Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
Regular life is busy. Lots of running here & there, social events, birthdays, softball games & other granddaughter things going on. I’m riding the motorcycles pretty much every day, burning through books, getting the humble manse set for winter. Half the time my head’s spinning at day’s end.
Diagnostics fizzled on the oncology front. The needle biopsy was inconclusive and the doc was unenthusiastic about trying again, seeing as how complications are not unheard of when poking around the aorta with sharp instruments. So now it’s wait & see. I’m back on the checkup-every-90-days regimen. Eventually a lymph node will light up within scalpel range, not like these others buried deep in the abdomen. Then it’s easy to carve one out, run it down to the deli guy at the supermarket, have it sliced thin and put on microscope slides and, uh… uh oh… this guy’s lymph system appears to be made of salami grease and pepperjack bits.
If it’s the same old lymphoma from 2019 it could take years before there’s a node that’s easy to remove in its entirety. If the cancer’s morphed into a more aggressive type, it’ll happen faster: a nice juicy node will be sticking out of the side of my neck in no time, ready for a sharp blade wielded by deft hands. Hell, you could subcontract an easy biopsy like that to the first band of carneys you run into. Strap you to the wheel, give you a spin, a guy in a top hat and a cape goes into his windup… THWACK! Pick your node up off the ground, put it in a baggie, run it over to Pathology by way of the Stop & Shop.
On to a few pictures and we’re done here:
Waiting room at the doc’s. Humanity could do worse.
You may be of the opinion it is doing worse. I won’t say you’re wrong, but try turning down the media noise, see if that doesn’t help. Media of the misnamed social variety, above all.
Wildflower season is over. I’ve mowed all four gardens.
Spared them until the last few holdouts were gone.
This was a few days before mowing. We were overrun with prairie peas this year. Very pretty. Lots of seed pods everywhere. They don’t seem to be edible. The local wildlife took no notice.
My girls. This was on a recent rainy night out for D2’s 40th birthday.
From left, 2, 3, 1.
We had a private Lord of the Rings-type dinner in a stone hobbit house, big round door, the works, about a dozen of us. Pam’s sisters from Arizona flew in for it and boy were their little Fell Beast arms tired.
D3’s significant other, Mark, was playing at a live-music event at a local farm recently, we all turned out.
That’s D2 and her husband, Jonny. D1D1’s swinging around in the tree upside down. Little D1D2 is nestled under a blanket in auntie’s arms.
Farm store in the background, open for business.
D1D1 has her own girl-sized electric guitar—very cute—but here she’s practicing chords on her dad’s Telecaster.
Detective Pam’s still at work following up leads on the never-ending mystery of her genealogy. Here’s a photo she’d never seen before, her great-grandfather on the Alabama side.
This is 1920, when John Henry Wilbanks was 49 or 50. He died in 1954 in Huntsville, Alabama, a month after Pam was born in that city.
We both had the same immediate reaction when we saw the photo: Holy (colorful expletive)! John Henry nothing—It’s Johnny Danger!
Mr. Wilbanks was quite the ringer for my old pal. I sent the photo to Danger’s widow, Kathy, who shared our astonishment. It’s quite eerie.
This pic below was taken at Hitler’s Olympics, Berlin, 1936.
The gal on the right is Britta Granberg. My friend Ulf Granberg is Britta’s nephew.
Ulf’s the editor who hired me to write Phantom stories for the overseas books in the 90s. I’ve been with King Features for 23 years now but Ulf still calls from Stockholm once a month, to stay in touch.
He mentioned, on our September call, that his 106-year-old aunt (107 coming up in December), had competed for Sweden as a gymnast in the 1936 Olympics.
I asked if he had a photo of his aunt from her adventure in Germany. He said if one exists he had never seen it.
After we hung up I found the snapshot seen above here. Last year, the County Archives of Västerbotten, Sweden, had done a piece on the ’36 Olympics to recognize Britta as the community’s oldest resident. Someone involved had dug up the photo somewhere. Britta was 20 when it was taken.
At 106, she’s still very much with it. Ulf tells me she was interviewed on local radio last fall in connection with the national elections to the Swedish parliament.
A few pics my friend Robyn sent from the Lode Ranch in Wheatland County, Montana.
I’d love to get back out there soon. It’s one of the favorite places I’ve happened upon in those years of aimless wandering I was privileged to enjoy. My 50s & first half of my 60s.
An inside word on the Phantom strip, where the long-running, dual-timeline Wrack and Ruin series is well into its final chapter.
Big surprise in January of this year when the entire Bandar nation showed up at Gravelines Prison to get the Phantom and Savarna Devi out of there alive. I doubt anybody’s noticed, but a full year before the Bandar arrived the Phantom told readers exactly what was going to happen.
He said it as sort of an inside joke to himself (to his horse, actually, the guy talks to his horse all the time), which I think is why the connection has gone unnoticed. Hell, the obvious stuff goes unnoticed, so something from one year to the next, forget it.
January 2023:
This was him in civilian guise the previous January, in the prophecy timeline.
Random pics…
This past Sunday, John and Larry and I enjoyed a workshop afternoon at John’s house. Here’s our friend the Perfesser making himself a Harpo wig out of a yellow pine board.
The ’49 truck on these dewy autumn mornings.
Some of my motorcycling compadres made it back up to Alaska a few weeks ago. From left, that’s Dennis, Doug, Mitch, Steve, Bruce and Robert.
I haven’t met Bruce but the others I ran into here & there in 2019; at Teslin Lake in the Yukon, then some days later up at Eagle Plains, then I ran into Mitch and Steve at one of the river crossings in the Northwest Territories. Can’t recall offhand whether it was the Mackenzie or the Peel.
What great fun it would be to cross paths again on some other random road to nowhere.
That’s about it for news. Will close here.
Oh…! Hang on… been reading the Russians lately…
After Notes from the Underground, I read Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. That can be a heavy lift; the kind of book you read in a hundred sittings, 5 to 6 pages at a time.
After that, I read Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, because I read somewhere that Dostoevsky wrote The Idiot to engage and counter Turgenev’s literary take on the forces roiling Russia in the 1860s, the same tensions of class, culture, nationalism and religion in conflict today under Czar Putin. Does anything ever really change in Russia? Serfdom, Soviet Communism, Crony Capitalism, Authoritarian State Capitalism… Give them credit, anyway, for thinking up new names for the same old soul-crushing way of life in Mother Russia.
Finally got to Flann O’Brien’s At Swim-Two-Birds, a wild meta narrative, that. It’s a novel about a guy writing a novel about characters borrowed from other writers’ novels. Quite a riotous send-up of literary pretension and Irish culture, if lovingly so, which is what makes it so funny. (O’Brien once said, “I declare to God if I hear that name Joyce one more time I will surely froth at the gob.”)
I didn’t dare read the book while Pam was asleep one floor away, it’s far too hilarious. Dylan Thomas had the perfect blurb: “This is just the book to give your sister if she’s a loud, dirty, boozy girl.”
I’ve got a copy of O’Brien’s The Third Policeman on the way. Will finish up W.G. Sebald’s The Rings of Saturn in a day or two, then it’s on to a number of essays I’ve queued up, by W.E.B. DuBois and William H. Gass.
Okay, closing here then, and for true, with a sound check on the iron piggy. I’m experimenting on where to place an external mic for the GoPro. See what you think.
When I recorded the clip below the mic was mounted by the right-rear turn signal.
There’s nothing visually interesting in the clip but the sound’s not bad. A minute anywhere and you’ll get the idea.
There’s a kind of flabby, burbling sound on throttle-off decel, which might mean I had the mic too close to the right muffler. I hear a bit of contact patch and trailing brake, some valve clearance and a bit of slack in the muffler hangers.
The big bumps jangle the side cases around in their metal-on-metal brackets but that’s an easy fix; I’ll tighten them up with a ratcheting strap next time.
Will position the mic higher, too, and more in the middle, see whether that makes a difference for the better.
Cheers to all.
Tony DePaul, October 25, 2023, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
Hey Tony, 1st time post. I pray for you about the big “C”. We need to hear from you, two months is a long time.
Avid reader of Phantom and “Nickels of the Man”.
Thank you, Jim. We’ve been in crisis mode on the Phantom strip, as you know. Mike’s on the DL and Bret Blevins is busy saving our bacon as we speak.
It’ll be nice to see Bret’s art in print when he’s had time to do his best work. Everything else he’s done has been on an emergency basis, 24 hours to bang out a week’s work.
Tony, loved seeing your family! You are so loved and admired, cancer better take a back seat! We are getting ready for winter here, the Northern Spys are getting ripe! It always reminds me of Nana as we always went to the orchard on her farm in the fall and picked apples! Sending lots of love! Jody
Thanks, Jody. Same here: one season ending, another beginning. Pam and I just walked home from D1D1’s final softball game of 2023. She’s a good hitter!—two doubles today.
Tony, praying for your health and well-being while fighting this recurrence. My grandson just got his driver license and my daughter just turned fifty. Tell me where the years go, my friend. I am “Following” the “Great Escape” with devoted fan interest on the Phantom Trail web site. Cannot place the MBT [main battle tank] in the 10/23 strip and I’m waiting with bated breath for the moment Kit and Savarna eyeball each other. Til later, be well and be blessed.
Thank you, Roger. Put in a good word for the great Mike Manley. He was released from the hospital yesterday. As happened the last time (must be at least a year ago now) our friend Bret Blevins kindly stepped in on zero notice, all but setting aside everything else he has going on. You’ll see Bret’s art next week & the week after and… ? Maybe beyond. That’s unclear as of this writing.
Tony, I’m so glad you have such a positive spirit. Hope you have another big trip left in you. May the road be with you.
Thanks, Linda! After the next check up, December 27, I’m going to be awfully tempted to look for a hole in the weather, saddle up, get south of the ice line and on the road to somewhere.
Assuming the check is uneventful. I feel it likely will be. This feels like the same old lymphoma. Something more aggressive would have presented differently by now. That’s my guess.
I definitely have inflammation going on in the lymph tissue but it hasn’t progressed in a way that I can detect. There’s a sense of stasis about it. I can feel it in my neck, around my windpipe, behind both collarbones, but it doesn’t stop me from doing things I want to do.
I can still swing an ax overhead! Maybe not all day, but… 🙂
It’s so nice to hear of your happy activities, especially D2’s birthday party and I love that great photo. How do you find time to read all those tomes with all that going on.
Thanks, Ellie.
Pam’s the real reader in the house, though. I get sidetracked on other things. D1 and her husband are redoing the finished basement over at their place. Lately I’ve been over there plastering and priming; mostly fixing an amateur mudding job by the previous owner, feathering-out and resealing all the poorly finished joints. The walls and ceiling down the basement stairway had been done in a sand finish. I’ve skim-coated them for a smooth finish. Primed them. They’re ready for paint now.
Today I’m putzing away here at the humble manse on the new woodwork job I never got to when we did the new windows & doors, new porches. When was that, 2 years ago? Oops… maybe 3…
After reading your reply, I have one question. When do you sleep.
Mostly at red lights & stop signs 🙂
Thanks for the scribbles, Tony. A treat as always.
It’s like a punch in the gut when your kids reach certain milestone ages. I remember my mother remarking that she couldn’t believe she had a forty-year-old son. I felt the same way when my oldest hit 40. He turned 50 this year. Jeez.
I hate the wait and see notion of doctors on the big C. I’ll be seeing my doc next week, then it’s off to Patagonia – the region in Chile, not the store. We can’t stop living just because of a fatal disease and as long as we feel good, we should go for it.
I don’t know much about motorcycles, never having ridden one other than pit bikes at the drag strip, but it sounds good to me. I’m listening to the video while I type this. We non-bikers never get to hear the clunking of gear changes that you riders are probably quite familiar with. Thanks for the vicarious ride. And since the video just ended, I guess I’ll stop typing.
P.S. – I lied. I’m still typing. I decided I was never going to finish the dragster, so I sold it and lots of flathead parts to a fellow who had a history with it and who will actually finish it. It went back to its original home in the Denver area, which makes me happy.
Patagonia! Oh, man… not ten minutes ago I heard from a friend and ex-newspaper colleague who’s headed to Argentina next week. I’ll bet five years have gone by since ol’ CCjon and I gave up on shipping our bikes to Colombia and riding south to land’s end. What a tangle of red tape that was.
Jenna and Jonny loved Patagonia. They did the Mount Fitz Roy trek, had a wonderful time.
Enjoy your adventure and say hi to Patty for me, Jim.
Hi Tony! I wrote a reply to your post about your diagnosis, but I’m not sure you saw it. I had missed a couple of episodes of As Tony Turns, and Barb brought me up to date. I, too, am wishing you good health. I can believe I just turned 67, but I can’t believe that your daughters are in their 40s. Jesus! They were in their 20s a minute ago. I love hearing about your very full life, but I think you, Barb and I should get together, now that she’s out and about, so we can hear it in person. For realz. E
Yes! Will look forward to that, Ellen. Barb’s threatening to grill pizzas, it would be fun to see you there.
Thanks for following the scribble.
The video’s great. The 🎤 seems to be in the right place, and I do feel like I’m out there with you. I think that, if I had your house, though, I’d never want to leave it.
May you continue to face life with the grace revealed by your sense of humor. And again, may you be granted a refuah shlema.
I looked that up once… (wracking brain)… It’s…!
…not coming to me, will look it up again 🙂
Putting it another way, feel better soon!
Thanks, Stephen. I’m good, worked outdoors all day today. Mike Manley’s going through the wringer, though. You’ve probably noticed the art change-up. Mike’s name is on the strip but the art’s by Bret Blevins.
Texted with Mike a few hours ago… he had modest improvement to report.
Hey Tony, I think the mic placement is perfect; it’s like I’m riding right next to you.
The photos of the two young women remind me of the book I read titled “Unbroken”, about Lou Zamparini the Olympic hopeful. I love black and white photos: they’re timeless.
You have a beautiful family, you’ve been blessed!
Take care of yourself. By the way, I got out today for a 150 mile ride to enjoy the Fall color near Stroudsburg, PA (took the little black KLX out for a spin).
About the Harley sound: is that about what you’re hearing when you’re riding?
Will
Thanks for the kind words, Will. Pam read Unbroken and said it was quite a story.
The Harley’s pretty uncomfortable to ride without earplugs. The Bell helmet probably amplifies the discomfort. I use the common sort of plugs you’ve seen, E.A.R. classic foam type by 3M, the yellow barrels. I can hear traffic through the plugs and the motor thumping but that’s about it.
Thanks for the group photo – I feel like a celebrity. The guys are planning our next trip for September of 2024. Maybe back to Colorado, Utah, etc. Some great roads there. Also hoping to explore Saskatchewan and Manitoba with my wife in the spring – we are loving the Can Am Spyder RT. We have never been to Flin Flon and feel like its something we have to do just because its there.
Glad you are still feeling well and being active. We wish you the very best in health and life.
If I ever get flimflammed in Flin Flon I’m sure I’ll be too embarrassed to report it.
Cheers to you and your great attitude Tony!
Thank you, Bob. I almost sent you a missive the other day to ask whether you got that vibration issue sorted out on the twin cam. Been wondering whether my suggestion of an oil-rotted front mount had proved to be the case.
If the mount’s good, make sure somebody didn’t sock it down too hard. There’s a torque spec. It’s fairly light. I’ve got the service manual, happy to look it up for you.
Hi to Janey!
I am old school,I like solid mount engines in my bikes.Rubber is for wooses.There is nothing wrong with the Road King.It is not the bike for me.
Well I hope you make a good trade on it and find a ride that works better for you, Bob. If you had trouble tracking down the issue I would suspect the previous owner had the motor out of the frame at some point and didn’t follow the realignment procedure. It’s pretty involved, goes on for four pages of text in the service manual, requires special tools fitted to the swingarm ends, they get tweaked with an inch-pound wrench at various points in the realignment routine. It takes patience but when you get the thing dialed in just right the motor moves within the frame without transferring any jarring energy to it. Iron Piggy’s set up so nicely I hate to even take her mufflers off so I can change tires.
I wouldn’t buy a RK in the first place.It is not my bike.It was given to me to ride.I was told to put miles on it.Now I understand why they are called Geezer Glides.I guess I’m not there yet.
Noooo, old son, geezerdom is not the time to take up riding heavyweight bikes. Plenty of guys do, though, which is why (one reason why) you can buy ultra-low-mileage Harley tourers all day long. Hey, I’m old now! Time to buy the big-ticket, two-wheeled, old man barcalounger…
That is seriously misguided. Heavyweight bikes are for the prime of life. These old guys, all they do is drop them, then they’re afraid of them, then they don’t ride them.
Funny you should mention it, though. Just yesterday I happened across a video on us older riders downsizing to lightweight bikes as our powers fail us, as they inevitably will. When iron piggy gets too heavy for me, I might be hunting around for something like a Guzzi street bike, V7, lovely exhaust note, and the transverse-mounted V-twin is just cool, I love that little torque lean when you blip the throttle. Yamaha FJR-1300’s another possibility… That would be a small bike for someone of your height but it would fit me nicely.
Check out the video, bud, let me know what you think. He’s got a bunch of possibilities listed there by wet weight.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WusDmPl2suo&ab_channel=LivingOffTheSlab
That mic placement sounds pretty authentic. Nothing to report here, really. Lost 45lbs in the last 4 months heading down to around 200. Got 15 more to get there. At 75 I thought it best to get slimmer. Cheaper caskets?
Well done! Impressive discipline, Brad.
Tony, look up Eugene Wilbanks. He is a lawyer who may be related to the fam…
Thanks, Tim. Will pass on the word to the gumshoe. John Henry was a farmer most of his life.