Of the non-fiction I've read since stopping full time work, "Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer" (2010) by Siddharta Mukherjee is in a class all its own.
It took Mukherjee six years to complete the book - twice as long wouldn't have surprised me; the end notes alone are 60 pages. But staggering research aside, what set this apart for me was how the author made his sober subject accessible & interesting and his message hopeful yet measured. His techniques for doing that included keeping his sections a manageable length, repeating important medical and technical information, and interspersing case histories to illustrate the human side in this biography. Finally, the author resists taking potshots or turning anyone in the long history of cancer research into a villain. Even the often attacked pharmaceutical industry gets fair treatment.
Reading several other books over the weeks I took to complete this was wise. Like most people, cancer has closely touched my life so frequent breaks were welcome. However, knowing there are oncologists like Mukherjee adding to a collective body of knowledge kept filling me with hope.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
The Three Of Us
How does the way you relate to your young adult children differ from the way you related to your parents when you were a young adult?
Apologies to anyone feeling excluded by today's reflection but after spending the weekend with my daughter I'm having difficulty escaping myself as a 24 year old. I cannot envision the last three days - a high school play, a movie, many hours spent just hanging out, cooking a full Sunday dinner - just Mom & Dad and I?
I loved my parents deeply; perhaps my memory is failing. However, a similar scenario of one day in length, never mind three, is just not coming to me. I wish one or the other were still around; maybe they'd differ. But if my recollections are more right than wrong, I'm left wondering: What is different? Do parenting norms from the differing eras help explain it? "Children should be seen and not heard" was common parlance as I grew up, as it was for many baby boomers. How much did that conventional wisdom work its way into my young adult psyche and prevent a deeper, more relaxed relationship with my parents?
Or is this relationship with my daughter more about her 24 year old maturity vs. me at that age? I'm so grateful for what my daughter and I share. And I'm a bit wistful my parents and I didn't find our way to a similar place. All three of us would have benefited.
Apologies to anyone feeling excluded by today's reflection but after spending the weekend with my daughter I'm having difficulty escaping myself as a 24 year old. I cannot envision the last three days - a high school play, a movie, many hours spent just hanging out, cooking a full Sunday dinner - just Mom & Dad and I?
I loved my parents deeply; perhaps my memory is failing. However, a similar scenario of one day in length, never mind three, is just not coming to me. I wish one or the other were still around; maybe they'd differ. But if my recollections are more right than wrong, I'm left wondering: What is different? Do parenting norms from the differing eras help explain it? "Children should be seen and not heard" was common parlance as I grew up, as it was for many baby boomers. How much did that conventional wisdom work its way into my young adult psyche and prevent a deeper, more relaxed relationship with my parents?
Or is this relationship with my daughter more about her 24 year old maturity vs. me at that age? I'm so grateful for what my daughter and I share. And I'm a bit wistful my parents and I didn't find our way to a similar place. All three of us would have benefited.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Is The Opposite Of Bad-Mouthing Good-Mouthing?
An attentive reader of my blog recently asked me "Do you ever read a book you don't like?" Fair question; of course, the answer is yes.
What purpose would it serve to post about one of those books? From the outset, my objective has been to start a dialogue, online or otherwise. Since I post only about books that have moved me, any ensuing dialogue begins from a positive space. If someone reads the book and finds my assessment lacking, I look forward to hearing a differing view. I realize most books that have left me cold likely have something redeeming. And perhaps, a persuasive person who enjoyed something I did not might even be able to get me to take a second look.
But I believe my energy is better spent writing about what juices me and having others push back to help me keep my reading saw sharp. In addition, until I finish a book of my own, it feels churlish to publicly bad mouth someone who has. I have one relative and several friends who have gotten to that finish line. Their kind of grit humbles me.
So look elsewhere for suggestions on books to avoid. And keep pushing back at me when any choice of mine strikes you as wrong-headed.
What purpose would it serve to post about one of those books? From the outset, my objective has been to start a dialogue, online or otherwise. Since I post only about books that have moved me, any ensuing dialogue begins from a positive space. If someone reads the book and finds my assessment lacking, I look forward to hearing a differing view. I realize most books that have left me cold likely have something redeeming. And perhaps, a persuasive person who enjoyed something I did not might even be able to get me to take a second look.
But I believe my energy is better spent writing about what juices me and having others push back to help me keep my reading saw sharp. In addition, until I finish a book of my own, it feels churlish to publicly bad mouth someone who has. I have one relative and several friends who have gotten to that finish line. Their kind of grit humbles me.
So look elsewhere for suggestions on books to avoid. And keep pushing back at me when any choice of mine strikes you as wrong-headed.
When Pleasure Trumps Guilt
What hobby or pastime of yours can evoke a bit of old fashioned guilt?
The time I spend with my principal hobbies - music, reading, film - is guilt-free, provided I'm not neglecting something or someone that needs my attention. Same thing for cycling and tennis, two of my main forms of exercise.
Now skiing can be a different story. I love nearly everything about it - being outdoors on crisp winter days, the way my legs burn as I plow downhill, the exhilarating speed. Yet the butchering of mountains at ski resorts has given my environmental side some pause. I've never considered quitting; the pleasure trumps the guilt. But I have fantasized more than once about being a confident and competent enough skiier to not need the resorts at all. My fantasy joins me with the people who get dropped into a virgin wilderness and simply ski down from there.
Not long ago, snide remarks about the despoiling effects of golf courses passed these snarky skiier lips. Looking at another carved up mountain recently, I had an image of a glass house and some golfers nearby - their white balls looked a lot like stones.
The time I spend with my principal hobbies - music, reading, film - is guilt-free, provided I'm not neglecting something or someone that needs my attention. Same thing for cycling and tennis, two of my main forms of exercise.
Now skiing can be a different story. I love nearly everything about it - being outdoors on crisp winter days, the way my legs burn as I plow downhill, the exhilarating speed. Yet the butchering of mountains at ski resorts has given my environmental side some pause. I've never considered quitting; the pleasure trumps the guilt. But I have fantasized more than once about being a confident and competent enough skiier to not need the resorts at all. My fantasy joins me with the people who get dropped into a virgin wilderness and simply ski down from there.
Not long ago, snide remarks about the despoiling effects of golf courses passed these snarky skiier lips. Looking at another carved up mountain recently, I had an image of a glass house and some golfers nearby - their white balls looked a lot like stones.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Words On A Page
How best to say this? Please read "A Lesson Before Dying" (1993) by Ernest J. Gaines. You might thank me or you might swear at me but I think this book will move you.
Gaines's prose is spare and though plot is not the point, he grabs you by the throat and does not let go. When his people speak, what they say may not be nice but it will stay with you. The last thing I read that struck me this way was "Autobiography Of A Face" by Lucy Grealy. Gaines's book has the same ring of truth as that memoir.
When you're done, please let me know your thoughts. What were you left with? Who in the book is most like you? If you were Jefferson, who would you want at your side? If you were Grant, would you stay once Jefferson is gone? If you were Vivian, how would you show Grant your love? How far do we still have to go?
Gaines's prose is spare and though plot is not the point, he grabs you by the throat and does not let go. When his people speak, what they say may not be nice but it will stay with you. The last thing I read that struck me this way was "Autobiography Of A Face" by Lucy Grealy. Gaines's book has the same ring of truth as that memoir.
When you're done, please let me know your thoughts. What were you left with? Who in the book is most like you? If you were Jefferson, who would you want at your side? If you were Grant, would you stay once Jefferson is gone? If you were Vivian, how would you show Grant your love? How far do we still have to go?
Monday, February 4, 2013
Win, Win, Win
Who in your life brings out the best in you?
Just prior to stopping full time work, a colleague introduced me to a couple who were opening a stable specializing in therapeutic riding for people with disabilities. At the outset, my involvement in their venture was as a member of the Board of Trustees. But after visiting the farm and witnessing the work being done, I quickly became a regular volunteer. I've since written several posts about my experiences there.
A large part of my enjoyment at the stables is directly related to how the husband of this unselfish team brings out the best in me. Few Fridays go by without me recording something in my journal about this.
* Last week: Reminiscing about our childhoods in Chicago and Irvington, he helped remind me how stifling political correctness can sometimes be.
* A few weeks before that, when I fouled up a purchase of hay, he put me at ease by saying I probably "...saved money..." with my error. What a great way for me to stay mindful about blaming.
* He consistently makes fun of his own quirks. In my experience, modeling that behavior can never be reinforced enough.
In addition, I admire the way this gentle and generous man speaks and relates to his wife. That might be the best gift he's given me since my wife is the person who most often brings out the best in me. I watch and learn from his example, then I'm better with her, then she brings out more good stuff in me.
Just prior to stopping full time work, a colleague introduced me to a couple who were opening a stable specializing in therapeutic riding for people with disabilities. At the outset, my involvement in their venture was as a member of the Board of Trustees. But after visiting the farm and witnessing the work being done, I quickly became a regular volunteer. I've since written several posts about my experiences there.
A large part of my enjoyment at the stables is directly related to how the husband of this unselfish team brings out the best in me. Few Fridays go by without me recording something in my journal about this.
* Last week: Reminiscing about our childhoods in Chicago and Irvington, he helped remind me how stifling political correctness can sometimes be.
* A few weeks before that, when I fouled up a purchase of hay, he put me at ease by saying I probably "...saved money..." with my error. What a great way for me to stay mindful about blaming.
* He consistently makes fun of his own quirks. In my experience, modeling that behavior can never be reinforced enough.
In addition, I admire the way this gentle and generous man speaks and relates to his wife. That might be the best gift he's given me since my wife is the person who most often brings out the best in me. I watch and learn from his example, then I'm better with her, then she brings out more good stuff in me.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Dropping By
Imagine you're at home enmeshed in your routine and...the doorbell rings. Surprise! Someone is dropping by. When was the last time this happened to you? When was the last time you dropped by on anyone? When was the last time you heard the expression "dropped by"?
Keep pretending. What would the people dropping by see? Bed made? Dishes in the sink? If it's not a work day and it's still a.m., have you showered yet? Are you still in your pajamas? Do you own pajamas? If you have a spouse or partner, how about them? Are they more, less or equally as presentable or unpresentable as you? How about the general state of your home? Neat? Clean? Both? Neither?
My Sunday morning routine has included reading the NY Times for many years. A short while ago I finished an article from the Styles section where the writer claimed she can glean a great deal about others by surveying what their home looks like when they're not expecting guests. Suddenly, I heard my doorbell - just kidding. But the article did cause me to briefly ponder what that writer might conclude about me. From there I fondly recalled how dropping by or having others drop by used to be, if not common, not an unheard of occurrence. And I wondered when that more spontaneous spirit began eroding in my life and how much of that erosion is connected to judging and being judged. Kind of like how that NY Times writer does.
Keep pretending. What would the people dropping by see? Bed made? Dishes in the sink? If it's not a work day and it's still a.m., have you showered yet? Are you still in your pajamas? Do you own pajamas? If you have a spouse or partner, how about them? Are they more, less or equally as presentable or unpresentable as you? How about the general state of your home? Neat? Clean? Both? Neither?
My Sunday morning routine has included reading the NY Times for many years. A short while ago I finished an article from the Styles section where the writer claimed she can glean a great deal about others by surveying what their home looks like when they're not expecting guests. Suddenly, I heard my doorbell - just kidding. But the article did cause me to briefly ponder what that writer might conclude about me. From there I fondly recalled how dropping by or having others drop by used to be, if not common, not an unheard of occurrence. And I wondered when that more spontaneous spirit began eroding in my life and how much of that erosion is connected to judging and being judged. Kind of like how that NY Times writer does.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Well, Maybe A Little Superstitious
My parents were married today in 1947 so when Mom died in November 1977 they'd been married 30 years. My wife and I will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary September 17 of this year. And though I don't consider myself superstitious, glancing at the calendar this morning I was momentarily relieved the day ahead was an active one; gave me less chance to dwell on this odd fact. What was the last odd confluence of numbers or dates that you recall giving you any pause?
A few years ago Jim Carrey did a movie called "The Number 23". After seeing it on DVD, I understood why it had disappeared soon after its release. But despite its flaws, the central premise was plausible enough for the film to be memorable. I recall thinking at the time how the odd coincidences we all occasionally encounter with numbers can sometimes be unsettling; like how I felt this morning.
Once I got busy, the weirdness went away. At minimum, I'm glad Mom & Dad crossed my mind. When long stretches go by and I haven't thought of them, it can make me lonely.
A few years ago Jim Carrey did a movie called "The Number 23". After seeing it on DVD, I understood why it had disappeared soon after its release. But despite its flaws, the central premise was plausible enough for the film to be memorable. I recall thinking at the time how the odd coincidences we all occasionally encounter with numbers can sometimes be unsettling; like how I felt this morning.
Once I got busy, the weirdness went away. At minimum, I'm glad Mom & Dad crossed my mind. When long stretches go by and I haven't thought of them, it can make me lonely.
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