SOLTuesday: Missing the Slice of Life Month

I don’t know how to tell this other than strictly chronologically, although it will probably bury the lead, as my tabloid journalist late husband used to say about my stories.

            About 17 years ago, I suggested that my women’s group might want to start a blog. We had organized ourselves about 10 years before that to talk about “women, aging, and sex,” and had by that time had many illuminating discussions. Perhaps we could share our experiences and insights, such as they were, with others. So I went to WordPress and set up the Women of a Certain Age blog, which gave me the profile name woaca2008.

            As it turned out, only three of us ever posted anything over the next few years—only three of us were writers—and the blog faded to nothing after 2011. But the blog still exists on WordPress. Meanwhile, I started my own blog, but on Blogger (I no longer remember why I went there instead of WordPress.)

 

            And here’s how I am missing the Slice of Life. Last year, a few days into the March Slice of Life Challenge, I noticed that my Slice posts to Two Writing Teachers were no longer getting posted. Whereas in the past I was asked to sign in with my woaca2008 password, from that defunct but not erased Women of a Certain Age blog, and that worked for the month, now I was being asked to sign in every time, and my sign-in didn’t register. I asked one of the Two Writing Teacher Slice monitors to look into it, but there was no obvious resolution, and since that’s the month when I got Covid for the first time, I never followed up. 

 

            I have written a few Slices for Tuesdays, but I don’t think they ever registered on the SOL Tuesday page. So what is happening? I will post this to my blog, then try to post to Two Writing Teachers, and see the result.

SOLTuesday: It’s Work

Getting old is hard work. We have lots more visits to doctors, physical therapists, dentists and ophthalmologists (if we can afford them). It seems to take longer to do almost everything, especially when trying to find things, like the keys when we’re getting ready to go out, or a photo I saw just the other day and now has vanished. Our glasses. Where are our glasses, and which ones do we need, the reading ones, or the ones to watch TV?

I’m now discovering that even going to bed has become work. A pain in my right hip turned out to have nothing to do with the hip joint. My physical therapist said I had a compressed tendon, the one attaching my butt to the underlying bone. How did this happen? I sit with my legs crossed ALL THE TIME. So I have to stop that.

 

But in addition, I have to be careful of what position I place my body when I get into bed. I’ve never been able to sleep on my back, so that won’t work. If I lie on my side, I have to put a pillow between my legs. Have you ever tried to sleep like that? I can’t relax in that position. Lying on my belly seems safest, but with my head turned either right or left so I can breathe, and a pillow under the leg with the compressed tendon. But this does not feel natural and sometimes hurts my hip, and I wake frequently, toss and turn, get tangled in the sheets. Sleeping is now work to avoid the hip pain. Will it work? We’ll see.

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.

 

SOLTuesday: Poor Hospital IT Communication

Today, I went to a nearby hospital for an x-ray of my hip. The x-rays are done on a walk-in basis, so I did not need to make an appointment. I arrived and was, I guess, logged into the computerized system at 12:20 p.m.

 

Here’s the e-mail I sent to the hospital about what happened next. “Almost AN HOUR LATER, I received three e-mails, one telling me to check my Mt.SinaiAccount because I had a new message, the second telling me to Prepare for my visit by completing forms online, and the third had the subject line ‘Have you arrived?’ and the following text: ‘Hello Sonia, It's almost time for your 12:20 PM appointment. Once you arrive, let the clinic know by logging in.’ The three texts said exactly the same thing.

 

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I was already there, the x-ray was done. Why is the system sending me e-mails and text AFTER the fact? Obviously, the system has to be told to NOT send these e-mails and texts for walk-in appointments. It's extremely annoying.”

 

I wanted to inform the hospital that something was wrong with their default e-mail and text communications. First, I went to the the hospital’s website and found a phone number for Patient Relations. A recording reported that because of “higher than usual call volume,” I should leave my name and phone number. About 15 minutes I got a call from a difference phone number.The caller was clearly in a call center, as I could hear sounds in the background. I told him what I later described in an e-mail to the Patient Relations e-mail address. The caller then started asking questions. He knew my zip code. He then asked whether I had diabetes — and his accent was so thick I did not understand him for several tries. He asked if I had pain and if I had arthritis. Then he wanted to know my Medicare number. I do not know why he needed to know that, I said several times I didn't have it with me, and he kept asking if I could get it. I began to wonder if he really was calling from the hospital and hung up the phone. I've never been asked for my Medicare number when speaking to anyone else at this hospital.

 

After this abortive phone call, I sent the e-mail above to the hospital’s Patient Relations office. And then I sent another e-mail to them: “If the number I called above, 212-659-8990, is not your number, your webpage needs fixing. If the number that called me, 212-601-9340, is not from your call center, then perhaps your webpage and phone number have been hacked.”

 

At least I didn’t give out my Medicare ID. But how did this happen?

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.

 

 

SOLTuesday: I made a joke!

            Yesterday I stopped at the Shake Shack to get a chocolate milkshake and fries for my supper. No one was at the counter, so I went to one of the screens to order there. I had to give my phone number and name so they could send me a text. So I went outside to sit and wait, reading on my phone so I’d see the text when it popped up.

            Instead, a young man came out with a bag and called my name. As he brought my order to where I sat, I said, “You’re a human text!” It cracked him up, and I was glad that I can still come up with a snappy comeback.

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SOLTuesday: Why I Hate Insurance

Back in March I had my annual mammogram. It included a sonogram since I’d had some pinchy feelings in my breasts and they are dense, so easier for mammos to miss things.

A few weeks ago I got a bill for the sonogram, which was unusual. I called the radiology center (only had to wait on hold for four minutes) and was told that Medicare had started routinely rejecting these as not medically necessary, and that I should have my doctor send Medicare a letter explaining the medical necessity, and the center would follow up. Today I called center’s customer service again (only had to wait on hold for five minutes), of course got a different representative, so I had to explain the situation twice. This representative said she would pass on the information.

 

Is traditional Medicare thinking it will save money by following the private insurance companies’ practice of rejecting claims in the hope that we will give up fighting the rejection?

Later I ran into a neighbor who said her method of fighting the insurance rejection was to try to get the name of the doctor who works for the insurance company who made the “not medically necessary” judgment and get her doctor to call that doctor. Would that really work?

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SOLTuesday: Bird Poop

Yesterday I was sitting alongside Riverside Park reading a book. What looked like a thin green leaf fell onto a page, and I brushed it aside. Only it wasn’t a leaf. It smeared green bird poop across the page and onto my finger. Yuck!!! I wiped off my finger and the page, continued reading for another six pages, then thought, I should go home and wash this finger. Thoroughly. Twice. And then rubbed hand sanitizer on it. I hope nothing toxic seeped into my skin in the five or so minutes before I washed it clean. Has anything like this ever happened to you?

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.

 

SOLTuesday: Gas Leak?!

            Last Friday evening, there began a terrible drilling noise nearby. At first, I thought it was construction on the building directly across the street, a former SRO (single room occupancy) that had been vacant for at least 20 years until it was bought by Columbia University and it being renovated to become a dorm.

            But no, this was in front of the private school next door to my building, and some Con Ed workers were breaking up the sidewalk. Why? There might be a gas leak. Of course, a gas leak has to be investigated—immediately. The drilling went on for a few hours, and then a truck with a generator ran for another few hours, at least until 1 a.m.

            Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and today, the drilling has stopped, but workers are digging down under the pavement, and piles of dirt, brick, and miscellaneous debris were first shoveled onto the adjacent sidewalk, and then onto the street.

            A long stretch of sidewalk has been closed off (in addition to the street being closed to traffic since Sunday), with a sign at one end saying “Walkway closed Use other side” — except you can’t use the sidewalk across the street because that’s where the Columbia University renovation is being done.

            Today, I saw workers sawing a large pipe, maybe three or four inches in diameter, which I’m hoping will be replacing the pipe that’s leaking. Any gas leak needs to be fixed ASAP, before some careless person creates a spark. So glad that many fewer people smoke cigarettes these days. And school doesn’t open until after Labor Day, so there's a few more days left.

            This all made me think of David Macauley's wonderful book Underground, with many drawings of what is under our feet in the city. I wonder if any of the Con Ed workers read that book as children.  

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SOLTuesday: In Banking and Credit Card Purgatory

             On April 5, I spent two hours on the phone with my credit union and American Express about a check I had sent American Express. The ensuing conversations were so bizarre that I need to share with others. My daughter suggests this is why the banking system is such a mess.

            After getting an e-mail from American Express that my most recent payment, for March, had been rejected by the bank, I called PenFed Credit Union to find out why. The woman I spoke with said there was no record of ever having received the check (#226), and she even checked with a supervisor. (In addition, she said the most recent check they had a record was in January (#224), and there was no record of their receiving check #225. This was odd, since I’d never gotten any notice that that check was rejected.)

            I then called American Express, who assured me that the e-mail I’d received was an authentic e-mail from American Express. This customer representative also said the check had been presented, through an automatic process, three times to PenFed, and it was rejected with the message “Cannot be processed. Please refer to your financial institution.” (It appeared these words came from Amex, since PenFed wouldn’t use the words “your financial institution,” would it?) When I told this person that PenFed had no record of the check being presented to them, he said he would set up an investigation, which could take a maximum of 30 days, and I would be sent the results.

            Okay, back to PenFed. Here I spoke to a young man, who had no idea why there was no record of my check being submitted and wanted to know what the reason for rejection was. When I read him what the e-mail from Amex said, he asserted that couldn’t be the reason from PenFed because “the bank wouldn’t be processing its own check.” When I mentioned this was a check, he said with much surprise, “You sent a physical check?” He was the first one to suggest a conference call between PenFed and American Express, but I didn’t know how to do that, and he didn’t suggest any way

            Back to American Express. This time I spoke to a woman named Sarah, who was very encouraging. When I asked where the physical check is, she said it went to the payment center, where they verify that it’s a check from me, and it is automatically submitted. I wondered whether she could see the check, and she said, no, and there was no way for her to contact the payment center. And she knew nothing more about the reason why the check was rejected. Talking with her, she used the term “process” and it began to seem to me that there was a problem with semantics, that “process” meant one thing to Amex and another thing to Pen Fed. When I asked about a conference call, Sarah said there is an account services team, and they could take part in a conference call. She even gave me a phone number: 1-800-441-0518. I asked who should initiate the call, and she said PenFed.

            So, back to PenFed, this time a woman named Alice. I had to give the same long story to each person I spoke to, and each time added the number of people I had already spoken to at each company. Alice said it was impossible for her to call Amex for the conference call, and she checked with a supervisor and reported it was impossible for the supervisor to do that either. And she also couldn’t find any notice of check #225.

            So I called American Express again, this time to verify that they had been paid by my check #225. And they had. So why is there no record of it at PenFed? This was beginning to make me nervous about the PenFed system. Maybe I shouldn’t keep a checking account there. And it seemed I had been shunted, by the recording that always answered the phone both for American Express and for PenFed, to Credit department, not the same department wherethe previous people I’d been speaking to were. Why?

            This was getting weird. Back to PenFed, this time a very enthusiastic man named Anthony. I told him both of the problems — why was check #226 rejected? why no record of check #225 in the PenFed system since PenFed had sent American Express the money? — and he seemed quite taken by them. He also said he would have to do some research, and it would take more than five minutes. He would call me back tomorrow. He had a very joky manner; we had some back and forth about the Giants, football or baseball, and saying I was a Jets fan gained me his deep sympathy.

            That was almost it for the day. A total of an hour with each company. But what about the money I owed American Express? The payment is due April 11. What if this isn’t settled before then?

            The last person at Amex I spoke to suggested I pay online, and if the check is finally unfrozen and paid, I’d have a credit at the end of the month. So I went to the American Express website and tried to set up an account. For some reason I couldn’t figure out, it first told me I’d put in the wrong password or username, then I was blocked because I’d tried to log in too many times, and I was repeatedly told to change my password. Enough of that. I quit. Still haven’t paid, and have no desire to call American Express again. 

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SOLTuesday: Making Up Food

            Years ago I wrote a piece for a little magazine about how I wanted to feel free enough to look in the refrigerator and make dinner with what was there, without having a recipe to guide me. Now that I’m old, I’ve finally managed to do it.

            Tonight I did a mashup of Chinese and Italian cooking, making sort of fried rice, but with farro instead of rice.

            I’d made the farro yesterday with the possibility of subbing the farro for rice in something. Today, I sliced up half an onion, a clove of garlic, half a somewhat dried out jalapen (removing the seeds), 3 ounces of shiitake mushrooms, 5 bok choy stems and leaves, 2 carrots, and 2 slices of deli Virginia ham. In a small pan, I poured in a scrambled egg, tossing in a pinch of dried thyme, and let it set, then flipped it, slid it onto a plate, and sliced it as well.

            In a large skillet, I melted a small pat of butter and a tablespoon or two of olive oil. Added

the onion, sauteed for about a minute, then added the bok choy stems and carrots. Sauteed for another minute or so. Next the mushrooms went in, sauteed until they got a bit brown. Some more dried thyme stirred in a bit here. Added the garlic and jalapeno and stirred around. When the pan seemed to get too dry, I’d add a dollop of white wine. Then the bok choy leaves and a cup of the cooked farro. Lastly,  the ham, the egg, and I almost forgot, a couple of handfuls of sprouts I got at the farmers’ market a few days ago, radish sprouts and some other kind, I forget which. Stirred to heat through.

            I ate half the pot, and there’s another batch for lunch maybe in a couple of days. Easy, and tasty, and I made it up all myself. 

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.

 

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SOL Tuesday: In a medical quagmire

            In mid-January, I took a Cologuard test. That’s the at-home screening test for the eminently treatable colon cancer that you can take if previous colonoscopies have been uneventful and you have no risk factors.

            I did not expect the e-mail that I received a week ago that reported the test was positive. Helpfully, the e-mail shows my test result (Positive) and the normal test result (Negative). That was a shock. I immediately e-mailed my doctor, let’s call her Dr. J., who replied that I should see a gastroenterologist and asked if I had one. No, I did not. So she responded, not with the name of anyone, but with a phone number, and the note that she didn’t know who was available.

            Without having the name of a doctor, I decided to resort to my friends, first e-mailing a friend who I knew had a GI doctor she liked. When I called his office the next day, one of the first questions I was asked was about insurance. When I said Medicare and a supplemental, I was told this doctor did not take new patients on Medicare. (This is a recurrent problem. When my longtime doctor retired six years ago, the doctor she recommended also did not take new patients on Medicare. Many doctors will grandfather in their current patients once they go onto Medicare, but won’t take new patients. Why? They don’t get reimbursed enough?)

            Daunted by the thought of calling the four or five other doctors recommended by friends and being told they didn’t want new patients on Medicare, two days later I called the number Dr. J. had given me. After I explained my situation — I’d gotten a positive result on a Cologuard test and Dr. J. had recommended I see a gastroenterologist — the person I was speaking to said the earliest appointment they could give me was: mid-July.

            I was aghast. “This isn’t a routine situation,” I said. “That’s six months from now.” The person was apologetic, but firm. There was nothing earlier. After I ranted a little bit, she asked if I was willing to go to another location. That’s when I learned I was speaking to the GI division at the Mt. Sinai location where Dr. J.’s office is; she’s in the geriatric practice at Union Square. Of course, I could go to another location; in fact, if she could find someone at Mt. Sinai Morningside, that would be even better, as it’s only a few blocks from my home.

            I was transferred to Mt. Sinai Morningside, and eventually to the office of Dr. M., where I was told I could have an appointment at the end of April. Well, three months is better than six months, but it still felt like a long time for me to wonder whether I had colon cancer (a 4% chance) or only precancerous polyps (51% chance) that might turn into cancer in the next three months. I ranted a little bit here as well, and the scheduler suggested that I could see whether my doctor could speak to Dr. M about seeing me sooner.

            So I e-mailed my doctor the same day to report the situation. She said she would reach out to a colleague for suggestions.

            There was no news on the weekend, of course, only increasing anxiety over now thinking I knew the name of my death and wondering whether I’d have enough time to finish all the writing I want to get done.

            Monday I received notice of a new message on my Mt. Sinai MyChart page, a badly designed website. It read: “Earlier appointment offers are no longer available for NEW PATIENT on Thursday April 27, 2023 at 10:00 AM EDT.” Who sent this to me? What did it mean? Was there some time recently when I might have gotten an earlier appointment, but that time had passed? Maybe this was only a form letter, but couldn’t they have at least inserted my actual name instead of the bland “NEW PATIENT”? It felt so disrespectful.

            In addition to fear of what further tests might reveal, I was now beginning to feel helpless, as well as angry. I called Dr. J.’s office and spoke with one of her staff. What is going on, I wanted to know. My message would be passed on to the doctor, I was told. Half an hour later I got a call from the office manager. She was very apologetic, said she was doing everything she could to see about getting an earlier appointment. She was in touch with the office manager for the GI division. Again I ranted about how outrageous this felt, how helpless I felt — surely this wasn’t standard operating procedure for someone who’s gotten a positive Cologuard test.

            The office manager then gave me the phone number for something called “physician access,” schedulers who could make appointments for any doctor in the Mt. Sinai system. Was I willing to go anywhere in Manhattan? Of course, I practically shouted. She also gave me the number for “patient relations” should I want to make a complaint.

            I immediately called physician access and got an appointment in three days(!) at an easy to reach location. There was a brief glitch when I googled the doctor’s name and did not find him listed at the Mt. Sinai location where I’d been told his office was. I quickly called back physician access and was assured that he did indeed exist, and at the location; he was new, so no doubt the website had not been updated.

            I called  the office manager back to thank her for her help. But I also wondered, why couldn’t I have been given this number to begin with? How exactly did the bureaucracy of this immense hospital system operate? Surely the stress and anxiety of the past week could not be good for my health — don’t all the wellness articles say “AVOID STRESS”?

            What could Mt. Sinai do better? I think it’s far too easy for people who work in an institution to forget that others, patients in this case, do not know how the institution works or, when it’s as big as a large urban hospital system, how all of its parts fit together. Perhaps a little booklet that explains clearly, even with graphics, where your doctor works, how that center or division or clinic fits into the overall system. And especially, where and to whom to go for help for the variety of issues patients might have. 

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.

SOL Tuesday: Ukraine

            I started reading a short story in a New Yorker from last April. Its title is “The Ukraine.” The narrator and his girlfriend are Ukrainian, and she had lived in the U.S., where some people were used to calling her country “the Ukraine.” I remember growing up and calling that part of what was then the Soviet Union “the Ukraine,” and it sounded strange for some time, after the Soviet Union fell apart, to call that new country “Ukraine.”

            The story is about the narrator and his girlfriend traveling around their country, Ukraine, stopping or passing through Luhansk or Donetsk, places we’ve read about in the news since February. Then, the narrator describes taking a selfie in Khotyn. This town is not in the news (it’s far from the front lines), but it is where my mother’s parents came from when that country was Russia. It stops me, to see the name of this town, which I feel has meaning only to me, to appear in a New Yorker short story. It makes the town feel more real, but more exposed. It no longer belongs only to me.

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SOL Tuesday: Veering to the Left?

 

Yesterday I was walking down the street. In New York City, sometimes the sidewalk is narrow, so if a person is walking toward you, you both have to veer sideways so as not to walk into each other. Usually, you both veer to the right, because that’s the default in this country.

            Yesterday the person coming toward me was a young Asian man. And he veered left. Interesting, I thought. Is he left-handed? Then I wondered, is he Japanese? Because the Japanese drive on what we in the U.S. think of as “the wrong side of the road.” So if he’s Japanese, his default will be to veer left.

            I’ll never know, since I didn’t stop him to ask. And do British people veer to the left when they are walking, as they also drive on “the wrong side of the road”?

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.

 

SOLTuesday: Third Booster Adventure

I saw my doctor in early September for a checkup. The third booster was due to arrive the following week, and he said I should get it as soon as I could. A few days later, however, I had my usual cold symptoms of scratchy throat, achy chest, and runny nose, and when I called him to check, he said to wait until my symptoms had gone away. This turned out to be more than three weeks, during which I had two Covid tests (both negative) and continued to wear my mask outdoors.

            Finally, I thought I was recovered and called a nearby community clinic to make an appointment for the third booster. At that point, the next available opening was two weeks away, Oct. 17. Not great, but better than none at all.

            Then, last week, I got a voicemail saying I would have to reschedule. When I called back to reschedule, the scheduling people knew nothing about the clinic needing to reschedule; their data showed only that I’d been sent a text confirming my Oct. 17 appointment. This was very confusing. I listened again to the voicemail, and the young man was definitely saying I had to reschedule.

            So, should I wait until Oct. 17, show up at the clinic, and then be told whatever it was that was causing them to want me to reschedule? Or should I find another way?

            I called my independent pharmacy, downtown. (My local pharmacies also had boosters, but even when I’d made an appointment for earlier boosters, there’d been a long line. I didn’t want to do that again.) When I called, I was told I had to make my appointment online. And hurrah, when I went online, there was one open time the next day which I could make. Friday, Oct. 14, I took the subway downtown, got the shot, waited the requisite 10 minutes, and went home. No reaction to the vaccine, other than the usual sore arm from the needle.

            I am now triple-boosted. Still haven’t gotten Covid. Feel very lucky.

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.

 

SOL Tuesday: Do I Hate Opera?

             A friend invited me to go to  Lincoln Center last night where a filmed version of the opera Boris Godunov was going to be projected on a giant screen to a crowd sitting on the outside plaza.

            I have never cared for operatic singing. You know that stereotype of the man who’s dragged to the opera by his wife, where he complains about the screeching and yelling? I’m that guy. But Moussorgsky wrote the music for this opera, and it was outdoors on a warm night. Why not?

            It was a very pleasant evening, and I’m not sorry I went. But I’m still not a fan of opera. First, they were singing in Russian, with subtitles—and the subtitles were white. I could make out most of the words in the first scene, but the second, rather long scene featured a monk in a white robe. The subtitles were impossible to read. Impossible. And that scene was rather crucial, as a young man the monk was apparently telling an important story to, in a subsequent scene was attempting to escape Russia (why?) and was fairly hostile to the itinerant monks he was traveling with (why?).

            Next, much of the story seemed reduced to slogans: Boris resists being named tsar, then he accepts. But he feels guilty (for what? was that a subtitle I missed?). Maybe he killed a previous heir to the throne, maybe he didn’t. The young man trying to escape Russia is claiming to be that heir, but nothing comes of that plotline. The chorus represents the people, who at the beginning beg Boris to accept being the tsar, but at the end, they want him gone (why?), even though he provides food during a famine. Accused of killing the heir, Boris has a heart attack and dies. The end.

            It felt rather Macbeth-ish—though I learned later that the the opera is based on a play by Pushkin, which was based in turn on Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1 and Part 2. And there were echoes of current affairs, an autocratic ruler reminding us of Putin, the chorus hinting at revolution that doesn't happen for another 300  years. But I did want to know more about the real-life Boris. He turns out to have been a Tatar, part of the Golden Horde, which was the European wing of the Mongol Empire in the Middle Ages. (Also an early 1950s movie I saw as a child.) Ivan the Terrible was one of them, and one of his sons was the heir Boris was accused of killing. Boris was a good ruler, but the nobility conspired against him, and then he died. And the next tsar, about 10 years later, in 1613, inaugurated the Romanov dynasty.

            Except for a couple of peripheral women characters, all the singing was done by men, so that was bearable. I haven’t become a fan of opera, but the outdoor event in the summer was enjoyable.

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SOL Tuesday: More Book Downsizing

I’ve finally finished with the European history bookcase and got rid of more than half the books I had. Many were old paperbacks I read for college history classes; heavily marked up, I could only put them in the recycle bin. One book, however, was praised by two history professors I know—they still use it in teaching—so I’m keeping it. It’s titled “The Nazi Seizure of Power: The Experiences of a Single German Town 1930-1935,” and while there are certainly differences between the U.S. now and Germany in 1930, there are unsettling similarities, so perhaps re-reading now could be instructive.

            Many of the books on the 1990s wars in former Yugoslavia went to a friend who wrote about Bosnia during the wars, and two books on Czechoslovakia soon after the Velvet Revolution went to another friend who was teaching on a Fulbright in what became Slovakia in 1992, while she was teaching there.

            Then I tackled several piles of books that have been haunting me for three or four years now, on the piano bench, on the guest room bed, on a file cabinet. Most of them are now in two carts, and when the weather is less hot and humid, I’ll walk them down to the thrift shop. What a relief that will be.

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It’s Slice of Life Tuesday over at Two Writing Teachers. Check out this encouraging and enthusiastic writing community and their slices of life every Tuesday. And add one of your own.