Elster's World

Thursday, March 16, 2006

No Luck of the Irish For Me

The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in gloom of the sickroom
And talk to yourself as you die.

Will the Jewish month of Adar is supposed to be one of increased luck and joy, I've actually been finding it to be one of ill luck and pain. On Monday night (Taanis Ester) my grandmother was taken to the hoapital with pnuemonia. She was in the ER all night and into the following day (Purim). I went to visit her with my sister and brother in law. She was weak but she was coherent.

Life is a short, warm moment
And death is a long cold rest.
You get your chance to try in the twinkling of an eye:
Eighty years, with luck, or even less.

Yesterday she took a turn for the worse. I have been so busy at work that I barely had a chance to breath even on Purim. Meanwhile and more importantly, my grandmother was much less coherent yesterday. She barely recognized my mom (her daughter).


So all aboard for the American tour,
And maybe you'll make it to the top.
And mind how you go, and I can tell you, 'cause I know
You may find it hard to get off.

My grandmother is an extremely independent woman. She still lives alone and was even driving to and from the market, etc. well into her eighties. When my grandfather was sick with lung cancer, my grandmother gave her entire life to him; basically cutting off all of her friends and everything else so she could care for him full time. That's what makes this so particularly upsetting; that such a special person can turn so quickly. The good news is that today my mom says she was better.


You are the angel of death
And I am the dead man's son.
And he was buried like a mole in a fox hole.
And everyone is still in the run.

In other bad news, I was told by my job search headhunter that I am no longer being considered for a job position I very much wanted to get. No explanation as to why. This news crushed me particularly hard yesterday. Because...

And who is the master of fox hounds?
And who says the hunt has begun?
And who calls the tune in the courtroom?
And who beats the funeral drum?

Work has become unbearable. I am working harder than ever, am more stressed than ever, and more miserable than ever. That job was like a life preserver that fell too far out of reach. Now I'm sitting with dwindling options and more pressure than I think I can even handle.


The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in gloom in the sickroom
And talk to yourself till you die.

Pretty gloomy image of man's time on Earth. But if all we do is go through life walking with our heads down and our hands in our pockets, does it fit?

3 Comments:

  • Refuah sheleima to your grandmother.

    By Blogger Joe Schick, at 6:11 PM  

  • thank you - we wish you a speedy return to the blog wworld

    By Blogger Elster, at 8:27 PM  

  • I really dont know what to say, or can say that can be of comfort to you. I can only offer whatever amount of support you need/want from me.

    Habe a good shabbos my friend.

    By Blogger The Real Neo, at 11:19 AM  

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