Description: Journal 2005: Hip Surgery and the Bush2 Administration is the 18th yearly journal written by San Francisco author Joseph Sutton (5,500 words). In this one year journal, Sutton writes about his recovery from a second hip replacement operation. He also shows his contempt for the George W. Bush administration for deceiving the American people about starting a war with Iraq without any proven justification.
Monday, January 10, 2005 – This morning Joan and I talked to our son Ray (age 23) about living at the house while Ray is going for his master’s degree in psychology at San Francisco State. Joan said in a very gentle but forceful manner, “It’s in your best interest if you live with roommates in San Francisco rather than at home.” All I said to Ray was, “For your own sake, it’s best if you find a place with roommates instead of living here with Mom and me. What if you wanted to have a girl over, would you feel more comfortable at our house or in your own apartment?” In all fairness to Ray, he just graduated from San Diego State last month. He agreed that it was best if he moved out, but came up with something that never crossed our minds. He said, “I want to be around the house to help Dad after his hip surgery in February.” [Note: Ray was a great help after my operation in late February. As soon as I became self-sufficient, he moved into a house two miles away with two high school friends of his.]
Tuesday, January 18, 2005 – Our little excursion to Calistoga started off with a bang yesterday. We got rear-ended at a stop light on Highway 29, just outside the city of Napa. It came out of nowhere and shook Joan and me. Bang! A young woman in a brand new white Honda put her foot on the gas pedal as both of us were stopped at a traffic light. There didn’t seem to be any damage to either of our cars. I told her that most likely everything will be all right with us and my 1999 Toyota Corolla. But just in case, we got her name, license number, phone, address, and driver’s license number.
Joan said she didn’t sleep well last night. I slept fairly well. I hope the shock of being hit from behind has worn off and that the whole incident will be over with and forgotten. [Note: It was over with and forgotten.]
I’m going to meet Joan at 2:00 p.m. back at our room at Calistoga Spa Hot Springs. It’s half the price of Indian Springs (where we used to stay) and just as quiet. Joan’s getting a mud bath at Indian Springs while I’m sitting here in a coffeehouse. Two things were prominent in the San Francisco Chronicle today. George W. Bush, with his war going on in Iraq, has approved of spending $40 million for his second inauguration. And the 49ers have hired Mike Nolan as head coach. He’s the son of the former head coach of the 49ers, Dick Nolan.
Thursday, February 3, 2005 – I am due to have my second hip replacement surgery on February 23. According to Dr. Kiest, I’m going to have to be on crutches for six weeks. I’m 64 now. Figuring that I’ll live to 90, I’ll have 26 years left in my life. What’s a month and a half out of 26 years? Nothing.
After many revisions, I’m almost finished with my road novel Highway Sailor. I started writing it soon after President Nixon resigned in August of 1974. I hope to finish the revision before my hip surgery.
The world is peaceful in San Francisco. But what about Iraq, the Palestinians and Israelis, Rwanda, Kosovo, and God knows where else in the world there’s conflict? Thank goodness I live in a country where there hasn’t been a war fought on our soil since the Civil War ended 140 years ago. Even though the North won the war, it seems as if the Confederates won in the long run with the way they treat women, gays, and blacks.
Our military-industrial complex is getting stronger every day. There are large mergers going on, making corporations bigger and bigger and the individual smaller and smaller. The military and corporations have found their Santa Claus in George W. Bush.
The big news now is the administration wants to partially privatize Social Security. The week before that it was the Iraqi election. This administration keeps you on the run every minute, sucking the energy out of you. Everything they do is against the good of the people and in favor of corporations and the wealthy.
Thursday, March 10, 2005 – Today is the first day I’m out of the house by myself after my operation two weeks ago. I’m parked on a bluff overlooking the roiling Pacific Ocean. Today is also the first time I’ve taken a shower in two weeks (the staples were taken out the other day). Another first, I didn’t take a pain pill today. I’ve been very tired since the operation. Not much get-up-and-go. Maybe it’s normal after major surgery.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005 – Yesterday I went to my water aerobics class for the first time since surgery. I thought I took it easy, but when I got home I was exhausted.
This hip is recovering much smoother and faster than my first hip three years ago. I’m going to my water aerobics class sooner than the first hip, I’m sleeping on the surgical side much earlier, and my leg seems to be getting stronger faster. All in all, no complaints.
My thoughts are mostly about hip, hip, hip. “Be careful,” I say to myself. “Don’t make any mistakes because you don’t want to fall and have complications.” That’s what I think when I’m walking with a walker in the house or when I’m on crutches outside.
I can’t wait to walk like a normal human being again after five or six years of limping. Yes, that’s how long I was in pain in one hip or the other. Thank goodness for modern surgery. Fifty or sixty years ago I probably would have been in a wheelchair. Thanks to surgeons like Dr. Kiest, thanks to my physical therapists, and thanks to all the nurses who took care of me for three days in the hospital. Thanks to nurse Jane Oshita who came to my house. Thanks to the surgery staff who I never saw because I was unconscious before I was wheeled into the surgery room. Everything ran like clockwork for such a large staff involved, where my hip bone was removed and replaced. I don’t have an inkling of that process because I was unconscious and didn’t feel a thing.
So here’s my thought: If my hip was removed when I was anesthetized, what happens when I die? It’s my contention that when we die, there’s no feeling, no thinking, no soul going to heaven or hell, nothing.
Those goddamn 9/11 suicide bombers thought they were going to heaven and would have a whole host of virgins caring for them. Actually there’s no difference between them and my born-again Christian friend Nate Wirt who truly believes he’s going to heaven. Nate believes I’m going to hell if I don’t accept Jesus as my savior. Jesus, Allah, it’s all the same.
I remember Joan waking me at 6:30 in the morning on 9/11 to watch what was going on in Manhattan, where one plane had already rammed into the first 110-story Twin Tower. People were jumping out of windows from over 80 stories high. What a ghastly sight it was.
My first thought was why do men commit suicide for a certain cause? I think they do it when their pride, dignity, and religious thoughts are losing ground to Western thought. They want to preserve a way of life even though it’s a backward type-of-life living under theocracies, dictators, and cruel laws. They abhorred America’s influence so much that they learned how to fly four jetliners that they knew would end their lives.
As the TV was showing the horror of what was taking place on the first tower, from out of nowhere the TV camera catches a plane crashing into the second tower. Many people chose jumping to death from unimaginable heights instead of burning to death. I wonder what I would do—jump or burn? I get shivers just thinking about it.
America has its hands in too many things, influencing other cultures through its military might, capitalism, TV, drugs, sex, freedom, equality, bright lights, and you-can-get-whatever-you-want-in-seconds-or-minutes. That’s our influence. The Arabs didn’t like that influence, and so they rammed the jetliners into three of America’s symbolic structures (the Twin Towers and Pentagon) to show their contempt of that influence. The fourth jetliner was brought down by the American passengers who charged the cockpit, knowing they were going to die. It crashed in a field in western Pennsylvania.
Monday, March 28, 2005 – Earlier today I drove to Kaiser to get a blood test for coumadin, a blood-thinning drug. Three years ago I had a blood clot and didn’t know it; my calf was swollen for a few days before my water aerobics instructor told me to call Kaiser’s Advice Nurse. The nurse instructed me to get to the Emergency Room pronto. A sonogram was taken and that’s when they found a blood clot in my upper groin area. Another day or two, if I didn’t report to the ER, I wouldn’t be living and writing this now.
What is my routine? I get up around 7:30. I wash and shave, get dressed, and then it’s into the dining room with my walker to eat a nourishing breakfast that Joan brings to the table for me, consisting of coffee and fruit salad mixed with cottage cheese and muesli. I love it. I eat and read the paper while Joan studies ancient Greek or translates Plato. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I go to the YMCA for my 9:45 water aerobics class. It takes me about 15 or 20 minutes to undress and shower before entering the pool. I love being in the water and following Nancy van Gelder’s instructions. I can actually run in the water. After an hour of moving my arms and legs with a flotation belt buckled around my waist in the deep end of the pool, I take a shower and get dressed, being careful at all times not to fall while I’m dressing. You see, I have to use the crutches at all times while dressing and undressing because I can only put 20 pounds of pressure on my left leg. Doctor’s orders. I’ve been at this for five weeks. The doctor told me after the operation I’d be on crutches for six weeks. Three years ago after my first hip, I had to go 12 weeks on crutches.
I work at my desk by writing in my journal and revising my novel Highway Sailor. I read on the internet about how our country could be headed toward fascism. From what I understand about fascism, it leads to a one-party system where anyone who goes against the party is considered a traitor. The U.S. is almost on the cusp of fascism with the Bush2 administration using war against terrorism and fear of terrorism to get what they want, which is total control of the Republicans in Congress. Our government went into Iraq without provocation, plus all the other reasons for which I will now type from a list I’ve already made: “less government, generous tax cuts for the wealthy, privatization or elimination of Social Security and Medicare, rollbacks of environmental safeguards, major curbs on the public’s right to go to court, and a laissez-faire free market system unfettered by regulations or public-interest accountability.”
Friday, April 1, 2005 – Yesterday I got off my crutches and am now using a cane. It took five weeks and one day for me to stand on my own two feet again! I was in heaven all day when Dr. Kiest gave me permission to discard my crutches.
Saturday, April 2, 2005 – Pope John Paul II and Terri Schiavo died today. A new era in the Catholic church is about to begin. Terri Schiavo, who’s been in a vegetative state for 14 years, finally died after two weeks of dehydration and the stoppage of food through a tube.
I didn’t like what John Paul II thought of women, abortion, and sex. The Catholic church should be the last church in the world to preach about sex between a man and a woman. There are no women allowed in the all men’s club of the Catholic hierarchy. That’s why the Catholic church is way behind on the subject of SEX. They forget that the world’s population is growing and that the Earth’s natural resources are dwindling. The Pope was against women having abortions, and the list goes on and on. Plus the Church didn’t reprimand the many priests who took advantage of young boys by sexually abusing them.
What a sad way for Terri Schiavo to die, with no water or food for two weeks. That’s no way to treat a woman who was unconscious for 14 years. Euthanasia is needed in this country. They do it for dogs and cats, why not human beings? “No, no, no,” the religious people say, “only God has the right to decide when life ends.”
Thursday, April 14, 2005 – Molly Tang, my wonderful physical therapist at Kaiser, says I have one more week on my cane. She wants me to wean myself off it by not using it in the house and walking outside until my leg gets tired.
I’ve been doing the leg exercises religiously that Molly has given me—strengthening and stretching both legs. The only time I don’t do the exercises are the three days I go to my water aerobics class at the Y. Molly, who I saw today for the third time, thinks exercising in the water has helped considerably. I find myself doing new things every day. Today I walked up five steps without holding onto a handrail or using the cane. Progress!
Thursday, April 28, 2005 – I’m almost finished with Highway Sailor. Writing an ending of a book or even a short story is something I’ve always found hard to do. Don Ellis, my editor, friend, and now business partner (I handed him a check last week for a new website, AuthorConnect, that he and Dan Tennenhouse created), proposed an ending for Highway Sailor that seemed to be right on the mark. Jake Massry, the main character, a struggling, unpublished writer, is writing about his dreams of the future. Soon after finishing his travels around the country and settling in Portland, Oregon, he’s thinking of what he’s learned on the road and where he’s headed in life. And then there’s a break in the book and we are in the future. In the last paragraph, forty years later, Jake is 73, he’s in his study, working on his tenth novel (yes, he made it as a writer) and he hears his wife calling from downstairs, “Jake, your grandson Jacob is coming up to see you.” The End.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005 – Joan and I are in San Diego. We came down for Ray’s graduation ceremony at San Diego State. Ray, who graduated five months ago, drove down with his girlfriend Noel. Joan and I took a plane. I have pictures of the graduation that took place in Cox Arena, San Diego State’s basketball arena. Ray was very proud of his accomplishment.
The night before his graduation, the four of us had dinner at Nick’s on the Beach, next to the Ralph’s Market on the main drag along the beach front. After his graduation, we ate dinner at the Chinese restaurant next to Embassy Suites in La Jolla where Ray and Noel were staying.
We got to know Noel a little better. She’ll be graduating next year from San Francisco State. Ray met her in one of his classes this year.
Yesterday Joan and I drove to the old town of Julian, about 60 miles east of San Diego through Cuyamaca State Park, where the devastating fire of a year and a half ago wiped out Cuyamaca. But now one can see life coming back to Cuyamaca—new growth and color instead of all black when we first drove through there last year on our way to Anza-Borrego State Park. Joan loved every minute of Cuyamaca. It made her happy and exuberant to see nature’s resiliency. It makes me happy when I see her like that.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005 – My water aerobics teacher, Nancy van Gelder, said to the class, “Treat yourself today. Be good to yourself. This is your day.”
Well, I’m doing something I haven’t done in a while and that is to write in my journal, which is my treat and joy in life: to write without thinking of anyone else but myself. This is what I consider freedom, freedom of thought, freedom to go anywhere in my writing that I want.
This is the second great week of weather we’re having in San Francisco. Sun, blue sky, mid-60s, clean air, slight breeze. No weather is better than this in the whole wide world.
I handed Highway Sailor over to Don Ellis this past weekend at Joan’s 65th birthday party. Our house was full of people on Saturday, June 18, the day after her birthday. I’d say around 50 people showed up. We’re still recuperating from the party, still putting things back in place, still eating leftovers.
Don and I started working on Highway Sailor in August of last year. In that time, George W. Bush was re-elected president for the second time, that arrogant, close-minded leader who can only think of the present instead of the future, whose thinking is late 19th century. The man is a total failure, a man who is letting his religion and philosophy take our country backward instead of forward. Oh, how my blood boils when I think of that man and his administration. I do hope our country survives “The IDIOT,” as my friend Alex at the YMCA calls him. Yes, Bush2 is wreaking havoc around the world.
If I believe there’s a reason for everything that happens on Earth, then what is the reason for George W. Bush being president? The reason is: we should never elect a person like him again. That we can’t ever go lower than this man. That whatever he believes or does is just the opposite of where we should be headed. Here we are in the 21st century and he’s against abortion, against stem-cell research, he’s for the death penalty, and he’s for ending environmental regulations. I can go on all day about this man who gives incentives to the wealthy and who damns those on the lower rung of the ladder, which is a survival-of-the-fittest type of philosophy. It’s backward thinking. It’s arrogant thinking. It’s robber baron thinking.
Anyway, as I was saying, Don Ellis and I started working on Highway Sailor last August, and in that time George W. Bush was elected for a second term in November, and a few months later I had my left hip replaced by Dr. Curtis Kiest at Kaiser San Francisco. There was a lot of revision on my road novel and I believe that Don and I improved it significantly. The next step in the revising process is for Don to read through the manuscript and make suggestions. They will only be slight this time because I’ve already gone over his previous suggestions.
How did Don and I work? Either I’d read the manuscript aloud to him or he’d read it aloud to me and we’d make suggestions to add or delete. That’s how it went for ten months—meeting, reading aloud, editing, discussing, arguing.
Joan’s 65th birthday was quite a bash. Our house was packed. Wine, food, chatter, cake, Joan blowing out the candles, all our friends, cousins, water teachers, water classmates, sons, and daughter-in-law. Sol and Jang stayed a full week in Joan’s new office that she had painted, carpeted, and installed a desk, bookshelves, lighting, furniture, the works. It looks great.
Gas is $2.39 a gallon here in San Francisco. It’s getting more expensive every day and our president, our great leader, wants to drill off the west coast and in Alaska for more gas when he should be working on conserving our environment and thinking of other ways to power cars.
Thursday, July 7, 2005 – This morning, in London, there were four Islamist suicide bombings within minutes of each other. Three attacks in different parts of the London Underground and one attack of a two-decker bus. Fifty people, so far, have lost their lives. Hundreds are injured. Who, in this world, would plant a bomb to kill innocent people? Madmen.
I’m raging mad, as is everyone around the world who’s heard the news. Such cruelty, such barbarism, such insanity, such baseness. [Note: 56 people died and 784 were injured in what Londoners now refer to as 7/7.]
Wednesday, July 20, 2005 – I’m sitting here in the shade at a swim hole along the Eel River, right next to the Avenue of the Giants in Redwood Country. Joan and I haven’t been up here in maybe 12 or 13 years. The swim hole hasn’t changed. We’re about a mile or two north of Weott at the Women’s Federation of America Grove. It’s one of the great spots to be in on a very hot 100-degree day. We’re staying at the Benbow Inn just south of Garberville on Highway 101. We ate and slept in luxury last night. The room is $105 a night. The dinner was $55. This morning’s breakfast was $37.
The swim hole is clean, clear, cool, refreshing. It’s like heaven on earth.
Tuesday, August 2, 2005 – I bought a new desk chair last week at Office Max. The back broke on the other chair that I had for 15 years. If I remember correctly, the broken chair cost $350. This one cost $85. I’m creating on the new chair for the first time. What, you may ask, is creating? I’m creating by writing in my journal. I need to write more in my journal. I’m nearing the age of 65 in 18 days. Joan was 65 in June. We’re both on Medicare now. My father died at 74 in 1974. My mother was 81 when she passed away in 1989. My brother Charles died at the very early age of 63 of a massive heart attack in 1991. As for my living brothers: Dave is 73, Bob is 70, Maurice is 69, Albert is 53. That’s it for the Suttons. We’re all aging. Everything in the world is aging as each day passes. In other words, everyone is going to die, even planet Earth someday will die. Birth and death. It’s what makes the world or universe go ’round.
I’m still working on Highway Sailor. After I finish revising this draft, Don Ellis wants to go over it again. When will it ever end? I know it’s getting better in a lot of ways, but is Don editing it too much? Is he negating my writing style? I mentioned that to him the other day and his answer was that he’s helping my writing style by cleaning it up.
Sunday, August 21, 2005 – Yesterday, for my birthday, Joan, Ray, and Sheku (a 20 year-old man from Sierra Leone, visiting from New York, who we help support because he lost both arms in Sierra Leone’s civil war five years ago) were with me. We all went for a four-mile walk in Marin, the Tennessee Valley Trail walk, the longest walk on my new hip since it was operated on in February. We had to get out of the month-long dreary fog of San Francisco and into the sunshine of Marin. We ate an early dinner at the fabulous Buckeye Roadhouse. Everyone was happy except Ray, because he just had a big fight with his girlfriend Noel the night before—possibly a breakup. [Note: They broke up.]
Being with my family was my present. I don’t need material presents for my birthday, all I need is family, a walk, the sun, and a good meal.
Thursday, September 8, 2005 – Almost two weeks ago Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast states of Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana. New Orleans was decimated. Most of the city is under toxic, dirty, filthy, gassy, dead-bodies water. So far we don’t know how many people died, but reports are that it’s close to 2000—mainly poor, black people. The country’s been riveted to the TV for the past 10 days, riveted at the incompetent local, state, and federal governments in taking care of their/our own. I just heard on the radio that an old man in a wheelchair left a dying note to his family. He was all alone. What a grueling way to die without food or water. You wouldn’t think that would happen in the poorest country in the world, but it happened in the most affluent country that’s ever existed. Sad, sad, sad.
Sad that there was no planning. Sad of the incompetence from President Bush on down. “Brownie, you’re doing a heck of a job,” Bush2 said to his FEMA director Michael Brown. Brown resigned 10 days later due to his incompetence. It’s sad so many have died. Sad that a major city is in ruins. Sad that so many people were treated badly because of poor planning. Sad that a lot of this could have been prevented if only the levees had been strengthened. Sad that racism has raised its ugly head. Sad that the poor, the old, the infirm couldn’t get out of the wake of Katrina because they didn’t have transportation. Sad is all I can think of right now. Just plain sad.
Monday I finished my latest draft of Highway Sailor for Don. Don is not only my editor, he’s now a member of the Royal Flush poker group that meets once a month, he’s a good friend and confidant, and now he’s also a business partner of mine (I’ve invested in an internet website of his and Dan Tennenhouse’s called AuthorConnect, a website where writers can put their writings for free for agents, publishers, and anyone else in the world to read). Don was also my publisher of two books until his business went belly up after 9/11. The books were Morning Pages and The Immortal Mouth and Other Stories. I now give away both books since I have more than 650 copies of Morning Pages and 50 copies of The Immortal Mouth boxed in the basement.
I’ve been working, on and off, on Highway Sailor since 1974. I thought I’d finished it sometime in 1977, after I moved from Portland to San Francisco and soon met Joan Bransten, my wife since 1979. I’ve revised it umpteen times since 1979. This present revision should be the best and the LAST.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005 – Last month Sheku Mansary visited us from New York. He’s 20 and from Sierra Leone. Both his arms were cut off below his elbow in that country’s civil war. He seemed to do well with or without his prosthesis. His attitude was positive. He has one more year of high school remaining and has been promised a scholarship to St. John’s University in Queens. He wants to be a lawyer. Joan, Sheku, and I visited Muir Woods in Marin, we walked along the Tennessee Valley Trail in Marin on my birthday, we attended a baseball game at the Giants’ ballpark, and we went out to dinner a few times.
I hope the website that I invested in, AuthorConnect, succeeds, not only for me but for my good friend Don Ellis. He needs some luck after his publishing company, Creative Arts Book Company, went bankrupt a couple of years ago. I’ll be able to put a lot of what I’ve written on the website with the hope that literary agents will take a look and contact me.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005 – The U.S. is still in Iraq. Things are getting worse over there as each day passes. The U.S. is going through a lot of troubles, what with hurricanes, global warming, wildfires, and George W. Bush and his greedy, underhanded cohorts.
I was talking to Alex last week, the Russian émigré I know at the YMCA who thinks Bush is an idiot. He mentioned something to me that has stuck in my mind. He said that the human race has to find a balance between capitalism and socialism if we are to survive. The first person who came to mind when he mentioned that was President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He tried to balance the two. But George Bush, he’s leaning more in the other direction, toward capitalism and getting away from social programs. We’ve got to have more compassion in this world for people who are vulnerable and struggling to survive. Bush isn’t helping matters any.
I wish I knew how to make this world a better place to live. I’ve tried my best and am still trying. But who the hell am I? I’m one human being, married to Joan Sutton, father to Raymond Sutton, stepfather to Sol Sender, brother to Dave, Bob, Maurice, and Al.
I used to own a 1964 Rambler. I bought it in Oregon in 1974 after I sold my 1964 VW bus. The Rambler did me well. I met Joan in 1977. She owned a 1967 Rambler. Both cars were white. Those were the days of simple engines. Now things are changing fast and are so much more complex, like the computer program I’m trying to learn right now. The program isn’t that hard to learn, but for sure it’s a new learning experience, which is good because it keeps my mind working.
Thursday, October 27, 2005 – Tomorrow is our 26th wedding anniversary. Saturday night we’re going out for our anniversary dinner. I’m going to buy Joan two dozen roses and hand her a poem that I’ve been working on.
An Acrostic Poem for My Wife Joan Bransten Sutton
Joy is what I feel, an
Overwhelming sense of joy for my wife.
Any man would feel the same about her. Why? Because she’s
New, refreshing, alive, trusting, honest.
Brave is another word to describe her.
Reading is her
Art, from cheap
Novels to the Classics.
She’s also strong-willed.
Together we’re not the common couple.
Each of us lets the other follow his/her passion.
Not many couples are that free and independent.
She’s running now, around the track in Delphi, Greece,
Unashamed, running, bad foot and all,
Toward the finish line,
Toward joy and passion and knowledge.
Onward she goes,
Never stopping, running and learning for the love of it.
Monday, December 12, 2005 – George W. Bush is the worst president this country has ever elected. You can’t believe anything the man says, especially about Iraq. I’ve come to realize what the Bush administration is all about: Give to the wealthy and take from the poor. It’s every man for himself except the wealthy. Dog eat dog. Social Darwinism. Survival of the fittest. The wealthy are being subsidized while we, the middle class are paying the taxes, and the lower class is paying with their lives in Iraq. And to think, we have three more years of Bush to contend with. Everything’s going down the drain. The environment, our democracy, the war in Iraq. Incompetence, arrogance, bullying, anti-intellectualism, and religious fanaticism are the hallmark of this administration.
I could go on and on and on about this president and his administration. I feel guilty that I haven’t raised my voice enough to this administration. Where have I been to defend my country against Mr. Bush and company? “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.” NOW!
[Note: I’m writing this in 2025. Except for starting the war in Iraq, whatever the Bush administration did PALES to what’s going on in our country in Donald Trump’s second term as president. Trump and his administration are doing everything in their power to destroy our democracy.]
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