Michener Museum here we come!

12 of us carpooled to the Michener in Doylestown PA. Always a pleasure to visit the Michener.

Here are my photos of this great art museum in the suburbs:

Oops, how did Grace Catherine Deming get in there?

Basil Antrobus, one of the security guards. A few years ago he told me about his home country Barbados and that's how I decided to take a trip there. All by myself. Steve Yarde was my taxi driver. We still correspond via Facebook.

Hadn't realized that James Michener was still alive when they opened the museum in his name. It used to be a men's prison and is a perfect example of intelligent recycling.

The Michener is in the "Cultural District" of Doylestown which also features the huge Bucks County Library and the Mercer Museum of tools and artifax of early America, the only museum my kids enjoyed.

We were visiting the Mercer when they were little and we saw out of an upper window some men playing volleyball at a building nearby.

Volleyball during the day? Aha. They were in the men's prison.

A Nakashima chair. The Japanese-American woodcarver was orig. trained as an architect but became known for his natural-style furniture. He and his family were locked up in internment camps during WW2.

Look at the contrast between the polished and the rough.

Some favorite paintings...






Behind locked doors is the Boardroom of the museum. Furniture by Robert Whitley.

These photos are from a photo exhibition originally shown at the Smithsonian Institute. Subject: Elvis Presley. Photographer is Alfred Wertheimer.

Elvis was just 21 when he burst onto the scene in racially divided America in 1956. He bought his clothes in a menswear store for blacks.

Elvis and mom.

Elvis and dad. Note cinderblock and hole w/ wood covering.

Elvis w/ his former high school sweetheart Katherine Hearne. Bye-bye love.

Now we move onto the other show of American icons: the great Muhammad Ali. Here he is fighting w/ George Foreman, I believe, tho I could be wrong. Ali's strategy was to tire out his opponent by letting him use all his energy to punch Ali against the ropes, a technique subsequently named Dope-a-Roping.

It's interesting how both of them came to a tragic end, Presley thru drugs (which, fortunately, the exhibit steered clear of) and Ali w/ his Parkinson's disease that rendered him speechless.

You can tell just by looking which phase of life Ali is in. Post-boxing.

Ali, the former Cassius Clay Jr, gained fame as an Olympic boxing champ.

Holding his daughter, who would later become a boxer, like my little Sarah became.

The late Gordon Parks of Life mag took this photo of Ali in training. The saying is that boxing is not won in the ring, but in the months and weeks before, when you're in training.

More Gordon Parks. Ali's self-confidence was wonderful for the entire black nation.



Ali and Caddy.

Horsin' around w/ dad, Cassius Clay Sr.

Mom serves fried chicken.

Thanks, Basil, for taking us into the Boardroom. We looked outside and he explained how the museum is expanding. They have extremely generous patrons.

Panaramic view of The Door.

Ah, now we enter the former office of James Michener himself. A local boy, he was adopted and lived in many places w/ his large family as they scraped out a living.

Note how steep the keyboard is of Michener's Olympia typewriter. I used to type on an Olympia, Hermes, Royal, Remington and Adler.

Correspondence w/ his publisher who suggested changes in his ms. Courteously, the published would say, "Might you change.....?"

I adopted this style myself and just began a query letter to a local florist saying, "May I write an article about you?"

The tragedy of the very old

Just talked to my friend Angie, who celebrated her 90th birthday in July

Her phone no. had been disconnected so I had to go thru the switchboard at her exclusive assisted living facility on the Main Line where she's a charter resident, having moved in when she was slightly older than me - her late sixties.

Angie is one of the most brilliant women I know. As a woman scientist, she broke thru 'glass ceilings' where no woman had tread before. Her last years in the work force were spent teaching science at Hunter College in NYC.

Whenever I write her, I make sure to add "PhD' behind her name.

So, it was a great surprise when she told me why she changed her phone no.

She was being hounded by a Jamaican con man who called her every day for the past two years.

This intelligent street-smart woman fell for his game. She was to mail $1,500 thru Western Union to him in Jamaica so he could arrange for the $5,000 she won in some sort of lottery or sweepstakes to be sent directly to her.

It was only when she asked the woman at the Western Union if she thought the transaction odd, that she realized she was being 'had.'

Ironically, her older brother, Peter, 95, who lives with his aide on Park Avenue, also received the same sort of phone call, also from Jamaica. Quite weak and enfeebled by age, he and his reluctant aide marched down the sidewalks of New York to deliver the bounty to the Western Union man.

The aide, w/ the help of the Western Union operator, finally persuaded this retired corporate executive to hold onto his money.

How could two undeniably smart people become such easy prey for the cons?

I expressed this enigma to Angie, stating, "If you were 20 years younger you would never have fallen for this scam."

She readily agreed.

Calling all scientists: What wires get loose in the brains of the elderly? Can the condition be a cousin to anosgonesia?

I don't expect an answer, but, jing-a-ling-a-ling, it's the phone ringing. Collect call from Kingston. Gotta run. You never know what good fortune awaits on the other end.

Ask me Why I've Got 3 Kidneys / Letter to the Chief

Okay, I admit it, I'm procrastinating. I've got a homework assignment from my fantastic poetry class and I've got 4 writing assignments from the online newspaper Patch.com.

Read my latest Patch story here on two artists - Alan and Elaine Klawans - who live a couple streets around the corner.

Here's Alan's The Ultimate Fish:



Back to the kidney beans. Just ordered a T-shirt with the above "Ask me Why" caption.

I am planning on surviving the operation and living a long happy life. I wanna take up my artwork again. And I have all these classes planned, for....

I am an educator.

Here's an attempt to educate my transplant team. I mailed this letter yesterday on New Directions stationery to the head of the Einstein transplant team. The dude has no idea who I am.

In essence, they tell you nothing about the operation until TWO DAYS BEFORE IT HAPPENS. Sheer insanity.

March 7, 2011


Dear Dr Zhivago (pseudonym)

Re: My kidney transplant on April 1

I am very much looking forward to having you and your transplant team give me a new kidney on Friday, April 1.

My daughter Sarah will be my donor.

I have thoroughly read the informative literature that came in the packet I received from your office last May of 2010.

I do have one important suggestion, however, which I believe would help not only me but the thousands of other transplant recipients who will come after me.

In essence, I need more information about the transplant and I need it soon.

Your current policy is that during the week of the transplant, I will meet with the transplant team and learn what to expect during the operation and afterward when I take the antirejection drugs.

Quite frankly, Dr Z, two days prior to the operation (as was originally scheduled) is not enough time to prepare the patient of the enormity of the operation and the life changes that will take place.

I propose, with all due respect, that the patient is prepared at least six weeks before the operation.

As a psychotherapist, I know full well that it takes the mind a long time to process such new information.

I am meeting with my wonderful transplant coordinator Ms. Nightingale (pseudonym) this Wednesday, March 9. She will answer my every question and has agreed to take me over to the hospital to see where I will be confined.

I had to flood her with questions, such as, How long will I be hospitalized? She mentioned I’ll be in the ICU for at least 24 hours. At least I found that out.

These are vital pieces of information that a well-informed patient such as myself absolutely must know.

Simply put yourself in my place!

As director of the largest support group in Philadelphia for people with bipolar disorder and depression, I set all the policies for the 100 members who depend on me and my wonderful team to make their lives better through their life’s journey with these treatable brain illnesses.

Hopefully, Dr Z, you will carefully consider my suggestions and implement them. I would be most happy to assist you on this.

See you soon.

Sincerely,

THANK YOU SO MUCH, MS. DEMING.



I asked myself, Where can I put these shells. And then I spied this shapely vahz.

The power of advertising! Every morning I read Patch.com. Someone did an article on Weinrich's Bakery right around the corner. Today is a special day, the day before Lent, and Weinrich's makes these special fastnacht doughnuts.

I am here to testify that they are simply spectacular. I chose the one w/ the raspberry-jelly filling. I let it sit on my kitchen table since I was expecting my sister Donna to come over. When she didn't, I ate the whole thing. I ate it both inside and outside. I was fully in the present moment when I ate that darn thing, walking outside into the clear air and showing Mr Fastnacht to my two purple crocus and one snowdrop over by the side of the house.

And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow (who wrote dat?) I'll go over and buy another. Can't beat it at 99 cents apiece.


But mostly, nothing gives me as much pleasure as writing a good poem.

Mike's hikes: Off to Woodmere Art Museum and Bruno's Restaurant

Vintage Sam Maitin

With flooding predicted for today, it was barely raining when we met at the library to carpool to the Woodmere Art Museum, housed in the original mansion of tycoon and art lover Charles Knox Smith.

I was so excited; first, to be with my friends - Mike, Jim, Clare, Judy and Ellen - and then to see the Sam Maitin special exhibit. When I worked at Art Matters, I interviewed Maitin (1936-2004) at his Philadelphia home and studio, so I've always been interested in his career.

Seeing his artwork was so inspiring. Made me wanna do my artwork again. Hmmm, how can I fit that into the context of New Directions?

On the way, we passed this art deco building I've always admired. Now I can gaze at it all I want in the photo. I really like the color of the traffic lite.

What the heck is this? It's certainly the colorful easily recognizable shapes of Maitin.

Ah, here's something we can get a grip on. Painted aluminum shapes. They'd look great in front of my house.

This handsome artist who lived in New Hope is part of their permanent collection. His name is something like John Fossinbos. Folinsbee. I just looked it up.

This is part of Knox Smith's original house.

While waiting for my hot pastrami on rye sandwich at Bruno's, I said hello to Jose and Ames.

My opening line was "I never saw fries that look like Ritz crackers."

Actually I spoke to the waitress later on about the fries cuz I was afraid they'd change the recipe. I wanna come back and eat them exactly as they appeared today and were delicious.

Of course I didn't have any. As I told Jose and Ames - two terrifically cute guys - when they offered me a bite, I can't eat taters until after April 1 when I have my kidney surgery.

They were very sympathetic and surprised, as is everyone, when I said my own two kidneys will remain inside and Sarah's will be added in my abdomen. No power struggles, pul-ease! Twould be nice if I got a silk-screened T-shirt that read Ask me why I have 3 kidneys.

Hmm, maybe I could order it at Wistaria Vintage, Jose's fine apparel shop at 6375 Germantown Ave.

Driving home the roads were so puddly that I almost didn't stop in to see Baby Grace. But when I came to the crossroads, I said, Be a man, Ruthie, be a man.

I could not resist buying these earrings in the gift shop of the Woodmere. $23. My new favorite earrings. We go thru phases, don't we?

Oh, Rob, sorry I missed your call. Can we talk during the week?

Kidney talk: My kidney-healthy diet and how I cheat

From the website of Brusters, an ice cream chain you've probly never heard of. Sister Ellen introduced me. We drove out to the one in Trevose, PA. Real good.

This is a technical article I'm printing for my own use. I also hope to share it w/ other kidney patients.

After I get my new kidney on April 1 I'll be able to eat everything except grapefruit which contains an enzyme that interferes w/ the immunosuppressants I'll be on.

Unconscionable that my nephrologist never mentioned the need for a special diet to slow the progression of my kidney disease. He did say, tho, that kidney disease like mine, which was caused by taking the drug lithium for 16.5 years for manic depression (bipolar disorder) progresses far slower than other renal failures.

Symptoms? I have none. Of course I take a shitload of pills that keep me healthy. In the beginning of my kidney disease, I suffered from terrible skin itching (the toxins were spreading all over my body) and I was pretty tired.

My doctor is really great with meds. After a few months, these symptoms resolved themselves.

Did you know that the kidneys not only filter out wastes in the form of urine but they also have many other functions?

According to Wiki:

They are an essential part of the urinary system and also serve homeostatic functions such as the regulation of electrolytes, maintenance of acid-base balance, and regulation of blood pressure.

They serve the body as a natural filter of the blood, and remove wastes which are diverted to the urinary bladder. In producing urine, the kidneys excrete wastes such as urea and ammonium; the kidneys also are responsible for the reabsorption of water, glucose, and amino acids.

The kidneys also produce hormones including calcitriol, renin, and erythropoietin.

In essence:

- regulation of electrolytes

- maintenance of acid-base balance (my sodium bicarbonate pills handle this)

- regulate blood pressure (Norvasc, Toprol and Hytrin)

- reabsorb water, glucose and amino acids (hence my low protein diet) - my kidney doctor said people w/ end-stage renal failure don't even feel thirsty. B/c of the glucose situation I developed diabetes but control it w/diet, sex and rock n roll.

- production of hormones including calcitriol, renin, and erythropoietin. (I take Calcitriol which is a form of vitamin D. It's used to prevent low levels of calcium in patients w/ kidney diz or patients whose parathyroid glands (in neck) don't work properly.

My nephrologist calibrates the above drugs very carefully. At one point my calcium levels were too high and he had me get blood tests so he could adjust my Calcitriol.

Was trying to think how I knew about a special kidney diet. Perhaps it was b/c of Lillian Burnley. I got to know her real well when I volunteered at the Upper Moreland Public Library when she was director. She was on kidney dialysis and told me about the strict diet one must adhere to while on dialysis. (Read my memorial to her here.)

Off I went to Mary Ann Moylen, registered dietician at the Willow Grove Giant Supermarket. She made up a food plan for me.

It was difficult to follow in the beginning b/c there were so many restrictions. But human beings are endlessly resilient and I soon got used to it and accepted it.

Popcorn became my fave snack. I sprinkle it w/ nutritional yeast gotten at the health food store. Absolutely addicting. When I'm working on deadline for Patch.com, I eat lots of popcorn and the kernels fall into the indentations on my keyboard.

DIET

LOW SODIUM - that meant I couldn't put salt on my watermelon and had to learn to cook w/ herbs and not salt. Began using bay leaves, whole cinnamon, fresh poultry seasoning (thyme rosemary sage).

LOW PHOSPHORUS - The operative word here is "limited" but mostly I just cut things out entirely. Dairy products are out. This meant no cheese. Can you imagine living w/o cheese? A grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. Forget it. Cheese over spaghetti. Forget it. A slice of cheese w/ an apple? You get the picture. Oh, I did have an occasional ice cream.

It gets worse.

Legumes are high in phosphorus. No more peanuts or beans/peas such as lentils, peas, pinto or kidney beans.

Whole grains are high in phosphorus. I stopped eating oatmeal, brown rice, and whole wheat for a while. Finally, tho, I couldn't keep away from my homemade breads which use whole grain flour (wheat and rye) so I gave in. But on the days when I ate my bread I tried to stay clear of other verboten foods.

LOW POTASSIUM - No tomatoes, potatoes, sweet potatoes, mangos, oranges, pumpkin, avacados, peanuts, and other nuts. It's the tomatoes that hurt the most. We have a garden that produces ripe red cherry tomatoes. I permitted myself a few.

LOW PROTEIN - I gave up all meat and limit myself to chicken and fish. I have an egg for breakfast but even that is not officially sanctioned by Ms Moylen. The yolk is too high in phosphorus. She handed me a box of EggBeaters.

I took em home and could not bring myself to make eggs with all those artifical ingredients. "Fuckit," I said, "and took to my eggs with gusto."

FAT - no restrictions for the kidney diet. Mary Ann stressed the importance of fat in the diet. Okay to eat mayo which is made of eggs and oil and seasoning. Make mine real Hellmann's.

NO CAFFEINE

NO CHOCOLATE

NO LICORICE

NO ALCOHOL

I'd already given up caffeine in preparation for going off my last psychiatric med, Klonopin. That was a toughie, but I don't miss it one iota.

Had pretty much given up drinking when I went on psych meds. That wasn't hard at all. Occasionally at birthday parties I'd drink half a glass of beer, which I love, or wine, which I also love. I'll continue these parsimonious ways after my new kidney is sewn in.

When I visit Helene's house I always check her stash of licorice. And usually take three nubs, very chewy and delicious.

My last taste of chocolate was at Kremp's Florists. I was starving and they'd just cut up one of their chocolate truffles. I took a tiny piece - and sucked on it all the way home. Super!

When I shop at Giant, I always look for their cheese samples. That's how I get my 'cheese fix' in.

The only beverage I drink is water and cow's blood.

Here's my list of things I want to eat after the operation, or in heaven, whichever comes first:

- spaghetti and meatballs with tomato sauce and lots of fresh parm cheese on top

- macaroni and cheese

- buttered sweet potato

- buttered mashed potatoes with sour cream and chives on top (yes!)

- a Big Mac (just fucking kidding)

- Manhattan Bagel has a bagel and cream cheese w/ turkey bacon and avocado (yes!)

- home-made yogurt as a quick lunch w/ fruit

- Jell-O pudding mix - Cook n Serve - chocolate and vanilla made w/ real milk, not that awful rice milk or almond milk I tried

- V-8

- Olives

that'll do for a start.

Kidney Talk: Dr Starzl writes back / Final touches on house for kidney homecoming / Poem: Morning Meditations

Dr Thomas E Starzl and fellow transplant surgeon Dr Kumaran of New Delhi at Starzl's 80th b'day party. He's 85 today (b. 1926) and still visits the transplant center at University of Pittsburgh which bears his name.

Dear Ms. Deming:

The antirejection strategy that minimizes dependence on drug therapy, but does not usually allow complete avoidance of these drugs, is described in the attached 2 reprints. I am sure that your Einstein doctors are aware of this work. I have no objection if you want to share the reprints with them.

In essence, you should not believe that you can look forward to complete freedom from the drug treatment, but with careful management, you can reduce the burden of these drugs.

Sincerely,

Thomas E. Starzl, M.D.,

Professor of Surgery

OLD WINDOW. For a little over a thousand dollars I had Bob Walmsley put in a new window over the kitchen sink.

I have a really b'ful backyard but I can't see a darn thing cuz I'm too short.

Stand on a stool, said Scott.

Quite honestly, I never would've thot of touching the window if Bob's sec'y Yvonne hadn't called and left a message that he was ready to come out and do any work I had for him.

One of his workmen is standing on a stool to get to the window.

Bob said, "Every time I come out to your house it's a nice day."

The last time he was here was right before Sarah and I went on our fantastic Mediterranean cruise.

He wished me good luck on the transplant.

I'm ecstatic about the new window.

New window w/ my things arranged on the slimmed windowsill. Aunt Tay's pewter creamer holds my backyard forsythias which I'm forcing.

When my friend Judy Lipshutz came over I gave her a bunch. We visited a friend Lisa Weil-Lowe who's recuperating from surgery at a rehab. When we came back home Scott was in the yard.

Oh, he's cute, exclaimed Judy. Couldn't believe she's never met the man in my life.

I asked Bob to slice off some of the green formica so that the fridge could be pulled away from the wall. The freezer doesn't open far enuf. Strong man Scott did the deed today. He's lifts weights in his basement, up up up, moaning all the way. I never watch. It'd freak me out.

Sunset in the back yard.

So, I'm making a bread today when the phone rings. I couldn't answer cuz my hands were filled w/ dough. I figgered it was important cuz they rang twice and believe me, it wasn't the postman.

It was Beth, one of the transplant nurses at Einstein.

She offered me a kidney, a 29-yo male from out-of-state who had overdosed on heroin. She called him a 'hi risk donor,' a term I'd never heard of.

Only about six weeks ago I was offered another kidney from an even younger dude who'd overdosed but I was no. three on the list and didn't get it.

This time I simply declined, since Sarah will donate on April 1.

But I did get a bit of information about the meaning of hi risk:

- hepatitits C
- been in jail
- has multiple tatoos
- practices the oldest profession

I was sorely tempted tho to save my lil darling from getting a renalectomy.

In his book The Puzzle People, Dr Starzl says that even tho it's very common, he doesn't believe in the ethics of live-donor transplants.

Is that possible? Did I misread him? I think not.

Movietime! The Big Lubowski. Jeff Bridges can do no wrong. Or should I say, the Coen Brothers.

Two hours later...

Scott and I watched the movie, each of us periodically dozing off.

When it was over, I said to Scott: "It's the kind of movie that makes you feel good about being alive."

He said nothing.

"Scott," I said. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, it doesn't make any sense."

"What? A movie making you feel glad to be alive?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

WELL, I DO! This was one of the best movies I've ever seen.

Okay, just put the finishing touches on some 'haiku' for my Monday nite poetry class,assigned by teacher Bill Kulik.

MEDITATIONS ON MORNING
1

good morning train whistle
motoring schoolbus
and hidden sun.

2

open window brings
blue sky into my bedroom
the sun warms me as
we curl up together
in a hot embrace

3

eyes closed
the world wakes up
without me
continues though i’m not there.

4

a book lies closed
on my bed
ten thousand words asleep
until my eyes wake them up
caution: don’t all talk at once.

5

remote controls lie on the dresser
hardly things of beauty
they gather dust
the silent power-brokers.

6

small painting of a covered bridge
reminds me of its painter
a man whose wife visited catholic shrines
when i said bernadette of lourdes
he handed over the painting
no charge.

7

hot breakfast of
eggs and toast
at daddypops
warm smell of coffee
i eat alone on my
living room couch.

8

each day i will suck the juice
of the ruby red
leaving sweet marks at my corners
after april i can never eat a grapefruit again:
life-saving surgery and potent medication
until the day i die.
fuck grapefruit.

9

boris putterman can’t write
unless whipped
billy whips us with words
who besides me is working on
the assignment wanting to
finish first?

10

a huge puddle in the street
makes cars go slow
i listen to the splash as
my feet get wet.

Kidney Talk: Getting my house ready for the homecoming | Poem: My Third Kidney

Hello tiny purple crocus. I love the abstract nature of this shot. Nature is the father of art.

Who are we kidding? The time is getting close. Bill Kulik, my gray-haired pony-tailed poetry teacher at Cheltenham High School Evening School, asked me, Are you scared?

Scared only of what the antirejection drugs might do to me. Ah, how my immune system has protected me over these past wonderful 65 years.

Just called up the Thomas E Starzl Transplantation Center in Pittsburgh and spoke to nurse Maureen. In the Puzzle People by Starzl he mentions the possibility of eventually discontinuing the pills.

Maureen told me this was tried but did not succeed. Thank you, Maureen. I needed to hear this. However, she did mention that some people get tired of taking the meds and take themselves off. If their donor match has 6 antigens, they can take less medication.

I have no idea what our match is. As I've said before, I majored in manic-depression, not kidney disease, so I have to create a new space in my brain for this information.

Actually my brain is working at a mighty clip. I ran one of my Self-Esteem/Goal Groups last nite and emailed the group the notes. I'd jotted things down on a pad but didn't need to consult it while composing the email.

I remember my former mentor psychiatrist Norman Lamonsoff at Bristol-Bensalem Human Services told me he could dictate a psych eval w/o looking at his notes.

Jeff and John came out to replace my cracked laundry room floor with indoor-outdoor carpet.

The owner of Specialty Flooring in Roslyn asked me what color my walls were. I said I had no idea. I never pay any attn when I go into the room.

Here's the new brown carpet which is warm on the feet unlike the cold linoleum. Doug and Gerry, who both sold it to me, said they installed the same carpet at one of the entrances to the Willow Grove mall.

When I get my t'plant, they will not remove my own kidneys which continue to filter at 12 - 16 percent efficiency, the little darlings.

I help them along by sticking to my diet: low potassium, sodium, phosphorus, protein, tho I'm eating a chicken sandwich right now. I gave up meat.

There are exceptions of course, like this fantastic tongue sandwich I made. Jews love tongue. Gentiles gag at the thot. Off to the death camps, cutie.

MY THIRD KIDNEY

the furious torrent
like summer rains
lessens
a drought in the
sunny sahara
tongueless
skulls
reflect the sky
but i
shall be saved
and pat my belly
where my rusty pair of
kidneys
still squeeze drops
from stone
still pump the soundless
rivers of blood
round and round
this old mother
like the grand mississippi
if it weren’t for voodoo potions
called pills
my inner channels
would laden be
with silt and rocks
too heavy to carry
and i quicker still
would rush headlong into
eternity’s sacred path
but for my daughter
my saviour
who once i carried on my hip
and watched her blue eyes turn
to brown and huge
will pass unto me
one of her sacred twins
thirty-seven years of
vibrant pissing
expert
flawless
will now come back home
brave ulysses bound for his own penelope
restless, he will grow to like
his strange new home
i will pour libations
through his tender
vessels
every morsel i eat
dedicated to his glory
together we shall marvel at
the first daffodil poking her
head in the garden
just the three of us
strolling in my garden in
my white bridal gown.