Oh, she flew through the air . . .

Dear friends and family,

I didn't tell you about the wonderful grab bar Merwin installed in the bathroom, so that I could help myself up from the toilet, probably because I didn't want you all to know that I actually needed such a thing to help me rise. He ordered it from Amazon.com and drilled holes in the tile through the wood behind the tile to mount it—quite a job. But what a help! Every time I use it, I bless him, silently and aloud. So then why oh why did I attempt today to rise without grabbing it? Who knows. Anyway, I found myself tilting as I rose, couldn't right myself, and sort of flew through the air, in the small space of the bathroom, and crashed rib first into the standing scale at the other end, a couple of feet away. Ow! Why didn't I use the grab bar that time when it would have made such a difference? Hurry, I guess. I don't know if I have cracked the rib, but at least I didn't smash the spleen, inches away from the rib. That would have been a real disaster.

We were just on our way to see Avatar when this happened, so I took two Tylenol and off we went, Dave driving. I can't say too much about my joy in seeing this movie. We saw it is 4K resolution, the best available, and the emotion I feel comes from my admiration for the beauty of the piece. Early on my tears flowed and continued throughout. No one, least of all I, can take my tears very seriously, because I cry very easily—at anything sad, beautiful, rich, at anything that marks a supreme artistry, anything awe-inspiring. This movie was all of that. The story is simple and evocative; the execution amazing.

My friend Toby in a recent email extolled the movie Precious and asserted that this is the kind of movie she wants to see: difficult but meaningful, and she added that she had no wish to see Avatar, I guess because it is unreal. It's about as unreal as Hamlet or as any of the works of art that one stands before amazed at MoMA.

Last night we saw a movie on TV, The Soloist, about Nathaniel Ayers, a homeless schizophrenic man who loves Beethoven and is discovered playing on a 2-string violin by a reporter. You probably have heard of it? A true story, and a very sad one indeed. One cannot compare these two movies, really (the only likeness for me is that they both made me cry but that hardly counts), but Avatar is a perfect work of art, and the other is not. I would be happy to see Avatar again. I never want to see The Soloist again.

***

Yesterday, my friend Florence sent over some great veggie soup she had made, and I sent her some spinach pancakes. Fun to have a friend in the neighborhood who is also a member of our synagogue and a classmate at the JCC exercise classes. I am sad that she and her husband Dave are leaving for Florida on Sat. for three months!

Tomorrow we see the Pulmonologist, and I start on the antibiotic 1 pill 3x a week instead of 4x a day around the clock. It was hard sometimes to coordinate the pill time with sleeping and waking, so I am glad that is over. I think she will take a x-ray to see if the clouds in my lungs are gone or at least diminished. I still am a bit breathless if I talk too much, especially on the phone. But yesterday I registered for the Shakespeare Association of America meeting in Chicago April 1st-3rd. I am going to continue to look forward until forced to stop. So though my motto is one day at a time, always, I also plan ahead as if the pleasure will come to pass; in this way, I can enjoy the anticipation and perhaps also the fulfillment.

Finally, I can add that my work on Measure for Measure is going well. I like writing the explanatory notes for students, being careful to be tactful and helpful rather than oppressively scholarly. I want students to feel that they can do this; they can read and enjoy the play. And there continues to be progress on hamletworks.org, including stimulating discussions with colleagues via email. So life is good.

Love to you all,
Bernice