Pole Position

Hello World,     Well, where does the time go, I ask you that. Thursday ushered in another season for us to enjoy, featuring those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer, with all the sun, surf, and sand that entails, and don't spare the watermelon and hammocks, my good man! I'm sure all of our friends the Druids (and you know who you are!) were at their observation posts for the summer solstice on Thursday morning, lining up as it does with the archeological markers and monoliths from time immemorial (or even the more contemporary ones, like Manhattan-henge) and thrilling the hearts of celestial observers the world over. Of course, the summer solstice brings with it the longest day of the year, with more than 15 hours of sunlight, and each day after that becomes incrementally shorter, with later sunrises and earlier sunsets as it goes along. Or as Bill pointed out at the time, "It's all downhill from here."     And speaking of important days, last week brought us Flag Day on the 14th, a day we set aside to recognize Old Glory in all its, well, glory - because as George M. Cohan so eloquently put it, "Every heart beats true for the red, white, and blue." It was a pleasant day to commemorate the star-spangled banner of lore and legend, and The Flag Brigade was right on the mark, running up the colors upstairs and downstairs, and lending a refreshingly patriotic air to the improvement of the neighborhood, that Betsy Ross herself would have been sure to appreciate, by George. And on the topic of colorful improvements to the yard, I can't forget to mention our lovely astilbe in the flowerbeds, jolly day-lilies along the driveway, and especially the spectacular Easter lilies in the back yard, exploding in vibrant yellows and pinks that appear much too sensational to be real. After all, everyone knows that you can't believe anything that's too good to be true, and I ought to know.     And when it comes to things that seem impossible to be real, it reminds me of some curious sights I've been seeing around town lately, and not something that I can whole-heartedly endorse, try as I might. Apparently you can go to the store and buy flexible plastic signs that announce FOR RENT in large letters at the top, and then have a space to include the phone number for people to contact if they're interested. Presumably, someone would post this on a wall if they had an apartment or storefront available, or perhaps out in the yard if the house was for rent. However, a couple of times now I've found these rental signs more or less loose out on the sidewalk - once on a telephone pole and once on a tree - with nothing else but the phone number, which really begs more questions than it answers, it seems to me. The signs make it look like it's the pole or the tree for rent, which frankly makes less than no sense at all, as if they needed to come with instructions to put the signs on whatever is for rent, and not just attach them to random objects in the vicinity. That kind of scatter-shot thinking reminds me of a movie review about a recent kidnap film, explaining the predicament as follows: "Shaun is put through the ringer as she attempts to break back into the house to get her kids ... " Believe me, I know how she feels. (You youngsters out there can go ahead and ask your grandparents about wringer washers, which is obviously what the movie reviewer should have done before handing in that piece, I dare say.) Of course, it goes without saying that there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, and not looking to improve any time soon, by all appearances. Maybe renting out trees and telephone poles isn't such a bad idea after all.     Meanwhile on the topic of good news, earlier this week, we were glad to accept an invitation for the annual patient appreciation dinner from one of Bill's healthcare providers, which we have been to before, and always a festive affair. This time around, it was at an old favorite of ours, the Renaissance Westchester Hotel in West Harrison, so they certainly didn't have to ask us twice, I can tell you that. Because it was scheduled to begin at 6:00 PM, and we were concerned about rush-hour traffic on the highways, we left ourselves plenty of travel time, and since there wasn't any, arrived extremely early. Our hosts were more than ready for us, and many other early birds as well, with drinks and snacks in a cozy alcove full of comfortable chairs while we waited. Bill reminded me that the event had been at the same hotel the previous year, and in the ballroom, it seemed like we were even at the same table as before, although not with the same cohorts. Our table-mates this time were a convivial and lively bunch, and it didn't take long for us to get on like the proverbial house afire, as it were. We started with dinner rolls and Caesar salad to go with the welcoming remarks, provided by no less than the Vice Chair of Clinical Activities, of all things, so you can be sure that we gave it our complete and undivided rapt attention, and deservedly so. It gave us high hopes for what was yet to come.     By contrast, the Keynote Address was not only desperately dull and technologically inept, but about as depressing as you could possibly imagine - and could only have been more appropriately delivered by the by the Director of the Morgue, rather than what they described as an Assistant Attending in the Department of Psychiatry. (And where you would think they would certainly know better, for heaven's sake.) It seemed particularly odd to us, because on the previous occasions, the Keynote was so fascinating and idealistic you couldn't help but stand up and cheer. Fortunately, we had an excellent dinner, and worth going out for - in fact, two of our table-mates were of the opinion that our substitute dinner looked better than their standard fare, so much so that they determined in the future to request the vegetarian option instead. Regrettably, the same thing happened with the address by the Patient Speaker, whose hair-raising tale of illness, treatment, and recovery left us feeling more alarmed than awed, while on the previous occasions, this personal testimonial was so uplifting and inspirational that no miracle seemed too far-fetched. And like modern-day Druids at Manhattan-henge, this is something that I think we can all agree to run up the flagpole and salute, by golly. Elle