Solstice 1999

Solstice 1999
Dear Ones:

Well the end of the Millennium is nearly here, sadly lacking though it is in
sufficient pressure and hype. What words to say to lend meaning to the past,
and look forward to the future? What cheer have we to expect? What is the
weapon of choice in home defense in a Millennium riot? Will it be a12-gauge
pump shotgun with magnum-loaded double-ought buckshot, or a high-capacity 9mm
semiautomatic pistol with hollow points? The popular press is full of
justification of either, but it is all too deep for me. We have at least
verified that our bills will still arrive on time, and our e-mail is Y2K
compliant, so we will still be in touch with the world. We have had a
generator since the last big ice storm, and we bought a few extra cans of
Dinty-Moore Stew, so we are ready for damn near anything. The review of the
past year at our house has a few things worth reporting, so with your
forbearance, I will commence...
We sold Kathmandu, my wonderful sailboat, so I am again a bedraggled, sorry
landlubber, no longer a captain. We just weren't using her enough to justify
the expense, so we sold out to lovely California couple, who will love her as
I did. On the brighter side, we had an offer accepted on a beach house in
Delaware. The Kids are ecstatic, the mortgage bankers are laughing, and I am
quivering at the possibility that they would actually lend us the money. The
theory is that we will rent it out, recoup about half of the annual mortgage
expenses, and pay it off in 15 years or less. Whereupon, we will retire
there. The practical reality may be more akin to Mr. R. Perot's "vast sucking
sound", of every spare nickel draining into a hole by the Delaware Bay. It is
a lovely site, if anyone wants a beach house to rent for a week or 2. There
is Beach across the street, wildlife refuge behind, and a creek connecting to
the ocean and a long canal system, ideal for kayaking, birding, and mucking
around in small boats. Our deliberations over this large investment were
gravely and carefully undertaken, as you can imagine...
ME: "Hey, there is a for sale sign in front of that cute house over there."
SHE: "Oh?"
ME: "Let's buy it!"
SHE: "Can we afford it?"
ME: "No way!"
SHE: "Well, OK then, let's do it."
ME: "God, I love ya, baby!"
Our first walk-through was more of the same probing, considered exploration.
ME: "I love it!"
SHE: "The decor sucks. What do they call this mess?"
ME: "High Country Twee. Never mind that, the location is to die for."
SHE: "I need to get out of here, I feel my blood sugar exceeding 500!"
ME: "OK, we will paint everything right away."
SHE: "And rip up all this fucking powder-blue carpet."
ME: "Tha's gonna be 'spensive, Lucy!"
SHE: "You can work extra shifts."
ME: "God, I love ya, Baby!"
So we wait for the rest of the story to spin out. Perhaps we will be
landlords all summer, and beachies all fall/winter/spring. And maybe we will
be rugged retired elder beachies someday. I get goosebumps all over just
thinking about it. But vomiting always gives me goosebumps.
Catherine and I have had a very good year together, benefiting from a weekend
retreat we did at my parents' suggestion and support. It is called IMAGO
therapy, and it teaches active listening, and communication as a method of
tackling the thorniest of disagreements. It is wonderful. It also examines
your childhood to see why you have the hot-buttons you have, and allows some
understanding and direction for getting out of the rut of the same old
set-piece arguments. We are enjoying each other much more than we ever did,
and have a lot to be thankful for. If you need a referral, let me know.
Seriously. This is Your Favorite Skeptic talking. It works. And Thanks, Joan
and Ed.
The kids are coming along nicely, thanks. Michele has been with us for a
year, both working and being a "House Shell". She has broadened our exposure
to Gen-X issues, popular girl-group rock, and bizarrely scented candles. She
is a great cook, and is madly using up obscure spices we bought, but never
knew what to do with. Unfortunately, our garlic budget has quintupled, and
people are starting to talk about our bad breath. She has just accepted a
position as a flight attendant with USAir Express, so she is in for exciting
changes, and we are back to boring grub. Nathanael is in RI, in school,
working, and struggling to keep his car going. He is really growing into
himself nicely, after all. His artistic talents have been noticed, and his
teacher has put his stuff in a show, though Nat refuses to believe it himself
Hannah provided most of the summer 5 excitement when her softball All-Star
team lost in the final game of the Eastern Regional Tournament by one run,
falling one game short of a trip to the World Series in Portland, OR. Whew.
It was exciting stuff watching her play 2B, and my nails have grown back
surprisingly fast. She had some dynamite defensive plays. Everett sticks out
of his pants legs as fast as we can buy them, so all the apples and popcorn
he eats must finally be doing him some good. He's still a giggly, funny
little guy, trying comic one-liners on for size, and missing utterly most of
the time. But he sure gets tickled, and he keeps trying. He is keeping his
day job, for now. He and I read the whole "Harry Potter" series avidly. They
are highly recommended, and kid-tested. Darwin the Dog has finally become a
"good dog", with the acquisition of a Hidden Fence. He wears an electronic
shock collar full time, and seems NOT to enjoy break-dancing when he hits the
perimeter, so he hangs out with us and actually pays attention. What a
change. It was worth it... Actually, just seeing him break dance was worth
it... the improved behavior was gravy.
Catherine just completed her 1st computer certification. She is now an MCP.
And proud of it. (Microsoft Certified Professional, for you '70s throwbacks.) She will
soon be an MCSE, (Systems Engineer) and allegedly worth some money. She wants
to be a consultant wizard when she grows up, and I am all for it. I will
gladly be a House Dad, when she can go out and "make the doughnuts.." But she
is amazing in her grasp and interest in the nerdy and arcane world of
computers. It is all beyond me. She has also remained very physically active,
running 3-4x per week, and pumping iron also. I am not there yet, but she is
an inspiration, and I have resumed running 2-3 times a week. Go ahead,
psychoanalyze me. I may be running from the Reaper, but I hear he runs 11
minute miles, so as long as I stay faster than that, I am OK. Growing old is
not for sissies...
As for me, I am working plenty, but less than in the bad old days, and
tolerating the ER for better or worse... 'til death do us part. We are ever
busier, but graduated to double coverage on weekends, so it is eminently more
do-able. The ER clientele occasionally makes me long for the days when we had
an effective predator. The herd must benefit from culling at the edges, but
we have only ourselves to prey upon ourselves. We could use a Saber-toothed
Tiger again. Maybe we should clone one. But there must be some logic in the
fact that they are extinct. Maybe we'd all pull together better with a good
predator out there, but the implacable logic of evolution has swept
away the Saber-toothed Tiger, and left us to our own mercies. Oh, well, I
digress. The one perquisite I do get with the job is that I do get to meet
the most interesting people... One lady came to us in cuffs, coked to the
max, and raving. She responded to questions about her current location and
the current date in a most oriented fashion. "Yeah, Motherfucker, I know
where I am… I am orientated. Let me orient you to the crack of my ass. You
are a broke-dick: Gumby Motherfucker, and I ain't talkin' to no broke-dick
Gumby Motherfuckers. Now get the fuck outta here." I couldn't argue... I
couldn't even respond. She's now on my Christmas list.
But none of the above keeps me from being the eternal cock-eyed optimist. I
have discovered online contests, and enter several daily, hoping for the
lightning to strike. Everyone laughs at me, but I have won a baseball cap and
a box of pencils so far, and the letter said "Dear Winner:" That's Me!! And,
I am even hoping to get a couple of things from my new favorite movie, "Toy
Story II", for Solstice... a Big Woody and a Little Buzz. Wish me luck.
The other highlight of the year is that we cut off the Cable TV. Really! It
was a great thing. The Kids hated it at first, of course, but they actually talk to us now, and
spend time reading, and very little time zoned out on the couch... it has exceeded my wildest
expectations. That I ever paid $480 per year to have that poison piped into my household is amazing in retrospect, but my joy at the double benefit of cutting it off, AND keeping the money, is beyond my capacity to tell you. It is a tough and bold step, but worth a try. Try.
And so, Dear Friends, Fellow Americans, and Ultimate Consumers, we find
ourselves poised, the only currently living creatures to experience a
millennial changeover, searching for meaning, fulfillment, and occasional
mucous membrane contact. I am actually so positive about the future that I am
looking forward to the coming thousand years, though glad I will have only 50
or so years, and perhaps 9 more lying sacks of President to deal with before
I croak. I have no confidence we will survive our own stupidity, but perhaps
reason and light will prevail, and we will be writing such letters as this to
each other a thousand years from now, free entirely of the fear of self
destruction. I cling to that hope, as silly as it sounds. My wish for you all
is that you, too, will find promise in the future, finish tasks which have
hung over you, find energy for new challenges, and finish those, too. May you
age gracefully, find things in common with your kids, and find time to
explore those things. May your knees, hips and ankles hold up to your new,
more active lifestyle. May your debt steadily decrease, may your savings
increase, and may the stock market carry us all to a comfortable and
unexpectedly premature retirement. May your intake of antioxidants keep up
with the recommendations of the Gurus, and may your hormone levels remain
sufficient to your needs, and may you never have an unexpected visit from
Mike Wallace. May you suffer fools gladly, or you will seldom be glad, may
you laugh as often as possible, mostly at yourself, and recall that if there
were still Saber-toothed Tigers, most of us would already be Tiger Poop. So
be of good cheer. Write, call, "e" or don't, but I wish you would each do one
of the above, besides "don't".

PEACE, LOVE, CHEER, WASSAIL, ETC.