I know I have been around Albany a long time when I remember spoofing the man who is now the 51-year-old attorney general and leading contender for governor as "boy Andrew.''
That was back in the early days of the administration of Mario Cuomo in the '80s, when his elder son Andrew (please don't call me Andy), who was born in 1957, was the governor's dollar-a-year chief adviser and political hatchet man.
I recall that we spoofed Andrew in our annual show back then by dressing up his character in baby clothes. Later we had fun changing "Camelot'' to "Cuomolot'' to mark his marriage to Kerry Kennedy, which ended badly a few years ago.
Then today he delivered an aggressive speech at a Democratic gathering in Buffalo that will do nothing to quell the assumption that he is likely to run for and be elected governor next year. He said people have lost confidence in state government, which is both true and a pretty direct shot at Gov. David Paterson.
He has certainly made the most of his time as attorney general, slaying dragons ranging from greedy bankers bilking college students to corrupt state officials (with the widely despised Sen. Pedro Espada also in his sights.)
After a disastrous run for governor in 2002, he has rehabilitated his image enough so that polls show he is by far the most popular politician in the state. The only hurdle seems to be to grease a way out for Paterson, who is vowing to run again next year despite his dismal poll numbers. President Obama seems likely to help facilitate a graceful exit for him, however. Maybe "Ambassador Paterson'' would sound pretty good to the embattled governor.
Yet people are of two minds about another Cuomo governorship. An administration official I had lunch with today "can't wait'' for some order to be restored to what now seems like the chaos of the current regime.
Others worry that his top-down style, much like his Dad's, will handicap his ability to run the state as well as make him a very difficult boss. He still has plenty of enemies who recall his "elbows-out'' style and who refer to him as "Mario without the charm.''
Charming or not, it seems likely that another Cuomo will sit in the governor's chair in 15 months even as he says he hasn't decided whether to run for governor next year. "Boy Andrew'' has matured into a formidable politician.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
New pothole to avoid
I got seated last night at a dinner party next to, of all people, an oncologist.
While usually it is fun to explore links to people, my having cancer and him treating it didn't seem like a promising path to a fun conversation.
But I was energetically (relatively) taking part in a discussion at our end of the table about how well state government does or doesn't work (guess which side I was on)?
We got to talking about how maybe people now expect too much from government and that possibly they should be told that, say, every bridge won't always be safe.
Someone across the table unaware of my condition then jocularly suggested to the oncologist that along the same lines he should tell his patients that a certain number will die every year. The doc didn't respond directly and looked uncomfortable, as he did a little later when the same guy suggested that a rotation in a cancer center is a particularly hard task for an intern since so many patients die.
I tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, before leaving a few minutes later.
We were told later that the guy engaging the oncologist is a warm and kind man who obviously didn't have a clue about what is going on with me, since I still don't introduce myself as a cancer patient.
He certainly didn't intend to be cruel.
Sort of reminds me that years ago at a party after more than a couple of beers I saw a young woman limping and (also trying to be funny - remember this is back in the '70s) suggested that her boyfriend had tripped her.
No, she said. Actually, she had polio.
Ouch. That's one way to cure the tendency towards foot-in-mouth disease.
While usually it is fun to explore links to people, my having cancer and him treating it didn't seem like a promising path to a fun conversation.
But I was energetically (relatively) taking part in a discussion at our end of the table about how well state government does or doesn't work (guess which side I was on)?
We got to talking about how maybe people now expect too much from government and that possibly they should be told that, say, every bridge won't always be safe.
Someone across the table unaware of my condition then jocularly suggested to the oncologist that along the same lines he should tell his patients that a certain number will die every year. The doc didn't respond directly and looked uncomfortable, as he did a little later when the same guy suggested that a rotation in a cancer center is a particularly hard task for an intern since so many patients die.
I tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, before leaving a few minutes later.
We were told later that the guy engaging the oncologist is a warm and kind man who obviously didn't have a clue about what is going on with me, since I still don't introduce myself as a cancer patient.
He certainly didn't intend to be cruel.
Sort of reminds me that years ago at a party after more than a couple of beers I saw a young woman limping and (also trying to be funny - remember this is back in the '70s) suggested that her boyfriend had tripped her.
No, she said. Actually, she had polio.
Ouch. That's one way to cure the tendency towards foot-in-mouth disease.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Love and death
I don't know whether it's coincidence or heightened awareness, but a rash of prominent people seem to have fallen victim to pancreatic cancer recently.
Today long-time New York Times columnist William Safire's death at 79 from the disease was reported, following about a week the death from the same cause of Myles Brand, 67, the former NCAA and Indiana University president famous for firing obnoxious basketball coach Bobby Knight.
And of course Patrick Swayze of "Dirty Dancing'' fame succumbed not long ago as well to the same disease at age 59.
But maybe the most significant recent passing was that of Forrest Church, a famous Manhattan Unitarian minister, who died of cancer of the esophagus.
His death may be the more significant to me because he just recently published a book about his impending demise called "Love and Death.'' His obit in the Times quoted him as saying recently that he "looks back with no regrets, and forward with no fear.''
Quite a statement from somebody in his health and position, who by the way also scandalized some members of his congregation earlier in this decade by having an affair with one of the members.
But just having picked up the book, I have already come across some memorable lines.
"Religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die,'' he says.
"The one thing that can't be taken away from us, even by death, is the love we give away before we go,'' he says at another point.
Sounds even better than the latest Dan Brown novel.
Today long-time New York Times columnist William Safire's death at 79 from the disease was reported, following about a week the death from the same cause of Myles Brand, 67, the former NCAA and Indiana University president famous for firing obnoxious basketball coach Bobby Knight.
And of course Patrick Swayze of "Dirty Dancing'' fame succumbed not long ago as well to the same disease at age 59.
But maybe the most significant recent passing was that of Forrest Church, a famous Manhattan Unitarian minister, who died of cancer of the esophagus.
His death may be the more significant to me because he just recently published a book about his impending demise called "Love and Death.'' His obit in the Times quoted him as saying recently that he "looks back with no regrets, and forward with no fear.''
Quite a statement from somebody in his health and position, who by the way also scandalized some members of his congregation earlier in this decade by having an affair with one of the members.
But just having picked up the book, I have already come across some memorable lines.
"Religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die,'' he says.
"The one thing that can't be taken away from us, even by death, is the love we give away before we go,'' he says at another point.
Sounds even better than the latest Dan Brown novel.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
State Senate Follies
At our church today one state senator called another senator "a crook" and someone "who should be in jail."
Unitarians are known for unusual services but that's not what was happening today when Senator Neil Breslin (D-Albany County) made his comments about Senator Pedro Espada (D-Bronx). Breslin rapped his fellow Democrat at a forum held after the service. Unitarians often find politics easier to talk about than spiritual matters.
We actually skipped today's service which was too bad since we heard later it concerned how to deal with bad news. Oh well.
Breslin was repeating a familiar criticism of Espada, the Democrat-turned-Republican-turned-back-Democrat, who has helped to tie the state legislature in knots for the past few months by jumping back and forth between parties.
Espada also, according to Breslin, doesn't live in the district he represents, sought state money for personal use, and takes a $470,000 salary as head of a mostly government funded health care organization.
And of course, the Attorney General is investigating.
Breslin expressed utter disdain for Espada and three colleagues who have used "extortion" to try to take advantage of the tight partisan split in the Senate.
The problem of course is that Democrats have had some lowlifes representing districts from New York City for decades but no one paid much attention when they were a relatively powerless minority. It's only since they captured the majority last November that their shortcomings have become so obvious.
Breslin is an old friend who was preaching to the choir at the Unitarian church. I'm getting more used to listening to politicians talk while not taking notes, in some ways it feels liberating and in other ways it feels kind of empty.
Unitarians are known for unusual services but that's not what was happening today when Senator Neil Breslin (D-Albany County) made his comments about Senator Pedro Espada (D-Bronx). Breslin rapped his fellow Democrat at a forum held after the service. Unitarians often find politics easier to talk about than spiritual matters.
We actually skipped today's service which was too bad since we heard later it concerned how to deal with bad news. Oh well.
Breslin was repeating a familiar criticism of Espada, the Democrat-turned-Republican-turned-back-Democrat, who has helped to tie the state legislature in knots for the past few months by jumping back and forth between parties.
Espada also, according to Breslin, doesn't live in the district he represents, sought state money for personal use, and takes a $470,000 salary as head of a mostly government funded health care organization.
And of course, the Attorney General is investigating.
Breslin expressed utter disdain for Espada and three colleagues who have used "extortion" to try to take advantage of the tight partisan split in the Senate.
The problem of course is that Democrats have had some lowlifes representing districts from New York City for decades but no one paid much attention when they were a relatively powerless minority. It's only since they captured the majority last November that their shortcomings have become so obvious.
Breslin is an old friend who was preaching to the choir at the Unitarian church. I'm getting more used to listening to politicians talk while not taking notes, in some ways it feels liberating and in other ways it feels kind of empty.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Time to atone
OK, OK, I really do know that Monday is Yom Kippur and not Rosh Hashanah. After all, my children are half Jewish and my wife was raised Jewish. And there was even a huppah at my daughter's wedding where we all danced the hora. In addition, my daughter-in-law does work at Brandeis. Just wanted to see if anybody was paying attention.
I know this is a good time of the year to say I'm sorry.
I know this is a good time of the year to say I'm sorry.
A good trip
One positive result from the bad results this week was that Ellen and Allyson are making a special trip home, figuring I could use some cheering up. They're right.
Because Monday is Roshashana (sp?) Allyson, who works at Brandeis, has the day off (wonder why?) and Ellen said she can work from here. I think one of the things the world needs is a few more Jewish holidays.
Also tried to play a piano today for the first time in my life. Our friend Jane did her best to teach me "Heart and Soul'' on a neighbor's baby grand. I could play a couple of notes, so she praised my musical instinct or something like that. So the next question is do we want to invest a little dough in a keyboard. Investment rules have changed.
I was also cheered last night by seeing a bunch of reporter/lobbyist/politician friends at a going-away party for Brian Taffe, who is leaving Albany for Phila. Our loss.
It should be interesting tomorrow to see how David Paterson fares on Meet the Press tomorrow (10 a.m. NBC) Will he melt down under questioning from David Gregory (are they hoping he will tell Obama off) or somehow use the appearance as a way to build some support. Should be fun to tune in.
Because Monday is Roshashana (sp?) Allyson, who works at Brandeis, has the day off (wonder why?) and Ellen said she can work from here. I think one of the things the world needs is a few more Jewish holidays.
Also tried to play a piano today for the first time in my life. Our friend Jane did her best to teach me "Heart and Soul'' on a neighbor's baby grand. I could play a couple of notes, so she praised my musical instinct or something like that. So the next question is do we want to invest a little dough in a keyboard. Investment rules have changed.
I was also cheered last night by seeing a bunch of reporter/lobbyist/politician friends at a going-away party for Brian Taffe, who is leaving Albany for Phila. Our loss.
It should be interesting tomorrow to see how David Paterson fares on Meet the Press tomorrow (10 a.m. NBC) Will he melt down under questioning from David Gregory (are they hoping he will tell Obama off) or somehow use the appearance as a way to build some support. Should be fun to tune in.
Friday, September 25, 2009
One more Hub trip
We are going back to Boston a week from Monday to meet with several docs and explore if radiation is still a viable treatment option.
The original plan also called for me to get an MRI of the liver first thing in tate morning. But Beth Israel has a closed MRI machine, and I recall from my days of battling back pain that the test makes me claustrophobic.
So Emily found and open MRI in Clifton Park, about 20 miles from here, where I will be tested next week. We'll carry the results with us to Boston. So that's one less thing to worry about.
The docs in Boston seem to be talking to each other and all pulling in the same direction, and I know better than to take such things for granted.
Thanks for all the good wishes today - I need lots of help in cushioning this blow and knowing I'm in the thoughts and prayers of so many people helps.
The original plan also called for me to get an MRI of the liver first thing in tate morning. But Beth Israel has a closed MRI machine, and I recall from my days of battling back pain that the test makes me claustrophobic.
So Emily found and open MRI in Clifton Park, about 20 miles from here, where I will be tested next week. We'll carry the results with us to Boston. So that's one less thing to worry about.
The docs in Boston seem to be talking to each other and all pulling in the same direction, and I know better than to take such things for granted.
Thanks for all the good wishes today - I need lots of help in cushioning this blow and knowing I'm in the thoughts and prayers of so many people helps.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Time for Plan B
The CT scan showed the cancer has apparently spread to at least one spot on the liver our doctor told us today.
The chemotherapy I had been getting apparently didn't do the job so the next step is to try some other cocktail and also decide if radiation can also be used effectively.
It's certainly not the news we were hoping for but there still are treatment possibilities. The best advice we got today was to find joy in everyday life and rejoice that I have loved ones who care so much about me.
We should hear more about treatment options either tomorrow or early next week.
The chemotherapy I had been getting apparently didn't do the job so the next step is to try some other cocktail and also decide if radiation can also be used effectively.
It's certainly not the news we were hoping for but there still are treatment possibilities. The best advice we got today was to find joy in everyday life and rejoice that I have loved ones who care so much about me.
We should hear more about treatment options either tomorrow or early next week.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Fun & Games in the Hub
Today was a beautiful day to travel to Beth Israel Hospital in Boston and everything was clear sailing until we approached the nurse's station to start the process of getting my CT-scan.
We weren't on the list of those scheduled for the procedure today, the receptionist told us. When Emily pointed out that this was impossible, that our doctor had set it up and this had been the focus of our lives for the last several weeks, the receptionist looked further and found that we'd been scheduled for the procedure yesterday by mistake.
It then took some pleading from Emily who pointed out that we'd just driven three hours from Albany to be here before they found a place to fit me in. So after drinking about a quart of Barium and getting some dye administered intravenously so that I would light up properly, I got the scan done. We find out the results tomorrow.
The most unusual part of the day was once more running into former Rochester Times-Union colleague Reed Kingsbury and his wife Neva Flaherty at the entrance to the hospital. After not seeing them for years, I met him in June when we had adjoining rooms in Beth Israel after getting similar diagnoses for pancreatic cancer at about the same time. Turns out he was in town today for more follow-up treatments and we amazingly ran into them again. It was great to hear that he is doing well.
Best part of the day was having a great dinner with Ellen near the hospital and we just polished off a pint of JP Licks Oreo Cake Batter ice cream back at Ellen & Allyson’s apartment.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
New role for Barry
It was supposed to be over between Barry and me already - I was to keep him about a week, and then throw him out, symbolically taking all of my negative thoughts with him.
But in the 11 days since I adopted the Kleenex box at the suggestion of a faith-healer named Sai Maa as a receptacle for angry and negative thoughts, I've become attached to the object that now brings me a sort of comfort. It seems now it holds much of the positive energy and healing power she tried to give me the night I met her.
So I'm also now carrying around an old squash ball (a hard-rubber sphere a little smaller than a golf ball) and am trying to give it the negative energy I want to expel while I retain Barry for positive thoughts.
I know none of this can hurt, but I think I'm at my limit for aid from inanimate objects.
We saw Emily's sister Judi off at the airport today for her trip home to California - an emotional moment for me heightened by the great comfort she brought to me in the two weeks she was here. I greatly look forward to her return for a couple of more weeks in November.
It's off to Boston tomorrow for blood tests and a cat-scan. We get the results from a doc there Thursday before heading home. Best part is we get to stay with Ellen and Allyson tomorrow night in Somerville.
But in the 11 days since I adopted the Kleenex box at the suggestion of a faith-healer named Sai Maa as a receptacle for angry and negative thoughts, I've become attached to the object that now brings me a sort of comfort. It seems now it holds much of the positive energy and healing power she tried to give me the night I met her.
So I'm also now carrying around an old squash ball (a hard-rubber sphere a little smaller than a golf ball) and am trying to give it the negative energy I want to expel while I retain Barry for positive thoughts.
I know none of this can hurt, but I think I'm at my limit for aid from inanimate objects.
We saw Emily's sister Judi off at the airport today for her trip home to California - an emotional moment for me heightened by the great comfort she brought to me in the two weeks she was here. I greatly look forward to her return for a couple of more weeks in November.
It's off to Boston tomorrow for blood tests and a cat-scan. We get the results from a doc there Thursday before heading home. Best part is we get to stay with Ellen and Allyson tomorrow night in Somerville.
Monday, September 21, 2009
It beats working
What a perfect day to be a reporter. The President was in town today and he's almost openly feuding with the governor whom he has allegedly urged not to run for re-election next year because he would hurt the rest of the Democratic ticket. What could be better?
Of course, there were many fewer ink-stained wretches to record the scene today than would have been there just a few years ago and the number is likely to keep slipping.
Most have been forced out but some have left on their own volition, scared at the grim economic prospects of what is certainly a shrinking, if not a dying, industry.
That's what helped to make a column in last week's New York Times about someone who had made a successful transition to another field and then decided to come back to a newspaper so interesting. The journalist, Thomas Moran, worried about job security and paying college tuition, had jumped from being the political columnist for the Newark Star-Ledger to a policy job with PSEG, a New Jersey-based utility.
He pointed out that his pay had been frozen for three years and that the newsroom was considering sharp cutbacks. Shifting to something as solid as a utility seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do economically.
But he soon discovered that he essentially couldn't be happy not working for a newspaper, especially in a place like New Jersey which his editor termed a "game preserve" for political corruption. He wanted his old ring-side seat on the spectacle back. So he ditched his utility sinecure to re-enter the turbulent newspaper business.
Journalism in a way is like politics. Once someone's bitten by the bug, it's a difficult infection to shake.
"Sure, being a newsie is a grind," said Times columnist David Carr in his piece about Moran, "but it beats working by a mile. Every day is a caper, and most reporters are attention-deprived adrenaline junkies who care only for the next story."
Even on slow days, it's tough not being at the Capitol. On days like this it's downright painful. After all, someone has to work to restore the reputation of New York being at least as screwed up as New Jersey.
Of course, there were many fewer ink-stained wretches to record the scene today than would have been there just a few years ago and the number is likely to keep slipping.
Most have been forced out but some have left on their own volition, scared at the grim economic prospects of what is certainly a shrinking, if not a dying, industry.
That's what helped to make a column in last week's New York Times about someone who had made a successful transition to another field and then decided to come back to a newspaper so interesting. The journalist, Thomas Moran, worried about job security and paying college tuition, had jumped from being the political columnist for the Newark Star-Ledger to a policy job with PSEG, a New Jersey-based utility.
He pointed out that his pay had been frozen for three years and that the newsroom was considering sharp cutbacks. Shifting to something as solid as a utility seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do economically.
But he soon discovered that he essentially couldn't be happy not working for a newspaper, especially in a place like New Jersey which his editor termed a "game preserve" for political corruption. He wanted his old ring-side seat on the spectacle back. So he ditched his utility sinecure to re-enter the turbulent newspaper business.
Journalism in a way is like politics. Once someone's bitten by the bug, it's a difficult infection to shake.
"Sure, being a newsie is a grind," said Times columnist David Carr in his piece about Moran, "but it beats working by a mile. Every day is a caper, and most reporters are attention-deprived adrenaline junkies who care only for the next story."
Even on slow days, it's tough not being at the Capitol. On days like this it's downright painful. After all, someone has to work to restore the reputation of New York being at least as screwed up as New Jersey.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Birthday Bounty
Janice today was hard-pressed to decide what her favorite birthday present was. Maybe it was the tacky tiara or maybe the 28-page $1 history of the world (that didn't include a word about Africa, Asia or Latin America as far as we could tell) or the fuzzy pink bear. Or maybe it was the lemon-scented bags for picking up Charlie's poop.Actually, we got her a really nice iPod with a yellow case to make it hard to damage or lose, not that she's been known to damage or lose anything valuable, of course.
We figured it was the least we could do since the swine flu outbreak in Ithaca forced a relocation of festivities from her house near the Cornell campus to here in Delmar three hours away. In truth, this was really a party as much for my benefit as much as hers. What a treat to have five women I love in the same place at the same time.
Except of course for Emily, they'll all be dispersing soon with Judi heading back to California Tuesday, Ellen and Allyson back to Somerville tomorrow and Janice already on her way back to school with a yellow fly swatter complete with yellow flower and a baton with sparkles to help her mark her 32nd birthday.
But Judi pointed out that Thanksgiving is only about eight weeks away and that gives us something to look forward to because we'll all be together again.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Swine Flu Blues
She had fixed up her house and was eager to show it off to all of us, especially Auntie Judi. But the oncologist said, essentially, that it would be a dumb risk for me to take, and nobody else was excited about going to the epicenter of the swine flu outbreak in the Northeast.
But it's almost better for us all to be gathered in Delmar. We went to the RPI football game, which was held in their brand-new stadium, which would make any SUNY Albany football fan green with envy. We did this instead of attending the Cornell-Bucknell game, figuring what the hell, one Big Red is just like another Big Red. We were rewarded by seeing an exciting RPI win over Utica 17-14. That of course again raises the question: how come Utica never gets a break?
Judi and I expect the highlight of the weekend to be Janice opening the multitude of crappy things we bought her at the Dollar Tree store yesterday. It was my first visit to such an establishment, and I was stunned at all the junk that apparently sells. I was shocked to learn that we had spent $18.96 and come out with absolutely nothing of value.
Friday, September 18, 2009
'The Good Wife' as a policy guide
Not many novels deal with issues involving New York state government, but Stewart O'Nan's ''The Good Wife'' is an exception.
The four-year-old book, which I just finished for a book club I'm about to join, is the story of a woman from Owego, Tioga County, whose husband is sent to prison for murder.
Over the 28 years he is behind bars, she manages to raise a son and keep in touch with him first by making the two-hour trek to the maximum-security prison in Auburn, Cayuga County, to visit him for a decade, then all the way to Dannemora (only about an hour from Montreal) and then to a medium-security prison an hour beyond that- a round trip of about 14 hours.
Their relationship is greatly helped by occasional "family-reunion'' weekends that some of the prisons allow a few times a year, but hurt by sometimes surly, unreasonable guards and the remoteness of the prisons.
The novel is mostly about her efforts to survive daily, but along the way it paints a grim picture of the prison system, where it seems bureaucracy and heartless correction officers conspire to make her already difficult life that much harder.
That's the opposite of the department's policy, said spokesman Erik Kriss, who pointed out that many inmates from the metropolitan area (the vast majority of the system's 61,000 inmates) are transferred to institutions closer to home as their sentences wind down. He said the prison officials understand the importance of retaining family ties for prisoners' adjustments after they are released.
The reality is "mixed,'' according to Bob Gangi of the state Correctional Association, the leading prison-watchdog group in the state.
He said there's no doubt that Commissioner Brian Fisher and his top staff understand the issue, but that it doesn't always filter down to the institutions.
"There are times when prisoners are sent far away for no good reason,'' he said. His group also receives complaints from women who feel harassed by guards when they make their visits.
O'Nan's position is clear, but the novel makes no claim to accurately depict state policy. But it does provide an occasion for citizens to ask questions about how the relatives of inmates are treated.
The four-year-old book, which I just finished for a book club I'm about to join, is the story of a woman from Owego, Tioga County, whose husband is sent to prison for murder.
Over the 28 years he is behind bars, she manages to raise a son and keep in touch with him first by making the two-hour trek to the maximum-security prison in Auburn, Cayuga County, to visit him for a decade, then all the way to Dannemora (only about an hour from Montreal) and then to a medium-security prison an hour beyond that- a round trip of about 14 hours.
Their relationship is greatly helped by occasional "family-reunion'' weekends that some of the prisons allow a few times a year, but hurt by sometimes surly, unreasonable guards and the remoteness of the prisons.
The novel is mostly about her efforts to survive daily, but along the way it paints a grim picture of the prison system, where it seems bureaucracy and heartless correction officers conspire to make her already difficult life that much harder.
That's the opposite of the department's policy, said spokesman Erik Kriss, who pointed out that many inmates from the metropolitan area (the vast majority of the system's 61,000 inmates) are transferred to institutions closer to home as their sentences wind down. He said the prison officials understand the importance of retaining family ties for prisoners' adjustments after they are released.
The reality is "mixed,'' according to Bob Gangi of the state Correctional Association, the leading prison-watchdog group in the state.
He said there's no doubt that Commissioner Brian Fisher and his top staff understand the issue, but that it doesn't always filter down to the institutions.
"There are times when prisoners are sent far away for no good reason,'' he said. His group also receives complaints from women who feel harassed by guards when they make their visits.
O'Nan's position is clear, but the novel makes no claim to accurately depict state policy. But it does provide an occasion for citizens to ask questions about how the relatives of inmates are treated.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
New take on New York
OK, Judi has backed off some from her rather sour opinion of New Yorkers today thanks to series of positive interactions with strangers, including:
- A worker on the Delaware Avenue reconstruction project in Albany who with little prompting told us all about the project and how long it was likely to take.
- A charming couple in the Delmar Friendly's restaurant who looked on with delight as we admired their babies.
-- Another customer who warned us against sitting in a booth with a sticky floor (I was giving her a high-end tour of the region yesterday)
-- Two talkative and high energy appliance-delivery people who were bringing us a new washing machine and gave her a chance to show off her Spanish and declare how different Mexican and Puerto Rican accents are.
So the scorecard remains mixed on Albanians as it probably is in most of the country. I think the theory that small-town people generally have more time to be sociable and friendly is on the money. It's a density issue, not regional one, I suspect.
In other news, today was the sixth and last chemo treatment of this regimen. For the first time the nurse had trouble finding a vein and I got poked a couple of times before a different nurse, my old Red Sox friend Judy, found a usable one. Otherwise it was routine. My friend Ron Royne, himself a cancer survivor and chemo vet, sat with me and helped pass the time.
It's onto Boston next week for a checkup and then hopefully somed big doses of radiation the chemo resumes. I can hardly wait.
- A worker on the Delaware Avenue reconstruction project in Albany who with little prompting told us all about the project and how long it was likely to take.
- A charming couple in the Delmar Friendly's restaurant who looked on with delight as we admired their babies.
-- Another customer who warned us against sitting in a booth with a sticky floor (I was giving her a high-end tour of the region yesterday)
-- Two talkative and high energy appliance-delivery people who were bringing us a new washing machine and gave her a chance to show off her Spanish and declare how different Mexican and Puerto Rican accents are.
So the scorecard remains mixed on Albanians as it probably is in most of the country. I think the theory that small-town people generally have more time to be sociable and friendly is on the money. It's a density issue, not regional one, I suspect.
In other news, today was the sixth and last chemo treatment of this regimen. For the first time the nurse had trouble finding a vein and I got poked a couple of times before a different nurse, my old Red Sox friend Judy, found a usable one. Otherwise it was routine. My friend Ron Royne, himself a cancer survivor and chemo vet, sat with me and helped pass the time.
It's onto Boston next week for a checkup and then hopefully somed big doses of radiation the chemo resumes. I can hardly wait.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A New York welcome?
One of the pleasures of having a guest is showing off your town to the visitor. But so far my sister-in-law Judi, who is in town from a small town in California, isn't impressed.
Mostly, it's the people she doesn't like, especially Price Chopper workers.
During a lunch/shopping expedition there earlier this week, we were first confronted by a deli worker who would obviously had rather been anywhere than where she was, and made us feel like she was doing a favor by taking our order.
Then Judi asked another worker where to find packages of dry spaghetti sauce. He thought for a few seconds and said they didn't carry it, he never heard of it, all the while seeming somewhat annoyed with her for asking. When she found it and (nicely) told him, he was not impressed - more like annoyed.
This was after Judi made the mistake of asking the woman at Starbucks how she was and hearing a tale of woe about extra work she had to do, but before the woman checking us out at Toys R Us who had failed to put in her teeth that morning could barely mumble to us as we paid for a purchase.
"No wonder people are leaving New York,'' Judi said to me after that encounter.
She also noticed that other people met casually just seem much less likely to return a gaze and a smile than at home, which is a town of about 12,000 people in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains an hour and a half east of Sacramento.
She suggested the difference is not so much between NY and California as between small towns and bigger places.
This is all a bit disconcerting to someone like me who has always found the area, and all of upstate for that matter, full of people far friendlier than from bigger places.
The situation was somewhat saved today when Judi asked a worker today at Indian Ladders Farms in Altamont how he was doing and he said, "just another day in paradise.'' When she asked him if it was OK to eat an apple while picking others for sale, he pretended to get on the phone to the "apple police'' and told them to focus their cameras on her. That's more like it, fellow Albanians.
Later, though, as Emily and Judi walked between rows of trees on their way to pick apples, people seemed to Judi to avert their gazes rather than risk engagement.
So what gives?
I guess Delmar and its environs are not as friendly as small-town America, at least the California version thereof. But since I'm such a good hugger, Judi has promised to come back anyway. We'll probably just stay away from Price Chopper during the next visit.
Mostly, it's the people she doesn't like, especially Price Chopper workers.
During a lunch/shopping expedition there earlier this week, we were first confronted by a deli worker who would obviously had rather been anywhere than where she was, and made us feel like she was doing a favor by taking our order.
Then Judi asked another worker where to find packages of dry spaghetti sauce. He thought for a few seconds and said they didn't carry it, he never heard of it, all the while seeming somewhat annoyed with her for asking. When she found it and (nicely) told him, he was not impressed - more like annoyed.
This was after Judi made the mistake of asking the woman at Starbucks how she was and hearing a tale of woe about extra work she had to do, but before the woman checking us out at Toys R Us who had failed to put in her teeth that morning could barely mumble to us as we paid for a purchase.
"No wonder people are leaving New York,'' Judi said to me after that encounter.
She also noticed that other people met casually just seem much less likely to return a gaze and a smile than at home, which is a town of about 12,000 people in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains an hour and a half east of Sacramento.
She suggested the difference is not so much between NY and California as between small towns and bigger places.
This is all a bit disconcerting to someone like me who has always found the area, and all of upstate for that matter, full of people far friendlier than from bigger places.
The situation was somewhat saved today when Judi asked a worker today at Indian Ladders Farms in Altamont how he was doing and he said, "just another day in paradise.'' When she asked him if it was OK to eat an apple while picking others for sale, he pretended to get on the phone to the "apple police'' and told them to focus their cameras on her. That's more like it, fellow Albanians.
Later, though, as Emily and Judi walked between rows of trees on their way to pick apples, people seemed to Judi to avert their gazes rather than risk engagement.
So what gives?
I guess Delmar and its environs are not as friendly as small-town America, at least the California version thereof. But since I'm such a good hugger, Judi has promised to come back anyway. We'll probably just stay away from Price Chopper during the next visit.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
No primary day for reporters
Almost any day is a good time to be a reporter, except today, which is when primaries are held in New York.
By tradition at many papers and by rule at some, reporters don't join political parties. I mean, what could be worse than nailing some venal politician in some scam only to have him or her say that what do you expect, the guy or gal who wrote this is a member of the opposition party? It would weaken the credibility of the story.
The downside of not being enrolled in a party in New York is you don't get to vote in primaries, and when one party is in control of so many things, the primary is tantamount to election (think Albany mayor).
There is also a primary this year that interests me a lot locally - two town supervisor candidates, one Democrat and one Republican, vying for the Independence Party nomination to get a leg up in the November general election by getting another party line on the ballot. But since I'm not enrolled in the Independence Party, I can't participate.
The Independence line in New York is partly a scam, since a lot of people don't know the difference between being an independent (not enrolled in a party) and being a member of the Independence Party (Think Ross Perot and Tom Golisano). Candidates rightly figure that any form of the word close to their name one election day is a plus, especially now when both major parties seem to be in disrepute.
Part of the problem is New York law, which set rules about registering to vote and enrolling in a party that are complicated on purpose to discourage many from casting ballots. It's one reason a huge upset like Jesse Ventura's election as governor of Minnesota (driven largely by voters who registered on election day) don't happen in New York, where voters have to register far in advance of elections.
Some states allow unenrolled voters to cast ballots in party primaries, but not in New York. So reporters and others who shun political parties essentially have others decide for them which candidates will be on the general-election ballot in November.
I'll have more to say about why anybody would put up with this later.
Meanwhile, we are mourning the passing of Patrick Swayze of "Dirty Dancing" and "Ghost'' fame at age 57 yesterday from pancreatic cancer. His illness was not diagnosed until it was far advanced, but he kept working and surprised doctors by surviving almost two years. He was a good role model for others who suffer from the disease.
By tradition at many papers and by rule at some, reporters don't join political parties. I mean, what could be worse than nailing some venal politician in some scam only to have him or her say that what do you expect, the guy or gal who wrote this is a member of the opposition party? It would weaken the credibility of the story.
The downside of not being enrolled in a party in New York is you don't get to vote in primaries, and when one party is in control of so many things, the primary is tantamount to election (think Albany mayor).
There is also a primary this year that interests me a lot locally - two town supervisor candidates, one Democrat and one Republican, vying for the Independence Party nomination to get a leg up in the November general election by getting another party line on the ballot. But since I'm not enrolled in the Independence Party, I can't participate.
The Independence line in New York is partly a scam, since a lot of people don't know the difference between being an independent (not enrolled in a party) and being a member of the Independence Party (Think Ross Perot and Tom Golisano). Candidates rightly figure that any form of the word close to their name one election day is a plus, especially now when both major parties seem to be in disrepute.
Part of the problem is New York law, which set rules about registering to vote and enrolling in a party that are complicated on purpose to discourage many from casting ballots. It's one reason a huge upset like Jesse Ventura's election as governor of Minnesota (driven largely by voters who registered on election day) don't happen in New York, where voters have to register far in advance of elections.
Some states allow unenrolled voters to cast ballots in party primaries, but not in New York. So reporters and others who shun political parties essentially have others decide for them which candidates will be on the general-election ballot in November.
I'll have more to say about why anybody would put up with this later.
Meanwhile, we are mourning the passing of Patrick Swayze of "Dirty Dancing" and "Ghost'' fame at age 57 yesterday from pancreatic cancer. His illness was not diagnosed until it was far advanced, but he kept working and surprised doctors by surviving almost two years. He was a good role model for others who suffer from the disease.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Barry the Box
Total raised so far from yesterday's walk in Bethlehem to benefit pancreatic-cancer research is $41,000, an organizer told me today. Since pledges will be accepted for a couple of more weeks, that total is expected to increase. Once more, thanks to all who contributed.
Have to admit my call for help in naming my Kleenex box did not unleash a big wave of creativity out there. Suggestions include The Box, Scotty, Kleenex, Cry, Cry, Cry, Fenway and Charlie, in a dubious tribute to Janice's dog.
I also learned from one friend that Tom Hanks' "Wilson'' inanimate companion (a volleyball) might have been named after the founder of AA, and just not in exchange for a product-placement fee. When I saw the movie, I just cynically assumed that Wilson outbid Spaulding, Nike and other companies for the honor.
I have settled on Barry the Box, in some kind of reference to what our prez called himself as a youth before going back to the more authentic Barack. Angle here is the pain and disease the box represents is also only temporary and will be gone when I cast the box away.
Plus a little alliteration literally lept to my (brain) lobes.
Have to admit my call for help in naming my Kleenex box did not unleash a big wave of creativity out there. Suggestions include The Box, Scotty, Kleenex, Cry, Cry, Cry, Fenway and Charlie, in a dubious tribute to Janice's dog.
I also learned from one friend that Tom Hanks' "Wilson'' inanimate companion (a volleyball) might have been named after the founder of AA, and just not in exchange for a product-placement fee. When I saw the movie, I just cynically assumed that Wilson outbid Spaulding, Nike and other companies for the honor.
I have settled on Barry the Box, in some kind of reference to what our prez called himself as a youth before going back to the more authentic Barack. Angle here is the pain and disease the box represents is also only temporary and will be gone when I cast the box away.
Plus a little alliteration literally lept to my (brain) lobes.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Walk for Hope
A couple of hundred people turned out today for the fight-pancreatic-cancer walk in our town park. Bethlehem is one of seven sites that holds walks annually, mainly because of the leadership of the Piper family, which has lost several members to the disease.
This is the sixth year the event, "The Walk for Hope,'' was held here. I was oblivious to it before.
Team Gallagher was well represented, with several friends joining Emily, Janice and Judi (my sister-in-law) and myself on the 1.2-mile route. Even Charlie, Janice's huge (100-pound) Old English Sheepdog, cavorted along on a crystal-clear late-summer day.
I don't know what the fund-raising total was for the whole event, but Team Gallagher chipped in with more than $1,700. We were blown away by the generosity of people. Thanks.
The walks around the country raised a total of $1.8 million last year. All the money goes for research, since the overhead is paid for by sponsors, most importantly Cablevision Systems. Cablevision executive Marc Lustgarten died from the disease a decade ago.
Hardest part was seeing so many people wearing tee-shirts and signs in memory of those who have died of the disease. Best part was hearing survival stories of those still around, including one woman who was diagnosed 25 years ago.
This is the sixth year the event, "The Walk for Hope,'' was held here. I was oblivious to it before.
Team Gallagher was well represented, with several friends joining Emily, Janice and Judi (my sister-in-law) and myself on the 1.2-mile route. Even Charlie, Janice's huge (100-pound) Old English Sheepdog, cavorted along on a crystal-clear late-summer day.
I don't know what the fund-raising total was for the whole event, but Team Gallagher chipped in with more than $1,700. We were blown away by the generosity of people. Thanks.
The walks around the country raised a total of $1.8 million last year. All the money goes for research, since the overhead is paid for by sponsors, most importantly Cablevision Systems. Cablevision executive Marc Lustgarten died from the disease a decade ago.
Hardest part was seeing so many people wearing tee-shirts and signs in memory of those who have died of the disease. Best part was hearing survival stories of those still around, including one woman who was diagnosed 25 years ago.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Sai Maa part two
We (Emily, my Kleenex box and I) saw Sai Maa again today, at a public session at Siena College.
There were hundreds of people there (who paid $177 apiece) and I had no personal contact with her, but she did say some more things that resonated with me, including the need to get the sadness and disease out of my body. I hugged my Kleenex box, which I have started to wear under my shirt, when she said that.
She talked a lot about recognizing the anger some people store up from their childhoods and from their parents, but I don't have much of that. However, listening to the sobs of many people, she was on target with what they needed to hear.
She was also far more confrontational with people than she was at our earlier session, criticizing some whom she thought weren't addressing their problems.
The entire session lasted five hours, but I bailed out when it was about half over. I think the conclusion I've drawn is just like one has to confront conventional medical practices with a critical eye, that's also the best way to look at other healing traditions as well.
I will always be grateful to Sai Maa for giving me a concrete way to try to address and get rid of some inner angst that likely is contributing to my condition.
Meanwhile, if anybody has any ideas on what to name my Kleenex box, I'm open to suggestions.
There were hundreds of people there (who paid $177 apiece) and I had no personal contact with her, but she did say some more things that resonated with me, including the need to get the sadness and disease out of my body. I hugged my Kleenex box, which I have started to wear under my shirt, when she said that.
She talked a lot about recognizing the anger some people store up from their childhoods and from their parents, but I don't have much of that. However, listening to the sobs of many people, she was on target with what they needed to hear.
She was also far more confrontational with people than she was at our earlier session, criticizing some whom she thought weren't addressing their problems.
The entire session lasted five hours, but I bailed out when it was about half over. I think the conclusion I've drawn is just like one has to confront conventional medical practices with a critical eye, that's also the best way to look at other healing traditions as well.
I will always be grateful to Sai Maa for giving me a concrete way to try to address and get rid of some inner angst that likely is contributing to my condition.
Meanwhile, if anybody has any ideas on what to name my Kleenex box, I'm open to suggestions.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Sai Maa and me
To go with the principle of leaving no stone unturned on how to get better and also to please Emily, I went to a meeting last night where a noted Indian "spiritual master'' named Sai Maa Lakshmi Devi was speaking.
Between 40 and 50 people crowded into a living room in Latham to hear her thoughts on healing, spirituality, what happens after death and other matters.
Most of the people in the room, including Emily, were those who had helped arrange a weekend's worth of events for her in Albany, and their family members. Emily, in fact, traveled to Colorado last summer to attend a week-long workshop she conducted.
About 15 minutes later than scheduled, this small, slight, middle-aged woman in flowing robes and a beatific smile came gliding into the room. Sai Maa took her place at the front of the room and greeted us.
After a few introductory remarks, when she told us tidbits about herself like she sleeps only 45 minutes a night and eats only sparingly, she wanted to know about us. She called on several people, one of whom had recovered well from recent surgery and another who, along with her children, was struggling with the recent death of her husband.
She seemed to listen carefully and then gave out some advice, including how a grieving daughter might still connect with her deceased father.
I raised my hand and, in a response to the question of how I was doing, said I had been diagnosed with cancer three months earlier, and was generally scared, angry and sad.
Sai Maa responded that there was a reason I had been stricken, that it wasn't random.
How could that be? I asked.
She pressed me on what has been going on in my life for the past few years. After responding at first that I was just going through life like anyone else, I told her, tearily, about the agonizing death of my sister just over a year ago, my anger at that, as well as the sadness I still held inside me over the deaths of my parents.
She asked me what I wanted, and I told her I wanted to go back to a time when all of the people I loved were still alive.
She told me what I needed to do was to get thoughts of my sister's death, as well as my parents, out from inside me. She said I didn't need to forget my sister, but to separate the thoughts of her from her death. I had essentially let my sister's death invade my body, she said.
Her solution: take an inanimate object (someone handed me a small box of tissues) and consider that my cancer. Talk to it, develop a relationship with it, she said, then, after a week or so, cast it aside.
Sai Maa had me practice embracing the cancer (the box) and then thrusting it away. It was an emotionally satisfying thing to do, and I again dissolved in tears.
Then I went up to her chair and, at her suggestion, gave her a hug, as well as a kiss. She put her hands on my abdomen, moving them around until she found my pancreas (I had not mentioned the kind of cancer I was afflicted with) and stopped there, in what I am sure was an attempt to trasmit healing energy.
I returned to my seat with my new companion, the Kleenex box, which I have kept close by ever since. We're not friends yet, but I'm working on it. Sort of reminds me of Tom Hanks and his volleyball friend "Wilson'' in his movie "Castaway."
Hey, you never know.
Between 40 and 50 people crowded into a living room in Latham to hear her thoughts on healing, spirituality, what happens after death and other matters.
Most of the people in the room, including Emily, were those who had helped arrange a weekend's worth of events for her in Albany, and their family members. Emily, in fact, traveled to Colorado last summer to attend a week-long workshop she conducted.
About 15 minutes later than scheduled, this small, slight, middle-aged woman in flowing robes and a beatific smile came gliding into the room. Sai Maa took her place at the front of the room and greeted us.
After a few introductory remarks, when she told us tidbits about herself like she sleeps only 45 minutes a night and eats only sparingly, she wanted to know about us. She called on several people, one of whom had recovered well from recent surgery and another who, along with her children, was struggling with the recent death of her husband.
She seemed to listen carefully and then gave out some advice, including how a grieving daughter might still connect with her deceased father.
I raised my hand and, in a response to the question of how I was doing, said I had been diagnosed with cancer three months earlier, and was generally scared, angry and sad.
Sai Maa responded that there was a reason I had been stricken, that it wasn't random.
How could that be? I asked.
She pressed me on what has been going on in my life for the past few years. After responding at first that I was just going through life like anyone else, I told her, tearily, about the agonizing death of my sister just over a year ago, my anger at that, as well as the sadness I still held inside me over the deaths of my parents.
She asked me what I wanted, and I told her I wanted to go back to a time when all of the people I loved were still alive.
She told me what I needed to do was to get thoughts of my sister's death, as well as my parents, out from inside me. She said I didn't need to forget my sister, but to separate the thoughts of her from her death. I had essentially let my sister's death invade my body, she said.
Her solution: take an inanimate object (someone handed me a small box of tissues) and consider that my cancer. Talk to it, develop a relationship with it, she said, then, after a week or so, cast it aside.
Sai Maa had me practice embracing the cancer (the box) and then thrusting it away. It was an emotionally satisfying thing to do, and I again dissolved in tears.
Then I went up to her chair and, at her suggestion, gave her a hug, as well as a kiss. She put her hands on my abdomen, moving them around until she found my pancreas (I had not mentioned the kind of cancer I was afflicted with) and stopped there, in what I am sure was an attempt to trasmit healing energy.
I returned to my seat with my new companion, the Kleenex box, which I have kept close by ever since. We're not friends yet, but I'm working on it. Sort of reminds me of Tom Hanks and his volleyball friend "Wilson'' in his movie "Castaway."
Hey, you never know.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Cancer-walk donations - wow
We've been blown away already by the reaction of people to our request for donations for the pancreatic-cancer walk this Sunday. Thanks to all of you who have been so generous. It's nice to be able to do something concrete to fight the disease.
Again, the address is http://www.lustgarten.org/jaygallagheralbany - which is the Team Gallagher website.
Also heard today from a Buffalo News reporter who reminded me that former SUNY chancellor Bruce Johnstone is a 16-year survivor of pancreatic cancer. He had a rough time during treatment but came through it and has felt great for years.
This was chemo "hump day'' - my fifth of nine scheduled sessions. As usual, it was not traumatic, although I did have to put up with Fox News on one nearby TV and Rachel Ray on another. No wonder Americans' brains are turning to mush.
It helped that I had someone new to hold my hand - my sister-in-law Judi Kreinick flew in from California and will be around for almost two weeks.
My immediate impression of Obama last night is that he is a much better speaker than either of the candidates for Bethlehem town supervisor, whom I had seen live just last week. He even surpassed Paul Tonko, our local congressman who made a pretty lame attempt to explain the health-care debate to a big crowd here a few weeks ago. If Obama keeps his focus and stays away from interns, he might amount to something. Of course I also recalled that Bill Clinton made a pretty good health-care speech 16 years ago to spur an effort that eventually fell short.
We were appalled at that South Carolina congressman who called Obama a liar. That seems beyond the pale of even what now passes for political discourse in this country.
Again, the address is http://www.lustgarten.org/
Also heard today from a Buffalo News reporter who reminded me that former SUNY chancellor Bruce Johnstone is a 16-year survivor of pancreatic cancer. He had a rough time during treatment but came through it and has felt great for years.
This was chemo "hump day'' - my fifth of nine scheduled sessions. As usual, it was not traumatic, although I did have to put up with Fox News on one nearby TV and Rachel Ray on another. No wonder Americans' brains are turning to mush.
It helped that I had someone new to hold my hand - my sister-in-law Judi Kreinick flew in from California and will be around for almost two weeks.
My immediate impression of Obama last night is that he is a much better speaker than either of the candidates for Bethlehem town supervisor, whom I had seen live just last week. He even surpassed Paul Tonko, our local congressman who made a pretty lame attempt to explain the health-care debate to a big crowd here a few weeks ago. If Obama keeps his focus and stays away from interns, he might amount to something. Of course I also recalled that Bill Clinton made a pretty good health-care speech 16 years ago to spur an effort that eventually fell short.
We were appalled at that South Carolina congressman who called Obama a liar. That seems beyond the pale of even what now passes for political discourse in this country.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Politics of decline
We're psyched to listen to President Obama explain cogently and concisely tonight why health-care reform is needed and why his plan is the way to go. I'll bet he says "yes we can'' once or twice. That seemed to work for him back when he was popular. Who knows? Maybe a few people will be listening with open minds.
I'm finding being as casual observer to the issue to be increasingly frustrating. It doesn't seem likely that our political system is flexible enough to deal with a real crisis like this, instead just pushing it off into the future as we've been doing for decades. And intelligent debate of the pros and cons seems hard to find.
David Brooks had a depressing column in The NY Times yesterday about the fact that while there is no doubt we need to control spending since we have made so many promises (Medicare and Social Security are the best examples) that we can't pay for we aren't making progress on dealing with them. The issue seems to be, do we just keep borrowing until the rest of the world finally decides we aren't a good credit risk any more or do we somehow stop ourselves from spending so much?
The way Brooks looks at it, there are at least two of the models to try to govern ourselves: one is to give the people as much direct power as possible, and the other is to concentrateauthority in the hands of experts.
Trouble is, he says, neither works. Californians have more direct sayr over their state and local budgets than most other Americans. But they have used it is "to tax themselves like libertarians and subsidize themselves like socialists,'' he says. That system has empowered special interests. Teachers there are among the best paid and can't be fired, even if found with pot or pornography in school because of union power. But the California schools are among the worst and the state is in fiscal meltdown, with problems that dwarf even New York's.
But giving power to experts doesn't work either, he says, because they seem eventually to climb into bed with special interests. For example, he points out out that bankers talked Congress and federal regulators into changes in financial rules that helped lead to the financial crisis that started about a year ago.
Closer to home, Eliot Spitzer, (who is now teaching at CUNY) seemed like the ideal guy to shake up Albany when he was elected NY governor in 2006 - bright, aggrressive, principled and almost bristling with energy. But Spitzer's personal weaknesses and need for power undermined his better instincts, and he quickly flamed out.
Obama seemed like the latest savior, but how his approval rating is middling at best. At least on TV tonight, while he's talking nobody will be screaming about taking the government out of Medicare or our slide towards socialism or death panels (thanks Betsy McCaughey). That won't start for at least a few seconds after he's finished.
I'm finding being as casual observer to the issue to be increasingly frustrating. It doesn't seem likely that our political system is flexible enough to deal with a real crisis like this, instead just pushing it off into the future as we've been doing for decades. And intelligent debate of the pros and cons seems hard to find.
David Brooks had a depressing column in The NY Times yesterday about the fact that while there is no doubt we need to control spending since we have made so many promises (Medicare and Social Security are the best examples) that we can't pay for we aren't making progress on dealing with them. The issue seems to be, do we just keep borrowing until the rest of the world finally decides we aren't a good credit risk any more or do we somehow stop ourselves from spending so much?
The way Brooks looks at it, there are at least two of the models to try to govern ourselves: one is to give the people as much direct power as possible, and the other is to concentrateauthority in the hands of experts.
Trouble is, he says, neither works. Californians have more direct sayr over their state and local budgets than most other Americans. But they have used it is "to tax themselves like libertarians and subsidize themselves like socialists,'' he says. That system has empowered special interests. Teachers there are among the best paid and can't be fired, even if found with pot or pornography in school because of union power. But the California schools are among the worst and the state is in fiscal meltdown, with problems that dwarf even New York's.
But giving power to experts doesn't work either, he says, because they seem eventually to climb into bed with special interests. For example, he points out out that bankers talked Congress and federal regulators into changes in financial rules that helped lead to the financial crisis that started about a year ago.
Closer to home, Eliot Spitzer, (who is now teaching at CUNY) seemed like the ideal guy to shake up Albany when he was elected NY governor in 2006 - bright, aggrressive, principled and almost bristling with energy. But Spitzer's personal weaknesses and need for power undermined his better instincts, and he quickly flamed out.
Obama seemed like the latest savior, but how his approval rating is middling at best. At least on TV tonight, while he's talking nobody will be screaming about taking the government out of Medicare or our slide towards socialism or death panels (thanks Betsy McCaughey). That won't start for at least a few seconds after he's finished.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Hurray for interns
Among well wishers in my e-mail today were two of the more than 30 interns who have worked for us since I became bureau chief 20 years ago. I'd say that since my diagnosis in June I've now heard about two-thirds of the college students who have worked part-time for us over the years. It's been great to reconnect and hear how they're doing.
I am the son, brother and father of teachers, and seriously considered teaching myself as a career when I got out of school. Except for my column, there was no part of the job I enjoyed more than mentoring interns, most of whom have done a good job for us.
For the most part, they have been energetic, responsible and eager to learn, and what more could a teacher ask? There was one who when he said he had to go move his car would be gone for hours, but even he turned into a competent adult and good man. And several now have big-time journalism jobs and most of the others are doing well in other fields.
Even though I had to do much of the editing of their stories on deadline, I always made sure they were right behind my shoulder so they could see what I was doing. On the occasions when I more or less had to scrap their versions and pound out something in a hurry, I regularly set aisde some time the next day to talk about it. The only times I remember getting angry was when the same mistakes were repeated.
Gannett actually pays interns, which was the norm 20 years ago in journalism but is now unusual now. The pay has helped us I think attract the very best SUNY Albany journalism students as well as occasional summer interns from other schools (including two from Colby, where Emily and I went to college and where we were married. Both did a great job. )
I realize the big advantage I had in the work situations over teachers was that I had only one at a time to deal with. Generally that means they got far more attention than they ever would in a classroom. The other reporters in the bureau for the most part also jumped in to help the interns. In a way we had no choice. The volume of work before us dictated that we needed a competent intern to help us cover the news. Writing stories for us was not an academic exercise. It was always fun to see their faces light up when they would see their by-lines in the paper.
The only problem recently has been trying to not get to discouraging when we discuss job prospects as the internships wind down. Obviously newspapers are not the wave of the future. But the skills one needs as a reporter - inquisitiveness, determination, sociability, aggressiveness and writing ability among them - are widely transferable, I tell them.
In other news, as they used to say on TV, we're trying to get a little more organized for the Sunday walk to help fight pancreatic cancer. I am sponsoring a "team'' and hope to raise $500. Here's the address is you want to help: http://www.lustgarten.org/Page.aspx?pid=744&frsid=14114
I am the son, brother and father of teachers, and seriously considered teaching myself as a career when I got out of school. Except for my column, there was no part of the job I enjoyed more than mentoring interns, most of whom have done a good job for us.
For the most part, they have been energetic, responsible and eager to learn, and what more could a teacher ask? There was one who when he said he had to go move his car would be gone for hours, but even he turned into a competent adult and good man. And several now have big-time journalism jobs and most of the others are doing well in other fields.
Even though I had to do much of the editing of their stories on deadline, I always made sure they were right behind my shoulder so they could see what I was doing. On the occasions when I more or less had to scrap their versions and pound out something in a hurry, I regularly set aisde some time the next day to talk about it. The only times I remember getting angry was when the same mistakes were repeated.
Gannett actually pays interns, which was the norm 20 years ago in journalism but is now unusual now. The pay has helped us I think attract the very best SUNY Albany journalism students as well as occasional summer interns from other schools (including two from Colby, where Emily and I went to college and where we were married. Both did a great job. )
I realize the big advantage I had in the work situations over teachers was that I had only one at a time to deal with. Generally that means they got far more attention than they ever would in a classroom. The other reporters in the bureau for the most part also jumped in to help the interns. In a way we had no choice. The volume of work before us dictated that we needed a competent intern to help us cover the news. Writing stories for us was not an academic exercise. It was always fun to see their faces light up when they would see their by-lines in the paper.
The only problem recently has been trying to not get to discouraging when we discuss job prospects as the internships wind down. Obviously newspapers are not the wave of the future. But the skills one needs as a reporter - inquisitiveness, determination, sociability, aggressiveness and writing ability among them - are widely transferable, I tell them.
In other news, as they used to say on TV, we're trying to get a little more organized for the Sunday walk to help fight pancreatic cancer. I am sponsoring a "team'' and hope to raise $500. Here's the address is you want to help: http://www.lustgarten.org/Page.aspx?pid=744&frsid=14114
Monday, September 7, 2009
Walk in the park
Sunday's paper seemed stuffed with ads for events this month in the Albany area for active people who want to fight diseases and other maladies.
There is a "Tour de Habitat'' at the end of the month, which consists of riding a bicycle 10, 25, 50 or 100 miles to raise money to build homes for the needy; the Race for Hope, a 5k walk-run through Slingerlands (right near where we live) to help those with brain, head and neck cancers; an AIDS walk at the end of the month; and a walk to cure diabetes on the 20th.
Worthy causes, all. But I have to admit my attention is focused on the walk next Sunday in our town, Delmar, to help fight pancreatic cancer.
The walk, of .6, 1.2 or 2.4 mile,s is through the Bethlehem Town Park on Elm Avenue. Registration, which is $50, starts at 9:30 a.m. and the actual walk gets underway at 10:15.
It's one of many such walks around the country organized by the Lustgarten Foundation, which is named after Marc Lustgarten, a Long Island man and Cablevision executive who died of the disease in 1999. According to its website, the foundation has raised $6.5 million for research since it was founded a decade ago.
More information is available at http://www.lustgarten.org/jaygallagheralbany
It will be my first sort of cancer-support event, and I'm eager to get a feel for what is being done to increase awareness and research funding to fight the disease.
There is a "Tour de Habitat'' at the end of the month, which consists of riding a bicycle 10, 25, 50 or 100 miles to raise money to build homes for the needy; the Race for Hope, a 5k walk-run through Slingerlands (right near where we live) to help those with brain, head and neck cancers; an AIDS walk at the end of the month; and a walk to cure diabetes on the 20th.
Worthy causes, all. But I have to admit my attention is focused on the walk next Sunday in our town, Delmar, to help fight pancreatic cancer.
The walk, of .6, 1.2 or 2.4 mile,s is through the Bethlehem Town Park on Elm Avenue. Registration, which is $50, starts at 9:30 a.m. and the actual walk gets underway at 10:15.
It's one of many such walks around the country organized by the Lustgarten Foundation, which is named after Marc Lustgarten, a Long Island man and Cablevision executive who died of the disease in 1999. According to its website, the foundation has raised $6.5 million for research since it was founded a decade ago.
More information is available at http://www.lustgarten.org/jaygallagheralbany
It will be my first sort of cancer-support event, and I'm eager to get a feel for what is being done to increase awareness and research funding to fight the disease.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
cancer-free day
We had fun yesterday on our friends' sailboat on Lake George. Beautiful day, plenty of wind, great company. Nice to have something special to do on the long holiday weekend.
Among the best parts was that I don't think the word "cancer'' was uttered or any reference made to my illness all day long. These friends know my situation, asked me several times if I was comfortable and excused me from any heavy lifting and most of the other chores. But otherwise we concentrated on the water, the wind, the sun, the sails, other boats, politics, kids and other more fun things.
It got to the point that when I had the tiller for 15 or 20 minutes, with the wind and sun in my face and course to worry about keeping, that I almost completely forgot that I'm a cancer patient. At this stage, that is a great gift.
There is something about heeling over 30 degrees or so as the wind roars and you feel more like you're standing up in the cockpit rather than sitting down and being pitched into the water doesn't seem like an unlikely occurrence that concentrates the mind on the here and now. Fortunately we did have confidence, which proved to be well founded, in our skipper.
It's a very different experience from running around in my 14-foot, single-sail sunfish, where I've spent the majority of my sailing days (only one this year, unfortunately). Lake George is too big, the and weather too rough yesterday, to think it would have been much fun to have been out in a smaller boat. Sunfish (at least mine) flip over a lot, and the idea of righting the boat in such choppy water is a little intimidating.
Although I'm sure such an adventure would also have pushed other concerns to the back of my mind, where I like them to be.
Among the best parts was that I don't think the word "cancer'' was uttered or any reference made to my illness all day long. These friends know my situation, asked me several times if I was comfortable and excused me from any heavy lifting and most of the other chores. But otherwise we concentrated on the water, the wind, the sun, the sails, other boats, politics, kids and other more fun things.
It got to the point that when I had the tiller for 15 or 20 minutes, with the wind and sun in my face and course to worry about keeping, that I almost completely forgot that I'm a cancer patient. At this stage, that is a great gift.
There is something about heeling over 30 degrees or so as the wind roars and you feel more like you're standing up in the cockpit rather than sitting down and being pitched into the water doesn't seem like an unlikely occurrence that concentrates the mind on the here and now. Fortunately we did have confidence, which proved to be well founded, in our skipper.
It's a very different experience from running around in my 14-foot, single-sail sunfish, where I've spent the majority of my sailing days (only one this year, unfortunately). Lake George is too big, the and weather too rough yesterday, to think it would have been much fun to have been out in a smaller boat. Sunfish (at least mine) flip over a lot, and the idea of righting the boat in such choppy water is a little intimidating.
Although I'm sure such an adventure would also have pushed other concerns to the back of my mind, where I like them to be.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Private citizen, part deux
People ask me frequently if I miss work and the Capitol. I usually shrug my shoulders and say of course, but don't think too much about it.
But last night I was sort of back in the old milieu and I realized how deeply I do miss being there. I went to a debate between the two guys running for town supervisor of our town, Bethlehem. Sans notebook, of course, and trying to get up to speed in my new role as a citizen (still not enrolled in a political party, of course).
Most importantly, it was fun to see some reporters, politicos and goo-goos (good-government) advocates again. Most people probably don't realize that while the Capitol is a source of great conflicts and animosity, there is also a lot of comraderie. Leavng it has obviously has left a big void in my life.
Last night's debate was sponsored by the county League of Women Voters, so that meant a lot of good hugs for me to give and receive. And in my new hugger mode, I embraced some other people I know as well.
Then after listening to the candidates talk for 90 minutes, mostly dodging questions that weren't well focused, I had an urge to buttonhole them and try to get some straighter answers. But I resisted.
Even more fun were the post-mortems, talking about openings the challenger failed to take advantage of, the proper balance between politeness and aggressiveness, how smooth the incumbent was, etc. In other words, many of the things that has long fascinated me about politics were on display.
Then a real bonus: the lone TV reporter in the room had discovered Emily and was interviewing her on her thoughts when I glanced over to find her.
For more than five minutes while the camera was on, she was lucid, candid and interesting in responding to his questions. I jokingly warned the guy not to edit it, and just devote the top of the newscast to her comments. He cut her down on the 11 p.m. show that night to about 15 seconds, but Emily agreed it was her best 15 seconds.
But last night I was sort of back in the old milieu and I realized how deeply I do miss being there. I went to a debate between the two guys running for town supervisor of our town, Bethlehem. Sans notebook, of course, and trying to get up to speed in my new role as a citizen (still not enrolled in a political party, of course).
Most importantly, it was fun to see some reporters, politicos and goo-goos (good-government) advocates again. Most people probably don't realize that while the Capitol is a source of great conflicts and animosity, there is also a lot of comraderie. Leavng it has obviously has left a big void in my life.
Last night's debate was sponsored by the county League of Women Voters, so that meant a lot of good hugs for me to give and receive. And in my new hugger mode, I embraced some other people I know as well.
Then after listening to the candidates talk for 90 minutes, mostly dodging questions that weren't well focused, I had an urge to buttonhole them and try to get some straighter answers. But I resisted.
Even more fun were the post-mortems, talking about openings the challenger failed to take advantage of, the proper balance between politeness and aggressiveness, how smooth the incumbent was, etc. In other words, many of the things that has long fascinated me about politics were on display.
Then a real bonus: the lone TV reporter in the room had discovered Emily and was interviewing her on her thoughts when I glanced over to find her.
For more than five minutes while the camera was on, she was lucid, candid and interesting in responding to his questions. I jokingly warned the guy not to edit it, and just devote the top of the newscast to her comments. He cut her down on the 11 p.m. show that night to about 15 seconds, but Emily agreed it was her best 15 seconds.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Drink up
I started the second round of chemo treatments today, moving it up a day to give me a little time to recover before the next three weekends. For the fourth time, I had a new nurse who went out of her way to make me as comfortable as possible as the medication/poison dripped into a vein.
I have found there is something soothing to having a warm blanket draped over me as I lie back in a recliner getting the treatment.
It took exactly as long for the medication to be administered as it did for me to do the Times crossword, which I think shows speed is not one of my crossword skills.
Our nurse, Felicia, gave us what seems like a good tip: The more you drink, the quicker the chemo residue is flushed from your system and the faster you recover from the treatments. I've been guzzling water (she said beer wouldn't work) ever since. We'll see what happens.
I also got a hug from my Red Sox nurse, Judy. We didn't even mention the Yanks, since all focus now is on the wild card. The big Yanks lead seems to have taken the edge off the rivalry for the front-runners, who believe that the earth's orbit has been rightfully restored since their team is playing so well, even if it costs $200 million or so to do it. Best hope for the rest of mankind seems to be them cooling off by October.
But who's counting their payroll?... Time to drink some more water. Maybe it would taste better if I put it in Heineken's bottle.
I have found there is something soothing to having a warm blanket draped over me as I lie back in a recliner getting the treatment.
It took exactly as long for the medication to be administered as it did for me to do the Times crossword, which I think shows speed is not one of my crossword skills.
Our nurse, Felicia, gave us what seems like a good tip: The more you drink, the quicker the chemo residue is flushed from your system and the faster you recover from the treatments. I've been guzzling water (she said beer wouldn't work) ever since. We'll see what happens.
I also got a hug from my Red Sox nurse, Judy. We didn't even mention the Yanks, since all focus now is on the wild card. The big Yanks lead seems to have taken the edge off the rivalry for the front-runners, who believe that the earth's orbit has been rightfully restored since their team is playing so well, even if it costs $200 million or so to do it. Best hope for the rest of mankind seems to be them cooling off by October.
But who's counting their payroll?... Time to drink some more water. Maybe it would taste better if I put it in Heineken's bottle.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Cancer wars
Has the paper always been so full of cancer articles, or is it I'm just finding them more? Wish my eyes focused more on Albany and Red Sox stories like they used to.
At any rate, interesting story in today's Times about pharmaceutical companies getting more heavily into cancer drugs as their profits from other areas shrink.
This is of course a good-news and bad-news story. It's certainly good news that the companies are investing in research that could lead to new drugs to fight cancer. Patients get the benefits and the companies get rich. That's the American way.
On the other side, though, seems like the drugs developed so far are very expensive and don't advance the cause that much.
For example, the article cited a new pancreatic-cancer drug, Tarceva, which costs $3,500 a month and lengthened the average patient's life by only 12 days. Not exactly a home run.
The article sets out an impressive list of barriers to developing new drugs, the biggest seeming to be the almost infinite variety of cancers that afflict people. Trying to find drugs effective against many or most of them has proven to be difficult indeed.
But AIDS and other diseases that looked resistant to drugs for a long time have yielded in the end to drug therapy. American money and research seems like a promising way to go and has to give people like me hope.
At any rate, interesting story in today's Times about pharmaceutical companies getting more heavily into cancer drugs as their profits from other areas shrink.
This is of course a good-news and bad-news story. It's certainly good news that the companies are investing in research that could lead to new drugs to fight cancer. Patients get the benefits and the companies get rich. That's the American way.
On the other side, though, seems like the drugs developed so far are very expensive and don't advance the cause that much.
For example, the article cited a new pancreatic-cancer drug, Tarceva, which costs $3,500 a month and lengthened the average patient's life by only 12 days. Not exactly a home run.
The article sets out an impressive list of barriers to developing new drugs, the biggest seeming to be the almost infinite variety of cancers that afflict people. Trying to find drugs effective against many or most of them has proven to be difficult indeed.
But AIDS and other diseases that looked resistant to drugs for a long time have yielded in the end to drug therapy. American money and research seems like a promising way to go and has to give people like me hope.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Once is enough
There's a good story in today's Times by Dan Barry, a reporter who has two bouts of cancer and has recovered each time.
What jumped out at me was how he said when he had chemo the first time the experience revealed "the world in all its mundane glory.'' He began to notice things like fireflies, the design of olives and people hustling to appointments or to get a fried egg sandwich. If only he could recover, he promised himself, he would more fully appreciate the world.
I had a similar epiphany not connected with chemo but when I was operated on in June. Just being able to walk outside, to smell a warm breeze, to sit on my porch again was my dream as I laid in my hospital bed in Boston.
But Barry said once he recovered he was again overtaken by everyday worries like traffic jams and work hassles.
He has gone through the same cycle twice, admitting to feeling foolish about it.
"What's the use of surviving cancer if you don't learn from it?'' he asked.
I haven't recovered and still have a long road ahead of me. But many of my dreams from June have been fulfilled. I can sit on my porch, smell the warm breezes, eat what I want, hug my wife and my kids, watch the Red Sox and enjoy friends.
"Am I so thick that I have to learn the life-is-precious message twice?'' Barry asked.
I hope in my case once will be enough.
What jumped out at me was how he said when he had chemo the first time the experience revealed "the world in all its mundane glory.'' He began to notice things like fireflies, the design of olives and people hustling to appointments or to get a fried egg sandwich. If only he could recover, he promised himself, he would more fully appreciate the world.
I had a similar epiphany not connected with chemo but when I was operated on in June. Just being able to walk outside, to smell a warm breeze, to sit on my porch again was my dream as I laid in my hospital bed in Boston.
But Barry said once he recovered he was again overtaken by everyday worries like traffic jams and work hassles.
He has gone through the same cycle twice, admitting to feeling foolish about it.
"What's the use of surviving cancer if you don't learn from it?'' he asked.
I haven't recovered and still have a long road ahead of me. But many of my dreams from June have been fulfilled. I can sit on my porch, smell the warm breezes, eat what I want, hug my wife and my kids, watch the Red Sox and enjoy friends.
"Am I so thick that I have to learn the life-is-precious message twice?'' Barry asked.
I hope in my case once will be enough.
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