand position was such a relief to my lower back I wanted to call out "I love you!" Maybe I should have. Let it ALL out.

After the session, (sixty minutes)
He talked about this book "The Teaching of Abraham" by Ester and Jerry Hicks.
I talked a little about Christian Science and the power to heal through divine love.
We talked about the power of intention, that like attracts like.
We talked about the brain being the most powerful organ of the body. A handful of cells can truly be powerful.

"If it went in one direction, it could go in another direction." he said. That was good to hear.

I tell him about Mind Science.

And this is a section of the book I was trying to relate to him.

"By making use of our subjective mind,
we, so to speak, create a nucleus, which is no sooner created than it begins to exercise
an attractive force,
drawing to itself material, of a like character with its own, and IF this process is allowed to go on undisturbed, it will continue until an external form corresponding to the nature of the nucleus comes out into manifestation on the plane of the objective and relative.

This is the universal method of Nature on every plane.

Some of the most advanced thinkers in modern physical science, in the endeavor to probe the great mystery of the first origin of the world, have postulated the formation of what they call "vortex rings " formed from an infinitely fine primordial substance.

They tell us that if such a ring, be once formed on the minutest scale and set rotating, then, since it would be moving in pure ether and subject to no friction, it must according to all known laws of physics be indestructible and its motion perpetual. Let two such rings approach each other, and by the law of attraction, they would coalesce into a whole, and so until manifested matter as we apprehend it with our external senses is at last formed."

This is from Thomas Troward's book.
My friend Peggy gave it to me.

Despite our positive rap, Gabe appeared slightly unnerved about my issue. Maybe I was imagining that? (maybe)

I feel like I need momentum to turn this around. A therapy session every day!
Organic food, organic sheets, healing colors on my walls!
Air cleaners and (little healthy green plants) to remind me, (to persuade me) to subconciously guide me, to health.

Aromatherapy and a solid supply of bath salts!

My Hollywood fantasy. A fortyish Harrison Ford.
A SOHO loft. A funny dog that makes faces when Harriosn falls in his apartment.
In the end he's jogging through Central Park.
The slow clap.

Charlie

BRUNO is a snore

After lunch, I taxi to my dentist on West 69th and Broadway.
Until I get an electric bike, cycling is out.
My lower back and hips ache.

The ride there is easy, no traffic, sunshine, green lights.
$8.00 with tip.

The city has that summer feeling. Everyone has left the city.

My visit to the dentist is too short.
I arrive early, wait ten minutes, and am then summoned to the dentist chair where my lady dentist is busy prepping my mouth guard. The dentist, her assistant and I are comfortable together. We are all friends now. It feels nice. And, THIS visit offers no fear. I am here to accept my reward... my dental guard.

It fits! and I am done. I am free to leave.

But I am at a loss. I've travelled all this way. I'm not ready to go.

I look to the attractive dental assistant I had flirted with the last time.

"Well, that was easy..." (I guess I should stand up. Stand up, get up and go)

The pretty assistantl looks at me with cautious curiosity - (you're that guy with the disease- I'm supposed to be careful and extra kind to you-) her face reads.

" Well then, I'm off I guess. So... so, so have a wonderful day!"

I throw my legs out of the dentist chair. My legs swing together like I have polio. I love the drama of this thing.
I am a hero. Look how brave I am!

(Somewhere in my skull, I feel like (like at any moment) I could drop this whole charade, like it's an affectation. I actually feel like that.)

On the elevator ride down I get a text message from my sister.

"DO YOU HAVE DAD'S PHONE NUMBER AT REHAB?" (which means ... why haven't you called Dad?)

- "NO" I lie. I falsely text back.

And then immediately find his number on my iphone and push the dial button as I slide along the wall the of the lobby at 1995 Broadway. There is a decorative runner along the wall ( a rail?) which is really pretty useless to most of the population but which I find comforting and helpful.

- "Dad?"

- "Is that Charlie?"

- "Yes, HI Dad!"

My Dad's voice is strong, clear, deep, young.
My voice is high, garbled, weak, old.

My Dad speaks in full sentences. He hasn't had a drink in two weeks. This gives his voice a new sober sound.

And, his voice cuts through me like a shot of Bourbon. I love my father. My father is difficult (for me). My father and I are cut from much of the same cloth.
I want to make sure my father feels loved and is happy. However, my role (as the son) is to keep my distance. We talk about cameras and bikes.


- "How are you?" Dad asks.

- "I'm great, everything is great."

- "Are you?"

- "Yeah... how are YOU?"

- " Well, I'm not doing so well..."

- "No?"

- "No, I don't feel very good. I threw up a couple of times this morning. My throat hurts, it's soar."

- "Well, you sound really good." And he did. He sounded clear and 20 years younger than he normally sounds.

- "Well, your mother just left, you missed your mother, she just left to play gulf."

- "It's a beautiful day for gulf"

- "Yes, it is. It's a very nice day.

- "So when are you we going to see you? When are you coming up?"

- "I think, I'll be up Thursday."

- "How will you get up here?"

- "I think I'll take the train, Amtrak from Penn Station, and then the bus to Falmouth.
The only problem of course is Penn Station. It's such a mess down there.
And the way that they call out your (that your gate) is open, and everyone rushes, and... its' just awful."

-"Well, that's right... it is."

" so.. I'll be seeing you in a couple days..."

- "good."

"have you been reading? Do you have your laptop?"

"you mean that laptop that nearly killed me?"

"um, yeah, well that one or your old one, do they have wifi there at the hospital, maybe you can go online and read the news."

"huh... that's a good idea, I'll have to ask, I'll have to ask if they have that, wifi."

"Ask Mom, to bring the laptop over and then see if you can get online."

"huh... I'll do that. That's a pretty good idea."

(My dentist lady passes me in the lobby. On her way to lunch I imagine. She gives me warm crinkly eyed smile. I nod back.
My dentist likes me. We have shared something. There is a trust.)

" Hey Dad, I'm going to get myself an electric bike."

" a moped?"

"No, it looks like a normal bike except you can switch to a motor when you get tired."

"Well, that sounds like a good idea. Where are you going to get it?"

"I don't know.

(pause)

-"How long will you be staying at the hospital?"

- "Well, I guess through July, I guess I'll be home in August."

- " That'll be nice, the Cape is certainly great in August."

"yes, it is."

"Well, Dad I think I should be moving along here."

"Okay Charlie"

"I'll be seeing you in a few days."

"Righto."

"Bye Dad."


And with that I crawl out of the hole of feeling like an old man. I realize that I am not 82. My father is 82. I am a young man.
(a young man that has difficulty stepping on to the sidewalk)

I follow tradition with lunch at "Ollie's". Happy Family Noodle Dish with Egg... $8.

Next, I go to Pottery Barn. The store is crowded with merchandise that will not move.
I buy an indoor out door pillow marked down from $40 to $13 and 4 candles all under $5. These are for my Mother's birthday.

I unsteadily walk across the street to Lowes Lincoln Square Cinema. It takes forever. It takes me two lights to get across.
But I haven't been to a commercial movie in months. Walking through that massive theatre complex takes the same kind of resolve it takes a normal walker to walk five miles along a busy highway. It goes on forever, and stranger after stranger is aware of my odd ball crippled walk.

I see Bruno.

Bruno is a disaster. Bruno is boring. People walk out, because Bruno is so boring.

I cab to an appointment for craniosacral therapy on 30th and 6th. I cab straight through the heart of Times Square.
I think it cost me $13.