Intermission

Intermission

In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril,  Amlodopine,  Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Abraham, Martin and John: Dion

                                                           Anniversary dinner at Bonefish

We took a chance on dining out for our anniversary celebration.  It was not as much fun as we had hoped.  Lots of stress emanating from staff and patrons.  We were careful.  But those masks had to come off eventually.

I need to complete some unfinished business from my blogs of the last two weeks. When I referenced my friend John, and his cancer battle, I omitted the reason for his call, in the first place.  He was sympathetic to my plight of weight gain and my battle with the waist button which faced inward.  He told me that he had similar problems, and that I should not be concerned, as the periodic tummy bulging is a result of our chemo treatments.  That made me feel much better.  And I thanked my friend for his concern.  I know he was simply being kind, and, knowing John, he might well have been a little playful as well.  I know that he continues to undergo treatment.  I have not had chemo in years.  But I am now claiming the bloating to be a residual and latent effect.  Sounds possible, no?  John and I will struggle on together.  But he is the hero.

My note about names elicited several very funny comments.  My dear old friend, Bill Langley agreed to let me share his e-mail:

Laughed at your dissertation on names.

 

Up until 1968 when I started with Fort Howard Paper I was known to everyone as Wid. A name that was used by my grandfather and that my Aunt Bessie thought was cute so they gave it to me. The Fort Howard folks thought that because my real name was William that I must go by Bill. I should have nipped that in the bud but they already had my business cards printed and I didn’t press the issue.

 

When we moved to Oregon 10 years ago I was introduced around and one of the guys, Donovan Petersen (known as ‘Pete”) stuck me with the pejorative “California Bill” (as in, oh no, not another asshole from California). This has since been shortened by several folks to ‘Cali’ or just CB. But it certainly distinguishes me from all the other Bills. Everyone knows who California Bill is.

 

As to my local friends; ‘Pizza Jack’ Moore, owner of a string of pizza parlors in central and western Oregon, ‘Billy Bob’ Schumacher, owner of the largest landscaping and irrigation company in Bend, ‘Cookie Bill’ Kammerer, a realtor who formerly owned a bakery, Karl the Truth (don’t know how he got that moniker), Little Mikey Marquardt known as ‘Fuzzy’ something to do with a drunken party decades ago when many Fuzzy Navels were consumed, Roy Geiger retired fireman called ‘Cheapskate’ (a name richly deserved), ‘Banker Bob’ Dyer (wonder what he did for a living?) and John Kelly another realtor known as ‘Rockhead’ or ‘Helmet’, he has a hard head and it’s so big that hats don’t fit him.

 

Regards to all,

Bill

Thanks to Bill and Dick, and the others who found some humor in old memories.  If you are of a similar vintage, I know you too will have similar remembrances.

You know that I am not into the occult, but I do believe that some events do happen in ways that are mysterious and evoke some consideration as to the reason why.  Kath oft has said that all things come to Robbo.  And here, again.

Likely, we are not the only couple who has been watching anything and everything on TV, these past months. I have had several older flics on my radar, but Kath has not been as enthusiastic as I, when it came to Lawrence of Arabia and Exodus - a movie she thought was about Moses and starred Charlton Heston. 

One night last week, we decided on Trumbo.  A true story of a blacklisted writer during the McCarthy era.  It was a good choice.  Learned a little of the era and the story was well done, with the acting interspaced with actual news clips of the time.

Most interesting, for me, was a section of the movie involving Trumbo's screen-writing of Exodus.  Ta-da.  Now I really wanted to see that movie.  And, coincidently, as I said, it had been under our consideration.  A puzzle was coming together.  I had received Tumbo's message and understood that his involvement with Exodus was a signal to me.  I should find and watch his movie.  I explained to my bride that it was the true story of the displaced Jews trying to make their way to Palestine.  It should be great.

Why did I have this need to see this old movie?  Permit me to explain.

In 1962 Orillia, I took a young girl whose first name was Maureen, to see Exodus, at the Geneva Theater.  I apologize as I cannot remember her last name. The film was celebrated at the time, and had received an Oscar and a golden globe.  It was directed by Otto Preminger and starred Paul Newman.  It was purported to be a good movie.  A classic.

I picked up my date, arrived at the theater and settled in to watch the movie.  She did tell me she had a curfew, but I did not consider that a problem.  As I recall, we were well into the story, with the Jews on a ship, on their way to their promised land.  Maureen said we had to go.  I tried to get her to stay until the end, and we could explain the circumstances to her father afterwards.  She would have none of it.  I took her home and that was the end.  In fact it was two ends.  I never asked her out again as I had already wasted too much of my hard-earned money.  And I never ever got to see the end of the movie.

And now jump back with me to this past week.  We watched Exodus in its entirety.  When Maureen and I had left the show almost 60 years ago, it was barely at the 1/3 mark of its length.  I had waited through the longest intermission in movie history.

And the movie had dated.  Badly.  It was a series of short, bumpy scenes, with over-acting the main bone of contention.  It might have been great when it first aired, but it certainly was a disappointment now.  The art of making movies has dramatically changed.  In this case, for the better.

Robin Williams, another Robin, featured last week, came to us on one of the cable stations.  Good Will Hunting featured him as a psychiatrist, in a fabulously well written story by two young unknowns from Boston.  I don't know why we had never seen this movie, but it was an unexpected treat.  All the actors were good, but he was brilliant.  What a nice night.  Paired with a nice pinot noir.  Thank you, Covid, for providing us the time to enjoy some good old pics.

We celebrated July 4th a day early, by watching Hamilton, streamed on-line, with the original cast.  A neighbor, the next day, told me they had turned it off after 15 minutes, as they could not follow the rap lyrics.  I told them to try to watch it again, and give it a chance, which he agreed to do.  

The story, the choreography, the music and the lyrics were superb.  How one young man created the entire musical, is beyond belief.  It was a work of art, and will survive for years to come.  For those of us who had not seen, and likely will not see, the live version, this will do more than suffice.  We will surely watch it again. (And maybe again.)

On the health front, for some reason, my biopsy wounds bled for the better part of two weeks.  Ridiculous.  I am much better now, although Kat is suffering some discomfort from her arthritis.  I have suggested, more than once, that she check in with her doctor.   But that does not seem likely to happen.

Had it not been for the FaceTime calls with our relatives, our isolation would have proven difficult.  Those calls have meant the world to us.  David and Rose. Donna and Paul. Little Girl and her Boy.  We cannot thank you enough.  We look forward to each and every conversation.  And to see you.  If only we could hug you.  Actually hug you.

Thank you my friends, for your time.