Christmas with family 2008

Christmas cheer really doesn't come in a bottle.
It comes in a smile




















Mom, Liz, and dad, Tim, uncle Henrik, and very lucky dog, Moon













Grandpa John Hunt, 98 years young, Margie's dad, and Tim.




As Grandpa John would say, "quite a gatheration". Eric

Christmas past and present

Dear All, Sixty years ago my brother Paul and I were captured in our jammies on Christmas Eve too excited to sleep and already having peeked into packages under the tree. We didn't do Christmas lights then. Mom painted winter and Christmas scenes on the windows. You can see that we were in the "hand-me-down" stages then as Paul hadn't grown into my old jammies.

This year we gathered in Seattle with the children and the grandchild, Jack, and celebrated Christmas three times; first with the Christensens, our daughter's in-laws from Denmark, then with our children, and finally with the Sperry's, our son Tim's in-laws. Snow blanketed Oregon and Seattle in historic depths the day before Christmas which made travel an adventure. All the east-west streets in Seattle with any slope were quickly turned in to play areas by the young-at-heart and closed to traffic. Of course Seattle had only one snow plow and I don't think it saw the light of day. Mother nature relented, delivered rain and warm weather to re-establish former transportation modes and the skiers, snowboarders, and sledders filed this exceptional Holiday in the memory banks.

We have been heartened by the news from friends updating us on both the positive developments and the setbacks and sorrowful moments. Holiday letters of old were lists of achievements and sort of bragging lists. Now, it seems we are humbled by life's gyrations and admit to the buffets and stumbles we all suffer. We appreciate the support and candor of your notes and extend our heartfelt wishes for health and financial stability in the coming year.

I have been occupying my time in the wood shop turning out bowls on the lathe and giving them to family who aren't at all critical about their humble form. A few items have gone to charities which auction them off and raise money for their causes. Margie has been subtly plying me with self help books as Christmas gifts on how to use the wood lathe and move to something more imaginative than the peanut bowl. Stay tuned! You too, may need to buy nuts.

I took part in the CBC (annual Christmas Bird Count) a couple of Saturdays ago. Across north America thousands of birders brave sun, warm breezes, clear skies,(or the opposite) and take a bird census on the third Saturday of December. We covered our circle gallantly in very inclement circumstances, but we were propeled onward by the goal of finding more and rarer species than the next team. Almost like March madness at the end of basketball season. We got 52 species and saw on Europeon gray legged goose- an illegal immigrant if there ever was one. He was mixed in with the Canada geese and there was wild speculation about what the kids would look like and whether they would be accepted or made fun of because their beaks would be pink.

Margie and I continue to sing with the Rogue Valley Chorale and our director chooses music of high quality and historical stature. Singing, dance, rhythm, and music of any stripe is inherent in our genome. I recommend a book to you titled"Musicophilia" by Oliver Sacks. It in exploration of the depth of penetration of music into our brains and psyche. Wonderful!

The text from one of the Chorale's signature pieces follows.

Jesus Christ the apple tree

The tree of life my soul hath seen, Laden with fruit and always green:
His beauty doth all things excell: By faith I know, but Ne'er can tell,
The glory which I now can see in Jesus Christ the apple tree.
For happiness I long have sought, And pleasure dearly I have bought:
I missed of all; but now I see'tis found in Christ the apple tree.
I am weary with my former toil, Here I will sit and rest awhile:
Under the shadow I will be, Of Jesus Christ the apple tree.
This fruit doth make my soul to thrive, It keeps my dying faith alive;
Which makes my soul in haste to be with Jesus Christ the apple tree.

The Text was compiled by Joshua Smith in 1784 in a hymnal and put ot contemporary music by Elizabeth Poston

I remain in good spirits, see myself as in the " eye of the storm" waiting for the next development. Monthly chemo makes me tired and cranky but family, friends, humor, and dreams of the future propel me on ever hopefull. I had my bimonthly brain MRI this morning and we wait for word that all is well. Will keep you posted when we have news.
Love and peace to all, Eric

We have beat the odds.

Dear all, please read and pass on the wonderful article in Stanford magazine by Forrest Church. He has esophageal cancer, the outlook is fearsome but he proposed a perspective that all of us should consider. Click on the STANFORD Magazine:November/Dec tab. Best to all, Eric

A month of celebrations

Dear All, As you can see our grandson, Jack, knows where his mouth is, especially when it is his first birthday cupcake. Eleven adults gathered in rapt attention as a one year old made a new discovery. An independent observer from Mars would wonder how such a small creature could transfix a group of elders and fill a room with joy for several hours,but we couldn't help ourselves.
His visage and continuous smiles were tractor beams pulling us inexorably toward him. The Cal Bears-Oregon Ducks football game was postponed three hours for our celebration.

Tuesday, November 4th, was a special night. I celebrated my 64th birthday. I was happy to give room for Obama and his minions to dance, cry, and give thanks as well. It was an historic day, one we all will remember- where we were and what we were doing- when it became official. I have been told that when he is sworn in on the capital steps in 70+ days he will stand on structures built by slaves. Poignant and ironic. We all pray for his safety and that of his family and that he will bring us together.

We have had wonderful fall colors due to ample rain this spring and a warm summer. This poem celebrates our season and the notion of being thankfuls for simple, every moment experiences.

O sacred season of Autum, be my teacher for I wish to learn the virtue of contentment.
As I gaze upon your full-colored beauty, I sense all around you an at- homeness
with your amber riches.
May I know that like you I am rich beyond measure.
As you, O Autumn, take pleasure in your great bounty, let me also delight in the simple things in life which are the true source of joy.
With the golden glow of peaceful contentment may I truly appreciate this autumn day.
Edward Hayes

I am doing well, receiving monthly chemotherapy and tolerating it well, trying to live each moment to the fullest. Thanks to all of you for your kindness, political repartee over the last six months, and putting friendship above political differences. Eric

The cradle of all of us

This is Jack, approaching his first birthday. Like our country he got off to a rocky start, but has greeted each day since with humor, curiosity,vigor, and determination. He spreads joy, enthusiasm, and wonderment to all who partake of his being. I think a star has been born.

Margie and I are back from a tour of the cradle of western civilization- Greece. We were humbled to witness societies which valued civil organization, clean water, septic systems, vigorous free trade, mutual defense, art, poetry, theater, architecture, and religious tolerance. As expected tyrants, oligarchies, imperialist powers(Persia and Roman), and internacine conflict(Sparta and Athens) interrupted and delayed the spread and practice of democratic ideals. But, the Greeks planted the seed and we are the tree growing from that early flowering of intellectual, spiritual, and philosophical endeavor. It has taken 2500 years to evolve from those early experiments and I wonder what Socrates and Aristotle would think or our practice of democratic ideals if they were able to come forward and comment on the current political tensions in our country. They would be amazed that we haven't taken up our swords and shields and attacked our opponents, but would recognize the vitriolic harangue that passes for civil discourse during a time of great national peril. The Athenians use to banish troublemakers to remote colonies. If we followed this practice Washington and Wall Street would be ghost towns.


I am doing well. My doctor gave me a month off the chemotherapy for the trip to Greece, I didn't pick up any bad bugs on the flights, I had good energy standing in museums looking at thousands of old pots and statues of nude men and a few women. My $$$$ tenth brain MRI this week "looked good" according to my doctors. For people in my situation "good" isn't good enough. At Delphi I asked the Oracle about my future. She wasn't very helpful. She said, "you will experience trying and troubling times. Try maintain a sense of humor, use barbless hooks and practice catch and release".

I leave you with a Sufi story sent to me by a friend:
A good man drew the attention of the angels and they asked God to give him the gift of miracles. God wisely suggested they asked him if this is what he would wish.

The angels visit the good man and offer him the gift of healing hands, the gift of conversion of souls and lastly the gift of virtue. He refuses them all. The angels insist that he choose or they will make the decision. He replies. "I ask that I may do a great deal of good without ever knowing it".

The angels were perplexed, took counsel and devised the following plan: Every time the man's shadow fell behind him it would have the power to cure diseases, soothe pain, and comfort sorrow. As he walked, behind him his shadow gave people hope and inspired them to be a better person, like the man.

The man simply went about his daily life diffusing virtue without ever being aware of it. And so it is with you, who have influenced my life in so may ways, without being aware of it. Thankyou. Let us remember the Greeks and the gift they passed forward to us. May we treasure it, hold it dear and pass on it's virtues to Jack. Peace , Eric

Inukshuk

Welcome; food, safety, and friendship available here. In the arctic,man-like stone figures placed in the spare
landscape signal a cache of food or nearby settlement and safety. Margie and I collected rocks from our land and put up this mannikin to tell you that you are welcome, if hungry Margie will feed you,very well, and we appreciate your friendshhip. Vancouver, BC has selected the Inukshuk as it's symbol for the the 2010 winter Olympics. To say the name correctly,clench your teeth together like the first nation people of the arctic and pronounce each phoneme without moving you jaw. Got it? Good, come see us. The raspberries are ripe and numerous.

My journey with cancer continues and we struggle trying not to make this a melodrama since so many of you kindly inquire and offer spiritual and emotional support. We are blessed with friendship and a close large family. My oldest son, Sean, observed the other day that cultivating and nurturing friendships is one of the most important activities we can do. He gets his wisdom from his mother. But for me, no other activity stirs my healing juices than conversation and verbal jousting about life's great questions with family and friends.

Last week Margie and I renewed our friendship with my college roommate and his wife in eastern Montana. Catching up after fourty plus years was heartwarming and inspite of the time span our closeness due to shared experiences in college and later common experiences due to his practice of family medicine in remote eastern Montana lead to hours of lively conversation. It has been observed that you can't go back to your childhood; if you try, very few of those memories and experiences can be faithfully reproduced, and one will always end up disappointed. My college roommate and his wife took us to a remote corner of Montana where they had a cabin along a small spring-fed river in the Bighorn mountains. We put on our cutoffs, tennis shoes, grabbed our fly rods, waded, caught beautiful rainbows, cutthroats, and brown trout on grasshopper patterns. We had the river to ourselves for two days and feasted on fresh trout in the evening. Yes, it was catch and cook. Horror of horrors! It was a trip back to my childhood in Montana and topped all those early experiences because of age adjusted appreciation of what we have in this country. Thankyou Dan and Bonnie for that gift.

My struggle with the side effects of chemotherapy and the uncertainty of the future remain a continuing theme. One on these days my doctor is going to start the visit by inquiring,"same song and verse"? My brain scans remain stable, show no new growth and perhaps some healing of the area around the hole in my brain. Keep the good vibes coming my way.

A young future Nobel laureate has arrived for conversation and dinner. Must not keep him waiting. Love to all, Eric

The year that was

Today marks the one year anniversary of my journey with cancer. Such a year it has been! Someone commented that life doesn't end with the diagnosis, but begins. Every moment is precious and must be lived to the fullest, enjoyed, mused over, recalled, mulled, discussed, and most of all a focus for a moment of thanks for the gift of life given to me by my biologic ancestors and extended by wonderful, loving, skillful, health-care workers in our community- Medford , OR. The joys of the past year have been amplified by the gift of family, friends, and a caring community. Thank you all!

Some highlights of the past twelve months:

Our daughter Maryann wedded a fine gentleman from Denmark and they now make their home in Seattle. Maryann graduated from the University of Rochester medical school in May and I was privileged to hood her in the graduation ceremony. It was a proud moment to see her give the class address to assembled parents, students, and faculty titled,"Mom's rules", a tribute to Marjorie's indelible impact on our children and their outlook on life.

In late October, Jack, our first grandson, arrived about six or seven weeks early, and the family spent anxious weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit while he gained strength. Upon discharge home he promptly had several apparent-life-threatening-events(ALTEs in medical parlance) and returned to the intensive care unit, where it was determined that he had congenital vascular abnormalities around his windpipe and esophagus and required surgical relief. Imagine sewing together wet spaghetti noodles, but they did it, and he was homeward bound in about three days. Since then he has thrived under the love and care of Liz and Tim, his parents, and multiple doting family hangers-on. There are two basic expressions on Jack's face: joy and wonderment, and "is it time to eat yet"? An interesting spectacle is six to ten adults held in rapt attention for hours by the facial expressions of an eight month old; "look, he just gurgled, he will be a talker". It reminds me of that momentous day in the 1950s when we first got TV reception in western Montana. It was some scintillating program like "Industry on Parade", brought to you by Twenty Muleteam Borax soap, and voice over by Ronald Reagen. We couldn't help ourselves, we had to watch!

I am doing well, and am functionally well, but I have to come clean, I am using performance-enhancing drugs, which is my secret term for my monthly chemotherapy. I know I'd be denied a position on the brain-bowl team if they knew I was juicing my brain up with these helpful poisons but the stakes are high and if they will get me the gold of more precious moments I will take the chance and endure the possible embarrassment of public disclosure.

Thanks to all of you who have made this year so precious; family, friends, the Creator of All, you sustain me, power my spirit, and I cast out to all enduring gratitude, vim and vigor, and know that it will make your days more precious as well.

I leave you again with my favorite poem by Emily Dickinson, "Hope" 1861.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops - at all.

And sweetest - in the gale - is heard
and sore must be the storm
that could abash the little Bird
that kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
and on the strangest sea,
yet, never in extremity,
it asked a crumb - of me.

Beam me good wishes and I will return them multi fold. Eric

Skunkology

I passed my 10th month since my brainiectomy and the onset of radiation and chemotherapy. My friends tell me it will take another 10 months to get over the side effects of brain radiation and if they are correct I will fly like Dumbo and be ready for the 2010 Winter Olympics in some sport-probably Curling which requires beer as a nutritional supplement for peak performance. I get monthly chemotherapy which lays me up for about 20 days of the month otherwise I'm able to keep the garden weed free and I get some fishing in.

Living in the West and out in the country we have to be prepared to deal with nature and her forces. The natural world is mystical and complicated and occasionally test the full extension of our senses which brings me to the topic of skunkology. We have a critter here called the digger squirrel which perform as their name implies and in our case is undermining our pumphouse by mining under the structure which insures that we get potable water to the house. I bought a "have-a-heart" trap which permits one to catch these diggers without harming them and theoretically moving them to another part of earth where they can dig without upsetting man's domination of earth and sky. When we returned Monday from our trip to NY to help celebrate our daughter's graduation from medical school I checked the trap and although grass had grown through and obscured the trap, hues of black and white in the trap set off alarm bells that surprise greeted the unwary. My early days in Montana had acquainted me the notion that "black-on-white-something's not right". I initially called my brother-in-law Gordie and accusing him of forgetting to warn me as he had been in charge of checking the trap, but he vociferously denied setting up a surprise party and I accepted his explanation, although he did seem to think the predicament was awfully funny.... I wonder.

Prior experience in Montana as a kid reminded me that lead poisoning(dispatching it with a .22 shot) would stink up the neighborhood for a couple of weeks. I discussed very carefully lifting the cage with a long pole and depositing the skunk and cage in to the garbage can fill with water, but the look on my life-partner's face indicated a veto without possibility of a override vote,and a mishap could result in two to three weeks in a tent, bathing with the goldfish in the pond, a real camping experience until I passed the sniff test. This lead to my introduction to Rodger, a professional, fully credentialed skunkologist.

By phone I laid out to Rodger the topography around the trap, safe avenues of approach depending on the wind direction and escape routes should the mission be compromised, and warned the neighborhood women, children and dogs of our tenuous situation and to stay back until we had neutralized the threat.

I first saw Rodger walking up the path with a rifle and long pole in one hand a holding a big dead skunk by the tail in the other hand. Rodger didn't have front teeth, his fly was open, his clothes looked very comfortable. He had an aire about him. Call it a manly scent-something like "Fifi la phew". He apologized for the delay in getting to our problem but he had along list of calls ahead of mine. I commented that I didn't hear a shot and he explained that he use special ammunition that didn't make noise to dispatch the animal after he gave it a shot of sedative. That explained the syringe in his shirt pocket. 30 minutes later he concluded a 20 year history of skunking and to his belief that the government and bleeding heart liberals were regulating the country to death. He complained that he had to take tests before he could be licensed to dispatch skunks and the questions on the tests were written by people whose only experience with skunks was from Walt Disney's "Bambi". Rodger was now immune to the effects of skunk spray-he couldn't smell it, but that the skunk could squirt 70 feet, five times, and the spray would blind a person temporarily, but not him.

$95 later Rodger and I said goodbye. I wish I had a picture of Rodger with that skunk and his equipment; a most memorable character. I think there a still career opportunities here if people are interested, but remember you have to study, take dumb tests and the liberals are going to regulate you out of business. Love to all, Eric

proof we were there

Mayan territory: sunny, warm, ancient, fun, thought provoking. Eric

A life sentence, not a death sentence

While waiting for my sixth brain MRI yesterday, a friend who is also dealing with cancer, but in remission pointed out that cancer isn't a death sentence, it is a life sentence. She is correct but on some days it takes mental gymnastics to convince ourselves that each moment is especially precious, don't be concerned about the frivolous or mundane cares of the day, and focus on the gift of life and all that it gives us. In the days running up to my MRI the cloak of worry and concern was hard to cast off and innumerable mental, spiritual, and physical exercises didn't give me complete relief.

We returned a few days ago from Mayan country in the Yucatan.When the Roman emperors were throwing early believers in Christ to the lions, the Mayans were perfecting their architecture, astronomy, mathematics, and alphabet. But like the early Christians, Romans, and Greeks, the Mayans couldn't explain life's travails and felt sacrifices to propitiate the gods would purchase them comfort and safety. They carried the cloak of worry, the priests told them the necessary steps to achieve peace of mind, but in retrospect human sacrifice seems an uncomfortable prospect, especially in you are being offered up.

So what did I believe in Mayan territory? The phrase that gave me and my family comfort was "I believe I will have a Dos Equis". How was the weather you ask? Well, apart from an occasional white cap on our martini's, it was most comfortable. The fishing and bird watching in the Sian Ka'an biosphere was wonderful and we look forward to returning and spending more time.

What about the MRI? Well it "looked good" according to my Oncologist, so that cloak of worry lifted from the love of my life and me, and in thanks I ran to the top of the nearest mountain to celebrate, but I think I sprained my knee. Small matter in life's grand scheme, and a reminder of our mother's admonition, "don't overdo".

"the value of life lies not in the length of days but in the use we make of them." Michel de Montaigne

Do good works, love to all, Eric

Smile

Smile, its cost nothing....
but creates much!
It has no earthly good until it is given away.
If someone is too weary to give you a smile, leave one of yours.
No one needs a smile so much as those who have none to share!

We are all sneezing. Spring is here.

The swallows and blue birds are squabbling over the low income rentals we put up in the yard for them. The bluebirds don't like other bluebirds in the neighborhood and swallow get feisty when they see another swallow getting too close to the front door. So it is the season of harsh cheeps, midair flapping and clawing as the 15 bird rentals we put out are fought over.Throw in a wren, titmouse or house finch and the interaviary relationships get really prickly. Why can they just get along?-like people.

I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding. John O'Donohue

Remember, Now is the only time you own. Love to all, Eric
e

Now is the only time you own

Hello all! Greetings on a sunny spring morning. The tree swallows are back early by two to three weeks this year and the pear blossoms are opening early suggesting what? the earth is wobbling on it's axis a little? My view is that all the American dollars flowing into China is tilting the planet and throwing our seasons off a little. Prove I'm wrong!

I continue on my chemotherapy, feel tired, sick, and wonder what the outcome will be. The Sunni shop keeper in Baghdad is visited by the criminal extorting money and goods, al Queda threatening torture and death if he doesn't cooperate, and the Shiite militia wants him out of the neighborhood because his presence remind them of harsh days under Hussein and they are filled with resentment and desire for revenge. He wonders if he can bring his family back from safety in Syria, what will happen to civic order when the Americans pull out, and what the outcome will be. Whatever our daily concerns and fears, his are likely greater, his sleeplessness more persistent, nights longer, days filled with dread and fear. Yet he soldiers on, biologically driven, like the wildebeasts fording the crocodile lined rivers during spring migration in Africa, and spiritually filled with unquenchable hope for certainty, security, and peace. We are one in our fears and hopes.

Obama was here this weekend and spoke to those of us crazy enough to get up a 4:30 am to get in line for a 10:00am appearance. He didn't say anything profound just the usual stump speech. He did talk to us like we were adults and acknowledged and admonished us that there were many sides to most issues and we had to listen to and articulate the opposing sides positions. Whether one agrees with his positions or not he does lift the level of discourse. He has put the "King" back into the "King's English".

HL Mencken offers a glimpse of political discourse from an earlier day for comparison. Are we evolving to a higher state?

"When a candidate for public office faces the voters he does not face men of sense; he faces a mob of men whose chief distinguishing mark is the fact that they are quite incapable of weighing ideas, or even of comprehending any save the most elemental--men whose whole thinking is done in terms of emotion, and whose dominant emotion is dread of what they cannot understand. So confronted, the candidate must either bark with the pack or be lost... All the odds are on the man who is, intrinsically, the most devious and mediocre--the man who can most adeptly disperse the notion that his mind is a virtual vacuum. The Presidency tends, year by year, to go to such men. As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron."

- H. L. Mencken, in the Baltimore Sun, July 26, 1920.

The Jehovah's Witnesses are at the door. Three very kind gentlemen visit me regularly, leave me free books, earnestly convey the message in the Bible and that all the answers are there. They think they have me nibbling on the bait, but actually I have them sniffing the bait and hidden hook around the idea that maybe there is something to the idea that Life's DNA is always changing, offering new life forms a chance to succeed or fail, and that life didn't begin 4000 years ago on a Thursday morning with the wave a some old guy's hand. We haven't touched on the subject of why the Creator has to be a man yet. We have to get the intelligent design-evolution subject settled first.

Now is the only time you own. Use it well. Love to all, Eric

Eight months and counting

Well, I just had my sixth brain MRI and I want to thank all of you who pay your health insurance premiums for supporting me through this ordeal. I apologize for running up the cost of health care by repeatedly using this most expensive technology. One would think that a frequent flier like me would get an occasional freebie. At least when you go to the car wash they punch your ticket and every tenth on is free. Good luck Obama in getting your arms around this one.

The report on the MRI was good.... or as the doctors like to say "there was nothing there". I assume they don't mean that my brain went missing, but that the tumor is not visible. We assume the tumor cells are still in my brain hidden away in my love center which is warm and toasty and they are fleeing madly from the hate center which is cold, frosty and very inhospitable. Thus I'm on chemotherapy monthly to mop up residual cancer collections and again I thank you and apologize for using this expensive therapy($150 a pill-four daily). I tried to get the meds through Canada at one-third the cost but it is now against the law and my insurance company wouldn't cover the cost if I chose that route. Sigh!

Fatigue and lack of stamina are the big side effects of the chemo and if I leave my feet for long a nap is close behind. Such a waste of time.

Bimonthly MRIs and monthly chemo will be the norm for the future. Most of the time the tumor is back within 15 months, but some people go four years or rarely even decades before the tumor reappears. We are always hopeful for new therapies that extend quality life.

Margie and I and the family extend our loving thanks to all of you for your kindness and support.

Valentine's day thoughts

These thoughts on love were collated by Ben Schott and I pass them on to you not as mine but something we share.

From the Hindus who recognized the symptoms of love:
1. Love of the Eyes
2. Attraction of the mind
3. Birth of desire
4. Loss of sleep
5. Loss of flesh
6. Indifference to objects of sense
7. Loss of shame
8. Distraction of thought
9. Loss of consciousness
10. Death


Hollywood definition of love in 1918- the formula for love at first sight

Enlarge the eyes to indicate wonder,
then smile, suffuse the face , to register satisfaction,
ending in pointed brows by which one interrogates.
The chest heaves to indicate the heart has been stirred to the nethermost depths,
followed by determination to have her at any cost;
this is shown by a toss of the head, thrust of the chin, and tense clenching of the fists.

This was followed by Ricardo and Lucy in single beds in I Love Lucy- very suggestive leaving little to the imagination- at what might be going on, to Desperate Housewifes, where we are told too much with no punctuation. How far we have fallen in 90 years.



My favorite

Love:-What a Volume in a Word

An Ocean in a Tear,
A Seventh Heaven in a Glance,
A Whirlwind in a Sigh,
The Lightening in a Touch, and
A Millennium in a Moment

by Martin Farquhar Tupper

Thank you Martin

Happy Valentine's Day. Love to All, Eric

mind-body connection

I had an unusual experience yesterday which I share, but first some background. I listen to the programs on public radio about the mind-body connection but really never connected to the idea. When I got sick I read Norman Cousins' books "Anatomy of an Illness' and "Head First" which dealt with his experiences as a patient and how the mind-body connection impacts a persons recovery and how attitude and frame of mind can influence the immune system and help patients overcome poor prognosis illnesses-particularly cancer. I believe his message and have made it a point to surround myself with positive people, humor, inspiring literature, good music and constantly remind myself how fortunate I am. In spite of this I have down days with fatigue, sleepiness, nausea, and discouragement. Yesterday was one of those days. I was running an errand and turned on the radio about 4pm and they announce that Obama was the projected winner in So. Carolina. Suddenly my symptoms disappeared and I felt ebullient. A man who has a message of hope resonated with me, and he had won a political skirmish, and I felt hopeful. The mind-body connection at work? I believed it before, now I know it! Eric

Sharing

Sharing is a multidirectional journey. ONE famous teacher said that " it is by giving that you receive". As we unfold our story many of you have shared stories , jokes, essays, prayers, and sentiments which reflect the glory of humanities' thoughts, aspirations, arguments, and hopes over the ages flavored by the rainbow of our daily senses.

As you know we lost our pet laborador on Christmas Eve and Margie and I note daily how our walks down the lane to get the mail or the paper, winter-time yard duties, feeding and grooming schedule absent the dog have left a big absence in our family structure. We aren't anxious to replace her( couldn't possibly be done anyway) because of our other tenuous situations and the desire to travel while time permits.We received this short essay by Henry Beston from a sister traveler and dog lover. We share with you. Thanks Elise.

Animals

We need another and wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creatures through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image
in distortion. We patronize animals for their incompleteness, for their tragic fated of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err.

For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world order and more complete that ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings, they are other nations caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.



Worry looks about, sorrow looks back, faith looks up, and hope looks forward. We test each position and make a nest where we find comfort. I hop from nest to nest-but I think hope is warmest and provides greatest comfort.

Thanks to all for sharing. Eric

Reprieve

Friday, I got the news the inmate on death row wants to hear, you got a reprieve. My doctor came in the room and told Margie and I that the brain scan looked great. Plus, I'm feeling better daily as the fatigue associated with the brain radiation and intense chemotherapy has begun to wear off. I still get chemotherapy five days out of 28 and this disagrees with me but is tolerable considering the alternatives. Now we wait another two months to see if the next brain scan remains static, and so on for the next couple of years.

Brain recovery requires intense rehabilitation, constant application, hardship, struggle against disappointment and failure, inclement weather, missed meals, and insensitive ribbing from so-called friends. In spite of this I soldier on and have challenged myself to force myself to fish at least three times weekly this coming year.

I find inspiration from many sources these days and have found the bible to provide solutions to many situations, but Sunday when I fell down in 38 degree water while fishing the bible didn't contain the proper language.

Thank all of you for your kindnesses, prayers, good wishes and support. You feed my soul. Eric