The Month In Review

The month in review.

We are talking about August, a month that always makes me think of Faulkner. With that comes thoughts of Temple Drake who terrifies my dreams. He leaves me no sanctuary, only a struggle with my fear. But let’s move on. Plenty of time for William later.

I just watched a video on how they do a knee replacement. Just let me say this; bone saws. Bone saws bring to mind (for me) the Civil War. Walt Whitman. Screaming.

How did I sleep through someone using a bone saw on my knee? I’m usually a light sleeper so this mystifies me.

Earlier this month I had my second knee replaced. My other knee was replaced two years ago. I enjoy looking at the scar when I have my shorts on. Scars are history, as Fight Club Chuck said. They tell a story. Usually a bad one.

So now my knees are in stereo. They match and are excellent conversation starters at parties though I don’t go to parties anymore. I’ve been to parties. I know how they roll.

Next. My brother George entered the hospital earlier this month for a lung problem and was then moved to ICU. George had a parade of health issues. He lost his lower two legs to diabetes, was on dialysis, and had congenital heart failure, what else...the man had a bulls-eye on his back for health issues but he alway fought back. I watched him survive numerous bouts. My bro was tough.

This time they put him on a ventilator and I thought, this might be his final match. It was.

As POA I was updated through the week he was in ICU, often through the night, with phone calls regarding his progress or lack of. It was a long week. They couldn’t keep his blood pressure up, he had 105° fevers. It was nip and tuck. On Sunday morning I gave the OK to remove any life support, by afternoon he was gone.

Relief and sorrow. I was glad he was on his way to wherever he was going. Sorrow that my big brother was gone. 67 years of memories. All densely packed.

I had dueling pains now, my heart and leg. I wondered if they would rule each other out. No, they didn’t. I was simply a guy with knee and heart pains.

George was 78. He was a photographer with an astounding eye. He worked in NYC for many years, doing work for NYU. We both lived in the city during the 80s and 90s. We wandered the streets, took photos, drank, met writers, surfed the hypertension landscape - about the greatest times ever you could have with a brother. Thankfully I have two more, both of which created other adventures for me. The death of a sibling is a different animal, say from your parents or friends. Each of those catagories carries it’s own archives of impressions, orange crates filled assorted mishaps, sprinkled with attic dust. That time when..

They visit through the years, unbidden, altered by continous recall, morphed by time and presented in current form. Some we revisit, like it or not, others we manage to avoid or so we think.

Excuse the name dropping for a moment but when my mother died in 1986, Allen Ginsberg said to me, “we’re next.” And I thought at the moment, no, you’re next.

Which he was.

But you never know.

Now, with one sibling down, I wonder at times, who’s next? I calculate our age, health issues, mileage, wear and tear. I am the youngest but have driven too long, too fast, in the wrong gear. My remaining brothers have been more sedate. But they have the disadvantage of logging more years. But that doesn’t matter much anymore. DNA seems to hold the answers. As a fortune cookie once informed me, “all will be revealed.”

And so it shall.

My brother George lived a good life as a great artist. He taught me things I will continue to appreciate as time goes on.

We had wonderful times. Not even Temple Drake could stop us.

Goodbye brother. You rank high. At ease.