AUGUST 11, FRIDAY

MY PORTABLE RECLINER

Today is my 86th birthday, which is not a big deal since I have thought of myself as being 86 for the last six months. It is also Kathe‘s and my 60th wedding anniversary, which would have been a big deal if Kathe were alive. Our 50th was spent on a cruise in Norway and a celebration in her home town of Winsen. If Kathe were alive I wouldn‘t be noticing the date in a 5th floor apartment on a sunny day in Montevideo.

The only event of the yesterday was a two hour afternoon walk. First I took my backpack with a detached shoulder strap to be fixed by a guy who sells belts on the street. He did it for free. Now I can use the backpack again.

And then I walked down to the sea, not the ocean, but the wide mouth of the Plata river, so wide that you can‘t see land on the other side so it could just as well be the ocean. I came to the Rambla, a twenty foot wide walkway built on a high sea wall along the water. There were a number of people taking walks and bicycling. The waves washed up on the black rocks below me.

On the way back to my apartment, tuckered out, I stepped out into an empty street to take a photograph. An old lady recognized me as a tourist and admonished me not to step into the street or I would be run over. Then she looked over my shoulder and said the shop behind me was a wonderful cheese shop and that they had won a prize in Wales for a sheep‘s cheese made by a close by German colony and that I must go in and try it. So she led me in, asked in Spanish for a sliver of the cheese, I tasted it and tried to buy half a pound in English while they spoke only Spanish and used kilos rather than pounds. Finally I showed with my hands the size and got a large hunk of cheese for $10. That was the high point of my day.

I had taken a nap in my portable recliner. It was very comfortable and I slept well. So I slept on it at 10 p.m.. At 12 I woke up, went to the bathroom, lay down again and when I twisted around a little the lower part of the recliner snapped apart. I was ready for that. I unzipped the bottom part of the recliner and substituted a blow up foot stool, made myself comfortable and leaned back. The whole recliner tipped backward and collapsed at the same time, softening the blow as my head banged against a wooden cupboard behind me. There I was, flat on my back, lying on the debris of my portable recliner, like a turtle on its back unable to right itself. Finally I was able to turn over and hoist myself up. I was ready for this, too. I had a blowup wedge pillow that made the bed in the bedroom into a recliner and slept peacefully the rest of the night.