Forever Haunted....

 So it happened again! I get the morning copy of the Baltimore Sun on e-mail. I read about something happening on  street called Reisterstown Road. And then the memories come. Why Reisterstown Road? When I arrived at Hopkins in 1960, I made friends with several other freshmen, all of whom actually lived in Baltimore. These friendships led to visits and often double dates,  usually --with young women who were friends of the women these guys were dating.  Reisterstown Road at that time cut right through the Jewish community--on just about every idate, we would go through it to pick up the girls. The streets tat surrounded Reisterstwon roadworld existed in tremendous contrast to the Bronx of apartment houses where I was brought up.Here erveryone lived in  private house--the houses on the streets were low lying-gentle, though it never happened, I longed for a girl friend from those streets. 

In the winter of my senior year, 1964, after much pleading with my parents, they finally bought me a car, and  I was able to take it down to Baltimore. That city, at that time was incredibly car driven---the buses stopped running around six so without a car, one could simply go nowhere.  I was restless that spring---restless and hungry--I ws living through my final  term at Hopkins and often to get some steam off, to forget that i was incapable of studying,  I would get in the  car and ride around Baltimore--I had a freind named David, he was a freshman, he would often join me on what we referred to as "midnight rides". Did we go to Reisterstown Road a lot? Not sure, but once on that road, or on the streets adjacent to it, I could almost sense the possible closeness--the adventure of  first or second date---that was possible.

Fifty seven years later, that neighborhood is considered one of the most dangerous in Baltimore---it changed, as far as I know, in the late sixties--a mirror of what happened in the Bronx or parts of Brooklyn, as Jewish families left for a variety of reasons---their children needed more space for their achievements, and the parents were aging.  Those of us who reached our twenties by the middle sixties could go anywhere---the idea of returning to the neighborhoods that had been our homes as children seemed stifling. Those young women of Reisterstown Road and its evirons--those whose lives I may have dreamed of being a part of---are now in their seventies---do they even remember the days and nights of double dating, of making out in cars before going home of.....It does not matter---as soon as I see the story in the paper, I remain hopelessly behind in that world.

Saturday afternoon...

 There is an oppressive "nothingness" about this day---at least for me. Maybe after the first week of radiation which seemed to work well, it is to be expected. It is dank and cloudy outside---so little chance for a walk,but where would I walk to---have visited the bookstores every afternoon this week--my stomach is filled--in all fairness, I did enjoy listening to a candidate for Mayor forum a little earlier---have lots of ideas of questions to ask each of the candidates. But that is over now---the Met has Rosenkavalier as its Saturday broadcast---great final music but a lot of the other music for me just rambles on--did have a great time last winter (2019) when my friend Jen got two comps for the first performance of the season---wow, that really seems like a long time ago. Maybe when I finish this post will return to the broadcast to hear the final exquisite 20 minutes or so of the opera. Worth slugging through all the talk just to hear that.

One of the posters on one of the sites that I visit is welcoming stories by those of us who grew up in the Bronx. He is putting together some kind of book from these stories.<. It's funny---when i think of my childhood and adolescence there, I have clear memories, but I can't think of one concrete moment in my childhood that I would wantt to put into print. Why? Maybe I will write about my experiences at Bronx Science---where I felt very alienated. Of course my senior year was dominated by my "hunger" (a better word then lust) for J. Should my memory be about my abortive relationship with that woman. Would that be too intense,,? Somehow, every moment that comes to mind as "writable" has to do with my teen age adventures with a woman. Trying to think of something else, everything comes off as being too "simple": a functional family, a good relationship with my brother, plenty of places to play sports in the neighbohood--it was all so easy. Still, I would like the challenge of writing a piece, and I am greatful that the gentleman has made it open. Will have to think about a proper story to tell.i

Will have to let it all gestate--will report soon.

a cleansing perhaps....

 here on the first day of my radiation treatment, everything stopped as I listened to a performance of Beethoven's Piano Sonata opus 10, number 3. An amazing work, beautiful music and incredible transitions from one movement to another. It made me remember how fascinated I am by Beethoven's chamber music--and how lucky I am to have discovered this music, several years after just knowing Beethoven's symphonic works Where do I go from here? Is that enough for one day? Should I now choose a violin sonata or string quartet to loose myself in? Or maybe one of Mozart's amazing piano quartets? Actually I think it is enough for now---will probably retreat to my bed and turn on the radio to follow one of the two basketball games that begin fairly soon. Both venues---Madison Square Garden and the Barclay's center are allowing paying fans to watch the game. Should be interesting.  Maybe tomorrow when I return from the radiation session I will enter into the world of Beethoven or Mozart. We will see.

Nothing much else to say---my life seems to have quickly segued into the world of the hospital where I receive the treatments. Only two so far, but it seems like my whole life is gutted towards living through that. Have to remind myself that other tasks exist for me---figuring out where to get tax help and where to get forms---I should not even be thinking about paying taxes, but I have just found out that the extra $600.00 that sustained me during the fall and winter are taxable. Unbelievable! How could the so called liberal politicians, either in the state or federal government not stop this taxing---it virtually takes away much of the stimulus check that I will receive soon. It makes no sense, not for me, or the many actors, musicians, bartenders,etc. who really need every cent. Must not become complacent or "sheepish", that is accept this happening. There are other tasks ahead of me as well---that must be accomplished in the month of March---while the radiation treatments are happening. Must not forget it.

Currently reading The Last Dance, a really good sports book about the relationship of Bob Cousy, who is white, with his teammate for many years on the Celtics--Bill Russell. So far very good Also a copy of Hamlet that explores the early versions of the play. Oh, if only I had time for more! Well, off to the next moment of my life!

Another long day...

Extremely cold--hard to take---especially after yesterday's afternoon "future spring"---around 45 or so. Another gigantic snow storm promised for tomorrow---which means a lot of time spent in the apartment---just myself, the computer, with all it offers, and my books. Should be satisfied---but---oh yes, possibly another session with my new threrapist from Lenox Hill---she is interning---probably late twenties or early thirties---she probably knows half the people that I do. But she is very straightforward and asks good questions---I look forward to seeing her and our interaction. Friday, all things being equal, is my "dry run" for my radiation treatment that begins on Monday. Iur am a little apprehensive but think I can do it.NotNot used to this kind of setting or problems, but so far, the staff that I have met have been very supportive, in fact, that is one of the nice things about my "illness"---the staffs of the three doctors whom I am working with have been warm and focused. The interaction---expecially at this time---is meaningful.

Reading, reading, reading---why is that so difficult for me at this time, when it is one of my only options in this closed environment. Is it because I find the books that I am reading at this time, only "passable" not completely stimulating. I want to be "blown away" by a book---Daniel Mendelsohn's non fiction book about his relationship with his father and the Odyssey, and Le Carre's spy mystery are good in themselves but don't really make me want to absorb myself in them. Of course, the bookcase is lined with other books as well that i have not read---what about all those Auchincloss short stories---I really like his writing---or finishing up Wouk's Marjorie Morningstar---the book which I took to the hospital when I was getting the first operation. It has been sitting on the "book" side of my bed for a long time. Shoudn't I give it a shot. Maybe I will take one more trip to the second hand bookstore on Broadway near 81st street and see what is in their one dollar bin. I have found some interesting books there before---maybe another chance. Or might just work with what I have here.

Surprisingly, one of the books in the one dollar bin that no one has bought yet is the novel Fear of Flying, but Erica Jong. It came out in 1974, and everyone wanted to read it. I remember it fondly---the central character us Isadora Wing, unhappily married to a controlling man, dreaming of sexual encounters with other men; looking at sex as a means of fulfillment...? Liberation...? It is very sharply observed and at the time, just after my separation from my (now) ex wife, almost seemed like an anthem for every single or divorced woman---attached or otherwise_--whom one met with at that time. And yet there it sits, in the bin---looking kind of lonely. Time changes a lot. 

Have to move on---looking forward to tonight's NBA schedule and possibly three bets on teams to win or cover. Is that good...? Well it is dynamic---keeps me involved---focused--and I am careful about how much money I wager. That and my u tube browsing---well, should keep me busy for a while.

dealing with the "long haul"

 So here it is; Saturday morning, the first of a three day long weekend. Would love to go somewhere today---anywhere---but it is freezing outside--so that means no walks. Of course, the restaurants and coffee shops now can seat a few people---there is a hotel near me which has a small indoor  anteroom by the coffee stand, where I can sit and read for about a half hour---that should provide me with some relief---but right now, I am full after having a few slices of cheese and a roll, so I have to wait it out---until my stomach is ready for some coffee or capucino.

Tuesday's prep went well---I am now scheduled for what they call a "dry run" on Friday and the full treatment beginning the Monday after that. About six weeks of radiation---I hope I can get through it---and then the treatment is almost finished. I had a session with the blood oncologist and his assistant yesterday---they were both very positive about my progress.  Feeling good in that area. But still have to deal with my "feelings" over the weekend.

What then, are my choices, if I am stuck inside. Well, I ordered and took out three books from the library on Thursday---two novels---one by Louis Begley and one by Mary Gordon, and a non fiction book from Daniel Mendelsohn, dealing with his relationship with his father, centering on the time his father sat in on a course he taught at Bard, about The Oddyssey. Began reading Begley's book--a little chatty and somewhat superficial after about 50 pages. Will it get better and deeper? I will find out, for I am continuing to read it. The first pages of Mendelsohn's book are coherent and focused he really has not gotten to the real issues involved in the book. Also, I have read the first 50 pages of a Le Carre novel---my first one---very laid back and "english" but I want to finish it at some point. That is a lot of choices reading wise---lets see whether I have the concentration to move through them.

Just listened to the first movement of Mozart's Piano Concerto number 8, a fairly early one in his career, but still bursting with originality and inventiveness. Did not continue to the two following movements---sort of felt too restless, even though I love all his Piano Concertos. It shows you how restless I am. Then there is the NBA---will follfow some of their games---yesterday I went 3 for 3 with my bets---a little bit more secuure then I was earlier in the week. Tomorrow there are several games that look promising--will have to see what the odds are before I commit. Could be fun, but it is all here, in my apartment. I yearn for the freedom to move around the city---again, but I can't risk too much in this weather. How will all this be resolved, or dealt with. Will report soon

saying hello to the "homeless" man....

He sits in a chair to the right of the entrance to Zabar's coffee shop, asking for money. How long have I known him---I think we first talked about thirty years ago--can it be that long---I had just survivied teaching at Morris High School in the Bronx, and when I mentioned that he told me he was raised in the projects that are directly east or Morris. It will be thirty years in November of this year that I spent my three months at Morris, so my conversation with this man must have been shortly after.  Does he have  shelter, or does he sleep in Riverside park? I have no idea; but when I see him, I always give him a dollar. He is greatful; he responds usually with a sincere "thank you" and we talk briefly about the weather, or something like that. I did not expect to give him any money today, but on the way back from my browse session at Barnes and Noble, I decided I would check to see if he was there, and give him his usual dollar. Afterwards, I realized that he was my only human contact of the day---and that this contact invigorated me.. As limited as his life may be, we have a bond---and today it became very meaningful. 

What else...? Well, I was successful in not giving in to my betting "fervor" yesterday afternoon; I did, however, follow through on placing a bet on the Chiefs in the Super Bowl. You know what happened in that game...ironically the two bets that I did not make would have been successful. Still, I needed the calm, yesterday afternoon. Now I don't have that much money left so I have to be careful. I am not planning to bet tonight---I will see how I feel tomorrow afternoon about placing bets on that evening's games The NBA season is a long one---will have plenty of time and choices in the next few weeks.

Tomorrow at 7:15 in the morning, I meet with the nurse practioner who works with the radiologist-oncologist who is in charge of my radiation treatment. She will do some preliminary stuff-then I will meet with the doctor. Radiation should start a few days after--then when that is finished, still a while until surgery. A long haul? Maybe, but I can do it--it's already been five months after the first operation, and I have dealt with it "one day at a time." I don't feel deprived---probably because so many people I know who are not sick are staying indoors all the time. There is a logic to each day---I seem to be able to carry  through on that logic and move on to the next moment. I will know more when tomorrow's meetings are over---will report soon.

Interesting decision...

 Sunday (super bowl) morning. Walked away from two NBA bets just now. Why? I have been betting the NBA games (usually two a night) for the last few days. Friday I was two for three, but yesterday, zero for two. The odds posted on my betting web site, for two games (Utah-Cleveland and Knicks-Heat) looked very good. A sure thing---maybe--but with a little less then 90 minutes before they begin, I decided not to bet either. Why? I did not want to feel the tension and intensity that I usually feel as I follow the games on the espn web site. In other words, I did not my life to be dominated for two and a half hours, by what was happening in those games. Too intense--too locked in; and besides, there will be many more games to bet on during the season---the NBA goes on for quite a long time, with several games every night. No shortage of games at good odds; I am sure there will be other obvious choices among those games as well. Of course, I will "kick myself" if my choices were right---but my decision is made. Did bet a small bet on the Chiefs in the super bowl---a good way to follow the game at low risk. This will be my first super bowl not in either La Flaca or the now defunct South Fourth. But everyone will be staying home as well. Enough of this!

On the medical front: serious prep for radiation treatment begins on Tuesday. Then the treatment itself, sometime soon afterwards. Lots of "dead" time in between now and then; must consider my choices---plenty of friends to contact with this information---by either phone or text--yet sometimes I feel like holding back---would rather read or look at some youtube shorts--the way time is used when one is "trapped" at home is a strange thing. Last night inadvertently stumbled on the final scene from Natasha and Pierre---very beautiful encounter between the young Natasha and the not so young Pierre. It is a part of the record on youtube that I usually skip---it makes me feel much too vulnerable--this time I let it play. Not only was I very moved by the content---I discovered in Dave Malloy's music a truly complex and exciting creation, really inventive. I remember well the first time I saw Natasha at its second performance at Ars Nova. As Dave left his podium to enter the stage playing area to confront Natasha, Paul Pinto, who played Belaga too over the conducting. That amazed me---that now we had reached a point where an actor could also be strong enough musically to conduct as well. The visison of Paul taking Dave's place seemed so pure---it remains in my mind as a kind of highlight of the evening. 

Christopher Plummer has died. When I was a star struck teen ager, he was definitely my idol. Lots of memories from those years: 56-60. Saw him twice on stage: JB and The Lark, and many times on TV on Hallmark Hall of Fames---he performed opposite the unique Julie Harris in several of them. He and Albert Finney were at that time considered the "heirs" to Olivier. It never happened for either--but of course they continued to work---mostly in movies. The last movie I saw Plummer in was a few years ago---made by a canadian film maker whose name just now I can't place---he played a concentration camp survivor given a quest by a dying friend to track down one more nazi camp guard, now living innocently in the US. In his eighties, Plummer was essentially in every frame of the  hour and a half movie. Kind of hokie, but good to see him so creative at that point in his life. More about him and my teen age years as a theater goer later; now must return to the world of my apartment---will report soon.

Tuesday afternoon...

Second day of snow---went out for the second time---good news! most sidewalks on the upper west side free of snow---not the roads, so one still has to deal with snow in the shoe when one crosses the street. Still, that is getting better as well---only had one major catastrophe where my shoe and the two pairs of socks protecting me got soaked. Still a good feeling---will probably go out again at least once.

Out on the street I felt a greater sense of freedom then I had in a long time, and  I thought to myself "why not go to Brooklyn, and see what is there?" Something to consider--could I make it?  Still have the ostomy bag to consider, but in terms of feeling---maybe I could. Or somewhere else away from 76th street and the upper west side. Making progress medically, but feel a bit trapped in the apartment---of course, until Valentines Day, no indoor space to inhabit. So how do I negotiate this? Before I left the apartment I felt I had hit a dead end. Did not want to read any of the books I have around me, and did not want to call any friends, even though I am sure they would be happy to talk to me. 

Hal Holbrook died yesterday, and I wrote on one of my facebook friend's space my own memory of his performances in the late fifties and early sixties. The memories came so easily--some about his one man show, Mark Twain Tonight, which took him from obscurity to stardom. But the real memories are of his performance as Quentin, the "hero" of Arthur Miller's autobiographical play, After the Fall. The character is on stage all the time---I had seen Jason Robards' performnce early in the run---sharp and edgy but terrific---Holbrook first alternated with him, then replaced him---Robards did not enjoy playing this man, or so he said_--and Holbrook played the role ,for most of the play's second year. Maybe Holbrook lacked some of Robards' charisma, but his straightforward and serious approach worked well for the play, plus he was strong enough to justify his being on stage all the time. For me, duing that time, the play was a kind of beacon---I identified in some way with Quentin, Miller's autobiographical character. An acting class I was in got free ticket to a Sunday evening performance in summer of 64, and then I returned to see the play during Christmas vacation of 64 and once more as the : was closing in April of 65. I was fortunate enough to always see Barbara Loden as Maggie, the character modeled after Marilyn Monroe, at each performance. She was unforgettable :  she morphed from sheer admiration and love for Quentin, into a self destructive woman  full of venom. 

The thought just came to me: how many from that first cast are still alive today? For a moment the memory of those performances seemed so real---now I have to consider it is 57 years later. 57 years, a long time! Those actors playing twenty somethings of that generation are now in their 80's. Hard to fathom. All these performances took place while I was transitioning from Hopkins to Yale---but that is another story for a different post.

The first scene where Quentin and Maggie connect, takes place in Central Park. I can't get that scene out of my head--I just had a rush where I thought about it. Something about the contact the two characters make comes at me so strongly--I actually directed the scene at Yale in my directing class, and just had a fantasy of directing it again. Will it ever happen....?