Letter From a Vagabond 4 March 2019 Patch, patch, patch…


It is a quiet evening, “Cocktail Jazz” is playing and the view to the Catskills is lost to the night.  Yesterday, I returned from the Vineyard after a week of minding Edgartown Books, and a very, very, very quiet time it was, too.  School was out and everyone who could manage to get off island was off island.  There were a few stalwarts who chose to be on the island last week because they knew no one else would be there.

Dusting, I took a silly picture of myself with a duster one morning “fending off zombies, starving for literature” to send to Joyce, who is the mistress of the manor.  It’s so silly I won’t send it on to anyone else though it was a commentary on how quiet it was in Edgartown Books.  On two days, I didn’t sell one book.

One day, I was the store’s best customer.

The few who did come in, were grateful we were open.  Very little else was; it seemed the whole island shut down for vacation week.

Today, I went with my friend and host, Larry Divney, to Wunderbar, one of the local restaurant haunts, sat at the bar, had lunch and visited with a cadre of friends, doing the same, just after a conversation with my brother, freshly returned from his medical excursion to Honduras, as he was going to volunteer to help at a clinic for Hispanics in the Twin Cities.

Right now, I am reading, “The Dance of the Seagull,” by Andrea Camilleri, a mystery set in Sicily.  It is part of a series that was the rage last summer in Edgartown with, it seemed, everyone reading and being a favorite dinner party topic.

Unless something intervenes, I am on my way to Oaxaca in Mexico ion the 20th, for a week or two or three.  Then I’ll be pet sitting for friends in DC and then, I don’t know, though probably back to the Vineyard in May, for the season.

It’s been an interesting time for me this last couple of weeks.  From feelings of great comfort, I fall into some moments of great discomfort and I have yet to really track down the reason.

My friend, James Green, said he loves to follow me frolicking around the world and I responded by saying I love to frolic around the world.

It might be that my disquiet is coming from realizing I may have to have cataract surgery on my left eye sooner than later. Need to see my ophthalmologist. Tomorrow it’s an ENT doctor; my hearing has seemed dicey for the last six months, so I am going to have that checked out.

When I was kid, I remember watching Jimmy Stewart on the Johnny Carson show and when he was asked by Johnny how he was, Stewart replied with something along this line:  after seventy, it’s just, patch, patch, patch.  While I’m not seventy yet, I can feel the correctness of those words.

The political scene stresses me.  The Democrats are in disarray and, I fear, will not find a winning strategy and are giving Republicans a rallying cry.  They’re socialists! One morning, some weeks ago, I woke up and thought, well, we finally have a president who is worse than Warren G. Harding.  Well, we survived Harding and we’ll probably survive Trump. Please god, help us survive him.  The tax cuts are not being paid for and the debt is going up.  When did Republicans embrace debt this way?  Not ever before in my lifetime.

And, and, and…

And those are things I can’t actually influence all that much today, so I am listening to cocktail jazz, having my nightly martini, and working to figure out why I am having mood swings.  Thankfully, being this old, I know life holds mood swings.  It’s the curse of being human.

And, god knows, I am human.

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