From Pixels To Print: A Revelation

My writing is ethereal. I don’t mean heavenly, I mean that instead of existing in reality, it exists on laptops and flat-screen monitors, Google phones and iPads. Pixels on screens bringing my words to you. So it has been, and so it continues to be.

Until now. Responding to some requests, I have emailed the text of my (as of yet unproduced) play to friends and relatives. I send the copies as PDFs, with the assumption that those kind enough to read the play will peruse it on whatever screen is at the nearest at whatever time is convenient.

But one friend pushed that little print icon on her screen (intentionally, I hope) and was soon swamped by 90 pages of my words, or rather the words of the half-dozen characters in my prison-life drama. She read and enjoyed and told me so.

I wasn’t home when she brought the pages to our house yesterday, so she left them with a request that I sign the cover page and return it to her. And I plan to do that. But not until I have spent time enjoying the pleasure of seeing my work in print.

I know I could have printed a copy at any time, just as I could have printed out any of my blogs. But I never have. I never saw the need to. But now seeing my work in print–even in this informal copy–changes my outlook on the play and on myself. It compares to when I was introduced to someone in the neighborhood and she said “I know your name, you’re the writer.”

If I can get this far I can go further. It may be with the current play, it may be with something else that I choose to write, or publish, or produce. I’ve got lots of time ahead of me, and a keyboard that calls to me.

And this time around, I may use the printer, too!

Want to read more of my blogs and keep track of how I am doing? Just enter your email address to subscribe.

Zoom, Ghosts, and the Case of the Elusive Joe: A Comedy of Professional Errors

“Hi Les – We are currently looking into an investment in the pathology space and are looking for an expert that can engage with us as an advisor and potential board member. Are you open to an opportunity like this? Would be great to schedule some time to chat this week or early next week. Best, Joe“
LinkedIn

The LinkedIn invitation came early this week. As you have read in a previous post, I’ve been puttering around in various professional capacities since retirement, and this sounded like a possible puttering opportunity. I messaged back expressing potential interest, but warning “Joe” that I wasn’t a big fan of venture capital and private equity funding, particularly in health care. Joe assured me that his company took good care not just of the investors, but of physicians and patients as well.

I retained my doubts, but after Joe and I exchanged a few more messages, I accepted his invitation to a Zoom meeting on Thursday morning. In preparation, I researched Joe and his Capital partners (all seemed legitimate) and cleared my schedule (sorry Cooper, no morning walk for you.)

Just before 9 a.m. I booted up my balky desktop computer, focused the camera, and logged in on the prescribed Zoom link. I was alone. Fearing I had logged into the wrong site, I logged out and logged back in. Still no Joe.

Staring at the blank screen, I typed a LinkedIn message to Joe, very politely asking him where the hell he was. After 20 minutes of patient waiting, I exited Zoom and said goodbye to my opportunity to become “an advisor and potential board member.”

After 24 hours there was no apology or explanation from Joe. Now after 48 hours, he has remained a ghost. I have concluded that either:

Joe was hit by a car
Joe was fired
Joe found a better candidate
The whole thing was a scam

Am I cruel to hope a speeding SUV was involved?

It’s not the first time I have been ghosted. A bookkeeper disappeared on me a few years ago. A bookkeeper/pilot, I think she flew the coop. That episode was more significant; I had to scramble to get my corporate income tax completed on time that year. Am I foolish to think people involved in commerce would be more reliable?

How about you? Professional ghost stories? Reply or email me at chidoc@post.com and I’ll collect and publish the most unusual tales.

Don’t forget to share the blog, and please subscribe! No charge, no spam.

Want some politics? Click Here.

26 And Me. The Unhandy Side Of Retirement

Did you read my blog detailing my first year of retirement? If you did, and I hope that was the case, you read about travel and pickleball, playwriting and volunteering. What you didn’t see was a description of any of the multitude of home improvement projects that kept me busy. There is a good reason I didn’t include them in my post. You see, there were none. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

To be quite clear about it, my Y chromosome totally lacks the Y326798g gene, more colloquially known as the “HandyMan Gene.” First identified in Bob Villa’s righthand-man Norm Abram of This Old House fame, with a variant discovered in Home Improvement’s Al Borland 10 years later, it is Y326798g that gives a man the confidence and the ability to hang drywall, paint a baseboard, and to cut once without measuring twice. I just have a big, gnarly, gene deletion where that stretch of DNA should be. It’s a gap only CRISPR could repair.

Despite my genetic deletion, there are some minor repairs and adjustments I am capable of accomplishing. For instance, Barb has repeatedly reminded me that the pair of twin beds in one of the loft bedrooms are as close to collapse as the Berlin Wall had been in the autumn of 1989. In an attempt to avoid an international incident, I lugged my toolbox (more on that later) up the stairs, used trial and error to select the proper hex wrench, and in the span of slightly less than one hour tightened the 16 bolts that kept the two Bob’s Discount Furniture beds from falling apart. Tragedy averted!

Now about the toolbox. I may use them rarely, but I have a lot of tools in that black box; 26 pounds worth, to be exact. It has an insert tray of wrenches and another of screwdrivers. It contains whatchamacallits and thing-a-ma-jigs and even a petite-sized hand saw with a rusty blade that reeks of tetanus spores. Where most of the tools came from is a mystery to me, but I love their brilliant patina. I just can’t recall buying any of those wrenches, screwdrivers, thing-a-ma-jigs, or either of the two hammers that nestle at the bottom of the rectangular box.

I did make one significant tool purchase recently. The ancient electric drill we inherited from my father-in-law drilled its last hole a few months ago, ending its life in a blaze of sparks. Feeling emasculated not owning a working driller (a name bestowed upon drills by a long-ago Israeli boyfriend of our daughter Laury) I ventured into Home Depot and found a menacing-looking battery-powered model for under a hundred dollars. I have only used it once, but it looks cool hanging in the garage. At least, it looks cool to me.

So if any of you need help with something around the house, please don’t call me for my help or my advice. But I will be happy to lend you my tools, all 26 pounds of them. You can borrow my cool drill too. Just be sure to return it to its spot of glory on the garage wall. I might even find a use for it–someday soon.

Like the blog?

DON’T FORGET TO SHARE

Subscribe to our blog! No spam ever.

Retired But Going Strong!

2023 is past. All the good, and fortunately, all the evil, that has been part of the last year is behind us. And for me, it has been a unique first year of retirement.

I have written in the past about the various ways that a retired physician can spend his time. So how did I wind up spending those last 12 months? In ways that I anticipated, and in ways that I couldn’t have imagined.

I am frequently asked, “Do you miss going to work every day?“ My unflinching answer is that while I miss the people and some of the challenges, I have no fond memories of the commute or the daily routine. I know I have performed my job well for over 40 years and I’m glad to be free of the constraints it brought.

I have not dropped out of the professional world completely. A few consulting positions allow me to explore the non-clinical side of pathology. While I have spent less time doing this than I originally anticipated, I am glad I have kept my toes in the water.

Volunteering has been a bit of hit or miss. When I originally enrolled to volunteer at the local high school, I didn’t realize that various security snafus would stretch my application process to close to six months! Finally approved, I was disappointed to discover that the volunteer opportunities have been fairly limited. I did enjoy my one assignment, chaperoning students in the school’s Hebrew language class to an Israeli movie in Chicago.

The Northern Illinois Food Bank in Lake County has been a more fruitful place to volunteer. Whether packaging cereal, energy bars, or russet potatoes for local food pantries, the time spent at the food bank is rewarding and an opportunity to socialize with fellow volunteers, including Kris Ford, the mayor of Riverwoods.

Stealing a line from Monty Python, “For those of you who don’t like sport, there’s sport.” After years of resistance, Pickleball has won me over while tennis seems to be disappearing in my rearview mirror. I’ve found amiable companions for leisurely rounds of golf and mid-length bicycle rides. The bowling bug hasn’t spared me, though I find those spares (and strikes) hard to come by.

Our travel time has been special, both with friends and family in the USA and Mexico, and while discovering family roots and Jewish history while exploring Europe.

Despite my increased “leisure” time, the number of blogs that I wrote this year, compared with years past, has diminished. I suspect this is due to the time I have devoted to writing a pair of plays. I hope at least one of those will see the light of day (or night) at a theater near you.

Unanticipated was my opportunity to serve as “First Gentleman.” Barb’s activism as president of our homeowners’ association led to the successful prevention of the construction of a poorly planned and poorly located logistics center. The work of Barb and other neighborhood leaders has been recognized by the local print and broadcast media. Work on statewide legislation is next on her agenda.

Times with family and friends, times deep inside novels of mystery and suspense, and times binge-watching TV series with Barb have occupied most of the other quiet moments. What little free time remained was used to digest the surprise diagnosis of celiac disease. Goodbye flaky French croissants, hello to a world of gluten-free bread and pasta.

Bit I am not complaining. It has been a wonderful year, in a wonderful life.

To subscribe to our blog, enter your email address below. No spam, ever!