I screwed up big time today. My calendar said I had a 9:45 appointment for a pacemaker clinic. I went to the cardiologist's office only to find I was supposed to show up last week. The nurses were very kind, didn't scold me and got the Medtronics technician to come in just for me. Everything's fine, but I'm not happy. As I have aged I have tried extra hard to be organized and keep track of things. I don't know how I made this mistake. I vaguely recall getting a letter telling me about the appointment, which I probably discarded after I made the note in the calendar. I always feel like I'm drowning in paper so I try not to hang on to everything. But I'd love to see that paper. Also, they always call me if I'm not on time for my pacemaker phone check, but they never called about the clinic. I guess I just have to forget about it, but it really bothers me.
Category Archives: Organizing my life
Me and Ayn Rand
This is the story I'm writing for my memoir class. I'm having fun with this after all.
I am embarrassed to confess the influence Ayn Rand has had
on my life, so I haven’t told this story often. I prefer to think it was all
because of Gary Cooper as Howard Roark.
Saturday afternoon was always movie time. There were five
theaters in walking distance, but we usually went to the Terminal, a Balaban
& Katz 1920’s picture palace, named after the elevated train terminus just
down the block. It was the best theater with almost first run features. That
day we were seeing The Fountainhead,
taken from Ayn Rand’s book of the same name, about an individualistic Frank
Lloyd Wright type architect who refuses to compromise his work or his ideals,
regardless of the money involved.
Sitting in the dark, totally enchanted by awesome Gary
Cooper and beautiful Patricia Neal, my unhappy, depressed 15 year old self, certain high school was a terrible compromise, totally bought into the idea
of taking action to be true to herself. By the time the movie finished I was so
excited and so convinced I had found a solution to my misery I couldn’t sit
through the second feature. I did not want to think about anything else as I
waited for my friends in the lobby.
Wanting desperately to be an artist, maybe even an
architect, the movie affected me deeply. I was convinced my life until then had
been a terrible compromise; I had to change things. I thought about all my
alternatives and realized there was only one that was acceptable: I could go on
to college after one more year of high school.
My friend Eva, whom I met in classes at the Art Institute,
went to U high, the laboratory school of the University of Chicago. From her I
learned U High was only two years and then students could go on to college at the university. Also, the university would accept students from any high school
after two years. Robert Maynard Hutchins, Chancellor of the university,
believed students didn’t learn anything in the last two years of high school. I felt I was a living
embodiment of his belief.
I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. First, I had to
convince my parents, who thought I was too young to go to college. Then, of
course I had to be accepted at the university. My high school teachers and
principal hated the university; I had trouble getting recommendations; Hutchins
arrows had hit their mark. Adding another layer of angst, Hutchins went before
one of the communist witch-hunting committees and defended his faculty,
assuring the committee that being a communist would not be grounds for the dismissal
of his professors. It was a very difficult year, but I prevailed. Three months
after my sixteenth birthday I went to college. I learned how to read critically and how to think. I did not become a communist. I met my husband there, our
daughter met her husband there and now both of my grandchildren are going
there. You can see that Ayn Rand and Gary Cooper certainly influenced my life.
The adventure begins
That's what Sonsee said yesterday as I left my apartment. My tenants are installed and I have moved to Robin and Steve's guest room. I was so wiped out yesterday afternoon I slept for at least two hours; not like me at all. I guess I've been under more of a strain than I thought. I've started to rearrange the stuff I brought with me. I was amazed to find I actually seemed to have packed the correct amount of underwear. After I showered this morning I had a moment of panic until I found everything.
My granddog, Darcy, has taken me over. She slept with me all night, fortunately quietly, and hasn't let me out of her sight. She knows it's unusual that I stay here, but I'm not sure what she's thinking. Of course, we are all going away tomorrow and she'll be left with a dog sitter, so I guess that will reinforce her anxieties.
Tomorrow morning we are all driving to Philadelphia, or actually King of Prussia. The kids are going to the Philadelphia Folk Festival and I'll be taking a bus into Philly to spend the day at the art museum and perhaps take a small break for a real Philadelphia Cheese Steak.
On Monday we continue on to New York. I'll stay with Renee for ten days; the kids will do other things. My first task will be a visit to the Chinese consulate to get my visa. I still have to arrange a hotel room in Shanghai and a flight from Shanghai to Xian, but I have some good referrals. I can't believe this has all come to pass.
Movin’ and cruisin’
I made the deal to sublet my apartment. My tenants will move in on Thursday, so I really have only one day to finish moving out. It shouldn't be a problem, I've been organizing everything for such a long time. I have only my summer clothes, day to day toiletries and this computer to take care of.
Needing a break from all this organizing on Saturday I went on a cruise of the Monongahela River. The cruise was called Lords of the Mon and was guided by people from Rivers of Steel. It seems that at one time there was 37 miles of steel mills along the Mon. I think our cruise went only about 10 miles; we saw only the Edgar Thompson works, the only mill left in Pittsburgh. Most interesting are the bridges. I think we went under eight of them. I loved the echo of the guide talking as we went under the bridges. Here are my bridge pictures. More about the sublet later.
Smithfield Street Bridge

Hot Metal Bridge–molten steel crossed to the other side of the river to be finished.


Rankin Bridge–wrapped for badly needed repairs
Another bridge that needs help.
Too many clothes
It's not that I love clothes so much. In fact, I stopped loving them when the scale crept jumped beyond 145 pounds. Getting the apartment ready for the sublet has forced me to look at everything: the shirts that drifted to the bottom of the drawer because I was a few pounds heavier the last time I wore them and I didn't like that so I never tried them again; the stuff I loved but actually outgrew; the fancier stuff I wore once then forgot about and thought I had to buy another closet outfit for that next rare occasion; the stuff I got bored with because it's 20 years old and won't wear out.
I'm really shocked at how much stuff I have. And I always buy the same thing; I'm certainly not a fashionista. I don't want to count how many brown and black slacks I have. Shirts? I have red, white, black, purple and a few blue. They all look alike and I keep buying more of the same. I wanted to get more beige, but that's not this year's color. I never buy green. I had olive skin when I was younger and it made me look even greener. My skin color has faded along with my hair, but I still don't want to wear green.
I have sorted the stuff into plastic bags: stuff for Goodwill; weight-related stuff (how's that for political correctness) that I might be able to wear when I return from Asia–I lost weight on the last trip, maybe I will lose even more; stuff I may want to wear in the next six months–that's the toughest category and really includes what I want to pack for trips and what else I might want. I find it very hard to select winter clothes when it's 80 degrees out. Today is cooler; maybe I'll get it all done. And NO MORE SHOPPING.
Preparing to go to China
I am now 275 tax deductible dollars committed to going to China. I got my frequent flier ticket a couple of months ago. If necessary, I can make changes in travel dates, which may have to happen. At the same time I reserved a hotel room in Kyoto, again not much of a commitment. I’ve been reading about China and today I decided I have to do it: I made application and sent a deposit to Cross Cultural Solutions, the group I will volunteer with. I feel like I’m doing it while all around me crumbles–the country, my retirement funds, etc.–but that’s probably all the more reason to have a goal and stick with it. I guess I can go back to work when I finish my year of traveling.
I still haven’t found anyone to sublet my apartment. I will post it again on Craig’s list and also on a UPitt housing site Carol found for me. She’s a great researcher. If I don’t manage to sublet it, I’ll just leave it locked up; much easier, but I could use the money.
I haven’t decided what to do about mail. Most of it is instantly recyclable, but there are always a few critical things like the gas and electric bills. I may have to cave in and go on the budget plan so I can pay them automatically.
I bought a walking stick and am practicing stepping down from a step stool. Even just going down one step I still want something solid in my other hand. The walking stick is not as assuring for me as being able to hold on to someone else’s arm. I know, I’m phobic.
Resolutions & Distractions
One of my current, most important goals is getting my workroom cleaned up. It is so bad I don’t even want a before picture to see where I’ve come from, and it is really impeding my ability to get any work done. The photographs and fabrics are the worst, so of course, I’m leaving them for last.
This morning I began going through boxes of mementos of my past lives and actually throwing out a bunch of stuff. I really did not need 6 copies of the press kit from a show I had in 1980. Then I found a photo I’ve been thinking about for a long time. This is Robin, age 3, waiting for Mommy on a bench in the Field Museum, while I was busy photographing something in the cases. Note how she is guarding my purse. 
She never saw me take the picture. Thanks to the magic of Photoshop I was able to take a tired, faded print and make it look like new. It was a great distraction from my organizing fit.