Category: Thoughts

A Personal Update

Posted on by Pete Schloss

 

It has been a while since I have “spoken”. Instead of detailing my latest travels or latest musings I will share my latest “adventure”.

Earlier this year occasional back discomfort morphed into more persistent back pain. In turn the pain became more severe which caused me to seek medical attention. Multiple chiropractic visits, massage therapy appointments, and even acupuncture brought only limited and very temporary relief.

Matters worsened. Both before and after my mid-point aborted Camino with grandson, Britton, I consulted with doctors at the University of Kansas Medical Center Comprehensive Spine Center. Medications were prescribed and a lumbar steroid injection was performed. Again, the relief was only temporary and limited.

X-ray, CT scan, and an MRI have told the tale:

“At L4-5, there is a circumferential disc bulge and prominent right synovial facet cyst projecting medially within the central spinal canal contributed to marked central spinal stenosis and right lateral recess stenosis (of the traversing L5 nerve root). Additional moderate bilateral foraminal stenosis at this level.”

There was more that essentially boiled down to the fact that I have a well-traveled and well abused spine. (Witness that I recently fully engaged my stubbornness and fought through the pain to split and stack nearly 6 cords of firewood in Colorado. Not particularly smart on my part.)

I have never before dealt with chronic pain. At times this borders on disabling with pain rising to a 9 on a scale of 1-10. “Conservative” options have been exhausted and doing nothing more is not an option. I have been referring to surgery through the KU Spine Center. The recommendation from the consultation was: “Surgery would entail an L4-5 decompression and fusion with a TLIF from the right-hand side, robotically assisted, Infuse, allograft.” Again, there was more, including an exhaustive detail of why this recommendation was made and other options rejected.

My surgery is scheduled for September 30th, and it can’t get here sooner. The short-term recovery is 4-6 weeks with significant limitations on my activities. Full recovery is up to 9 months. No skiing this year. The prognosis is very good, and my excellent pre-surgery flexibility will only be slightly altered. However, I will still have a 72-year-old spine. I have promised Christine that I will be a “good patient” and follow the doctor’s instructions to the letter. That is perhaps the greatest challenge for me.

Peace Everyone. Pete

Written at Kansas City, September 6, 2024.

Friends, Neighbors, and Dog Whistles

Posted on by Pete Schloss

(The image above is of our 15-year-old granddaughter, Delaney, who donated 20 quilts that she made over the last year to the infants in the NICU of Kansas City’s Childrens Mercy Hospital.) 

Doug Pimm was a supervisor at the Missouri State Probation and Parole office where I began my first post-college job. He was hard spoken and gruff. He was also an ordained Episcopal Priest who traded his New York parish for a “more captive audience” in the Missouri Department of Corrections.

When you got beneath his rough-cut exterior, Doug deeply cared for people, among them his officers and the offenders we supervised. By the way, Doug married Christine and me. His price was a Wilson 2000 aluminum tennis racquet. In 1977 that was about all we could afford.

Doug once told me that real friends are rare. To Doug, real friends are the people who will drop everything to give you aid. He said that most people can number their real friends on one hand. By Doug’s metric I am blessed. Discounting for the impediments of geography, I count many of you as my true friends, more than I can count on my fingers and my toes.

The “Good Samaritan” gave aid to a stranger, not a “friend”, but a neighbor. Christianity is not the only major religion to recognize the importance of reaching out and giving aid to one’s neighbor. Nor is it the first religion to do so. Virtually all religions recognize the imperative of seeing the humanity in each of us.

The political and religious gulf that existed between the Jews and Samaritans was a canyon that made our current “culture wars” look paltry by comparison, and made Democrats and Republicans look like fraternal twins.

Christ intentionally chose the Samaritan as the giver of aid to a stranger, a Jew. The Samaritan had full knowledge of the religious/political identity of this stranger, yet humanity made the Jew his “neighbor”.

My friends and neighbors include, Republicans and Democrats, Right to Lifers and proponents of Reproductive Choice, the spiritually oriented and atheists, Gay, Straight, Trans… My friends would not qualify their assistance to me on my stand with regard to these modern-day controversies.

I suspect that most know where I stand on these and many other issues, but I resist throwing my beliefs in anyone’s face. I know that I won’t change any minds by my words, but I might by my example.

Social media is a wonderful tool for keeping in touch with friends. Unfortunately, it is also a megaphone that magnifies the latest “dog-whistle” in the news cycle grossly out of proportion to the actual importance of the issue in our everyday lives. Draw attention not to our differences, but to our similarities. The former already has countless voices (usually raised in anger), it is the latter that cries quietly to be recognized. I am not suggesting silence about your opinions, just suggesting you offer thoughtfully given information, not an incitement adding to controversy.

I am asking you, my friends and “neighbors”, to resist the urge to jump on and parrot the latest “dog-whistle” call to arms. Most often the expression of righteous indignation is someone else’s and we are enlisted to magnify that indignation for their benefit, not ours. Look among your friends and neighbors who are of a different political party, a different religion, a different race, a different nationality, a different sexual orientation, and ask yourself, “If they were in need, would I withhold my aid based upon the differences in our beliefs?”

Christine and I live on the corner of a busy intersection in the city. It is a rare month that there is not at least one collision at this intersection. Upon hearing a crash, Christine is among the first on the scene to offer assistance, whether that is by calling 911, directing traffic, or inviting the often shaken but mobile drivers into our home. She doesn’t try to first determine who was “at fault”, and certainly doesn’t ask about their socio-political stand on the latest controversies cycling in the news.

Follow her example. Peace everyone. Pete

Written at Kansas City, July 30, 2024.

PS. Here is an update on my condition: I had an MRI of my spine on Sunday evening. There was much confirmation based upon the nature and severity of my pain. Varying degrees of deterioration of certain vertebrae, most serious in the lower back. There were also a couple of surprises. A couple of bulging disks and a cyst protruding into the spinal column.

On Monday morning I had a lumbar epidural injection of steroid medication. It went well and later that day I experienced significant relief. Today minor pain has resurfaced, but nothing like my recent experience which verged upon debilitating. This is the next step in a conservative treatment approach. We shall see if the benefit lasts.

In the meantime, Christine and I are off to Colorado for most of the month of August. I have ordered a log splitter that is to be delivered on Monday. Britton is accompanying us for just next week to lend a hand. We laid up an impressive supply of firewood that awaits our efforts to split it.

Pete

 

 

A Saturday Night Memory

Posted on by Pete Schloss

 

Saturday Evening. We spent the day inside, victims to the contest raging between heat and humidity: which would make Kansas City least livable today. Frustrated, I blurted out, “Let’s go someplace, do something.” Christine was game but asked what and where. “How about the Uptown Lounge again?” It was all that I could come up with.

We were there for the first time two days ago with our dear friends Charlie and Mary Murphy, enjoying the Richard Haitbrink Quartet, with vocalist Nancy Wallingford. They entertained us with jazz and blues from “The Great American Songbook”. Nancy reads and occasionally comments on these posts. (Hi Nancy!)

Two decades ago we were in this space to listen to our daughter Alexis’ then boyfriend and his band. Then it was Davey’s Uptown, a venue well suited to garage bands, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and a level of sanitary neglect that gave footsteps a sound not unlike Velcro pulling apart. The Uptown Lounge was nothing like its predecessor.

I drove, negotiating Main Street which is currently a confusion of barriers, orange traffic cones, and shifting lanes as Kansas City extends its Trolly Line south. I envision that the road’s many open chasms must “collect” overnight impaired drivers like insects sticking to flypaper.

As we entered the Uptown Lounge we left the noise, dust, heat, and humidity of the city at the door. “Our table” was waiting for us. I feel qualified to call it that since we were now repeat customers.

The Uptown Lounge is softly lit and has a pure but understated elegance that welcomes sport coats and evening dresses with the same comfortable familiarity as shorts and polo shirts. Tonight’s entertainment was courtesy of owner Alan Stribling at the grand piano with occasional solos and vocal accompaniments by bartender Vonne Whittman.

His voice is like soft oiled leather while he slowly sways at the keys, a human metronome. Whittman wears an unobtrusive headset that picks up her vocals, broadcasting them through the sound system is such a way that an uninformed patron is left to wonder where the singer is hiding. Whitman simultaneously sings and performs her bartenderly duties without diminishing her expertise in either calling.

Into the first of two martinis, I am teleported in this carefree moment to carefree times long past by Billy Joal, Elton John, and James Taylor:

“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in…”

“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide…”

“Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone. Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you…”

Alan later asks if there are any requests. “Color My World” by Chicago, I reply.

“Great song… I’ll give it a try.”

In a very rare moment for me I ask (really, I insisted) Christine to dance with me. We are the only patrons to do so and Christine is a bit self-conscious. Thanks to my martini, I’m not. In a few moments Christine asks if I am tearing up. “No… well maybe a little.” 47 years ago this was our wedding song. I could not have imagined then how the song would foretell now:

“As time goes on, I realize just what you mean to me. And now, now that you’re near promise your love that I’ve waited to share. And dreams of our moments together. Color my world with hope of loving you…”

After we returned to “our table” Christine remarked that a few pre-COVID years ago Alan had been performing at another piano bar and that I had made the same request. She was right, and now I remember that things played out in much the same déjà vu way. (Was it a martini or a manhattan then?)

An hour and a half into the evening and half through my second martini I see a familiar face enter the Lounge. It’s Ann Adams Fay and her partner. They join us and as it turns out they have been talking about walking the Camino. Coincidence?… A gentleman in Puerto Rico who had walked the Camino once told me, “Peter, in life there are no coincidences.”

Two hours gone and my second martini finished we bid farewell to our friends and the Uptown Lounge. Christine had been filling up on free soda water as she was the “DD” for the evening… “designated driver” (“designated darling” to me).

Driving home she skipped a return on Main Street in favor of a more serpentine and tree lined route. As we drew nearer to our home a thought came to mind. We were a few blocks from Winstead’s, a 1950’s era hamburger restaurant that we had not visited together since our children were young. Back then we could occasionally afford buying them each a Winstead’s “Tiny-Tot-Treat”, a mini-hamburger, small fries and child-size malt.

“Are you hungry?” She was. “Do you want to dine or just eat?” There was a pause and Christine then offered “Eat. What do you think of Winstead’s?” Synchronicity such as this is the byproduct of nearly a half-century together.

Christine had a double burger with tater-tots, I had two singles and fries. We split a chocolate malt. Twenty-one dollars plus tip. Not dining, but much better than just eating. Then it was home.

As Christine’s father, Bill Nichols, drew nearer to his 100th birthday (he almost made it to 102) he often told the same stories from his life. He would tell anyone willing to listen. It didn’t matter that the listener had heard the stories before, Bill would tell them over and over again. It was easy to ascribe his repetition to age related memory lapses. It now occurs to me that Bill did not tell his tales for the benefit of the listener, but rather so that he could relive those moments that were dear to him.

Perhaps that is why I am telling you about this Saturday night.

Peace Everyone. Pete

 

Grandalf the Wise

Posted on by Pete Schloss

 

Dear Christine, Renee, Friends and Followers.

My intention has been to take the posts and photographs of our journey in Spain and render them into a book to give to Britton. I don’t believe the book would be complete without some “Grandfatherly” advice:

Dear Britton.

It has been a little more than a week since we returned to Kansas City from Spain, and today was your first football practice. The rest of the team has been practicing while you were gone. You feared they would be mad at you for “skipping out”. Against your wishes, your mom made you go.

As we predicted, you were enthusiastically welcomed by your coaches and teammates. You also “kicked ass” at the team drills and sprints. After I learned of all this, I sent you a text, “Hey Mr. B. I understand you were greeted by your coach and team as the conquering hero returned from Spain! Congratulations… it’s what I predicted. Love, Grandpa.”

“Love you too. I didn’t think it would turn out like that.” was your reply. To which I then added, “With age comes wisdom!”

Finally, you exclaimed: “Okay Gandalf!!” and followed with a couple of smiley faces.

I will take this exchange as my license to speak to you as your very own “Grandalf”.

I don’t know whether you will be reading this at age 15, 25, 50 or beyond. I don’t know whether you will be sharing it with your child or grandchild. As I write this at age 72, I am mindful that these words and the telling in this book of our adventure together in Spain will long outlive me. I hope that the power of my advice does too.

You are an amazing person. Kind, thoughtful, caring, and so very capable of anything you put your mind to. (Here you must say “Thank you”. Remember, every compliment is a gift!) You also tend to be unsure of yourself, presuming others won’t think you are good enough, strong enough, smart enough… Britton, you ARE good enough, strong enough, smart enough! Do not let your insecurity become a self-fulfilling prophecy. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!! I believe in you, your Grandmother believes in you, your Mom believes in you, as does anyone who knows you.

Britton, don’t be seduced into believing that adventure is what someone else experiences and then posts on social media. You are fresh back from a REAL adventure, not one made up for video courtesy of big financial sponsors and a huge support crew hidden in the background. It is also not your first adventure that I have witnessed: I watched with tears of pride as your Lacross team descend upon you at the end of the season’s final game. “Brick Wall Benscoter!” they called out… a team that had not won a game until you took the post of goalie in the last 5 games, winning 4 out of 5 of those matches! That’s a REAL adventure.

Opportunities present themselves, often when we least expect them. It is you who must recognize them and act upon them, seizing opportunity and creating your own adventures. I know this because it is how my life has played out.

Adventure is not only hair raising, adrenaline pumping, edge of your seat excitement. Adventure can be the challenge of doing well on a test, achieving a goal at work, getting recognition for a job well done, or even having an attractive “someone” agree to go out with you on a date.

Often, what you want is located on the other side of things you don’t like. You have spoken of several ambitions that you hold. Just as often you have mentioned some things that you don’t particularly like, such as reading, studying, and commitments to long term educational programs. To achieve your goals you will need to embrace and power through some of those things you don’t like. You may find that once you aggressively tackle what you don’t like, your success will bring with it a liking for that thing. This too is “adventure”, the adventure of discovering what you are capable of.

Over 30 years ago I decided that I would never leave unsaid what I considered the most important advice to my children. You have heard me speak these words countess times. I will repeat them here as my final offering to you:

Have Fun. Because life and your pursuit of it should be fun.

Do Good. (Two things) Do what is right, and Do your best.

and Be Safe for the sake of those who love you… as I do.

Peace Britton, Grandpa. (aka, Grandalf the Wise!)

 

Home!

Posted on by Pete Schloss

 

Dear Friends and Followers.

On June 29th, after a grueling travel day, Britton and I landed in Kansas City and fell into the embraces of Christine, Renee’ and Britton’s siblings. It is quite possible that this one day was the highlight of Britton’s trip.

We flew First Class aboard Air France, as a Delta Airline partner, from Barcellona to Paris. Although seating was 3 seats on each side of the isle throughout the plane, in the small allocated “First-Class” section the center seats were left empty. We were afforded complimentary beverages, mine of the adult variety, and an excellent light meal. In these days of “enhanced security” it is a wonder that table service in First Class includes real metal utensils, including a knife. I guess that terrorists are relegated to Economy. The flight was unremarkable at just under 2 hours. The best was yet to come.

Our bags had been checked through to Minneapolis. So, except for the lingering uncertainty of another “rouge backpack” incident as was experienced at the start of our trip, we were unencumbered.

Non-European Union citizens were required to submit to passport verification, but otherwise proceeding to our next gate was seamless. With our First-Class tickets (one more time, yeah Christine!!) we qualified for entry into any one of the many exclusive Air France lounges which were located throughout the sprawling expanse of Charles De Gaulle Airport. Unfortunately, our layover was too short to take advantage of that perk.

The plane, this time operated by Delta, was being readied for the cross-Atlantic flight away from the terminals. We traveled by shuttle to the wide body plane’s remote location and boarded up a mobile stairway much as was done in the 1960’s and is still done for some dignitaries. Delta One customers (that was us) turned left upon entry, and the rest of the passengers, including “ordinary” First Class passengers went stage right.

Instead of seats, Delta One provides each passenger with a private “suite”.

There are real noise cancelling headphones, a comforter and pillow, slippers, a hand stitched (ours to keep) travel pouch containing toiletries and other small items to enhance comfort, a large screen (by airplane standards) television, and best of all a seat with power controls that adjust all the way from full upright to a fully extended bed. Our Airbus A330 had a total passenger capacity of 281. We were among the 29 who enjoyed the premium level of Delta One comfort and service. In surveying the other 27 passengers I wondered which might be celebrities, retired sports icons, or captains of industry. There were two that caught my eye, one with the eerily familiar face of a character actor and the other an older Black gentleman who was well over 6’6”.

As far as I was concerned, Michael was the real star of the flight. He was our personal assistant. Michael and his partner exclusively served the needs of the 29 Delta One passengers. He was polished in his manners and attentiveness much as one might expect the valet of royalty. “Another cocktail Sir?”… “Was the lamb prepared to your satisfaction?”… (I really ordered lamb)

Britton was in travel heaven! I remarked that he might not have a repeat of this travel experience for many, many years. “Yeah, like maybe never!” was his reply.

As special as all this was, we were still confined in a long metal tube along with 300+ passengers and crew, speeding across the Atlantic Ocean at over 500 miles per hour and nearly 8 miles over the surface of the Earth. If God had meant humans to fly… oh, never mind. I just wanted to get home to my wife and orthopedic physician, in that order.

The greeting at the airport was hurried but loving and welcome. Renee and her crew were heading to Florida in the morning by car. Within 24 hours Britton was transitioning from travel heaven to its equivalent in purgatory. He would have less than 8 hours of down time in over 48 hours of being “on the road”.  Poor guy!

My doctor’s appointment was accommodatingly scheduled for Monday. It went well. I now have appointments for an MRI, followed immediately by an epidural injection. These are the next steps in a conservative exploration of options. Additionally, I will be seeing my chiropractor and massage therapist this week.

In the next week I hope to put my thoughts and “pen” to work on writing a reflection of this extraordinary experience. I repeat, I am not disappointed with the outcome. Britton has repeatedly voiced his intention to return and finish what he and I started. He intends to include his mother and one or more siblings. They seem just as excited to be a part of his continuing pilgrimage as he is. In a Newtonian sense I have put Britton in motion, and an object in motion will remain in motion until otherwise acted upon. I can only hope that life does not interfere with his spirt of pilgrimage. That is out of my hands.

Love to you all. Peace. Pete