Hey, I killed bin Laden! What more do you want?

I'm having trouble understanding how the President could have the stones to order a daring Special Ops search and destroy mission to take out Osama bin Laden--this after being the worst wimp imaginable during the health care debate and now showing signs of knuckling under to the Repigs when the budget bill is finally passed. After the constant threat of government shutdown for weeks, they apparently decided that shutting it down would not have the dramatic effect they wanted. Then, the news cycle having abandoned the fallout in Japan and the devastation of monster tornadoes in the U.S. South, it took up the increasingly annoying "why doesn't Obama produce his birth certificate" being trumpeted by Trump in his most boorish and self-aggrandizing manner.
Apparently even a President can't get hold of his "long form" birth certificate (who knew they even existed?) without a Papal dispensation. But it was finally obtained and displayed in all its glory, whereupon the Birthers all screamed that it was a fake. Everyone knows that the CIA can create any document you want! Then, a miracle occurred.
President Obama gave the order to have Osama bin Laden killed. The government knew where he was holed up and the Navy Seals were sent to do what they do best. They shot an unarmed bin Laden in the head, according to some reports in view of his wife and daughter. Four other men were killed in the raid, but not one American! This was Obama's moment of glory, and for once he milked it and took advantage of the spike in popularity that this event precipitated. 70% of the U.S. people now believe Obama walks on water. There was the solemn ceremony at Ground Zero with the 9/11 survivors at which the Master Speechmaker and Master of Gravitas did not make a speech because there are no words to describe the horror of what occurred that day almost 10 years ago. I have to admit that it was classy of him to pass up a golden opportunity to underline his recent achievement. Problem is, the wingnuts lost no time in giving the torture that occurred under GW Bush the credit for killing bin Laden, not Obama. And now we have "Deathers" (whom I suspect to be the same folks as the Birthers) who are saying that he's not really dead, and if he is, Obama can't take the credit because it was Bush's waterboarding that supplied the info. (Bush was invited to the Ground Zero ceremony but declined the invitation--the stinking little weasel knows very well that he would appear to be even more of a stinking little weasel alongside Obama.) The indisputable fact that Bush was the cause of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon seems to have gotten lost in all the fanfare. In fact, Bush is an even bigger mass murderer than bin Laden if you count the thousands who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan in the course of Bush's wars which never would have been started if Bush were not in the White House. And unlike bin Laden, Bush will never be the recipient of the harsh justice he deserves because Obama lacks the political will to pursue him, Cheney, Rove, Rumsfeld and the rest of the Bush Crime Family, as Mike Malloy calls it.

The fake news media are still having a field day 5 days later. Should the grisly photo of bin Laden with his skull blown off be published for all to see? "No drama Obama" predictably decided against it, even though there are good arguments on both sides of this issue. Strangely enough, Americans don't trust their government enough to take their word for it that bin Laden is really dead. Hey, can we see those DNA test results? Supposedly certain members of Congress have been discreetly shown the photo. We are supposed to believe them, I guess. But when you realize that pics can be easily photoshopped, there would be no way of knowing if an "official" photo was really what it claimed to be.

I don't want to see it.
What gets me is that
a) the Pakistani government undoubtedly knew that bin Laden was holed up in this compound for years and never told us after receiving billions in aid from the U.S.
b) that same government is now chastising Obama for having bin Laden killed
c) al Qaeda and the Taliban have acknowledged the death of their leader and are calling him a martyr. (Isn't that as good as proof that he's dead?)
d) We are still dicking around in Afghanistan when we could be getting out of there NOW since there is no more mission there. (Actually, we have suspected for years that b.L. was in Pakistan, not Afghanistan, and thousands of lives have been sacrificed in the name of destroying the Taliban, which no military venture can do.)
e) And what exactly is our mission in Iraq?

I am relieved that b.L. is dead. Had he been captured, there would have been an endless circus surrounding his trial, and every crazy terrorist organization in the world would be rallying around him and grandstanding. Had he been buried on land, they would have erected a shrine at the gravesite where all the criminally insane acolytes could gather. I am against the death penalty for ordinary individuals and I do not exult in anyone's death, no matter how heinous their crimes. But I would not have hesitated to kill Hitler if I had the opportunity, and b.L. falls into the Hitler category of Individuals Extremely Dangerous to Humanity who must be put down like rabid dogs to prevent the death and suffering of thousands, even millions. A long prison sentence simply allows a worshipful cult to spring up around the monster, and there is always the possibility that the laws will change and he will be released at some time in the future. We can't take that chance.

My friend Peter Gluck saw the towers burst into flames and was physically ill and permanently traumatized by the spectacle. Others saw people jumping from the burning skyscrapers. It was bad enough to see the same shot repeated endlessly on TV for days and weeks until it burned itself into your brain. Curtiss and I went to Ground Zero in Oct. or Nov. of that year and you could still smell the mixture of plastic, chemicals, ashes, and burned flesh in the air. On the fences surrounding the footprint of the Towers were posters with names and photos of the missing loved ones who would never be found. To this day when I drive across the Manhattan Bridge and see the bare space where the Towers once stood, tears come to my eyes and a heartsick feeling overwhelms me. Yes, it was Osama bin Laden and al Quaeda's plot, but George Bush bears the responsibility for allowing it to happen. I cannot and will not forgive him.

Another post in 2011

I'm just not a blogger.
I try to be, but I can never think of anything to blog about.
Oh, I have something! I'll be going to Ecuador to visit my son on May 10.
I've never been South of the border and I only know a few words of Spanish! Eek.
It will be SuzCC's big adventure. If PeeWee can have one, I can.
It will take me 2 flights and 12 hours to get there. Longer than to Europe and you can't get a direct flight. I will be touring the jungle (is that different from the rain forest?) for several days and will have to take anti-malaria medicine before I leave. To get my money's worth, I am demanding to see at least one monkey, parrot, snake, tarantula, and wild orchid.

More later.

I have not posted here in 2 years

No one ever reads this blog even though I have put a link on Facebook. Maybe it needs another link...

Update: Curtiss OK, no cancer return, but still residual pain.
I'm more or less not OK. Not to have a pity party, but I am stressed to the max. Between worry about Curtiss' physical and mental well-being, my finances (we are only just getting by thanks to my stringent efforts at economizing, which means that indulgences are rare and every purchase must be justified.) Also my own health--for once I am free of uveitis, no longer taking tamoxifen, but one thing about aging is that it always seems to cause little pieces of bricks and mortar to crumble so that eventually the entire edifice collapses. I suspect that I have nascent arthritis in my hands and my left hip. I have had various tooth mishaps lately (crown for back molar, chipped front tooth) probably hastened by the fact that I ground my teeth while sleeping since I was a tot, and have thereby weakened whatever enamel still remains. I get this picture of myself in a few years as a cartoon character whose teeth become covered with cracks and then fall apart like a windshield.

I am also stressed by the fact that my book on comping is nowhere near complete and I have allowed the editor to place me under the gun to finish by April 1, 2011. Even though i realize that it doesn't matter if the book is published in 2011 or 2012. It matters for Berklee press because I am costing them money until it is ready to be sold.
Wage slavery...

And, last but not least, there is the economy which continues to suck for all musicians. I had a meltdown the other night during which I chastised myself repeatedly for ever becoming a musician when I could have gone to grad school and had a real career of some kind. In what other field do you make less money than you did 30 years ago? Back then it was $50 plus a meal or a drink and it's still that today, which in 2010 dollars probably amounts to almost nothing. I don't need to elaborate on the obvious never-ending frustration and gnashing of teeth (teeth again) over the minimally talented musicians who have successfully stoked the star maker machine while I languish in oblivion because I wasted 19 years playing at the Four Seasons and not promoting myself. And now I'm too old to get another career, so I am stuck with a last-ditch attempt to launch myself on my own petard. Poor little me.

Operation

Hi friends and fans of Curtiss. This blog will update you on Curtiss' condition following his surgery tomorrow, May 18, at 11:20 at Brigham and Women's Hospital.

Curtiss is calm and in a good mood, which is much better than I would be in this situation. He just made lobster for dinner. We don't know when he will be able to eat lobster again. Or even when he will eat again, since following the surgery he will be fed through a tube.

Much courage is called for now, as well as good wishes and healing thoughts. I am focusing on the thought that Curtiss will be cured of cancer. These doctors are great and they will take good care of him.

I will post tomorrow night.

Weight Watchers again

I joined Weight Watchers for the second time in 6 years.
Last time, I lost 10 pounds and then got stuck and could not lose any more. So I quit. I hated it because I could not stay within my points guidelines and it made me feel like a failure. I was hungry all the time.
But this March, after watching the video of my concert at Berklee and being horrified by how fat and old I looked, I decided it was time. I re-joined March 2. This time, although i am allowed fewer daily points, they have something called Weekly Points Allowance which gives you 35 extra points to play with so you don't feel deprived and can still lose weight. It's working. I have lost 10 lbs. again in 6 weeks. I need to lose about 25 more. Not sure I can do this. But I have to control SOMETHING about my life. I was eating for comfort ever since C. was diagnosed. WW is teaching me how to eat healthily. Truthfully, I had lost my taste for food, but I was still shovelling it in. Now I enjoy eating more. I've become a vegetarian (except for fish and seafood because I need a source of lean protein besides tofu) Reading The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan did it for me. I can no longer support the meat and poultry industry in this country--animals are tortured and made to live in abominable conditions.
So...losing weight, becoming an addicted denizen of the WW message boards.

Also meditating again for the first time in over 10 years. It calms and comforts me. I read a chapter of Pema Chodron or Chogyam Trongpa before my sitting practice. They explain how to be a warrior (one who is brave--not one who kills people)
I have been a warrior all my life according to their description, but I could be a better one. More practiced. More dignified.
Less afraid to face things. I will never get it all together, but I will be precise, experience joy and the genuine heart of sadness.
Everything is manangeable, workable, they say. Even cancer. I come up against the wall of my fear and guilt about not supporting C. enough and losing patience with him. I am compassionate with myself, over and over. But I am still afraid. Of the future, with a bad economy and not enough money, with debts I have to pay. With a boyfriend who will be sick for a very long time. I often feel I cannot bear it, but escape is not an option.
"The Wisdom of No Escape," a remarkable book by Pema. I have read it several times. She brings Buddhism down to a mundane, everyday level. It is comforting to know that she does not have it all together after many, many years as both a Buddhist nun and director of Gampo Abbey in Nova Scotia. Trongpa's book, The Sacred Path of the Warrior, is a little more arcane and abstract. Still, it's unquestionably full of truth. The Dharma speaks to me much more than Judeo-Christian theology. More later, it's too late at night to write any more...

Staring into the abyss?

I might be.
Or, more accurately, we might be, Curtiss and I.
C. has had more pain (significantly) in the past few days. He feels it in the esophagus and when he swallows.
This should not be happening. I thought that the radiation shrank the tumor. How could it have grown? If, in fact, it did grow?
We are waiting for the results of the PET scan. I am feeling a sense of dread.
I don't know if I can endure this much longer.
There is no end in sight.
Tonight, when I played at the Island Merchant in Hyannis with Bart Weisman, I ran into 80 year old Sal at the bar, who says he had stage 3 colon cancer back in 1980, refused to have chemo, and is miraculously still with us.
I also found out that Bart's brother, who had a bone marrow transplant 2 yrs ago and was doing well, is no longer doing well and may only have months to live.
Cancer is a vicious, capricious fiend.

Not a good day

I had a bad day today in the sense that even after I meditated and went for a walk, I still felt the weight of cancer upon me. C. is better at distracting himself, watching episodes of The Wire over and over. I realized that it is Spring Break and I am not having enough fun. Tonight I went to see The Watchmen with my son. (C. was asleep-I will see it again with him) As I sat in the waiting room for radiation, I realized I just didn't want to be there. I don't always feel this way, but today, for some reason, I kept starting to cry and trying not to, until I locked myself in the rest room at Brigham and Women's Hospital and gave vent for a few minutes. Crying is like throwing up--there is a certain point past which you can't stop it. But having to return to the public stopped it for me. C. and I met with the radiation oncologist and I realized that I hadn't had any feedback about C. from a doctor. C. likes this doc a lot, and I liked him too--he was very engaged with us, and upbeat. He said things were going just as they should. This should have cheered me up, and it did for a while, but sadness lingered the rest of the day. I have a cold that will not quit, and I was exhausted mid-afternoon, took a nap, and then went to the movie. You'd think I was the one with cancer.
I was actually better at bearing up under my own cancer, probably because it was early stage and is considered 96% cured, or however they express it. Maybe tomorrow will be better. The guy from Novartis and his cameraman are coming to film me for the study. I hope I don't have to watch the film afterwards--it's hard to see myself looking 10 lbs heavier and saggy and middle-aged. I'm entirely too vain to face the reality of my deteriorating looks. I have to somehow make the shift to focussing more on my interior than my exterior.