J Segal Design- Design a Life

Just finished a busy Saturday evening of Uber driving, and I had an amazing time. Every rideshare driver has stories, but at the risk of boring anyone, I thought I’d share a few of mine from today. I met the nicest couple who live right down the street in the most amazing neighborhood located on a private access road- I’m so jealous! -and they were super sweet. I had too much ice coffee so I was too chatty but we had a lovely ride, and I hope they had a great dinner. On to a nearby restaurant where a lovely couple had completed dinner and were heading home. We talked about age and wisdom. Two things we had in common. She also gave me complete instructions despite GPS doing the same. And what’s an Uber shift without a vanful of young guys off to the bars. Bar crawlers! WOO! And under 30 dudes bring out my comic nature, so I told a few jokes, laughed at theirs, and even threw in a “Praise Jesus” at just the right spot in one guy’s sarcastic story of a religious fri...

Who is to blame for my current health problem? This may seem like a strange question, but every now and then some health care professional seems to have decided that I caused it, it’s my fault, and therefore if I end up suffering more than other patients or being shoved to the back of the line, well, I made my (hospital) bed and must now lie in it. Such is my current situation. Three weeks ago I had some surgery. Due to a loophole in my consent, they did not finish and sent me home- needing completion of the work, and dangling a catheter. Three weeks is too long to be half-done. So during the wait I developed an infection which caused them to cancel the second surgery. They sent me home to rot and were surprised when I showed up rotten. And they couldn’t care less that now I may be on hold until august. I want to spare you the gory details, but the problem is in my urinary tract.  And while not an STD, part of genital medical care involves disclosing recent sexual activit...

Today is Bob’s Birthday. He would have been 72. One week younger than Donald Trump, as Bob would often point out. But for the first time in decades, stuffed peppers will not be on the menu in honor of the day. I’m not very sentimental, as people may have noticed. But on this auspicious occasion, I thought I might indulge in some ruminations about Bob’s extraordinary life. I am, after all, the curator of the museum of his memory. Born in 1946, Bob grew up in 50s suburban America, attended college during the turbulent 60s, was a teacher and musician in the 70s, ran off to Venezuela to teach briefly in the 80s, and got his masters in education and a public school job at age 40. He was 42 and I was 27 when we met, and he was on an upswing. After struggling to establish a career, he was on a 26 year winning streak. Bob was a world-class athlete and well known runner, having run 77 marathons in under 3 hours. (His personal best was 2:47:47) A few days after we met, he “jogged” 10 mil...