Patch of Ice

A fog rolled in today, with rain to come. Annie and I were walking in it a moment ago, and the wind and chill shortened our time together outside considerably. Nancy is still convalescing from her painful foot surgery. It's hard to do anything with a bandaged, throbbing foot. My experience with a severely infected ingrown toenail taught me that if a finger or toe is tender, you will smack it on everything. Poor Nancy slipped on some ice on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, the only patch of ice in sight, and fell on her newly sliced-and-diced foot. I still wince when I think about it.

A digression: My woman is magnificent with a pair of crutches. Like Michael Jackson and Robocop had a four-legged baby. I haven't seen crutch-work like that since my brother shattered his femur when we were children. It was almost a shame when he didn't need them anymore.

It's raining out now, and I'm enjoying every drop. There are a few snow piles left, filthy and large. Watching them melt pleases me. Hell knows what's inside them. The rain and relative warmth will reveal lost bicycles, scooters, pets, uncles, children, awkward moments, forced holiday mirth, ennui, thousands of dog turds, and who knows what else. With any luck, they'll find Mrs. Edelstein. All frozen in place since December.

Last night, I had a massive anxiety attack after reading about Republican plans to attack Social Security. Thoughts of being homeless and medication free are dancing frantically (almost manically) in my head. I'm scoping out places in the park, and one spot under the Rt. 2/Lake Street over pass really caught my eye. Annie and I walked for a long time, and my thoughts and feelings were those of a man living in fear. Being disabled, I depend upon government programs, and this country has become hostile to the poor as a matter of public policy.

Sigh.

I've not much more to say right now. Politically, this country has taken a tack that not only saddens me in the abstract but, as I said, frightens me in my day to day life. There is no point to writing any more about that, but a quote from Edmund Burke comes to mind as I sign off.

"Those who don't know history are destined to repeat it."