Taking Care of Anatole

Being "content with that which comes with little effort" is one thing--and being a dead weight on society and its support services is another. Having just this last month wrested my food stamps out of the unwilling and non-feasant hands of an inimical case-worker, and while (at no cost to me) my apartment house, the Weinberg Hale, is being repainted and spruced up by barely intelligible ethnic workers from places like Truk and Bairiki, I was summoned this week to a general conference of those who, like me, have our otherwise unthinkably high rents paid by basically Jewish private charities, and told to have ready proofs of income (Social Security), food stamp allotment (faxed!), and list placement status with 'Section Eight' (Housing for the Elderly). About the last, I had entirely forgot--not given it a thought for a year or so. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I called the Section Eight phone number, and was politely and promptly informed that I am indeed on the "active" list, and should, sometime within the next year, be getting a proposal for a one-bedroom apartment in Kaneohe, on the windward side.

Then, just yesterday, my Medical Insurance Agent from OhanaCare called and got me into a new program with Dental Care--which, after a six months' lapse, will begin next month. I'm glad I didn't hang up on him. As we talked face to face yesterday, we discovered that we both know (love and revere) Dr. Chanida, and though he's younger than me by thirty years or so, Kali (such is his funny, somewhat blasphemous, Hawaiian first name) and I have both been diagnosed with Adult Attention Deficit Disorder, and take the same medicine (amphetamines) for it.

So--my long life appears to be lengthening .