Subject: September 18, 2011 (CB) From: Ernst Meyer Date: Sun, 18 Sep 2011 23:43:10 -0400 To: cynthia behrman Dear Cyndy, Thank you for your letters. Juggling my e-mail as I do on no fewer than five computers, two in Belmont, one each on Nantucket and in Konnarock and my laptop, I'm not sure I've been able to locate all of your letters. I remember there were questions, but my memory is unreliable, and you may just have to ask again. Your most poignant question was about Nathaniel and his view of his future. Not surprisingly his emotions - and the thoughts they engender - tend to be somewhat mercurial, and it's not surprising to me that sometimes - though not often - he is discouraged and finds himself wondering if there isn't a way out of his commitment to conducting. So far as I know, at this juncture, he is very optimistic. The long strenuous backpacking expeditions which Margaret and I took with Klemens in the White Mountains, and especially in the Canadian Rockies have profoundly affected the family's experience. On occasion when we were very tired, cold and or wet, and had miles to trudge back to the car, with the heavy packs on our shoulders, we told each other that one can't engage in any worthwhile activity without at some occasion or other, wishing that instead of being out on the trail one was home in bed. That pious reflection is certainly apposite to my Nantucket adventure, and even to the 17 hour 890 mile drive to Konnarock which we have just absolved. Yesterday morning, we started out at 8 a.m., an hour later than planned, first to Sharon MA to pay a brief visit to Margaret's sister Janet, who, as I may have mentioned has been widowed for about thirty years and now lives with her divorced daughter Anne, her cat, one medium-sized dog and an enormous 140 lb. mastiff in a very small house in the suburban woods, - an existence so constrained that neither Margaret nor I could manage. Margaret is understandably anxious about her sister, and wanted to see her before we went south. We left Sharon shortly after 10 a.m., drove Interstate 95 and 495 to the Massachusetts Turnpike, and as is our custom, through the Berkshires, turning south on the Taconic State Parkway at the Canaan exit. Across the Hudson at Newburgh, through the Poconos to Scranton and then down Interstate 81. We reached Pine Grove PA, as I had calculated, as darkness fell at about 7 p.m. but the unassuming "Econologe" where we had planned to spend the night was almost filled. Only one room on the second floor, at a correspondingly high price. I thought, unwisely, that we could do better. Three motels in the vicinity of Harrisburg at which we stopped were filled. Margaret considered negotiating poorly marked side roads in search of a motel was more hazardous than continuing on the Interstate toward our goal. Earlier on the trip, driving through the Berkshires and the Poconos, I had periodically become quite somnolent, had stopped several times at Rest Areas to close my eyes but had gained only temporary relief. Finally twenty minutes of deep sleep at the Mile 26 Stop on Interstate 84 left me with a steely unwavering concentration on nothing but the steering wheel, the road, the trucks in front and the headlights visible in the rear view mirrors, a disposition which I believed, wisely or otherwise, would make it possible for me to drive safely into the dawn. Such a demonstration of resilience, however, turned out not to be necessary. As we approached Exit 302 at Middletown VA, I saw immediately adjacent to the highway a promising new motel, whose large illuminated sign "Super 8" pierced the darkness. The parking lot, as yet unpaved, was crowded with motorcycles, cars and trailer-trucks. A youngish, scrawny, unshaven clerk, no model for Saint Peter by any stretch of the imagination, muttered that he had only two rooms left, one a suite with kitchen, bathroom, and a bedroom with a "Queen-size" bed, the other ... I didn't let him finish. Whatever was least expensive, I said, would do, and he seemed to get the point. For 70 dollars plus tax, he put us in what I suppose will be marketed as the bridal suite, - where the size of the bed suggests that the architect contemplated - or dreamed of - a polygamous society. I lost no time testing the "Wi-Fi" Internet access, which turned out to be superb. At 12:34 a.m. I e-mailed Klemens to tell him Margaret and I were safe, sound and exhausted in a Super-8 bridal suite. At 9 a.m. I had an e-mail from Helmut to which I could immediately make a sketchy, tentative reply before we availed ourselves of the free "Continental Breakfast" in the lobby. Outside, the stand-in for St. Peter was smoking a cigarette. Obviously still hadn't had time to shave, but he was pleased when I told him we enjoyed the sumptuous accommodations and would probably be back, without specifying a date. Today's drive began under a heavy cloud cover, but no rain, To the east, the summit of the Blue Ridge was shrouded in fog. The traffic, which had been light in northern Virginia, became progressively more dense as we drove south, but continued to carry us at the speed limit of 70 m.p.h. all the way down the Shenandoah Valley. Just north of Roanoke we passed a traffic jam many miles long, fortunately in the other direction, such as I had never seen until I drove in Germany, and which, when I encounter it now, provides me with the satisfaction of finally having a "European vacation" at home. By the time we drove into the Food City parking lot in Chilhowie to stock up on groceries, the clouds had parted and the flat roofs of the now empty ungainly block-like buildings that line the old Main Street reflected the rays of the gentle autumn sun. The 13 mile drive across Iron Mountain as always, was buoyed and weighted with memories beyond counting. The house was intact, just as I had inferred from my daily surveillance photos. We had left it in July, clean and very neat. Belmont and Nantucket seem very far away. Tomorrow, I hope, my friendly and well-meaning Civil Engineer, Mr. Esposito will receive his $1450 check from my Bank of America account. He acknowledged receipt of my questionnaire, but hasn't given me any hint whether he intends to answer it. It's awkward to say, but congenial as he is, my engineer is not that000 intelligent. When I explained to him that my obligtaion was not to demonstrate my plumbing to be code compliant, but to show that Mr. Ciarmataro's report was incorrect a) with respect to the facts, b) with respect to the interpretation of the Plumbing Code, and c) with respect to its failure to comply with teh appeals Court's Footnote 13, Mr. Esposito answered: "I don't see the difference." As for my questionnaire, I'll report to you Mr. Esposito's response, if any. Please be very conservative about further eye surgery, especially cataract extraction on the eye that is as yet unaffected by macular disease. As long as I was still able to read and drive, I would hold off on surgery, and quite possibly I would even forgo driving to avoid the hazard of precipitating macular degeneration by cataract surgery. If it were reasonable to assume that after surgery the eye with the cataract would develop the same vision as the eye that has already had cataract surgery, then it is logical to defer surgery as long as the vision in the eye with the cataract is better than the eye that has had the cataract extraction. Please give my best to Ned. Jochen * * * * * *