City Guide Tel Aviv 2008
And I walked home, which I couldn't have done from the University.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four?
Well I'm way past 64 - I'm 71 to be exact - and until this year truly believed I was 26. Every year I just got to be a better and wiser 26. Oh I didn't look 26 and I didn't try to, but I felt 26. I guess I could describe it as feeling like a 26-year-old trapped in a slowly aging body.
This past year several things happened and now I'm feeling - and it's been sudden - like an old woman, nearing the end of her life. No need to list them: a litany of life-events that will happen to you too some day, if they haven't already, provided you live long enough. I'm still clinging to the notion that the medication I've been taking for psoriasis - methotrexate - is the cause of this unpleasant shift in perspective, and at this moment the Gods of Socialized Medicine in Israel are deciding whether I can switch to another, newer, much more costly, and possibly more effective treatment. Assuming they approve my request, there are two big unanswered questions:
1) will the new meds keep my psoriasis under control without nasty side-effects?
and
2) will I return to feeling 26?
The third question, the one I'm really afraid to ask or count, is: what if the answers to both of those questions are negative?
Tune in next week.
And what about Naomi? **
**Can you remember the source of this quote without Googling?
It's Mother's Day in North America, and my daughter wrote a post that makes me proud to be her mother and also makes me happy she's a better mother than I was at her age. I'm not fishing for compliments here, because we each do the best we can with what we have. It's just that her best is better. Hurray!
My years of working in the computer industry were not in vain. I'm now playing a game of Internet Scrabble (on Scrabulous) with three friends: one in Paris studying art, one in New York visiting family, and one in Tel Aviv enjoying the lovely Spring weather, I hope.
Having spent my life looking for patterns, I'm ashamed of how long it took me to see these two. The first one hit me only yesterday. Americans (including me) will be voting for the member of a nuclear "family" they want to lead them: Dad (McCain, the protector), Mom (Hillary, the ambitious hard-worker), or Son (Obama, the futurist)?
Alternatively, today it occurred to me that we're also choosing our favorite century: 19th (McCain), 20th (Hillary), or 21st (Obama).
Looking at it either way, you can see why I haven't decided yet. If I'm in a pessimistic or fearful mood, I like McCain, pragmatic - Hillary, optimistic - Obama.
Please discuss.
It's a work in progress, but at least all the letters in the shoebox have been transcribed, and a small selection of the many photos scanned and uploaded. It's what I've been doing instead of posting at Cousin Lucy's. How on earth did I ever manage to get to work every day and still have a life? My hat's off to you working people!
OH, and Happy Passover!