I haven’t written one of these essays for awhile. It’s not due to lack of things to write about, rather due to a certain level of mild hysteria as I try to balance the combination of Shakespeare and work over a succession of fourteen hour days with a bunch of other social obligations thrown in. I used to be able to power through this kind of schedule without difficulty. This year, I’m feeling it. I’m wondering if my illness in March, which knocked the stuffing out of me was some sort of liminal border between middle aged Andy who can keep up with anything and older Andy who has to learn to pace himself and allow time for naps and other rest and downtime. I come home from a full work day topped with a three hour rehearsal and I’m not only barely able to move, I feel the need for an additional day of recovery time… which there is no time for.

We’re five rehearsals into The Tempest, or about 20% of the budgeted rehearsals. It’s about 2/3 blocked and the ideas are starting to come together. Most rehearsals have gone smoothly. Tonight’s was a bit more chaotic as I had the first rehearsal with my chorus of spirits (all eight of them) who come in and out and provide a certain amount of comic relief. I’m using them to break up the lengthy exposition scenes that make up the first forty percent or so of the play and to give Ariel some backup. After watching how things went, I know I have to do a lot of refining and shaping but I think my basic ideas are OK.

It’s ridiculously hot and humid locally and promises to stay this way for at least the next ten days. The HVAC in the church cafetorium in which we rehearse and perform is having difficulties keeping up so it’s a bit warm. Fortunately we aren’t having to work under incandescent stage light or anything else that adds to the ambient temperature or we would all be small puddles of sweat by the end of rehearsal. I really despise Alabama summers. Nearly thirty years now and I dislike them as much as ever. October can’t get here soon enough.

Exactly one year from today, I plan on offiially retiring. There are things that might move that date one way or another over which I have minimal control but in my mind, my last day of work will be June 30th, 2027. Let the countdown begin. I should get one of those clocks that shows the number of days untill retirement and watch those 525,600 minutes dribble away. I’m not sure what this next year is going to look like. I don’t have any performance gigs contracted past August. I do have some trips booked, especially in the fall but holiday period is uncertain. There are a few things coming up in the spring I’m interested in getting involved with but I don’t have any dates as of yet to begin piecing things together so I can make decisions on what shows I can audition for and which ones won’t fit.

I have no special plans for the long weekend other than catch up with work. I’m way behind on progress notes. a theater company board retreat, a friend’s cabaret show, a dinner date, a birthday lunch, a play and a few other things ate up this past weekend and I could get little of the usual stuff done. I shall not miss the hours spent every weekend documenting my clinical endeavors once I leave clinical practice. It’s one of the many reasons I’m retiring. The data entry is more important to the system than the actual clinical care. Healthcare has become all about big data set manipulation and management. And the AI boom is going to make all of this much worse. I don’t envy my junior colleagues their careers. Balancing the needs of administration and corporate on the one hand and the demands of the Boomers who do not believe in the realities of aging on the other.

The big news of the day is the Supreme Court actually upheld the constitution and stare decis for the first time in some years when it came to the Birthright Citizenship case. Looking back at the decisions of SCOTUS over the last few years, the contortions of logic proffered to get the result desired by certain political movers and shakers, has given me a severe case of vertigo. While that one may have come down on the side of precedent and textual reading, there are plenty of others which did not such as the Slaughter decision which threw out nearly a century of precedent which protected independent agencies from executive overreach and more or less reinstitutes the spoils system. And then there’s the decision which builds on Citizens United to more or less let unlimited dark money flow through political parties to candidates.

Meanwhile, ICE continues to round up the innocent and shove them in de facto concentration camps, we’re burning through billions in a weird quasi-Iranian war, the social circle of the executive is busy enriching themselves at the public purse, a wholesale destruction of Washington DC infrastructure, a dismantling of the systems that built and supported the post war society with its liberal consensus, a head of CMS who showed he did not understand how health insurance worked in recent testimony, a head of HHS who promotes fringe theories and junk science, and there still hasn’t been a proper release of the Epstein files or a single investigation or prosecution of the crimes contained therein.

I think I need a valium. Or maybe a quaalude

And day one of the three day weekend is waning to the sound of thunder as another summer storm wends its way up the Jones Valley. If I ever leave my adoptinve home of Birmingham, there are certain things I will miss and the suddenness and ferocity of summer thundershowers is one of them. They drop the temperature to the manageable 70s, at least termporarily, leave everything feeling clean and refreshed outside, and keep me from having to pay too much attention to the plants on my deck. Day two is taken up predominantly by social obligations and day three will be running around getting everything done that hasn’t been done already as I not only have to be ready for work on Monday, but also for first read through of The Tempest.

Twenty-one cast members and a half dozen staff are depending on me to lead them through the wilds of Shakespeare over the next eight weeks. I hope I’m ready. It’s the fourth year in a row I’ve done this so I should have a clue what I’m doing but each project is unique and poses different challenges. Last year, it was politics and major technical difficulties. This year it’s going to be integrating all of the elements in a way that make things at least somewhat magical on a a budget of $19.95. I have been assured that the lights will work this year and I have most of my usual team in place and at least they all know how I communicate and operate so we should all reach the finish line on August 6th at least vaguely together.

I have found the news over the last few days at least slightly more encouraging than in weeks past. While there’s all the usual destructive impulses from the administration against the institutions that built the post-war society, there are at least cracks in the facade. The saga of the reflecting pool remains a perfect metaphor for the second Trump term. Take something that has existed for years, fundamentally misunderstand and misinterpret what it is and how it works. Announce an unneeded fix at a low price. Proceed with a crony contract for a much higher figure. Crony contractor, chosen for politics over skill leaves things in worse shape. Announce a brilliant success while the wreckage is in plain view behind you.

The wreckage, of physical infrastructure, economic systems, world standing, health care, academia, immigrant communities etc. is now piling up so high that even the most fervent supporters of those currently in power are cutting their feet as they dance upon it. I saw a poll this past week showing that a majority (51%) of Americans can no longer afford their health care. The skyrocketing price of food, fuel and rent is decimating the lives of more of my firends than I care to count. Farmers are going bellyup. The Pentagon has spent hundreds of billions of dollars on a war with Iran which has gained the USA absolutely nothing as the memorandum of understanding signed with a flourish at Versailles (an ultimate troll by Macron) leaves Iran in basically the same place it was at the start of hositilites plus the ability to continue enriching uranium plus given access to previously frozen funds plus hundreds of billions of dollars to rebuild infrastructure we destroyed. We can’t fight the screwworm infestation effectively as the programs designed to do that were shut down. Flu is sweeping through military installations due to the antivax attitudes of those in charge. I can’t think of a community that isn’t starting to wake up to the fact that they and theirs are being harmed by the policies of this administration.

The opening of the Obama Presidential Library in Chicago was a reminder of what we were and what we can be again. The focus was on the positive aspects of America, the way in which we can come together despite our differences and work towards common goals. The musical acts were a whos who of legendary performers of the last sixty years. Compare that to the official celebration of our 250th birthday in DC, handed off to more crony capitalists which sent most people with integrity fleeing the other direction when asked to participate. From what I last saw, we’re left with a Trump pep rally in a place where half the house has been demolished, the pool is full of algae, and there’s the remains of a cage fight on the front lawn. I do house calls in rural Alabama. I’m used to those neighborhoods but they aren’t usually beamed out over international network news.

The joy of international visitors to the World Cup getting outside of the usual international tourist destinations and discovering Bass Pro Shop and Wal-Mart and Waffle House breakfasts at 1 am is also very good news. It means that the media narrative ordained by the administration and carried out by their minions of the USA being a dangerous place full of violence and suspicious types is being demolished one lovely experience at a time. Bring on the Norwegians doing the row up escalators, the Scots drinking the bars of Boston dry and leaving traffic cones on the heads of the statues, the Algerians adopted and embraced by the people of Lawrence Kansas. That’s the America I live in and believe in.

I spent yesterday on various chores and had every intent of spending the evening at the Birmingham Pride Parade but I started to feel unwell by late afternoon and decided my wisest choice was to stay home and sleep. Sorry to have missed the parade but after some time in bed and a good long sleep, I am feeling better today. I have more chores today but nothing that cannot wait. I’m working my way through all of the boxes of crap that came out of my academic office, tidied up my terrace, and am slowly restoring my nest to some semblance of order after a period of chaos and excess stuff arriving and needing to be processed. I have 54 weeks until full retirement. The goal is for me to have my life in order at that time so that I can work on putting together new life patterns in an environment which will support them.

As the days dwindle down, I find that I am having a harder and harder time just absorbing the administrative nonsense that permeates modern medicine. Usually I let the endless paperwork, the need to fill out the same request three times due to a misplaced comma, the refusals of insurance to pay for what I deem clinically necessary care, the calls and messages from patients about some new snake oil they heard about on social media or late night television, the lack of budget to improve the infrastructure of clinical services, and the poor performance of other parts of the health care system roll off of me but now I’m doing a bit more talking back and calling out stupid as stupid. I’m in a position where I’m no longer angling for any future forward career movement so I can truth tell. Actually, I’ve always told the truth. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t progress farther in my career. I tell those above me what they need to hear rather than what they want to hear.

I’ve had my nose in my script for The Tempest and am starting to work out solutions to specific challenges Shakespeare presents. How do you stage a shipwreck on stage with minimal budget and technical capabilities? How do we handle songs for which no music exists? How do I make the arcane language into something that connects with a modern audience? How do I get my cast of twenty-one working together as an ensemble? Every year when I’ve tackled Shakespeare as a director I kick myself as I feel that I’m really not up to the challenge. And every year what ends up on the stage is pretty good and I get asked to come back and do it again so I guess I’m doing something right. First read through is a week from Monday. I’m ready to launch into what I consider the easy stuff (the court scenes, the love story, the clowning) and hope all my ideas for the hard stuff (the magic, appearing and disappearing banquets, the masque, the shipwreck) order themselves in my brain in such a way that I can communicate them to those who have to help me execute them.

There’s been one bright spot among the barrage of bad news that we’ve all been enduring for what seems like forever. It’s an indirect result of The World Cup. Last week’s news was all about how the State Department and Border Control were abusing their powers and keeping refs and team entourages out of the country and revoking visas of fans who were hoping to see their team play. This week’s news is about the fans who have made it and who are discovering what a great big loveable diverse messy country this actually is behind the headlines and media images. I, like millions of others, have been captivated by the social media posts of Freddy from Germany, Shaun from Scotland, and Nobunaga from Japan amongst others who while road tripping have discovered Buc-ees, Waffle House, the Grand Canyon, and Bourbon Street. How ordinary Americans are throwing visitors backyard barbecues, driving them to the stadia, making sure their order at Chipotle is correct. The media warfare which stokes the red/blue divide for clicks and ratings, and which is exploited in a cynical fashion by politicians for money and power is not the real America. The real America is a thousand kindnesses, and welcoming the visitor, and absorbing new ideas and customs into our melting pot. Take that Stephen Miller.

The administration’s attempts to remake the capital aren’t faring so well. The reflecting pool has been finished and is now full of algae due to their dismantling of the filtration system put in under Obama which brought water in from the Potomac so it wouldn’t become too stagnant. The Lincoln Memorial, which I prefer to see as a backdrop for Marian Anderson and Martin Luther King Jr., became the staging area for an exercise in crass. We got to see Motocross doing stunts in front of the White House. I’m all for extreme sports if that’s your thing but there is a time and a place and the South Lawn ain’t it. Trumps loss of his name on The Kennedy Center has been met with a piece of spiteful malicious compliance with scaffolding and canvas covering the portico and the name of the building. Can’t wait until they start building that monstrous arch. If it is built, I’m hoping we have a nationwide naming contest for it and that the name not have the letters T R U M or P in it. Although, given the internet, it will likely end up as Archie McArchface.

OK I’ve lolled long enough. Time to get up and be constructive.

The day to day work crap has been falling heavier upon my soul than usual the last few days. I’m not sure why. Probably because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I’m in the psychological process of beginning to detach myself from the craziness that marks my professional life. And it all appears to be getting crazier at an exponential rate due to the combination of demographic changes and fall out from political impacts on the missions of academic health centers. Eight and a half months before the first phase of retirement kicks in and, if all goes as plans, twelve and a half months until it’s over and out. In the meantime, keep on trudging. The notes will get written. The hands will get held. The referrals will get sent. The refills will get to the pharmacy. They always do no matter how removed I may be feeling.

I’ve been fielding a lot of complaints from friends, acquaintances, patients, learners, and random people on the street on the state of institutional elder care these days. I agree that, at least locally, it’s a bit of a mess. There are a lot of dedicated people in the field but they’re fighting an uphill battle against very strong forces over which we have minimal control and the end result is declining quality, unhappy residents, frustrated families, and a lack of better options. Why is this happening? The usual reason…. money. It’s all about who is getting paid how much for what sort of service.

I’ve gone into excruciating detail in these writings before about the various types of senior living available and how they differ from each other and what sort of services are required. I am not going to write that all out again. If you really want to read it, let me know and I’ll link to all of that in the comments. What’s important in terms of current trends is that the industries (homecare, hospice, senior living, skilled nursing) are subject to the same sorts of market forces as all else in late stage capitalism. Most of these entities began as small businesses, often family run or started by not-for-profit entities such as religious groups for specific social mission. Over the last fifty years, as costs and regulations have increased, it has become more and more difficult for a small operator to exist. This has led to consolidation and larger companies buying up smaller ones to take advantage of economies of scale and centralized management.

If you go up the corporate chain of ownership, there’s been a move over the last three or four decades for the companies at the top of the food chain to be bought or controlled by large investment firms for the purpose of extracting wealth. Amedisys is owned by United Health. Aveanna by Bain Capital. Encompass’s major shareholders are Blackrock and Vanguard. And on it goes. The need to preserve profit plus the centralized management systems means there is very little wiggle room at any individual facility to staff outside of centrally set models, to do things in a different way or to set budgets around community needs rather than corporate needs. Room and board in a reasonable senior facility now runs about $3000 a month with other services added on through an a la carte pricing menu. Need help with medications? You can get those packaged and passed for a modest fee. Need someone to provide actual assistance? That will be $25 an hour four hours minimum daily. (That unskilled sitter isn’t being paid $25 an hour. Going salary is $12-13 an hour. The rest is going up the corporate food chain).

As demographics change, there’s going to be issues moving forward. The owners of facilities understand this which is why the building of new senior facilities has slowed just as the Baby Boom is entering its 80s and the time in the life cycle when they may have need of such places. The owners know that the aging Boomers aren’t interested in the current model and that many of them will not have the resources nor will their family systems have the resources for the hefty price tags associated with senior living. The earlier generations who have taken advantage of them are the last generations who had defined benefit pensions and were able to take advantage of the post war economy to increase their assets in ways that are not currently possible. I haven’t a clue as to what’s going to happen to the Boom as they enter the dementia belt and they and their families will not opt for institutional care and their family systems won’t be intact enough to allow for care at home. Probably a huge spike in elder homelessness, especially if the current administration starts taking an axe to Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid as they are threatening. I’ve had four decades of creative solutions to unsolvable problems. I’m leaving these unsolvable problems for the next generation of geriatricians. We have some bright young things coming up the ranks. They need not worry about unemployment.

I think I have puzzled together my cast for the Tempest. I’m going to sleep on it one more night to make sure I don’t have a stroke of genius in the night and then get a cast list and script out to everyone tomorrow so people will have plenty of time to look things over before we dive into rehearsal in ten days or so. I still have a lot of things to work on and solve. The one I’m trying to get a handle on at the moment is sound, music and songs. There’s a bunch of singing in The Tempest but, of course, no official music. Sir Arthur Sullivan wrote music for all of the songs in the 19th century but it’s way too art song for our concept. I need something much lighter. Perhaps someone in the cast will want to run with doing some composing and arranging. That’s what I did with Midsummer a few years ago and it worked out really well.

I could comment on national politics such as Schrodinger’s cease fire in Iran, the maltreatment of visitors for the World Cup, the attempt to use the post office to circumvent the constitution regarding state responsibility for elections, and the turning of the national mall into a scene out of Spielberg’s AI but I don’t have the inclination or the energy at the moment. Going to watch Law and Order instead.

The worst of the jet lag has beaten back, the work backlogs have been cleared, and now I can turn my attention to various pieces of life that were placed on hold three weeks ago so that I could cavort through various cultural capitals. The rearrangement and decluttering project here at home remains somewhat stalled and there are boxes and bins overflowing, but I at least have them confined to two rooms. Once I get some stuff out of the storage space that is leaving for new homes, there can be a general shift and I can make some progress there. I have broken out my notes on The Tempest. I have about two weeks to find a cast. I have commitments from about 2/3 of the people I need but I have no one on the radar screen for a few key roles. If you’ve ever wanted to dip your toe into Shakespeare in a safe environment, now’s your chance. Drop me a line and let me know you are interested. The third big issue I have to work on is my legal case side business. There’s a couple of attorneys breathing down my neck looking for some record review. That may be this weekend’s major project. I’m trying to decide if I’m going to keep that particular sideline going in retirement or if I’m going to hang up a ‘Gone Fishing’ sign on that as well.

Of course, being back in the good ol’ USA means I’m back in the middle of our broken political system. Here, in Alabama, we’re in the middle of the Supreme Court’s distressing Callais decision where the redistricting maps they demanded in 2023 under the Voting Rights Act were scuttled three years later. Now I know Ralph Waldo Emerson stated that foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds but I’ve always taken the operative word in that sentence to be foolish and that certainly seems to be the case with the current Supremes. To my Black friends who have been fighting these battles for generations: please tell me what you need me to do to help you the most. My soapbox isn’t particularly large but it is at your disposal if there’s something that would be useful.

In terms of my community, recent polls show a significant eroding of attitudes toward LGBTQ rights over the last year or so with us backsliding to where we were a decade ago. It’s not equally distributed. It’s essentially all concentrated among registered Republicans and it’s such a major decline there that it is affecting the national numbers. Those of you who continue to support and finance the Republican party in its current form are taking actions that lead to policies that can cause me direct harm. I am taking notice and I have a very good and a very long memory. It is pride month this month. I usually turn up at at least some of the local celebrations as its important for the young folk to see those of us who have survived and have the battle scars to prove it. My generation endured a hell of a lot to allow younger generations to flourish and I am not going to sit quietly and watch it all get taken away. Every week, the rhetoric edges closer and closer to something along the lines of those with LGBTQ identities should not be allowed to exist in the new MAGA envisioned America. This rhetoric of depersonalization is extremely dangerous and just another step on the road to genocide. Don’t think it can’t happen here. It very much can.

The President’s attempts to remake the capital over in his image (gilded and tasteless) is finally hitting a few snags in the court system. Anything built can be torn down. Anything torn down can be rebuilt. Anything uprooted can be replanted. It takes time and resources, but it can be done. The ridiculous arena on the South Lawn which is due to be used next weekend is hopefully a temporary structure, but even if that’s left up for awhile by Presidential fiat, it can come down again. I read somewhere that GWMs (Gays with Money) are busy buying up all the tickets and are planning on turning the audience into a big old glitter bomb drag enhanced pride party. I hope it’s true.

Then we have the issue of more and more positions of importance being turned over to sycophants and idealogues. Our new attorney general continues to make the DOJ a weapon against the President’s personal enemies list. The new head of Homeland Security is a Dominionist of the worst stripe who seems to think shutting down air travel and cargo in a move of political gamesmanship is a really neat idea. (If that were implemented, the very wealthy who really run things would likely bounce him back to Oklahoma post haste but these days, who knows?) The announced nominee for Director of National Intelligence has no intelligence experience.

Then there’s the reclassification of most senior government positions which have carefully been insulated from partisan politics over generations to allow for continued governmental function no matter who winds the election to at will so that the administration can pretty much fire anyone who is not a sycophant or an idealogue and replace them with people that are. This goes along with the decimation of science, research, environmental regulation, and various attempts to rewrite history so that it fits the ideology that White America never did anything wrong. The Julio-Claudians tried to rewrite Roman history. The Tudors tried to rewrite English history. Stalin tried to rewrite Russian history. It never works. Truth will out.

Having to process all of this is playing havoc with the endorphins engendered by my recent travels. I think I need to make myself a Limoncello spritz and sit on the terrace and watch the sun set.

Dateline: Rome, Italy

And so the sun sets on another vacation. I technically have one more day tomorrow but as that is going to involve `18-20 hours of travel time as I get to Rome airport, fly to ATL, deal with customs and all that jazz and then fly back to BHM I’m not really sure that counts as a vacation day. More of an endurance test. I will have to say that this trip, cobbled together out of a lot of ideas that came from other people’s schedules and travel plans has been a smashing success. 19 days, 18 nights, 4 major cultural capitals, 180 foot miles by my pedometer, 4 planes, 3 trains, an uncounted number of taxis and metro/light rail rides, many excellent meals, theatre, opera, cabaret, museums, ruins, beaches, and most importantly my amazing travel partners and excellent company – Patti Steelman, David Pohler, Jonathan Uday Ramteke, and Thomas Cagle.

This last day was low key. Thomas and I walked over to the last part of tourist Rome we had yet to explore, the streets around the Spanish Steps full of chic designer boutiques with elegant salespeople selling couture well out of either of our price range. We did find some belts that were quite reasonable and satisfied ourself with those. This was followed by aperatifs and light lunch before heading back to the hotel to get him packed up and on his way to his archeological dig. He’ll be here for another month or so looking for fragments of classical Roman life at the site of Hadrian’s Villa. I don’t envy him wielding a pickaxe in the Italian sun day after day but he’s young and he can endure.

After he departed, I took a nap and then headed out fo finish what little shopping I had left to do. My life is a bit overstuffed with things so I tend to be selective when buying for myself. Occasional articles of clothing, pieces of local craft that are small and lightweight, original pieces of art for my gallery walls. That’s about my usual limit. I did look at some mosaic art for sale at the Vatican and there were some pieces I quite liked. Over priced. I shall live without. I then took a bit of a walk through the Trastavere before dinner. I’ve had so much rich food recently that I wanted something simple and comforting for dinner and ended up at a Mexican restaurant with a plate of enchiladas verdes and black beans. As I tend to eat Mexican at least once a week when out on house calls (the Mexican place is usually the only reliable restaurant for lunch in a small Alabama town), it was comfort food (and quite reasonable quality).

I’m going to watch bad TV tonight, dubbed into Italian, and then try to get a long and sound sleep to make up for the craziness that will likely occur tomorrow. In the morning, I may take a walk before heading to the airport as I don’t have to head that way until about 11 am Rome time. (4 AM Birmingham). It will give me one more day of pedometer happiness before heading back to my usual patterns. My stiffening hips have been fairly happy with all the walking. I should really keep it up but finding the time around work and other obligations is always a chore. And I have to launch myself into the Tempest as we’re due to start rehearsing three weeks from tomorrow and I don’t have a cast as of yet. (If you’re interested, drop me a line).

This also means I have to shove myself back into the insanity of American political life again. The quotes and actions I have seen from the president, should they be coming from one of my patients, would lead me to start introducing difficult conversations about the future. I may hide in a bunker for July 4th weekend which he and his team appear to have completely screwed up. There also appears to be some new move afoot to allow political appointees to cancel any federal grant for any vague reason at any time. Scientific and medical research cannot proceed without stable funding sources so if this one goes through, we’re likely to see American science, already moving towards free fall, plummet through the floor. If I were an up and coming young researcher, I would be exploring emigration options and appointments at foreign universities with alacrity

Dateline: Rome, Italy

Thomas and I made a decision this morning that this would be a day to get away from the crowds and the heat of a holiday weekend in Rome. We’ve seen most of what we were interested in seeing so, after breakfast, we explored the Rome Metro, and found our way to the Piramide stop on the south side of the city. There we were able to transfer to the Metromare light rail line and half an hour later we found ourselves in Ostia, Rome’s ancient seaport. We spent the morning making the budding archeologist happy exploring the ruins of Ostia Antica. Think a smaller version of Pompeii and without any crowds. The theater has been rebuilt and is still in use but most of the rest is as it was as the city declined and fell into ruin after the capital was moved from Rome to Constantinople in the late 4th century.

There are some lovely intact mosaic floors, and it’s easy to reconstruct the bustling city that was from the remains of brick with occasional columns and pieces of statuary. Pompeii was wiped out in an afternoon and frozen in time. Ostia survived for centuries and entered a much slower decline and ruin so there are fewer artifacts and no preserved body casts or the like. But it’s easy to get to, easy to explore, full of lovely wildflowers, and blessedly free from the hordes. I enjoyed our hours there very much. And, being close to the coast, the sea breeze kept things relatively cool.

We then hopped back on the Metromare and went a few more stops down the line to modern Ostia and the Mediterranean sea. We had a delicious seafood lunch on the beach at a restaurant named Mamaflo (recommended should you be in the Rome area) and then decided to spend the rest of the afternoon sur la plage. We hadn’t thought to bring swimsuits but a stop at a small resort wear shop solved that and we spent the next few hours relaxing in beach chairs and splashing in the Mediterranean. (Cool but not cold and will obviously warm more as the summer progresses).

Late afternoon, we packed up, got on the train with half of high school aged Rome who had spent the Saturday afternoon of the holiday weekend at the beach doing what the young do when traveling in packs, and made our way back into town. Nap time. Then this evening, pizza and tiramisu for dinner (washed down with a nice chianti) and a walk around the Vatican before bed.

Thomas leaves for his archeological dig at Hadrian’s Villa in Tivioli in the morning. I have one more day in Rome before I have to spend an endless travel day getting back to Birmingham. Haven’t figured out what to do with it yet. I’m sure something will occur to me.

Dateline: Rome, Italy

Up this morning together with Thomas in order to continue some exploration of the eternal city. After the usual hotel breakfast buffet, we decided upon a visit to the Capitoline Museum and so headed back down to the Tiber, past the Castel San Angelo (no falling divas today either) and across the bridge and into the old part of the city. Threading through narrow streets, we eventually reached the Capitoline Hill and made it up the steps to the 16th century palace that now stands as the centerpiece of the museum complex. Parts were designed by Michelangelo and other buildings and wings added on over time. It’s still used for important official functions, especially the great painted salons at the front with late Renaissance and early Baroque scenes of mythological and Roman history.

I had been to the museum before, some forty plus years ago and remembered almost nothing about it so it was a bit of a rediscovery. It has a lot of very good sculpture including the famous she wolf suckling Romulus and Remus and the fragments of the giant statue of Emperor Constantine that were unearthed in excavations of the Forum centuries ago. Constantine’s large disembodied foot had me giggling as all I could think of was the opening credits of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. There were some very nice displays and models of how the Capitoline changed from the Bronze age (pre-Rome) through the early Rome of the kings and on into classical Rome.

After a well spent hour, we descended the backside of the Capitoline into the Forum area. June 2 is apparently an important Italian national holiday so preparations are underway for a parade and viewing stands were up along the road through the center of the area. Rome’s firefighters were all up on the upper reaches of the Colosseum prepared to attach a very large Italian flag to the structure as a backdrop to the celebrations. We’ve both been to the Forum and Colosseum before so once we had a chance to wave at it, we headed up the Quirinal hill and back into the center of town where we did a little shopping and a google search of restaurants with Michelin stars near the Pantheon sent us to Poldo e Gianna Osteria for a lovely lunch of pastas and wine.

For our afternoon activity, we headed for the Capuchin museum on the Via Veneto. I had never been there but Thomas, with his anthropologic background and love of bones, wanted to see it again. The museum is not much, other than one greatish Caravaggio painting of St. Francis, but then you get to the ossuary. Apparently when the monks relocated here from elsewhere they not only brought the living members of their order, but all of the dead ones from several centuries as well. It had never occurred to me but when faced with what to do with several thousand human skeletons, some sixteenth century monks decided floral motifs. Six rooms in the ossuary were decorated centuries ago in human bones in all sorts of arrangements and patterns, with some mummified Capuchins thrown in for variation. It’s fascinating, beautiful, horrifying, and macabre all at the same time. I can’t decide if the originators were some sort of Renaissance era Ed Geins or artists working in a rather unusual medium. It’s not something I would have sought out on my own and it’s not going to be for everyone. But it’s certainly eye opening. On one of the displays was a quote from the Marquis De Sade on his visit in the late 18th century. Not generally the celebrity figure you usually have endorsing art displays.

After that, it was nap time followed by cocktails. We then headed off for dinner at a rooftop bar and restaurant a few blocks away with the rather improbable name of Mama’s Shelter. The view was lovely. The food very good, but the vibe of millennial europop meant that the music was a wee bit too loud making conversation somewhat difficult. If you go, ask for a table away from the DJ. Came back from that, and are watching a little TV and trying to decide on tomorrow’s activities. The fine weather, the impending holiday (which seems to have brought in half the population of Italy for a city weekend on top of the usual throng of foreign tourists), have made us want to do something that is less likely to be overrun by the hordes tomorrow. We’ve seen most of what we want to in town so we’re talking about a bit of a side trip. We’ll see what happens.

I read through today’s political news a few minutes ago. The less said about the goings on in the US, the better. The administration is considering tanking the entire airline and hospitality industries in its attempt to score points against ‘sanctuary cities’ trying to order the post office not to deliver mail (unconstitutional), and interfere in state electoral processes (also unconstitutional). On a brighter note, the entire entertainment industry seems to have woken up as to how toxic association with the administration is and is fleeing its planned Capitol Mall concert as rapidly as possible. There’s always Kid Rock.

Dateline: Rome, Italy

I had a bit of a lie in this morning as I waited around the hotel for Thomas Cagle, the last of my traveling companions, as he was on the red eye from Atlanta last night. He landed relatively early, then had to deal with the crowds at Rome airport and make his way into the city. He got to the hotel around 10:30 AM. I fed him breakfast and he got his second wind and we set out to do some exploring of the eternal city. Thomas’ degree is in Biological Anthropology from Columbia and as part of his work, he has been invited to participate in an archeological dig at Hadrian’s Villa in Tivoli for a month. He was there last summer, was invited back in a more senior position this summer and I added the Rome leg of the trip on so we could spend a couple of days living it up here before he has to spend a month or so in the Italian summer sun with a pick axe. More power to him.

The hotel is just outside of the Vatican wall on the north, close to the entrance to the Vatican Museums. We wandered over to St Peters Square first as it’s only a ten to fifteen minute walk. Rome is very hot and incredibly crowded. It was 11 am and St Peter’s Square was already full to bursting with a three hour wait to get inside the church. We opted to leave that for another time, marveled at the Bernini colonnade and then marched down the main avenue to the Castel San Angelo. I so want to have a sign made reading Danger! Beware Falling Divas and have it placed outside. There were no falling people, Divas or otherwise so we walked on past (it’s not all that interesting inside – we’ve both been in it before and continued on down the banks of the Tiber, and then swung round towards the forum. (Pseudolus not in residence) before taking a break from the heat with a light lunch of pasta, salad and limoncello spritzes at a hotel rooftop bar.

After lunch, on to the fountain of Trevi. And you can tell it’s entirely too crowded in Rome when they have fencing and admission tickets to a fountain. I still tossed a coin in the fountain from behind the barriers. I just made sure none of the officious Italians in the aqua blue vests enforcing the rules were looking. We did purchase tickets to enter the Pantheon, still the largest freestanding concrete dome in the world, even at 2000 plus years old. I’ve always regarded it more of an engineering marvel than an artistic marvel. The baroque marble interior when it was converted into a church in the 17th century does nothing for me. Then it was back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. It’s been in the low 90s all day and humid and walking in that heat for hours saps the strength.

Refreshed, we headed out to find some dinner and found a wine bar cafe called Soprasso near the Vatican which had truly excellent food and beverage. Fresh mozerella and prosciutto, aperetifs, wild boar ragu fettucine and pesto gnocchi and a bottle of Italian Barbera later we wandered back into St. Peter’s square at dusk (much less crowded), waved at Leo who did not wave back, and headed to bed relatively early so that Thomas can get a good night’s sleep and adjust to the time change.

Thomas has conked out. I spent a little time reading the headlines in the US news, groaned to myself on realizing that I will have to pay attention again in less than a week, and am looking for something to watch on the TV that does not involve politics. Not sure what’s on the docket for tomorrow. I’ve been to Rome several times in the past, have seen most of the tourist sites, and am happy to just wander and see where my feet take me or let Thomas, who knows the city better than I, make suggestions.

Dateline: Rome, Italy

Sorry there was no travelogue last night but when the train is four hours late and you don’t get to the hotel until after midnight, you don’t exactly feel like doing much of anything other than lying there and decompressing. Writing multiple paragraphs of coherent prose was just not going to happen. I’m pretty good at doing a brain dump under most circumstances but even I have certain limits. And then there’s the age thing. Paw paw doesn’t like being kept up past his bed time unless it’s by his choice.

Yesterday started well enough. I awoke on a last Paris morning. The heat had not yet descended. I had a few hours before I needed to make my way to the Gare de Lyon so I took a little walk down the Blvd Italiens to the Opera Garnier and back. (It was still covered by a large advertisement for Tiffany & Co as they are busy sandblasting the facade or some such). I shoved everything into my suitcase, now about 3/4 laundry, and rolled it out to the sidewalk. There were a dearth of cabs and, as the Metro entrance was right there, I figured I’d just haul myself down to the station the cheap way. My large roller bag is a bit unwieldy and there are lots of stairs in the Paris Metro so I was cursing that decision by the time I arrive at the station. I had had a large breakfast so I didn’t feel like lunch but downed two bottles of water as the temperature was climbing and the humidity was rising and I was sweating like Birmingham in mid-July.

I was booked on the TGV train direct to Milan. It’s about a seven hour ride under normal circumstances as the train usually goes 70-90 miles an hour. For reasons known only to European Rail companies, we were delayed an hour leaving the station. This led to a series of cascading delays as tracks were occupied that ended up adding roughly four hours to the journey. The train ride itself was pleasant enough. I splurged for first class so the seat was comfortable. The scenery, once we left the more decrepit banlieus of Paris, was lovely. French countryside with fields and woods until we hit Dijon, then we turned south and passed through the outskirts of Lyon before heading East and up through the higher and higher peaks of the Alps until we dove under them and across the border to Italy through the Frejus tunnel. Then down through more mountain valleys into the Piedmont and the outskirts of Turin where we got stuck in a rail siding yard for two hours. What that was all about I could not say. The PA announcements were in Italian (and my vocabulary is limited to opera subjects and there’s not a lot of Verdi or Puccini about transportation difficulties) or in French with a thick Italian accent and all I could tell about that was that it was some sort of Romance language.

We eventually arrived in Milan. The locals were as grumpy as I was. It was now nearly midnight and fifty people converged on a taxi stand with no taxis. I got smart and ordered an Uber and was on my way in about fifteen minutes while most people remained in line for the few Milan taxis working the late shift. I was deposited at the Hotel Puccini, got my key and fell into bed.

Some reasonable sleep had me feeling better this morning so I had hotel breakfast (better breakfast bar than in Paris), arranged for a late check out and headed out to do a little exploring of Milan. It was already in the high 70s at 8:30 AM and promising to be another scorcher so I figured it best to wander before it got too unbearably hot. My hotel was on the Corso Buenos Aires, which turned out to be a major upscale shopping street so I peeked into windows at various high fashions while I made my way down to the historic center of town (about a mile or so). The historic center, like many European cities, is pedestrian only and dominated by the cathedral, the Duomo, which with its facade of marble and multiple delicate gothic spires, looks like a rather oversized wedding cake. I have seen lots of pictures over the years but it’s always nice to see such a building in person and in context. It wasn’t overly crowded so I paid my admission to go in (not the most interesting cathedral I’ve ever been in. It’s actually somewhat dull compared to Cologne or Chartres or Seville or York Minster) but refrained from paying the extra fees to take the elevator to the roof.

After touring one house of worship, I headed over a couple of blocks to the house of worship in which I had a great deal more interest, La Scala. It was open for touring so I spent an hour in their museum which immortalizes the greats of several centuries of Italian Opera. Their special exhibit was on Wagner’s Ring and how the house has approached it over the years, complete with production photographs, film clips, costumes, set renderings etc. Interesting how interpretations have changed and what is emphasized now versus what was emphasized then. The house itself was busy with a rehearsal (The opening of Act III of Carmen) but we were allowed to watch a little from a box. They have a few more resources than Opera Birmingham. It looks like this is going to be a modern dress Carmen set someplace in the interminable wars of the Middle East. I don’t know who was singing Carmen but she was marking.

The only other thing in Milan I had major interest in was Leonardo’s Last Summer but tickets to that are needed months in advance so it was pretty much out of the question. So, I had gelato instead, went back to the hotel to get my bags, and was smart enough to take a taxi to Milan Stazione Centrale. Unlike yesterday, the train from Milan to Rome left precisely on time and was not delayed. We rolled through the Po Valley, stopped at Bologna, then ascended into the Tuscan hills with lots of lovely views of villas and small walled towns looking out over vineyards and fields. We rolled through Florence and then on to Rome. As I watched the countryside flash by, I had visions of myself selling up and purchasing a Tuscan Villa for retirement. But knowing my luck, one of my friends would have a lot worse things to say than ‘Your toilet is on fire’ in a Sandra Oh deadpan.

The train pulled into Rome about 7 PM. A very long line at the taxi stand and, of course, the man behind me pulled out a rather smelly cigar. When I got to the head, forty-five minutes later, the luck of the draw gave me a surly cabby with aggressive driving habits and what I have to assume were Italian expletives as he hurled them at pedestrians, traffic lights and other cabbies. I did arrive at my hotel in one piece. It’s right off the north wall of the Vatican City, about two blocks from the entrance to the Vatican museums. I was hungry so I found a local taverna, ordered two kinds of pasta, a limoncello spritz, and retired early for the night. I can sightsee tomorrow when Thomas, my travel companion for the next couple of days, gets here