Celebrating Values

xxxJune 30, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

Sometimes, I have a clear and direct idea of where I’m going before I start these columns.

I can see the way visibly laid out in front of me. Alas, those days are rare. Mostly, I stare at a blank screen until my muse makes herself known. Sadly, she might not stay. Other times, the column takes on a mind of its own. I start out going one way but end up somewhere else. Today is one of those days. We will commence in one direction, but — fair warning — will take a sharp turn. Fret not, however, I will bring you home.

That said when did answering the phone become an invitation for someone to sell you a car warranty, lie about an arrest warrant out for you, or threaten you because your computer was “messing up the internet”? We don’t pick up anymore unless it’s a number we sure-fire recognize.

Not paying attention, I made the mistake of sliding “accept the call.”

“How are you?” asked a heavily-accented man.

Yanked back into awareness, irritated by what I judged was going to be a scam, I indignantly replied. “I died last night.”

Waited long enough to hear his reply before hanging up; I heard him say, flummoxed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I find the delivered-without-thought question, “How are you?” to be disingenuous. Don’t get me wrong; when asked by someone who knows and cares about your actual well-being, it’s a sincere, kind query. Yet typically, we say it because, well, I’m not sure. I guess we don’t want to appear rude. However, asking a personal question when, in reality, you don’t want to take the time to hear the honest answer is indeed rude. Just sayin’…

Oft times, I’ll respond with an expression I learned from talk show host Thom Hartmann, “I’m great – but I’ll get better.” Some laugh, finding the retort clever, shattering the mold of what they expected to hear. Others have said, “Oh no! I hope you get better soon,” obviously not listening to the reply, but wanting to move on to their real agenda and avoid the unpleasantness of listening to someone’s ailments.

Yep, you guessed it; I’m a little cranky today. Shields up.

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Seeing Clearly

xxxMay 12, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

I am nearsighted.

Not your everyday, run-of-the-mill, I-can’t-see-the-bottom-line-on-the-eye-chart nearsighted; I instead am referring to objects further than six inches away appearing as a blurry mass. From the moment I rise until the last second before I go to bed, I must wear glasses. Should they fall and I can’t immediately find them, panic crushes me until I recover them. Without them, I am virtually blind. They feel as much a part of me as — quite literally — the nose on my face. I am fortunate however that my prescription allows correction to near perfection.

So, I became concerned when, of late, looking at light on dark, I have been experiencing “halos.”

Two examples: When the subtitles on the movie are white against black, the text is blurry. More problematic, when driving at night, although I can see clearly cars, roads, and signs; taillights and street lights lack the same crispness. It’s unnerving enough that I stopped going out after dark.

My father was a hypochondriac’s hypochondriac; he would solicit a second medical opinion when the doctor told him he was healthy. I don’t mean to make light of it; I point it out to somewhat explain my resistance to going to doctors; an irrational backlash to not being my dad. Therefore, for me to visit an eye specialist over my symptoms will shed some light (um, no pun intended) on how seriously I took this change in my vision and resultant alteration to my lifestyle.

If this scenario sounds familiar, you know where I’m going. If not, the cause of my optical degradation is cataracts. According to the Mayo Clinic, “A cataract is a clouding of the normally clear lens of your eye. For people who have cataracts, seeing through cloudy lenses is a bit like looking through a frosty or fogged-up window. Clouded vision caused by cataracts can make it more difficult to read, drive a car (especially at night) or see the expression on a friend’s face.” Approximately 200,000 people per year in the U.S. suffer from them.

This week was my pre-op appointment.

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Light at the End of the Tunnel

xxxApril 21, 2021 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

Every column I’ve ever written lives on my hard drive.

(For those keeping track, this is number 596.)

As March was ending last year, I wrote, “the U.S. now has 7,668 cases with 117 deaths. The world count has risen to 212,799 with 8,787 people succumbing. It is recommended that those of us 65+ ‘self-isolate,’ a term utterly unknown but a few weeks past. Recommendations are that we limit crowds to fewer than ten. Pubs, restaurants, and eateries are shuttered. The markets are off approximately 35 percent from their highs, companies are failing, average people — like you and me — are without income. San Francisco is closed. Hospital ships are being sent to New York and the West Coast.”

The numbers are tragically quaint compared to where we now stand.

Last year at this time, we were barely scratching the surface of what the pandemic would entail. Streets were deserted; fear ran rampant; information was fluid. Grocery shopping was the most dangerous event of the week; we garbed up in masks and gloves and carried with us containers of disinfectants. We were told to bleach our food.

Times change.

Like characters in a horror movie resurfacing from being entombed, it certainly feels like we are pushing aside the soil, scratching our way above ground after being covered for over a year. Surviving underground because it was unsafe to come up again, we looked to the heavens, waiting for a signal that we can reclaim the world we were missing.

Little by little, it is returning.

We are unburying ourselves, beginning again to glance to the skies, not yet really even sure we can emerge. Some will not. Others are. Eyes blinking from the light, wiping the dirt from our faces, we are starting to stand unbowed again, a little shaky, a bit unsteady, but mostly optimistic. [Read more…]

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