a nice send-off

My mom would have loved it.

Her funeral, held this morning at Stanetsky Memorial Chapels in Canton Massachusetts, was more a celebration than a sad farewell.

The service was basically a series of eulogies given by those who knew and loved her most: her family. Everyone who could come, did. The East coast was well represented. Three of her grandchildren live far away, and still, Michael flew in from California, Jack from Colorado, and Sally from Barcelona. Even five of her seven great grandkids attended (the missing two are just too young). Her friends came up from the Cape and from other places in Massachusetts. Had the circumstances been different, it would have been an amazing party.

My mother was truly loved. So many funny stories were told about her.  Humor dominated the ten eulogies. My mom loved to laugh and did so often. 

The weather was beautiful. Freezing cold but cloudless and sunny. Even the short time we spent at my mom's graveside was touching, meaningful, and appropriately short.

And the Chinese restaurant we attended after would have been exactly where my mom would have wanted to go.  

In going through the many thoughtful notes I've been receiving, one was from a couple we had met only once, at my son's graduation from Cornell in 2015. My mom and I sat with them for maybe an hour or two. But in that short time, my mom made enough of an impression that now, almost eleven years later, I receive a nice note from them.

That's just the kind of person she was.

On seeing the note, my first thought was to pick up the phone and call her. She would have loved knowing.

Phyllis

My mom died today.

At 96, my mom lived life on her terms.  And decided to leave the same way.

While it's always sad to lose someone, my mom was ready. She truly had all that she wanted. She lived her life with humor and passion, and had zero regrets. How many among us can say the same?

And as one of her final activities, she even got to see her beloved Patriots win the AFC Championship game. Something she has not seen happen in ten years.

Here's a portion of the obituary that will be posted soon.

Phyllis Familant (nee Pullman) was born in Boston and lived a fun-filled, exciting life before meeting her future husband, George, at age nineteen. To hear her tell it, those first nineteen years were packed with more adventures and boyfriends than most experience in a lifetime. She was a Boston-girl through and through and had the accent to prove it.

In 1949, Phyllis married George and moved to Brockton. By age 27, she had given birth to three daughters and had become totally immersed in the Brockton community. Her days were filled with endless activities; her Saturday nights were always busy (with their many friends); and Sunday dinners were spent with family at a Chinese restaurant in either Sharon, Randolph or Rockland.

After 30 years or so in Brockton, Phyllis and George built a house on the Cape, and perhaps her happiest times were spent there. 

She immediately made many new friends, as people were drawn to her. Phyllis’s infectious laugh and winning personality won over just about anyone she met. Her friend list spans generations.

Even as a teenager, Phyllis had the wisdom to pick the right guy. She and George were a dynamic and loving couple for over sixty-four years. Her children, their spouses, her grandchildren and great grandchildren were her greatest source of immeasurable happiness and pride.

We will miss her deeply. But I have no doubt that she is already making new friends.

unsteady allegiances

When I worked at Gillette in the early 80's. someone started a football pool.  By the end of the season, I pretty much knew the spreads between any two teams, though I never watched the games.

Even during the Brady-era, I never really followed football. Growing up in Massachusetts, and living in NY, I split my affections between the Giants and the Patriots. But even then, I only watched either team play if one (or both) were in the Super Bowl.

Then, a few years ago, for no apparent reason, I fall into a one-sided love affair with Parick Mahomes. I begin watching any game he is in. I see the Netflix show Quarterback when he is one of the QB's featured. And I even still love him after his wife comes out as a Trump supporter.

I become better schooled in the game. I am amazed by the responsibility and intelligence needed to be a good QB. But even with this new-found passion, any observations I may make come almost solely from the expert commentators, post-game interviews, or analyses made by the sports media.  I have no original thoughts.

Conversely, my son is kind of a football savant, though he rarely watches a game. Still, he seems to know every rule, every statistic, and every NFL player who ever played. He humors me when I make a comment, knowing that I am simply parroting some expert.

A few months ago, I mistakenly referred to Joe Burrow as Joe Burrows. Now when Alexander refers to any NFL player or coach, he either adds an S (if none exists) or subtracts an S (if there is one). So there is Bradys, Allens, Mahome, etc. I sometimes do the same.

Here's part of an exchange between us yesterday

While I still love Mahomes, I also now love Josh Allen. And seeing him assume all the blame in Saturday's loss to the Broncos in OT (even after a very questionable call that may have led to a Bills win) ..., well, it just made me love him even more.

He deserves a win. Seven consecutive seasons in the playoffs and not one Super Bowl appearance. I know there's no need to feel sorry for someone who is revered by his team, makes a trillion dollars a year, has a gorgeous-movie star wife, is about to have his first child, and is only 29. But still. Heartbreak is heartbreak.

Next year I will be rooting again for KC, but with the quiet hope that Josh Allen and the Bills make it to the Super Bowl and win.

Although ...

With Harbaugh at the helm, the Giants may be deserving of a bit of love too.

outrage

I am standing in the Express Lane at Morton Willimas with one bottle of ketchup. Two women are in front of me, each carrying a few items. 

A smug man (you can tell by the smirk on his face) is at the register. He is patiently waiting while the frustrated cashier fills out some form. It turns out that he has a tax-exempt status. This requires some long form to be completed.  He refuses the cashier's request to complete the form himself. All this to save what? A couple of dollars? 

The process takes about 10 minutes. Does he not know the definition of express?  Or— and far more likely — he just doesn’t care.

I am outraged by his behavior.

Well, that’s what I initially think. Until I begin mentally reviewing other things that are going on around me.

• A woman (Renee Good) is shot through her windshield and killed for trying to get away from an ICE officer. 

• Within hours of the incident, and before any investigation, a cowboy-hatted-puppy-killer immediately announces that this was "an act of domestic terrorism" and that Good's car was "weaponized" against law enforcement, when clearly, she was just trying to get away. 

• And then DOJ pushes for a criminal investigation of the actions of Renee Good's wife. All this, while at the same time DOJ is excluding Minnesota state officials from being involved in the investigation to determine whether the shooting itself was lawful.

• Foreign-looking or speaking people are indiscriminately targeted, dragged from their homes or schools, detained or worse. This goes against every value this great country stands for. Even Joe Rogan, initially a strong Trump supporter and one of the world’s biggest podcasters, recently said, “Are we really going to be the Gestapo? ‘Where’s your papers?’ Is that what we’ve come to?”

• Our US president announces he is acting president of Venezuela.

• And threatens to take over Greenland, a NATO country.

• Now the DOJ is accusing Jerome Powell, chair of the Federal Reserve, of allegedly lying to congress about costs related to Federal Reserve headquarters. No need spell out the connection of the dots here.

• The White House says it's an "appropriate response" when the President of the US flips his middle finger when asked a question he doesn't like.

Okay, I guess a guy taking advantage of the Express Line at the grocery store isn't outrageous, just annoying.

Outrage belongs as a descriptor of the many things our President and his staff are doing. I've listed a few examples, but sadly there are many more. With new ones being added every single day.

a perk I didn't know I had

In March of this year, two good friends tell me about Renew Active. It's a benefit of having AARP United as my supplemental insurance for Medicare.

Among other things, Renew Active includes a free membership to Life Time, a chain of US health clubs that would otherwise cost over $300/month. There are several in the city. 

I join last March. 

I have never been consistent with going to the gym. And, I don't like classes. But my friends convince me that water aerobics is a lot of fun and great exercise.

First I need to get the right gear. I buy two inexpensive chlorine-resistant bathing suits. 

Then a great little gym bag from Vooray (in black). 

I've now run out of excuses. 

I go to my first class in mid-August.  

The pool has a gorgeous skylight. The instructor is great. And the amenities (all Kiehl products) are perfect.

I go for about a month and then stop.

No reason. 

As I said, I have never been good at organized classes.

But the club is great, and I need to go. If I don't, I risk having my membership revoked. 

So today I go to a strengthening class. Like the swim class, this is part of the ARORA program — that is, "it's designed for active older adults." At least that sounds better than saying seniors.
I arrive early and am taken under the wing of a very fit woman.

Andrea gets me a mat. A balance ball. And chooses my weights. 1-3 pounds. "Start with the lightest ones first."

Then she gets her 15-20 pound weights. The difference is comical.

The class begins at exactly 11.

I do okay on the balance ball. I don't like the aerobic movements. And my knee starts to hurt before we even get to the weights. 

I walk out. It's 11:08.

I spend the next hour on the recovery floor (as if I need any recovery). That's where the fantastic mega-massage chairs are. 

I need to find a better reason to go.

Joining a fitness club for the massage chairs is not a good strategy.

second opinion

Finally, after waiting three months, I see the highly recommended Dr. Jose Rodriguez for a second opinion on my left knee. He's at Hospital for Special Surgery (which is only a few blocks from where I live).

After filling out about 80 thousand pages (or so it feels) of information online (you really need my religion? or the dates of my recent vaccines?), I am ready for my appointment.

I have a standing (as in upright), full body x-ray, and then more specific x-rays on my knee. Neither is the least bit uncomfortable. Why can't there be mammogram machines like these?

After a short wait, Molly (the PA) sees me first. She asks a few questions, reviews my x-rays, presses on both knees, and checks my mobility. Her conclusion is: you don't need surgery now.

Then Dr. Rodriguez comes in. He exams me too and agrees with Molly. He says at some point I probably will need surgery, but not now.

Even though my x-rays show bone-on-bone, and significant arthritis, no activities I now do are impeded by my knee.  Plus, I am not in a lot of pain (it's sporadic and never beyond a level 5, or so).  Dr. Rodriguez does not think that I would experience a substantial enough improvement to justify a full knee replacement now.

I walk home relieved. 

Maybe by the time I am ready, researchers will have perfected some new technology. 

There are promising clinical trials now being conducted that involve injectable gels that can lead to advanced cartilage regeneration. A shot would certainly be preferable to a scalpel.
If I can wait (which I can), I am happy to. By the time I need a new knee, maybe there will be a much better, less invasive, and less painful way to get one.