It’s New Year’s Eve. Another storm is on its way and I am doing what I always do.
Wishing you all the berry berry best for the new year.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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What I See When My Eyes Are Closed
December 30, 2009 By
This is what I see when my eyes are open.
Click here to see what I see when my eyes are closed.
Same spot. Same Queen Anne’s Lace.
Just going through a little transition thingy.
Just like me, come to think of it.
I got my Medicare A and B card in the mail last week in anticipation of my 65th birthday in February.
I had gone to the mailbox head high, shoulders straight, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. I was looking like the summer Queen Anne’s Lace image for illustrative purposes.
I opened the envelope containing the card as I turned to walk back to my door. By the time I got to the door, I looked like this current December image of the Queen Anne’s Lace.
I remember these paper Medicare cards from my years of parental caregiving. Showing them at doctor’s offices and filling out forms.
They are thin cardboard cards that do not appear rugged enough to take us into our medical old age. They crinkle and wrinkle in your wallet. The ink fades and sometimes rubs off entirely. I should laminate it, I guess, but for right now, I am transitioning to the thought of being 65, of being on Medicare, saying goodbye 2009, hello, 2010 sorta thing and these endless and ultimately meaningless ‘end of a decade” media lists of the best and worst things is making me crazier than normal.
“The 10 best Craps I’ve taken” is surely coming in some online publication. Now, that phrase just gave me the first laugh out loud since opening the Medicare A & B envelope.
Thank you, sense of humor. Stick around, will ya? I think I’ll be needing you in the years ahead.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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Gale Force December
December 29, 2009 By
I must really really like photography.
It is 9 degrees.
I’m at the beach.
Gale force winds predicted for all day.
Gusts up to 55 mph.
Me crazy.
What’s the craziest thing you’ve done for your creativity?
©Pat Coakley 2009
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Twilight Run
December 28, 2009 By
The snows of yesterday (literally) disappeared overnight following a driving rain storm and it was also the first day I felt well enough to go out and do what I usually do: take photographs.
Weather interferes with ritual in New England. Illness interferes with it in all geographical locations.
I felt a layer of depression lifting as I gathered my equipment, checking the sky through the window, the light, the clouds. Yes, it would be a good time to go out.
The thing that has always bothered me about those debating the merits of health care reform is that they do so while having superior health insurance themselves as part of their job.
No one in the country has better health insurance than the President of the United States and each and every Senator and Congressman and their families. When they start saying their vote is contingent on single issues, ie. abortion language, I would like them to also say that if passed, they would be willing to give up their own health insurance and those of their family for this same principle. That is what they are asking the 40 million plus folks who have no health insurance right now to do.
Fair is fair. If you believe so much in something, show me how deeply you believe in it. A no vote isn’t how you show me as you continue to present your insurance card to the doctor’s secretary.
I’m not one of the 40 plus million without health insurance, but it doesn’t take Mother Theresa to empathize or an accountant with a green visor to calculate the sums.
Taking a run with your dog at twilight becomes possible once again when the snow drifts melt leaving room for man, beast, and cars to safely round corners.
Photographing this ritual is possible for me due to a second antibiotic. It appears to be working. Fingers crossed.
Seriously, if I’m born when my parents were–1905, 1907–instead of 1945, what would I be doing? Crossing my fingers would be the only option.
And, if I were born when I was, in 1945, and didn’t have health insurance in 2009, what would I be doing?
I would have gone to an emergency room and hoped like hell that they didn’t turn me away and the wait was not interminable. The cost of that visit to the taxpayer (if they treat me) is far more expensive than a trip to my doctor’s office.
Or, I’d simply wait it out and hope the infection didn’t kill me. (I think George Washington died from complications from a cold so the waiting it out strategy doesn’t always work.)
In case you are not yet convinced that the over 40 million plus folks without health insurance need us to reform our system, I suggest you get sick and keep getting sicker and sicker –or better yet, watch your child get sicker and sicker–not because you live at the turn of the last century and the drugs are not available– but because you can’t afford to get them and instead you are going to cross your fingers hoping that folks with the Cadillac/Rolls Royce/Bentley/Lamborghini of health insurance plans as well as raging religious views shall do the right thing.
Heath Care Reform–running home at twilight, racing even, before night falls.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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Smarmy Slick Sweepstakes. And the award goes to….
December 27, 2009 By
Like many folks, I am on antibiotics and hoping this batch will work as the previous prescription didn’t get the job done. If I was the template for the “pioneer” woman, not one female would have crossed the Mississippi. I am no good when I am sick. Not brave. I just curl up thinking the end is near.
I did however go to a movie on Christmas Day. “Up in the Air” with George Clooney.
It has been recommended by many critics and nominated for all sorts of awards. Many critics ballyhooing that the director, the same director of “Juno” and ‘Thank-you for Smoking”, Jason Reitman, has shown his chops, his true directing chops in this movie.
One critic suggested the chemistry of Clooney and his female counterpoint, is the chemistry of Tracy and Hepburn, Bogart and Bacall.
Yo. Whooeyman. Play your song for someone else.
I knew Tracy and Hepburn and my friends–Clooney and Farmiga are no Tracy and Hepburn.
The only way they are bigger than life would be if their images were made into an official and tradeable “fathead“, those life size wall graphics my nine year old grand nephew loves of his sports gods.
These main characters were to be pitied right from the start and it went down from there despite their smokin’ chemistry of reward cards. If your only goal in life is to get a free upgrade and 10 million mile card (one that only seven other loser humans have received) from an airline, then, you’d better be darn good looking for me to be able to stand you for an hour and half. They were good looking so I stayed in my seat.
This movie should be nominated for a COTY award, the Oscars of the advertising industry. American Airlines agreed to be THE airline in a movie all about the “rewards” of flying and “privileges”awarded to customers who fly for a living. One of the rewards of this movie, but not of real life, is that there are no weather delays, no turbulence in flight, no standing around for hours prior to boarding, no sitting on the tarmac for hours waiting to take-off, no bomb makers smokin’ up the aisle, and no toddlers disrupting your flight in first class, aka Ivana Trump. Read this for your first class laugh of the day.
In return for allowing their name to be used in the film, they made available their 747′s or gates when shooting called for it. Usually, there would be a substantial “fee” for this availability.
I’m trying to imagine Spencer Tracy saying to Katherine Hepburn (they were on the silver screen when trains ruled transportation) what he wanted most in life would be to get his own personalized Twentieth Century Limited train card.
Jason Reitman made a movie about shallow souls flirting with depth. After seeing his “Juno” and now, “Up in the Air”, I suspect the director is a bit confused himself as to which is shallow and which is depth.
In this way, he is totally tuned into his times, however, and maybe does deserve an academy award.
Imagine for a moment, seeing an old campaign button, “John Edwards for President” for sale in a memorabilia kiosk.
This would be my candidate for the Shallow Slick Sick award (SSS) , perhaps of all time.
So, Mr. Reitman’s decision to attach George Clooney to this smarmyfest of shallow-slick sweepstakes is, well, there’s just no other way to phrase it…it’s an upgrade to First Class.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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Christmas Eve in Washington, DC
December 24, 2009 By
At about the time I am driving to the store for some last minute grocery items this morning, 7 AM, the legislation for Health Reform is supposed to be voted on in Washington, DC. I am not going to turn on the TV this morning so I am using this photo I took from the TV last year on Inauguration Day.
The talking heads are no doubt bloviating as I write this, and perhaps there’s even a countdown clock on CNN till the vote.
I do not pretend to understand all the complexities of this legislation nor the process of its legislative journey. Before I press “publish” on this post, I’m going to check on-line “washingtonpost.com” to make sure there’s not some last second legislative obstacle or sudden death of one of the “yea” voters. (Senator Byrd, please don’t eat anything not tested by an aide first, OK?)
I know that previous Presidents have said heath care reform desperately needed to be done for the health of the nation as well as its citizens and yet each President couldn’t do it for one reason or another. Now, on this Christmas Eve 2009, it is closer to being law than ever before.
As it is written, it appears to disappoint and to enrage many near a microphone but for the millions of us without a lavalier (lapel microphone), it feels like victory is being snatched from the jaws of defeat.
On this cold, wintry day, I doff my cap (or ear muffs) to a legislative body still in session and a President who has not yet been a year in office.
There may be no poetry in politics but I believe with this legislation some promises have been kept despite miles to go before we sleep.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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“Tis the Season”
December 22, 2009 By
Amid holiday parties, an anonymous person tacked a message to a community bulletin board: “Sometimes I get so tired of masquerading that I am happy.”
I was asked how to respond professionally.
Like a friend, I said.
Write on the same note and leave it in exact spot where it was originally pinned to the bulletin board.
“I know what you mean. Call me. (Telephone number of center’s counselor)”
The mornings are very cold here and, now, dark as well. The sun does not make it’s appearance until nearly 7 AM.
When I drive at this early morning hour, I understand many more things that require no academic training. Black ice. Beauty. Memory of Christmas Past. Headlights.
I am not alone.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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Before the Storm, The Series
December 20, 2009 By
I began this “Before the Storm, The Series” last year.
I took this photograph yesterday mid-day of the lifeguard chair (familiar to those of you who visit regularly) about ten hours before the storm.
This morning we have 12 inches of snow on this beach after a blizzard that has been making travel very difficult for travelers up and down the East coast of the United States. It is our turn.
Here are some of the images from this series last year. The sky always tells me the forecast. Don’t you agree?
©Pat Coakley 2009
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Something’s the matter with Mary
December 19, 2009 By
Well, thank-you, someone.
Perhaps, someone drunk. Angry. Someone who’s had it and is not going to take it anymore and throws Mary in the pond.
Sometimes, six days before Christmas, you just go to the pond near your house before a blizzard and you find the image that sums up what it feels like to no longer be a Catholic.
It’s my creche.
Do you think I can construct it in front of the Town Hall?
©Pat Coakley 2009
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Santa Salmon
December 17, 2009 By
Who knew?
One can flunk jacuzzi 101.
I stepped into a jacuzzi that is adjacent to the indoor pooi at the YMCA. It was occupied by one man with the same color hair as mine-white. He’d been in there for some time and was approaching poached salmon skin alert. He’d been there a long time because the white soap suds were also now floating cumulus clouds covering the steps and seating area. I looked for a clearing from the suds and sat down immersed in 102 degree water.
Almost immediately the jets of the jacuzzi stopped and he made some joke about the timing of my arrival and the end of the cycle which I gather is on a timer for about 10 minutes. Anyway, I joked back and said, “Oh well, looks like I broke it.”
I don’t mind not having the jets and the mounting foam so I could care less about it.
But, he decided to tell me to go back out of the jacuzzi and press the start button to start the jets again.
I looked at him and with my charming way simply said, “Why don’t you do it? You’ve been here for awhile and I just got here?”
Nellie, he wasn’t prepared for this insolence.
“Well!” he sputtered. “I’ve already pressed it when I got in. Last one in is supposed to press it.”
“Oh,” I said to him not moving. “There’s an etiquette in the jacuzzi?”
He nodded sagaciously.
“Well, ” I said to him smiling and non-movingly, “I guess I flunk jacuzzi then.”
I proceeded to enjoy the heat without the jets and the mounting foam clouds and after about five minutes he got out and pressed the start button and said with as much irony and sneer as a poached salmon can muster, “Happy Holidays”.
I wanted to yell out, “Thanks, Santa!” but decided to just get out myself and left the churning waters to foam all over itself.
I thought of him later while waiting at the fish counter in the supermarket.
I looked at the salmon.
Santa Salmon was sneering.
I swear.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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