The Unexpected Sunlight

Today was supposed to be one of those 'rain all day and night' days, thanks to the remnants of a hurricane. It rained a good bit of yesterday, and it rained for a couple of hours this morning. For the last half hour or so, the sun has been shining. The temperature has reached the low 60 degree Fahrenheit range; what we used to call "Indian Summer" is upon us.

Now there's a song cue if I ever heard one. Herewith: 'Indian Summer' as performed by Sidney Bechet and His New Orleans Feetwarmers:

Now that we have a little background music appropriate to the day.... the weather is tempting me to go off to the garden, but I woke this morning with the start of a cold and should stay home to nurse it. The frosts of last weekend wiped out most of what remained of my garden.

After some success with their winter survival and bloom this past spring, I've taken a great leap of faith and decided to plant tulips again. I used two beds which were once problematic for such adventures, being composed of soil which grows only rock and slate with ease; and which retains water to some potentially troublesome degree.

The 'double' tulips planted last autumn survived and bloomed.

The bed which provided success this past Spring isn't much different from the two beds planted the other day. Maybe the years of growing various soil improving plants overrun by copious weeds have finally paid off. But then again, it could have been the voles all along, which was my original suspicion. I hope the warm weather doesn't encourage them to go exploring.

Getting the beds for the tulips cleaned up and the bulbs planted was one victory. Now it's onto planting new daffodils. I was thinking that they would look really nice around the old apple tree. Over the 20 years I've gardened at Solar Hill, it has never produced very many apples. Last year that changed a little bit. This year was a good year for apples throughout the area, and the old apple tree produced hundreds of them. I've taken many for cooking, but there are still so many left to remove. The animals have helped themselves, neighbors who wander through have been encouraged to take some. Every time I think progress has been made, I arrive to find a fresh layer covering the ground. Next year I must get a cider press. As for the moment, my concern is that someone seems to have wandered off with the rake.

 

Meanwhile, around town the show continues, with sometimes notable changes everyday. The Common has gained color, lost it in the killing frosts, only to recover with the remaining trees seeking their turn in the spotlight. Even the oaks have been seeking attention by turning yellow red orange green instead of their usual brown. I live just a few steps away from the Common and either go by it, or pass through it, daily. Just looking down the street has been breathtaking.

The photo above (looking south towards downtown) was taken two weeks ago.

This, and the photos after it, were taken two days ago.
It's always kind of sad when the tourist information booth closes for the season. (But only 'kind of'.)

 

Every town in Vermont has a memorial to the men it lost in the Civil War. The list of names on each is quite long.

Well. A couple of the above pictures were volunteers (I've decided to leave them since they themselves jumped into the fray). I've been sitting at the computer for a few hours now, and quite frankly, I need a rest. This is highly unusual; I hope this isn't going to be a bad cold. I would prefer it be just a passing fancy.

 

Which means it's time to post last Saturday's radio show, which played a few for the extended glorious autumn before visiting October the 26th, 1944, when a different war preoccupied the general populace. The week in question saw the dedication on the Common of the Honor Roll, the list of those off to fight the war. 18 names appeared in gold in the center panel. At the dedication, a single flower was placed for each name. As there would be a permanent memorial for those who gave their lives in the war, a few folks thought it a shame that there wasn't some sort of permanent honor planned for those who went off to fight the war, or those who went to nurse the wounded back to health. They came up with the idea of a memorial to the living. People in town donated their war bonds to the as yet unspecified project. In the early 1950's, Living Memorial Park opened on the edge of town. It included the ski run and tow which had drawn tourists on special trains all the way from New York City in the late 1930's. It's still there, run and maintained now by volunteers. That says something about the kind of town Brattleboro is, and why I'm happy I chose it as a place to live.

 

 

The parade for young children, mentioned in the article above, still exists.
It's now known as the 'Horribles Parade'.
20 years ago, they used to close off half of Main Street for the walk to the old armory where a party was held.
The bands have faded away, and Main Street is no longer closed. The kids parade up the sidewalk without fanfare.
It's too bad, I really liked the Horribles, and I miss the town that did something special for young kids.

 

 

 

As always, I hope anyone who listens enjoys the show.

p.s. As I was finishing the above, the sunlight was blocked by forming clouds, and the rains began anew. Gusts of wind provided a veritable blizzard so thick with yellow leaves that driving through them must have been difficult. It was beautiful; and the force of nature was humbling. As suddenly as it started, the storm has passed - for the moment at least. The sun one again tries to peek though.

Autumn in Vermont

Becoming unstuck in time is one thing. Losing control of it is another. In other words, I'm still having a problem getting much of anything done. Perhaps it is a lack of ambition to do things that is at the root of the problem. Perhaps the problem is that my perception of accomplishment is askew. I mean, I did get the dishes done. I could go on in this vein for awhile, which would eventually result in my admitting that I actually do a heck of a lot; it's just that it is so seldom as much as I want to get done. I know I have slowed down. I don't really mind. Perhaps the real problem is that the world seems to be going by faster that it used to, relative to my position in it. At times it feels like autumn has been slowly unfolding. Some days I think it is rushing by too fast. There is so much to note, so little time to drink it all in, to observe, to appreciate, to hold in heart or memory. Autumn, like Spring, goes by too quickly. And the effect seems more pronounced every year. Perhaps it has something to do with aging.

A bit over a week ago, a friend drove the two of us around a small portion of our state. Every now and again it is refreshing to be a tourist in your own area, your own state, on the paths you tread every day. Doing so is like a leaf revealing its colors in the fall.

Therefore, a presentation of totally unremarkable photographs, taken with a small point and click fits in your pocket style digital camera, published here without any adjustments to the originals. In others words (for friends from away) this really is how it looks - as the cheap digital sees it, anyway.

The pumpkin arrangement honors one of our state's US Senators, currently running for the Presidency.

The Connecticut River separates Vermont from New Hampshire - the view is of the New Hampshire side.

Route 5 is the old highway that passed through small towns, superseded by an Interstate that passed them by.



The village center and Common of Thetford. It's typical of this area - there really isn't any there there.
Even so, Thetford has a population over 2,600 which makes it larger than my hometown, which had an active Main Street.

Since the owners were nice enough to perfectly place the pumpkin to balance photographs,
I couldn't find it in my heart to pass up taking the shot.

Just a couple of homes to the left of the above.

At the center of the "T" formed by the shots near the library and the homes with views, the oldest continually used meeting house in the state. The congregation was organized in 1773. The building dates to 1787. It was moved form the other end of the common to its current site in 1830. A somewhat similar story to the Congregational Church in Brattleboro (where I live).

The Quechee Gorge was formed by glaciers 13,000 years ago. We're looking down 165 feet from the roadway. This is just a small part of what is visible. There are many hiking tails. I took a few pictures within about a 4 or 5 minute span of time, and everyone is different due to the changing light. This is by no means a spectacular shot, chosen only for color.

Federal period architecture always gets my attention; the village of Woodstock has it in abundance.
The main business of the town is a very large, very expensive, Inn owned by the Rockefellers.
p.s. I love the smell of money in the morning.



Woodstock's in-the-center-of-town covered bridge.



Just the side of another building by the Woodstock Common.

A hill near Plymouth Notch (which I visited at the beginning of July.)

I can't quite remember if this is Echo Lake or Lake Rescue. One follows the other, both alongside of Route 100.

Okay, I've spent enough time posting, I must get on to other things.

Here's last Saturday's radio show (October 17th), in which songs were played for autumn, and for the birthdays of big band jazz singer Anita O'Day (Oct. 18th), hot jazz era bandleader leader Roger Wolf Kahn (Oct. 19th), and drummer Cozy Cole (Oct. 17th). The aging mental case who hosts the program forgot to credit the 2nd song after the opening sequence - it was Cozy Cole's All Star Band performing "Just One More Chance".


  
 As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.
          

Life in an autumn garden...

Once again it seems I have let time fritter away. Not that fritters were involved, mind you. Fritters are fried balls of dough stuffed with anything from apples to a cornmeal mixture. Now I'm wondering how the idiomatic expression got started. The oldest reference I just found with a quick internet glance was in a Dickens novel. At times like this I can't make up my mind if the internet is a blessing or a curse. Just a few years ago I would have to drag out the Oxford English Dictionary, get out the special magnifying lens.... in other words, depending on the day and mood, I'd probably just move on and continue writing. Now I can look it up through several online sources within seconds. Hmmm, it never occurred to me before, but the internet may be an ADD nirvana dream.

It has been a few years since Monarch butterflies visited the garden. There used to be so many of them.
Yesterday I was stunned to see three of them at once. I hope they are making a comeback.

Life has once again been careening mildly out of control. In attempting to write the paragraph above I fielded two phone calls. It isn't even 8:30 in the morning. It is, however, a morning with a gloriously slow rain, the kind that leaves a slick shine to roadways and autumn leaves; the kind that has a delicate hint of mist peeking through the yellow orange green that provides a perfect visual accompaniment to sipping coffee (or tea, or hot chocolate, or an aged single malt scotch, or....).

 

The wet discourages any thoughts of doing further work to shut down the gardens. I've spent most of my time working on Solar Hill's beds. I'm the sort of gardener who won't cut down the peony over there because its leaves turn a crimson that illuminates the light blue asters or a view of the broken bench propped up with rocks, which is currently framed by the fruit hanging from that Japanese dogwood and the turning colors of a stewartia.

I never got the time to post my radio show from October the 3rd, so this post will be another twofer. Let's get that one out of the way right now. That show played a couple of songs welcoming the arrival of autumn, and that day's birthday of lyricist Johnny Burke. Then the old Philco's tuning dial was spun a few times as it centered on October the 3rd, 1945 for The Spotlight Bands show, which that night featured Artie Shaw. We also put a few nickels in the jukebox that month.

In my own defense, I should note that my excuses for not posting also include dealing with the problems and affairs of the all volunteer community radio station I manage. The past couple of weeks have been particularly vexing. With over 60 DJs of varying age, egos, and temperament, anything which happens on our floor is automatically blamed on us. There were a few problems with our landlord. Somehow, an original bannister in a 150 year old historic office building was broken. As one of our shows had a live band (which generated a very late night noise complaint from someone working in an office space underneath of our studio) we were blamed - the musicians must have done it. It seemed logical. Until I found out that the musicians were two skinny young guys whose entire equipment consisted of a banjo and a guitar. Last Thursday was our non-profit's annual meeting (and potluck). I should point out that I'm the President of the Board; and that I dislike most meetings for no other particular reason than that I've been to one too many between my days toiling in the fields of Mammon and places like the radio station (which used to be run by its DJs, but is now run by the non-profit's Board). There was a new edition of our print schedule to get ready and send off to the shop to coincide with our on-air fundraising week. There was Windows 10. And Mercury retrograde. There was one period not so long ago when I wasn't running the station or  the Board. Over that year and a half, there were almost no meetings to attend. It was wonderful.

The garden year is nearly over, yet the colors and unexpected pairings are as distracting as Spring.

The last two weeks also saw a few adventures with my neighbor. I live in a building which has one wing where the apartments are, well, apart. There are two of us with studios whose entrance is off of a balcony in the back. My immediate neighbor is a troubled young man in his 20's. Since he moved in a couple of months ago, he's been a fairly constant source of aggravation. At the beginning of last week, he had another episode. It started with a lot of yelling and screaming of vulgar words and less than appealing terminology. He was throwing out someone he was letting live there, almost broke the front balcony's railing throwing out the roommates mattress and clothing, etc. A short time later the ex-roommate threatened to kill him. So did the women who live upstairs. I should point out that we both live on the 2nd floor of a two story building, and there was only one voice yelling and screaming. This young fellow has no telephone and uses mine to call the hospital when he's messed up his meds, or the police when someone is threatening him. There were a couple of days of the police coming, and slowly calming him down to the point that he would go with them. Then wherever they took him inexplicably let him go. He showed up at 2 am and proceeded to have a physical fight with someone on our building's front lawn, but he was the only person out there. At 3:30am he finally called the police (using my phone). He was home within 6 hours or so. He is not getting the help he needs. All of the police know him, and say he is much better than he used to be.

Well, I've rambled on quite a bit; the length of this post will soon rival an Epistle to the Ephesians. In todays world of electronic social communications, anything longer than a few sentences seems antisocial as it is too long for anyone to read. No wonder the music of today is mostly a beat with incomprehensible lyrics; few seem to have an attention span capable of comprehending the lyrics to a 3 minute song. It's music for an ADD world.

Which bring us to Saturday's show (October 10th) which played a few for Columbus Day, fall foliage, and the birthdays of singer Lee Wiley, composer Vernon Duke, bandleader and songwriter Johnny Green, and the wonderful Red McKenize. Mr. McKenize, one of the early jazz practitioners, used to play the comb - with a sheet of paper over it to modulate the sound. He was also a vocal artist who could make an ordinary piece into an art song. Not that he sang ordinary pieces.

As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show(s).

Swimming uphill in a sea of angst

Oh, good God(dess) (of your choice)(not that you have to make a choice or have a God or Goddess), I have been remiss in posting again. I never got last week's radio show posted here, and now I'm going to have to have a twofer again.

There is a rational explanation.

Well, perhaps 'rational' isn't quite  the best choice of words. Was it rational to upgrade my computer during Mercury Retrograde? To Windows 10?

While I often have a little but of fun with the idea and concept of blaming electronic communication oriented debacles on this particular planetary singalong, experience does seem to bolster the validity of the concept.

And this week has taught me that Experience may not be the best teacher. When I clicked on the "update" button to replace Windows 7 with Windows 10, did I consult my mental diary of upgrade experiences? Nooooooooooo. Of course not. Instead, I bought into the "all your programs and settings will be there" assertion of obfuscating advertising-copy novelists. That claim had about as much validity and relationship to the concept of truth as a Republican Presidential candidate approaching primary season. (Sorry - I suppose that last bit is from a deep-seated need to vent a buildup of spleen. The state in which I reside is geographically located next to the sate of New Hampshire, which is often in a state about something or other, and has the 'first in the nation' primary. The general area is currently lousy with Republican candidates pushing a worldview which has little resemblance to the world as it exists. Lest anyone think I exaggerate, please remember that there is ample record proving that many of the Republican candidates either deny, or shillyshally around, the basic truths of evolution, and global warming. I don't know why I find this so undefensively reprehensible; after all, these folks have yet to accept that Regan era  "trickle down" economics didn't work to lift the masses into financial nirvana, and aren't going to do so. (Speaking as the possessor of an XY chromosome set, I would share my knowledge of 'trickle down', but I don't wish to be vulgar.) As the New Hampshire primary is in February, and as the tv stations hereabouts (from Vermont and Massachusetts) cover New Hampshire, the profusion of political advertising makes it unsafe for those who value either their sanity, or an even temperament (or both), to turn the damn thing on. It's akin to advertisements for Christmas goods blaring at one in June.

But I digress. And I shall do so for another minute - I saw not just Christmas advertising, but Christmas themed tv movies on cable channels at the end of May. People have been joking for a few years now about the mixing of Halloween and Christmas items at the stores. A few weeks ago, I saw an advertisement for Halloween costumes or candy or something. The backdrop against which the live action was displayed was of evergreen trees with lights in them. There is no escape.

The writing of this entry in the blog has been interrupted several times. I had an unexpected ride to my garden (normally a 40- 45 minute walk) where I worked on the sad task of shutting some of it down for the season. I also got to enjoy the new addition to the garden this year - the Chinese Asters. I'd never grown them before, and thought they would be a little taller. The seed was only available as mixed colors, which I usually don't like. But these are just wonderful. I don't know if they will seed in, but I will definitely be putting these end of season bloomers in the garden again next year.

I haven't yet started in on Windows 10. For now, I am going to assume that Microsoft is in league with the bureaucrats who designed the current Medicare system.  It's either that, or they are in league with Satan. I've run out of time to try to expound upon their attempt to drive me insane.

So, here's the radio show from two Saturdays ago which, after a slight nod to the (then upcoming) change of seasons visited September 1938 as the Latchis Memorial Theatre was about to have its grand opening, which was thwarted by the Hurricane of 1938. I don't have the time now to post any of the newspaper articles or pictures - there are a several over three posts on the radio show's Facebook page. Use this link to check those out - you'll be able to click through each post,  but you won't be able to "like", or comment, etc.
 https://www.facebook.com/Recycled-Radio-621059471269529/timeline/
The show's finale is a half hour "Camel Caravan" with Benny Goodman originally broadcast September 20th, 1938.



Last night's show (September 26th) fell on George Gershwin's birthday. It seemed fitting that the show be devoted to his music.



As always, I hope anyone who is kind enough to listen to my little efforts enjoys the shows.

It's just a (September) garden in the rain...

It's exciting to be back working on a blog post after just two days. It's still a busy time, so this almost feels like cheating time away from other projects. But I'm about to start making my third cup of coffee; it has rained off and on most of the night and morning, providing gentle percussion for the background noises of life;  my friend Ralph (an absent minded professor if there ever was one) is on the air with a show playing some of the earliest recordings of  "Jass"; and to be quite frightfully honest, I don't mind ignoring catching up on cleaning, doing dishes, and organizing. As of last Sunday, I am 65. I'm retired. I no longer care that I've been on the drop and go lifestyle again and let things get to the point that I have to 'catch up' on the cleaning.

We've had rain a couple of times this week; we certainly needed it. It has been uncomfortably hot and humid again, but this current rain seems to have finally broken that pattern. With the improvement this has brought to the weather, last evening's sleep lasted over 8 hours. I'm normally a 6 hour sleeper; these last couple of weeks I've only managed about 4 to 5 hours in shifts of wakefulness versus slumber. The effects of this have been so pronounced that even in my dreams I don't sleep properly.

Late summer zinnias at Solar Hill

 The garden at this time of year becomes less of a dream and more of a mess. Between the heat, the humid heaviness in the air, and the intensity of the direct sun, I do not accomplish much after 10 or 11 am. I spend a bit of my morning garden time tending to the Solar Hill gardens as well as my own. Solar Hill's beds are a little more formal in style; weeds tend to show and distract. My own spot of alleged heaven is what I attempt to pass off as being in the cottage garden style, which (in my mind at least) is much more forgiving of weeds. After protracted dry spells, the rains startle the weeds into spurts of growth that are awe inspiring. I take some comfort in the thought that at least they fill in the empty patches left by plants which have already gone by for this season.  The rains have also made it difficult to work in the garden. Not just because everything is so wet, and not just because it is easier to pass plant diseases around as one brushes against them. My problem is that I like gardens in the rain, flowers bent over with drops of water as though Disney artists of the 30's had been turned loose in creation of Technicolor multiplane visions. I tend to stand around and stare.

An old variety of Morning Glory volunteered near the garden gate. I assisted them in finding their way up the fence and over to the arch of the garden's gate. Oh, by the way, that mess in the back, extending off to the left? That's my area. The dark purple of the old morning glories really captured my attention this year. There was a bit of  black eyed Susan intermingling with them,  but they have gone by. The effect was wonderful - I noticed several people stopping to take pictures.

The above was taken just a few weeks ago as the morning glories were getting started.

Meanwhile, back in the rainy mess of my area...

I like the older double white cosmos, which I start from seed as one never finds it at the garden centers anymore. It grows very tall, 7 feet or more, and when not staked, bends over easily in the rain or a wind. The red cosmos is darker than most varieties now available, also started from seed. But it isn't as proficient a bloomer.  Next year, I'll have to sow more of it.

It's been too hot to edge the beds. I tend to not stake my dahlias - I like the effect of them nodding over after wind and rain have gotten to them.

 I used to have a neighbor gardener who parked her plants across from my spot, and rarely got back to tend to them.
At this point, we haven't seen her for many years.  I've begun cleaning up her area so we can enjoy some f the treasures that were hidden by the weeds - like this charming late blooming daylily. It looks rather smashing against the wild Artemisia.

Meanwhile, the last bloom on any of my daylilies was caught by the sun peaking through the clouds.

I haven't had snow-on-the-mountain in my garden for many years. I've always liked it, and this year was delighted to see it appear in a seed catalogue which specializes in heirloom seeds . Of course I ordered it. Even though I don't have room or proper light to do so, I started it indoors during the last weeks of winter. With any luck I'll find where I put the seed packet so I can do it again next year in case it doesn't seed itself in.

Yes, it's a weedy overgrown mess. I just squint my eyes and tell myself it's Monet.

 

Last night's radio show observed a few birthdays of favorite performers - Dick Haymes, Bobby Short, Yma Sumac, and Mel Torme . The old Philco helped with those observances before tuning in September 1940, managing to catch bits of Burns and Allen, Beat the Band, The Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street, Refreshment Time With Singing Sam, and news bulletins (with Edward R. Murrow reporting from London) before settling on Glenn Miller's September 17th Moonlight Serenade from Providence, R.I.



As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.

As summer slides away, fair season arrives...

Holy Moly, Batman. (side thought - why do I find it interesting that Blogger's spell check recognized, but was unable to suggest the correction for, 'Holy Moley'?) Two weeks have gone by since I last posted here. I'm behind the eight ball again. (What is it with the trite phrases today?) (What is it with the use of parenthesis today?) I haven't even posted my radio show links here for anyone who might be interested. Sorry about that.

The show from Saturday August. 29th began by 'playing a couple' for the birthdays of Dinah Washington and Charlie Parker, as soft summer breezes created a reverie of those last glorious August days in the sun at the Jersey shore when I was much, much younger...

Something odd happened with the graphic for the streaming player from that program. It looked fine on the Soundcloud page - I had to monkey with the image a bit to get it to display properly. By the time I was done, it looked great. Until the 'project' was 'saved' and the image shrunk. The problem shows up in the player below - do scroll down, please, as there is more. I just can't seem to correct the size of the image.



The show  for Sept 5th took note of the local proclivity for county and state fair season; the first hour perambulates around that theme. The second hour played whatever was at hand, including a few favorites from 'last" season's shows. The joys and adventures of aging struck once again - there is a clip from a Jean Shepherd broadcast of July 1976 which, as I gave the credits, somehow came out as 1946.

Fair going was on my mind. It was Labor Day weekend and time for the State Fair up in Rutland. That one isn't really the State of Vermont's State Fair , it's just called that. It's always been called that, and no one has objected, so it continues to be the State Fair . In a couple of weeks it will be time for the World's Fair up in Tunbridge. These fairs are traditional in style, going back more years than anyone will admit . I guess Vermont used to get a little giddy when something to do ambled along.

Here's that show...



The following day, I managed to get to a local fair in the village of Guilford, just south of Brattleboro and just north of the Massachusetts state line. It's a newer event, only having been around for 73 years. Just the same, it's what the kids of a few years ago were calling "old school".

As I still don't have a car, a friend drove me down in the late afternoon, which was quite delightful as most of the day's crowd had gone. To be fair (no pun), there was a big event going on down the road where there was a 50th anniversary celebration of the organ at the barn where the Friends of Music at Guilford perform. Or something like that... At any rate, the field used for dog shows and classic car displays was already empty as we parked - closer to the fairgrounds than I have ever managed to get in the past.

 The first thing I like to do, aside from listening to the performers at the little pavilion set up for them, is to go through the old display hall where the agricultural judging was held and the winners are displayed in all their glory.  Just outside the door were a few items that I'd never noticed before. Now how can any day on which one turns 65 and gets to see not one, but two blue ribbon winning bales of hay be bad?

As one wanders out of that building, one can easily wander over to the booth selling giant plates of French fries. Now that I'm 65, I was finally given the Senior discount for my admission ticket. The plate of French fries cost more! The lovely thing about the booth with the fries is that it overlooks the ring for the horse show and pulling contests. Sadly, they were packing up when I got there.

 Just up on a ridge is the midway, which this year had more rides than I have ever seen there.

After walking one side of the Midway, there's a barn where the livestock is judged and on display.
There is also a very popular sheep shearing demonstration a couple of times a day.



After doubling back through the Midway, one reemerges into the area where the food and sales booths are located. There is a moment to take one last look at the French fry tent.

 It was a little odd to visit the fair after most of the crowd had left for the day. (It's a two day affair.) (No pun.) I didn't get to see the woodcarving with chainsaws, nor the tractor pulls, eve the sheep shearing was ending when I got there.  But there was still something quite wonderful about it all, even though the Guilford Fair, unlike the State Fair, doesn't have pig races. Ah, well.

Sorry about not getting the shows posted in a timely manner.
As usual, I hope anyone kind enough to listen enjoys them.

Once more unto the breech, dear friends...

There still seems to be little to no time to write. Or arrange and caption photos. I think of Springsteen's line, "The poets down here don't do nothin' at all, they sit back and let it all be." But I'm not in Jungleland , and all  the use of the quote does is prove that I'm good with a quote or two.

Life has taken on its old familiar satirical nightmarish absurd quality again. I will turn 65 soon. The Federal government insists that my excellent state health insurance program, which uses funds from the Federal program Medicaid, is no longer adequate as I'm now officially a "senior". Therefore, I am being removed from my current insurance and placed on Medicare. Specifically Medicare Parts I and II. They didn't ask, I had no choice. For this service, my Social Security check will have a deduction  of over a hundred dollars taken from it, beginning with this month (August), even though I won't be on Medicare until September. Parts I and II do not include a prescription plan, so I have had to sign up with another insurance company for coverage of some of my prescriptions. For another $26 or so dollars a month, two of my prescriptions which would otherwise cost me over $300 dollars a month each, will suddenly and magically be available without a co-pay. But wait - this new coverage won't cover all of my prescriptions. The answer? Re-apply for my state's Medicaid program (as in the one I'm already on). If I'm lucky enough to be accepted, then those last remaining uncovered prescriptions will be covered. For now. Until the next change. If I'm accepted. Plus, there are various programs that will help me afford to live by assisting with the amount Social Security is automatically deducting from my paycheck. If I'm lucky enough to get back on them - that's right - they are the program I'm on until the end of the month. If I'm fortunate enough to get back on the program, they will send the over $100.00 a month charge to Social Security, which will then issue me a refund. I will then send a check for that amount to the state to repay them. I'm not making this up.

There is a Federal program for help in affording the Medicare, but my Social Security income is $5.00 or so a month over the limit. If I keep all of my receipts from my co-pays, I might get the Federal program to help me afford the Federal Program.

I had help in figuring all of this out by following the recommendations of the State Medicaid representatives, and consulted with the Council on the Aging. Except that the Council on the Aging no longer exists. It is now called Senior Solutions, thank you very much. That took another 10 minutes to figure out that I had indeed called the right number. All of these organizations seem to have several different names - it's like a Russian novel.

The State Medicaid program, meanwhile, which has changed its name every couple of years, offered to send me various necessary paperwork to get back on the program I'm already on. I accepted and waited. And waited. Over two and a half weeks later, I got an envelope from another organization, which I thought was associated with the insurance I used to have at my last job. I didn't open it for several days as I was fairly busy. Turns out, it was the long awaited paperwork. Now, for the old state program I was on, all the forms can be filled out and submitted online. Not these. One of them can be filled out online, but then it must be printed out and mailed.

It's a system that seems designed to drive one mad. I suppose they are hoping I will become so confused I won't look crossing the street, or will simply end my life out of confusion and despair. The paperwork, as life slows down, speeds up and increases. And the best part? The annual  "window" for decisions on healthcare companies will open again in October. According to these folks, at that point, I'll get to do all of this over again! I can hardly wait.

Here's my show from last Saturday.
It is not designed to drive one mad.
After playing a couple for Count Basie's birthday, the old Philco tuned in August the 18th, 1942.
I hope any listeners enjoy the show.