the sole & the soul …
I’ve been slowly working my way through the initial responses to my request for stories about loss of sensory perception. The responses have been very fascinating … Besides the 13 entries so far on this blog’s “leave your story here” page, I’ve got literally over 100 email responses of various sorts. I’m trying to respond personally to every one, and hoping that out of this initial barrage of information I’ll be able to extract a text to use in the first portion of MONO which I need to be performing in a couple of months … more on that later.
Meanwhile, I’m having to deal with a mini/temporary change in my physical situation. 4 days ago had some elective surgery which is (hopefully) going to alleviate a constant pain in my left big toe. For I don’t know how many years … 8? 12? 15? … my toe has hurt most of the time. It’s worse when I run or walk a lot, and since I thrive on both walking and running, it’s worse a lot. Anyway, after many holistic attempts to deal with it, I was finally convinced that surgery was the way to go. That picture at the top of this entry is my left foot in its bandage, which evidently stays on, as is, for a couple of weeks. Initially I tried to avoid taking the oxycodone pain medication … big mistake. After writhing in pain the first night I reached the doc, who said I was under-medicating myself, and gave me specific instructions. Since then, with the pain pretty well under control, I’m noticing how the restriction of my physical movement impacts how I am psychically and emotionally. Other than being stir-crazy because I can’t really leave the house for a couple of weeks, I find that I can minimize my awareness of the pain and discomfort if I keep busy. It’s sort of been fun not editing my impulses to sedentary pursuits. I borrowed a bunch of videos from Chloe and set myself up in front of the TV. But I haven’t watched a single one of the borrowed videos. What I’ve actualoly been doing is studying Mandarin (getting ready for my October trip to China), studying Spanish (for Mexico trip next year), going through some admin stuff I need to do for the opening of school, working my way through my 100 email responses to my story request, and trying to figure out how to get moving on actually composing the first bit of MONO. I don’t seem to do very well with just vegging out … but I sort of knew that. And if I keep going on these activities that keep my mind engaged, I seem to not need to oxycodone nearly as much, and the isolated time flies a bit more freely.
Between sending out the request for stories and my foot surgery, the other thing which happened is that my siblings and I had a celebration to remember the life of my Mother, Joan Rolnick, who died last April 28 in Missouri. The celebration was in New York City, with many of our spouses, children, grandchildren, cousins and their families, as well as with many of my Mom’s east coast friends from a long life in which she was very involved with people. We told stories, sang songs, ate wonderful food, cried a little, laughed a lot.
The day after the official celebration, a bunch of us went up to Connecticut, walked into the woods behind the house where she and my Dad lived for 30 years or so, and scattered her ashes on the forest floor, on top of a rocky knoll, dappled in sunlight. We passed the bag of ashes around a circle, each taking a few handfuls of ashes and tossing them into the air or onto the ground. The bag ended up with Jakey, not quite 4 years old, and probably Mom’s favorite great-grandchild. Chloe claims that Jakey understood that the ashes were “Mimi Joan,” though I don’t see how he could really understand that. Nonetheless, the moment was incredibly moving and pregnant with meaning. Jake spent a long time going through the ashes, playing, throwing them, finally emptying the last of them onto the leaf-strewn ground. The newest generation emerging from the dust of their ancestors. And as the dust blew around and the ashes coated his little hands, there was a tangible sense that she lives on in him. I’m confident that this is the memorial she wanted. I’ll keep it with me for as long as I live, and I hope Jakey will as well.
