I'll spend a "big" wedding anniversary 400 miles from home, wrapped up in a client's annual event. For the client, the event is important; for me, my anniversary is much more so. But I am obliged to be there. I hope I can get my wife to fly in to meet me on our anniversary so I can at least take her to dinner on what will be a celebration of our first 30 years of marriage.
Every passing year, my resentment grows over spending time helping clients celebrate events that are far less meaningful to me than to them, while I sacrifice being able to celebrate things that mean a great deal to me. I almost allowed myself to ask that my sister's memorial service be delayed so I could attend a previous commitment...a client board meeting. Fortunately, I came to my senses and said my client's board meeting didn't merit a second thought. But I keep allowing myself to give priority to business instead of things that really matter.
It's not as straightforward and simple as it sounds. It's easy to say "family always comes first," but when following that principle could lead to the loss of business and, therefore, put the family in financial jeopardy, reality enters the equation.
There's a lot of talk in business circles about how business should always take back seat to important family matters. I think it makes some people feel good to give lip service to the concept. In reality, though, business generally doesn't give a rip about family...not when it comes to the bottom line. People tend to give lip service to family taking precedence only when it's convenient to do so.
OK, I have to look at my skepticism meter and see if I can't make some adjustments...
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Ansel Adams
Take a look at these Ansel Adams photographs. They were taken in 1941-1942 as part of a project for then Secretary of the Interior, Harold Ickes, but the project got shelved due to the invasion of Pearl Harbor. I wonder if this little girl is still alive and, if so, what she is doing today? What must her life have been like? It would be fascinating to try to find out who she was and to learn more about her and her family and the other people Ansel Adams met during his engagement to take those photos.
This is yet another gem I learned about courtesy of NPR. Who in their right mind really thinks NPR is a left-wing mouthpiece? Oh. Sarah Palin. Now it's all clear to me.
Friday, March 26, 2010
He was Screening at the Bottom of His Lungs
I've decided to share some images from my desktop. I have no particularly good reason except to try out my Jing software to see if its image-capture capabilities are suited to capturing and then displaying screen shots.
This first image is
the home page of my home computer. I created it so I could get quick access to all the places I like to visit frequently (or need to visit frequently) without using "Favorites." I hate favorites. They're a pain in the ass. I like my way better. Plus, I keep my HTML skills from getting too rusty.
This second image is the blog of a guy I've never met, but he shares my birthday so he can't be all bad. He and his wife (also a blogger and a woman who devours books like she's hooked on paper) live in Seattle. He is a kayaker, musician, and consultant who knows more than I do about accounting software and systems. You can visit him here
This a recent post by a blogger who is an incredibly talented naturalist, photographer, and author and who is living my fantasy of roaming at will. She in Arizona (or was last I looked) at the moment, but almost ready to head out to Nova Scotia and a place that will become yet another place I want to visit. You can visit her here
Here is a blog written by three crazy women, one of whom lives (for the moment) in Connecticut and, like the woman who writes the one above, is a free spirit. I like all three of them, but one of them, Ellie, is my favorite. She spends quite alot of time in a tavern and and in her Westy and enjoys libations almost as much as I do. So does her husband. You can visit these crazy people here.
This first image is
the home page of my home computer. I created it so I could get quick access to all the places I like to visit frequently (or need to visit frequently) without using "Favorites." I hate favorites. They're a pain in the ass. I like my way better. Plus, I keep my HTML skills from getting too rusty.
This second image is the blog of a guy I've never met, but he shares my birthday so he can't be all bad. He and his wife (also a blogger and a woman who devours books like she's hooked on paper) live in Seattle. He is a kayaker, musician, and consultant who knows more than I do about accounting software and systems. You can visit him here
This a recent post by a blogger who is an incredibly talented naturalist, photographer, and author and who is living my fantasy of roaming at will. She in Arizona (or was last I looked) at the moment, but almost ready to head out to Nova Scotia and a place that will become yet another place I want to visit. You can visit her here
Here is a blog written by three crazy women, one of whom lives (for the moment) in Connecticut and, like the woman who writes the one above, is a free spirit. I like all three of them, but one of them, Ellie, is my favorite. She spends quite alot of time in a tavern and and in her Westy and enjoys libations almost as much as I do. So does her husband. You can visit these crazy people here.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Kneeblood's Principle
Ultimately, the truth about the universe, the undeniable, fundamental truth, is this: nothing matters. Nothing.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Nuclear Winter?
March 21, 2010. The first day of nuclear winter?
Since I'm being daffy, here's a video I find particularly appealing. I've always liked Hoyt Axton's music.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Luther Mahoney Died Today...That's a Death to Celebrate!
I watched Luther Mahoney die today and it was positively delightful! I've wanted the bastard dead for quite some time. I didn't care how. I just wanted him dead. When I watched him die at the hand of a cop who had other options than to kill him, I was a little concerned...but my concern was for the cop. I didn't want the cop to be punished for killing Luther. While the cop didn't have to do it, it was was for the best. A jury trial for Luther would have been an afront to his many, many victims.
Actually, I would have enjoyed shooting Luther. It would have pleased me no end to have been his killer. I would have felt like I made a contribution to society. But I'm OK with the cop doing it.
If you didn't know Luther Mahoney, let me explain. He was an intelligent drug dealer in Baltimore whose business resulted in many, many innocent deaths. Luther was a character on Homicide: Life on the Street. That is one of the most extraordinary television dramas I've ever watched. It was cancelled years ago, but my wife and I have rented the DVDs and have been watching the entire program...every season. We're near the end now. Next up: The Wire. The Wire also is set in Baltimore and is said to be even better than Homicide: Life on the Street.
Actually, I would have enjoyed shooting Luther. It would have pleased me no end to have been his killer. I would have felt like I made a contribution to society. But I'm OK with the cop doing it.
If you didn't know Luther Mahoney, let me explain. He was an intelligent drug dealer in Baltimore whose business resulted in many, many innocent deaths. Luther was a character on Homicide: Life on the Street. That is one of the most extraordinary television dramas I've ever watched. It was cancelled years ago, but my wife and I have rented the DVDs and have been watching the entire program...every season. We're near the end now. Next up: The Wire. The Wire also is set in Baltimore and is said to be even better than Homicide: Life on the Street.
Epic Laziness
I should go into my attic today to find out what's making the noise and, more importantly, what's causing the horrendous odor. But my bones are creaking and my knees hurt. My eyes itch and ache. My mind can't get off work.
So maybe I'll wait until noon, then drink a very cold beer or two and watch the thermometer. Word is our 70 degree temperatures from yesterday will drop to below freezing today. It's already 38 degrees. They (you know, "them," "the others," "the predictor-people") are predicting snow. OK, maybe not beer. Maybe Scotch...but I'll have to go out to buy the Scotch.
My laziness today is epic. I feel like taking a eight-day nap. This is not good. I need the energy of an 8-year-old, yet I have the energy of an 80-year-old.
So maybe I'll wait until noon, then drink a very cold beer or two and watch the thermometer. Word is our 70 degree temperatures from yesterday will drop to below freezing today. It's already 38 degrees. They (you know, "them," "the others," "the predictor-people") are predicting snow. OK, maybe not beer. Maybe Scotch...but I'll have to go out to buy the Scotch.
My laziness today is epic. I feel like taking a eight-day nap. This is not good. I need the energy of an 8-year-old, yet I have the energy of an 80-year-old.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Partial Reduction of Intellectual Capital
"New Cancun"
Mexican politicians, it seems, are just as stupid and corrupt as their U.S. counterparts. Jalisco Governor Governor Emilio Gonzalez has labeled a massive new developmenet on the southern coast of Mexico a New Cancun, as if Mexico needed any more such playgrounds for American tourists. Jalisco's employee retirement fund, Pensiones del Estado (IPE), has provided more than $90 million to fund the $156 million purchase of 2965 acres in an area known as Estero de Chalacapetec, south of Tomatitlan, which is south of Puerto Vallarta. A private developer called Rasaland provided the remainder of the funds. Like other Mexican playgrounds for rich tourists, the New Cancun will certainly make a few rich Mexicans richer and will provide subsistence wages for Mexicans who will be courted to support the project through the use of lies and false promises of "middle class" incomes. The ecological damage done by such a large project are expected, by some Mexican ecologiests, to be significant.
Guess Who's Benefitting from Rick Perry's Enterprise Fund?
If you guess Rick Perry, you'd be right. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of reasons Rick Perry should not be reelected to another term as Governor of Texas. His Enterprise Fund is a pretty good one, though. A Texas Observer investigation revealed that "20 of the 55 Enterprise Fund companies have either given money directly to Perry’s campaign (through their political action committees or executives) or donated to the Republican Governors Association, a Washington, D.C.-based group that Perry presided over in 2008." Those 20 companies received more than $174 million from the Fund, $2.2 million of which was donated back to Perry and the Republican Governors Association. Tracking the money, which is no small feat, suggests that some of the grants from the Fund wound up in Perry's own pocket, or at least in his campaign fund. I'm voting for "the other guy."
Boston Blackie's Owners Charged with Felony Theft
One of my favorite burger joints while I lived in Chicago was Boston Blackie's. When I was there, the only one (as far as I knew) was on the corner of East Grand and St. Clair, but now they have several locations throughout the city and the suburbs. I read this morning that the owners (father and son) and an employee were charged with felony theft connected with a check kiting scheme. What a shame. I did love their olive burgers.
A $2 Million Demolition
Some people in Syracuse, New York are pissed. See, a crumbling building has forced the closure of some parts of I-81 in the northern part of the city. The building's owner has failed to repair the building. When parts of the building crumbled onto I-81, the city moved to have it demolished. It's still up, but it's days are numbered. I wonder if my Syracuse friend has anything to say about this?
Video Breath
Years ago, when Toys-R-Us was running a horrifically-annoying commercial with an equally-annoying commercial song, I rewrote parts of that song. And here it is, from memory:
I don't want to grow up to be a poisonous pig
'Cause they're ugly and they're hideous and they grow so fucking big
Instead I'll spend my time on hate and death and video breath
And play with my toys alone
I just don't wanna be a poisonous pig.
I was no more of a poet then than I am now.
Mexican politicians, it seems, are just as stupid and corrupt as their U.S. counterparts. Jalisco Governor Governor Emilio Gonzalez has labeled a massive new developmenet on the southern coast of Mexico a New Cancun, as if Mexico needed any more such playgrounds for American tourists. Jalisco's employee retirement fund, Pensiones del Estado (IPE), has provided more than $90 million to fund the $156 million purchase of 2965 acres in an area known as Estero de Chalacapetec, south of Tomatitlan, which is south of Puerto Vallarta. A private developer called Rasaland provided the remainder of the funds. Like other Mexican playgrounds for rich tourists, the New Cancun will certainly make a few rich Mexicans richer and will provide subsistence wages for Mexicans who will be courted to support the project through the use of lies and false promises of "middle class" incomes. The ecological damage done by such a large project are expected, by some Mexican ecologiests, to be significant.
Guess Who's Benefitting from Rick Perry's Enterprise Fund?
If you guess Rick Perry, you'd be right. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of reasons Rick Perry should not be reelected to another term as Governor of Texas. His Enterprise Fund is a pretty good one, though. A Texas Observer investigation revealed that "20 of the 55 Enterprise Fund companies have either given money directly to Perry’s campaign (through their political action committees or executives) or donated to the Republican Governors Association, a Washington, D.C.-based group that Perry presided over in 2008." Those 20 companies received more than $174 million from the Fund, $2.2 million of which was donated back to Perry and the Republican Governors Association. Tracking the money, which is no small feat, suggests that some of the grants from the Fund wound up in Perry's own pocket, or at least in his campaign fund. I'm voting for "the other guy."
Boston Blackie's Owners Charged with Felony Theft
One of my favorite burger joints while I lived in Chicago was Boston Blackie's. When I was there, the only one (as far as I knew) was on the corner of East Grand and St. Clair, but now they have several locations throughout the city and the suburbs. I read this morning that the owners (father and son) and an employee were charged with felony theft connected with a check kiting scheme. What a shame. I did love their olive burgers.
A $2 Million Demolition
Some people in Syracuse, New York are pissed. See, a crumbling building has forced the closure of some parts of I-81 in the northern part of the city. The building's owner has failed to repair the building. When parts of the building crumbled onto I-81, the city moved to have it demolished. It's still up, but it's days are numbered. I wonder if my Syracuse friend has anything to say about this?
Video Breath
Years ago, when Toys-R-Us was running a horrifically-annoying commercial with an equally-annoying commercial song, I rewrote parts of that song. And here it is, from memory:
I don't want to grow up to be a poisonous pig
'Cause they're ugly and they're hideous and they grow so fucking big
Instead I'll spend my time on hate and death and video breath
And play with my toys alone
I just don't wanna be a poisonous pig.
I was no more of a poet then than I am now.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Menacing Moon
Yesterday, I accused (silently) a client board member of being manic-depressive in the way she deals with me. I should have been speaking into the mirror. Last night I was at the nadir. Today, if a full-moon is the zenith and a new moon is the nadir, I'm at the waxing crescent.
It must be hell to live with someone like that. I know it's a horror to work with that sort of person.
This morning, I'm trying to think of things I can do to replace, or partially replace, my worklife. Something that will help pay the bills and preserve my sanity, or what's left of it. But what?
It must be hell to live with someone like that. I know it's a horror to work with that sort of person.
This morning, I'm trying to think of things I can do to replace, or partially replace, my worklife. Something that will help pay the bills and preserve my sanity, or what's left of it. But what?
Friday, March 12, 2010
Being Happy
I can't come to this blog without thinking about my late sister. When I think of writing something, I wonder what she would say to me the next time we spoke; she read the blog, but only very rarely commented online...she reserved her comments for our phone conversations.
Today, I wonder what she'd say about my habit of writing about my perpetual unhappiness with my life in general. Would she tell me to buck up or would she, more likely, express concern that I'm putting myself at risk for stress-related illness. Her solution, of course, probably would be that I should tell my clients to fuck-off, sell the business or its remnants, sell the personal things we don't really need, pack up the rest, sell the house, and follow the road to whereever my dreams take me. She thought that would eliminate my problems. Would that it were so.
My sister never really understood the complexity of my business and how it's really impossible to just up and leave it. Well, I suppose it's possible, but it would haunt me forever if I did. And I think she just wanted me to be happy and hoped that I was right when I suggested, rightly or wrongly, that hitting the road and living an entirely new life would "cure what ails me." My sister was too intelligent to really believe my unhappiness would disappear the moment I became a gypsy. She hoped it would, though, and I think she expected it would move me in the right direction. I'm not so sure whether it would, though.
She was smart enough to recognize that the constancy of my negativity about my worklife was a sign that things weren't right. She knew that I had managed to box myself into a business and a career that were remarkably unsuited the person I am, and probably always have been.
She knew I did not like...almost could not tolerate...anyone being my "boss." Relatively early on in my career, I jetted to the top of some organizations where I worked, becoming the boss. But I was not really the boss. I learned that boards of directors were bosses. And they could take a dislike to me and end my employment. I learned that being in charge of staff was not to my liking. I realized quickly that I had little patience for people who didn't have the same dedication to the job I had, nor did I have much tolerance for people who didn't learn quickly and without provocation.
Yet there I was, the "boss" who was in a position in which I had to hold myself in check when dealing with boards of directors whose members were, in some cases and on their best days, morons. And I had to put up with managing a staff of people who frequently did not measure up to my expectations. Frequently it wasn't the staff's fault; it was the board, which limited my resources so that I was not able to pay people of the caliber I needed and wanted to work with.
When my tolerance of that environment ended and I essentially told one board to either back off or replace me, they replaced me. It didn't take long after that for me to decide that working for a board of directors didn't fit me, nor did serving as "number two" to another Type A. So I started my own business, which put me in the position of reporting to several boards...boards that were my clients. And from there it got progressively worse.
But I tried to overlook the bad side and I hired some staff who could deal with boards instead of having to do it myself. But I couldn't make that a universal situation, so I have had to deal with boards regularly. They're not all bad...not even the majority. But I allow the ones who are to upset me so much that I can barely tolerate making the trip to my office.
My sister would tell me to put my "many talents" as she called them to other uses, things that would take advantage of them but would make me happy. She regularly encouraged me to write, having decided that I was a good writer and knowing that I enjoyed it. But I only enjoy it sometimes...when I'm in the right mood. And that can be a rarity.
I've come to the realization that what I'm after is independence and change. I don't want to do anything for very long. A month or two or three and I'm bored and ready for something new. So, what I am, in fact, is a lazy, self-indulgent complainer who has been unable or unwilling to try to make the best out of situations that are simply requirements of life. I want things that are not NEEDED...they are just wanted. I want. I want. I want. It's so upsetting to realize that I'm just an aging, spoiled brat who's never been happy, despite having been fortunate in so many ways.
I have always had enough money to live a decent life. My wife is wonderful and loves me and puts up with me. My immediate family is composed of people who are good and who I love and who love me. But I'm not satisfied.
I don't want to go to work from 8 to 5 and push paper. I don't want to react to the wishes of people who want things I find offensive or morally corrupt.
I still need to learn from my sister. She adapted to a life of relative poverty and she liked her life. She did things for others and make their lives happier. In her life, she had to adapt to being confined to a wheelchair. She didn't need to feel the freedom to hit the road; she adapted to the constraints life and circumstance placed on her.
My sister tried to teach me that I have what it takes to be happy, that all I have to do is to do what makes me happy. I wish she could have taught me what that is, what makes me happy? Maybe if I just knew what that was, I could be as good a person as she was. Until then, I suppose I'll just complain and bitch about life. What the fuck is it that makes some people like that? I don't like those people. How the hell did I become one?
Today, I wonder what she'd say about my habit of writing about my perpetual unhappiness with my life in general. Would she tell me to buck up or would she, more likely, express concern that I'm putting myself at risk for stress-related illness. Her solution, of course, probably would be that I should tell my clients to fuck-off, sell the business or its remnants, sell the personal things we don't really need, pack up the rest, sell the house, and follow the road to whereever my dreams take me. She thought that would eliminate my problems. Would that it were so.
My sister never really understood the complexity of my business and how it's really impossible to just up and leave it. Well, I suppose it's possible, but it would haunt me forever if I did. And I think she just wanted me to be happy and hoped that I was right when I suggested, rightly or wrongly, that hitting the road and living an entirely new life would "cure what ails me." My sister was too intelligent to really believe my unhappiness would disappear the moment I became a gypsy. She hoped it would, though, and I think she expected it would move me in the right direction. I'm not so sure whether it would, though.
She was smart enough to recognize that the constancy of my negativity about my worklife was a sign that things weren't right. She knew that I had managed to box myself into a business and a career that were remarkably unsuited the person I am, and probably always have been.
She knew I did not like...almost could not tolerate...anyone being my "boss." Relatively early on in my career, I jetted to the top of some organizations where I worked, becoming the boss. But I was not really the boss. I learned that boards of directors were bosses. And they could take a dislike to me and end my employment. I learned that being in charge of staff was not to my liking. I realized quickly that I had little patience for people who didn't have the same dedication to the job I had, nor did I have much tolerance for people who didn't learn quickly and without provocation.
Yet there I was, the "boss" who was in a position in which I had to hold myself in check when dealing with boards of directors whose members were, in some cases and on their best days, morons. And I had to put up with managing a staff of people who frequently did not measure up to my expectations. Frequently it wasn't the staff's fault; it was the board, which limited my resources so that I was not able to pay people of the caliber I needed and wanted to work with.
When my tolerance of that environment ended and I essentially told one board to either back off or replace me, they replaced me. It didn't take long after that for me to decide that working for a board of directors didn't fit me, nor did serving as "number two" to another Type A. So I started my own business, which put me in the position of reporting to several boards...boards that were my clients. And from there it got progressively worse.
But I tried to overlook the bad side and I hired some staff who could deal with boards instead of having to do it myself. But I couldn't make that a universal situation, so I have had to deal with boards regularly. They're not all bad...not even the majority. But I allow the ones who are to upset me so much that I can barely tolerate making the trip to my office.
My sister would tell me to put my "many talents" as she called them to other uses, things that would take advantage of them but would make me happy. She regularly encouraged me to write, having decided that I was a good writer and knowing that I enjoyed it. But I only enjoy it sometimes...when I'm in the right mood. And that can be a rarity.
I've come to the realization that what I'm after is independence and change. I don't want to do anything for very long. A month or two or three and I'm bored and ready for something new. So, what I am, in fact, is a lazy, self-indulgent complainer who has been unable or unwilling to try to make the best out of situations that are simply requirements of life. I want things that are not NEEDED...they are just wanted. I want. I want. I want. It's so upsetting to realize that I'm just an aging, spoiled brat who's never been happy, despite having been fortunate in so many ways.
I have always had enough money to live a decent life. My wife is wonderful and loves me and puts up with me. My immediate family is composed of people who are good and who I love and who love me. But I'm not satisfied.
I don't want to go to work from 8 to 5 and push paper. I don't want to react to the wishes of people who want things I find offensive or morally corrupt.
I still need to learn from my sister. She adapted to a life of relative poverty and she liked her life. She did things for others and make their lives happier. In her life, she had to adapt to being confined to a wheelchair. She didn't need to feel the freedom to hit the road; she adapted to the constraints life and circumstance placed on her.
My sister tried to teach me that I have what it takes to be happy, that all I have to do is to do what makes me happy. I wish she could have taught me what that is, what makes me happy? Maybe if I just knew what that was, I could be as good a person as she was. Until then, I suppose I'll just complain and bitch about life. What the fuck is it that makes some people like that? I don't like those people. How the hell did I become one?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Remembering
Yesterday morning, we held a memorial service for my sister, who died February 19. I say "we," but my niece is the one who did the lion's share of the work of organizing it. She did a magnificent job. My niece and my nephew, her brother, were two of the many people who reaped the rewards of being dearly loved by my sister. My niece lives in the same city where my sister lived, so was able to see her often and benefitted from being near her aunt. And she dearly loved her aunt, and the work she put in to arrange the memorial service showed it clearly. While she and her brother were deeply affected by my sister's death, they were more deeply affected by her life.
My sister was a Catholic, and so is my niece. So it was fitting and right that my niece arranged a service at the Catholic church, though some of my sister's siblings are like fish out of water in that setting. Despite my atheism, the words and actions of the priest and the religious ceremony of yesterday's service moved me. The music...Ave Maria, Amazing Grace, and How Great Thou Art were exceptionally moving and, remembering how much my sister loved that music, made me cry. Some other things moved me even more.
My ex-sister-in-law, my niece's mother, delivered a eulogy that was nothing short of the perfect remembrance of my sister's life. Despite having split from my brother many years ago, she remained close to my sister and her presence was yet another testament to how my sister affected people.
She spoke of all the thousands of thing my sister did for others, from giving people shelter, to handling income tax preparation for people unable to do (or pay for) their own, to making raggedy-ann dolls for children who desperately needed a bright spot in their otherwise dull and dreary and poverty-ridden lives. She described my sister's love of her brothers and sister, and her niece and nephews, and she spoke of the things my sister did that were natural to her but invisible to most others who never saw all the good she was doing. The eulogy described my sister as someone who just naturally helped people...it was just "what she did." One day I will post that eulogy here.
Something else that moved me was the presence at the service of my sister's doctor, who had been her primary physician for ten years or more. He spoke to several of my siblings about her, describing her as "brilliant" and as someone unlike anyone else he had ever known. He said he could talk to her about things he had never been able to with other patients, personal things outside the doctor-patient relationship. "I don't know if you realize how much she did for people. She got things done," he said, "when no one else could," going on to relate an incident in which he had told her of another financially-strapped patient who needed a motorized wheelchair but apparently did not qualify or could not get through the red-tape of getting one. "She didn't need to do anything about it, but she did." He said she got the wheelchair for the guy in a matter of days. "I don't know how she did it, but she did. She was remarkable." I had heard my sister talk about her doctor before, describing him as someone who was not in the profession for the money but, instead, for the opportunity to serve. His presence at my sister's service was a tribute to her, and a tribute to him as well.
Other people who made their way to the memorial service spoke volumes about my sister, too, though the people did not speak. At least three people confined to wheelchairs were there, people my sister had helped in one way or another. I had met one of the people, a man who's probably in his forties, at my sister's apartment not too many months before. Since I had seen him, he had undergone a leg amputation. I remember him wheeling in to the room when my sister had opened the door, looking sheepish as my sister dressed him down for failing to get tax documentation to her earlier so she could help him file his return. Yesterday, when I spoke to him, he said "I don't know what I'm going to do without her." He meant it; he was lost without the help that my sister regularly gave him just to get by in his daily life.
I don't know just how I'm going to do it, but I'm going to keep my sister's legacy alive by doing something to continue her work helping people, particularly people in the apartment building where she lived. The building is for people over age 62 and the mobility-impaired; all residents pay a significant percentage of their income in rent. I want to do something to carry on my sister's work. I'm not going to replicate it...I won't even try...but perhaps I can honor her memory by honoring what turned out to be, in a very real way, her life's work.
My sister was a Catholic, and so is my niece. So it was fitting and right that my niece arranged a service at the Catholic church, though some of my sister's siblings are like fish out of water in that setting. Despite my atheism, the words and actions of the priest and the religious ceremony of yesterday's service moved me. The music...Ave Maria, Amazing Grace, and How Great Thou Art were exceptionally moving and, remembering how much my sister loved that music, made me cry. Some other things moved me even more.
My ex-sister-in-law, my niece's mother, delivered a eulogy that was nothing short of the perfect remembrance of my sister's life. Despite having split from my brother many years ago, she remained close to my sister and her presence was yet another testament to how my sister affected people.
She spoke of all the thousands of thing my sister did for others, from giving people shelter, to handling income tax preparation for people unable to do (or pay for) their own, to making raggedy-ann dolls for children who desperately needed a bright spot in their otherwise dull and dreary and poverty-ridden lives. She described my sister's love of her brothers and sister, and her niece and nephews, and she spoke of the things my sister did that were natural to her but invisible to most others who never saw all the good she was doing. The eulogy described my sister as someone who just naturally helped people...it was just "what she did." One day I will post that eulogy here.
Something else that moved me was the presence at the service of my sister's doctor, who had been her primary physician for ten years or more. He spoke to several of my siblings about her, describing her as "brilliant" and as someone unlike anyone else he had ever known. He said he could talk to her about things he had never been able to with other patients, personal things outside the doctor-patient relationship. "I don't know if you realize how much she did for people. She got things done," he said, "when no one else could," going on to relate an incident in which he had told her of another financially-strapped patient who needed a motorized wheelchair but apparently did not qualify or could not get through the red-tape of getting one. "She didn't need to do anything about it, but she did." He said she got the wheelchair for the guy in a matter of days. "I don't know how she did it, but she did. She was remarkable." I had heard my sister talk about her doctor before, describing him as someone who was not in the profession for the money but, instead, for the opportunity to serve. His presence at my sister's service was a tribute to her, and a tribute to him as well.
Other people who made their way to the memorial service spoke volumes about my sister, too, though the people did not speak. At least three people confined to wheelchairs were there, people my sister had helped in one way or another. I had met one of the people, a man who's probably in his forties, at my sister's apartment not too many months before. Since I had seen him, he had undergone a leg amputation. I remember him wheeling in to the room when my sister had opened the door, looking sheepish as my sister dressed him down for failing to get tax documentation to her earlier so she could help him file his return. Yesterday, when I spoke to him, he said "I don't know what I'm going to do without her." He meant it; he was lost without the help that my sister regularly gave him just to get by in his daily life.
I don't know just how I'm going to do it, but I'm going to keep my sister's legacy alive by doing something to continue her work helping people, particularly people in the apartment building where she lived. The building is for people over age 62 and the mobility-impaired; all residents pay a significant percentage of their income in rent. I want to do something to carry on my sister's work. I'm not going to replicate it...I won't even try...but perhaps I can honor her memory by honoring what turned out to be, in a very real way, her life's work.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Writing for My Sister
My very first blog post was on another blog, one I have since abandoned, on July 21, 2005. The fifth anniversary of my attempt to share thoughts with the world is approching.
That first blog post was entitled "Geezers and Geezerhood" and attempted to explain why people should be happy to be getting older. I wrote, "The health issues that tend to come with age, of course, are negative aspects of getting older, but on the whole, getting older is a good thing. I intend to keep doing it."
I wrote that as encouragement for one of my sisters, who had been having health issues for a long time and was feeling a little depressed. I don't know whether that first post of mine had any impact on her, but I do know that she regularly read my blog from the very beginning. Often, she read between the lines and knew when I was angry, depressed, or just frustrated with the world around me. She knew that many of my frustrations related to the fact that I loathed the work that I created for myself by starting my own business. She encouraged me to get out of it, to do something different, to retire and see the country on my own terms. From her perspective, all I needed to do was just do it. Her concern was for my health, physical and mental, and she never stopped encouraging me to "give it up" and enjoy life instead of scrambling hard for five or six or ten days straight so I could have a weekend or even an occasional week to do what I wanted.
If I had listened to her, I might have done the impossible and given up being tied to a desk for a life "on the road." She lived on a tiny Social Security check in a tiny subsidized apartment in an building operated for people near the bottom of the economic scale. She was able to see past the "need" for material things. She didn't need a big house, a nice car, or money in the bank. Sure, she would have been more comfortable with those things, but what she needed was to be able to help other people. She needed that as much as she needed air to breathe.
I possess only a fraction of the need to be of service to others that my sister had. I have it, but not the way she did. She was passionate about it, but she did not expect others to share it. She just went about doing it. She occasionally shared what she was doing, but she rarely revealed just how much she was doing for others.
My brothers and my other sister said aloud, from time to time, "I wish she would use the money we give/lend her for herself!" But she rarely would. Instead, if a neighbor needed food or a friend needed money to pay a bill or an acquaintance needed an attorney, she would spend her own money and any we provided on helping that other person. It was rare that she would actually spend money on herself.
Once, recently, I insisted on buying a "doctor's scale" for her that her doctor had been encouraging her to buy. She needed to weigh herself very accurately every day and report any signficant changes to her doctor because certain drugs she was taking could cause water retentino which could, in turn, put additional pressure on her already over-taxed heart. It took me months to get her to accept the money for the scale. It was less than $200, but you would have thought I was mortgaging my house; she did not want me to give up anything just to help her. She was not used to getting anything; she was only used to giving.
In hindsight, I realize that I was looking at situations from a different perspective than she was. I was used to having discretionary money, albeit not a lot. She was used to living week to week, and stretching her money to make ends meet. And I think she felt guilty taking anything for herself because she was spending "needlessly" on a vice: smoking. But I know how hard it is to stop that addiction, having kicked it only six years ago after a 35 years habit. In retrospect, I think she felt guilty that she was not using the money she spent on cigarettes on helping other people; she had another, competing, addiction: service to others.
My sister and I had very different perspectives on religion. She was a believer and had connections with the church, though she had deep divides with core elements of the church. I am not a believer, but I do share her loathing for the hypocracies of organized religion. I can't say with certainty, but I think her support for the church had more to do with the good works done in the name of the church than with its religious formalities. We spoke fairly often about my indignation with organized religion in general and my disbelief in a supreme power. She didn't defend the church except to tell me how a church near where she lived was exceptionally supportive of the community, especially people who were, like her, near the bottom of the economic ladder. She wished I would have believed in a supreme being, but she was satisfied that I appreciated the work the church did. And she had little tolerance for people who use the church in place of their brain; she preferred that people think for themselves and not depend on the church to do it for them.
Many of the people who lived near my sister lived deeply in poverty; she treated everyone the same way, though, regardless of who they were or where they came from. She was just as comfortable telling a wealthy attorney to return usurious fees to a poor client as she was inquiring of a street person when was the last time he had eaten. I know many people who are uncomfortable dealing with the "lowest of the low" strata of society; thanks to learning from my sister, I no longer have that level of discomfort. While she was quite liberal in her views, she was quick to condemn false liberalism in others...like the rich socialite who would give money to the poor, but who wouldn't deign to speak to them or treat them as equals.
My first blog post, which was intended to improve my sister's mood, led to a flood of others, some of which my sister appreciated and many of which she probably did not. But like them or not, she read them; I think she read them because she felt compelled to read them, in case something I said might signal a need to talk something out. And she read those signals well, too.
My sister's death on February 19 brought her reading of my posts to an end. But I will continue to write as if she might read them and I'll try to continue to learn from her as I remember all she taught me, and all she tried to teach me.
That first blog post was entitled "Geezers and Geezerhood" and attempted to explain why people should be happy to be getting older. I wrote, "The health issues that tend to come with age, of course, are negative aspects of getting older, but on the whole, getting older is a good thing. I intend to keep doing it."
I wrote that as encouragement for one of my sisters, who had been having health issues for a long time and was feeling a little depressed. I don't know whether that first post of mine had any impact on her, but I do know that she regularly read my blog from the very beginning. Often, she read between the lines and knew when I was angry, depressed, or just frustrated with the world around me. She knew that many of my frustrations related to the fact that I loathed the work that I created for myself by starting my own business. She encouraged me to get out of it, to do something different, to retire and see the country on my own terms. From her perspective, all I needed to do was just do it. Her concern was for my health, physical and mental, and she never stopped encouraging me to "give it up" and enjoy life instead of scrambling hard for five or six or ten days straight so I could have a weekend or even an occasional week to do what I wanted.
If I had listened to her, I might have done the impossible and given up being tied to a desk for a life "on the road." She lived on a tiny Social Security check in a tiny subsidized apartment in an building operated for people near the bottom of the economic scale. She was able to see past the "need" for material things. She didn't need a big house, a nice car, or money in the bank. Sure, she would have been more comfortable with those things, but what she needed was to be able to help other people. She needed that as much as she needed air to breathe.
I possess only a fraction of the need to be of service to others that my sister had. I have it, but not the way she did. She was passionate about it, but she did not expect others to share it. She just went about doing it. She occasionally shared what she was doing, but she rarely revealed just how much she was doing for others.
My brothers and my other sister said aloud, from time to time, "I wish she would use the money we give/lend her for herself!" But she rarely would. Instead, if a neighbor needed food or a friend needed money to pay a bill or an acquaintance needed an attorney, she would spend her own money and any we provided on helping that other person. It was rare that she would actually spend money on herself.
Once, recently, I insisted on buying a "doctor's scale" for her that her doctor had been encouraging her to buy. She needed to weigh herself very accurately every day and report any signficant changes to her doctor because certain drugs she was taking could cause water retentino which could, in turn, put additional pressure on her already over-taxed heart. It took me months to get her to accept the money for the scale. It was less than $200, but you would have thought I was mortgaging my house; she did not want me to give up anything just to help her. She was not used to getting anything; she was only used to giving.
In hindsight, I realize that I was looking at situations from a different perspective than she was. I was used to having discretionary money, albeit not a lot. She was used to living week to week, and stretching her money to make ends meet. And I think she felt guilty taking anything for herself because she was spending "needlessly" on a vice: smoking. But I know how hard it is to stop that addiction, having kicked it only six years ago after a 35 years habit. In retrospect, I think she felt guilty that she was not using the money she spent on cigarettes on helping other people; she had another, competing, addiction: service to others.
My sister and I had very different perspectives on religion. She was a believer and had connections with the church, though she had deep divides with core elements of the church. I am not a believer, but I do share her loathing for the hypocracies of organized religion. I can't say with certainty, but I think her support for the church had more to do with the good works done in the name of the church than with its religious formalities. We spoke fairly often about my indignation with organized religion in general and my disbelief in a supreme power. She didn't defend the church except to tell me how a church near where she lived was exceptionally supportive of the community, especially people who were, like her, near the bottom of the economic ladder. She wished I would have believed in a supreme being, but she was satisfied that I appreciated the work the church did. And she had little tolerance for people who use the church in place of their brain; she preferred that people think for themselves and not depend on the church to do it for them.
Many of the people who lived near my sister lived deeply in poverty; she treated everyone the same way, though, regardless of who they were or where they came from. She was just as comfortable telling a wealthy attorney to return usurious fees to a poor client as she was inquiring of a street person when was the last time he had eaten. I know many people who are uncomfortable dealing with the "lowest of the low" strata of society; thanks to learning from my sister, I no longer have that level of discomfort. While she was quite liberal in her views, she was quick to condemn false liberalism in others...like the rich socialite who would give money to the poor, but who wouldn't deign to speak to them or treat them as equals.
My first blog post, which was intended to improve my sister's mood, led to a flood of others, some of which my sister appreciated and many of which she probably did not. But like them or not, she read them; I think she read them because she felt compelled to read them, in case something I said might signal a need to talk something out. And she read those signals well, too.
My sister's death on February 19 brought her reading of my posts to an end. But I will continue to write as if she might read them and I'll try to continue to learn from her as I remember all she taught me, and all she tried to teach me.
Friday, February 19, 2010
A Gift is Gone
My sister, my wonderful sister who lived in poverty but shared the few nickels that found their way into her purse, died this morning. I mourn her death out of selfishness that she will no longer be the person to brighten my day when I'm down. But at least I know she won't have to suffer anymore through hellish episodes of chest pain and respiratory distress. I will miss her until death takes me.
Unlike me, she was a believer in a supreme being and she tended to have attachments to the church. If she was right and I am wrong, there are angels singing today in celebration that one of the most generous, giving, caring people who ever walked the earth is in their midst. If I am right, then her passing is simply a jolt to this earth and to the countless people for whom she sacrificed so many material things so that those she called her friends would have just a little something.
She fed people she didn't know, she gave up her bed for people who needed to sleep, she battled the IRS and Social Security Administration for people who couldn't do on their own, but desperately needed an advocate. And they had that advocate in my sister. She was, in many ways, the Molly Ivins of our family; she gave people hell if they deserved it, especially when they had mistreated someone else...the underdog was her pet!
I have lost a very dear friend and a person I loved very, very much. Since learning of her death just two hours ago, it has been damn near impossible for me to keep my composure. After the necessities of dealing with death are behind us, I plan to arrange for a celebration of her life that I wish I'd done while she was alive to see how much she has meant to so very many people.
Goodbye, Mimi. We love you.
Unlike me, she was a believer in a supreme being and she tended to have attachments to the church. If she was right and I am wrong, there are angels singing today in celebration that one of the most generous, giving, caring people who ever walked the earth is in their midst. If I am right, then her passing is simply a jolt to this earth and to the countless people for whom she sacrificed so many material things so that those she called her friends would have just a little something.
She fed people she didn't know, she gave up her bed for people who needed to sleep, she battled the IRS and Social Security Administration for people who couldn't do on their own, but desperately needed an advocate. And they had that advocate in my sister. She was, in many ways, the Molly Ivins of our family; she gave people hell if they deserved it, especially when they had mistreated someone else...the underdog was her pet!
I have lost a very dear friend and a person I loved very, very much. Since learning of her death just two hours ago, it has been damn near impossible for me to keep my composure. After the necessities of dealing with death are behind us, I plan to arrange for a celebration of her life that I wish I'd done while she was alive to see how much she has meant to so very many people.
Goodbye, Mimi. We love you.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Super Bowl
I have long been a sarcastic commentator about the Super Bowl. My assessment has been that the game is intended, primarily, for the unwashed masses...the less intelligent among us, the morons who somehow equate their own abilities with football players who are both dim-witted and hyper-muscular.
Maybe I've been right.
But tonight I watched most, though not all, of the Super Bowl. And I found myself mezmerized by the event. I certainly do not equate my bulbous and weak body with the bodies of the athletes, but I connected with them, or someone, somehow. I didn't really care about the players,nor their coaches, nor most of their fans...but I cared that the New Orleans Saints might give the citizens of that city a boost if they won. But it grew beyond that as I watched the game. I actually enjoyed it. And that was despite the fact that I didn't want to. I wanted to watch it as a show of solidarity with the people of New Orleans, but I ended up watching it because it was exciting. And the game kept me on edge right until the end. I didn't sit glued to the TV, but I watched most of the game. And I liked it.
So maybe I've been wrong. Maybe my haughtier than thou attitude has been elitism of an ugly sort. I've not converted to a football fanatic, but I have changed my attitude about one game, and I've changed my attitude completely. I've allowed myself to consider myself "better" than the riff-raff who watch football. And now I'm among the riff-raff. And that's OK. It's better than OK. Maybe I'm getting over my self-induced snobbery.
But, no, I won't go to the next high-school football game with you. Rabid Republicans go there. I would just get into a fistfight.
Maybe I've been right.
But tonight I watched most, though not all, of the Super Bowl. And I found myself mezmerized by the event. I certainly do not equate my bulbous and weak body with the bodies of the athletes, but I connected with them, or someone, somehow. I didn't really care about the players,nor their coaches, nor most of their fans...but I cared that the New Orleans Saints might give the citizens of that city a boost if they won. But it grew beyond that as I watched the game. I actually enjoyed it. And that was despite the fact that I didn't want to. I wanted to watch it as a show of solidarity with the people of New Orleans, but I ended up watching it because it was exciting. And the game kept me on edge right until the end. I didn't sit glued to the TV, but I watched most of the game. And I liked it.
So maybe I've been wrong. Maybe my haughtier than thou attitude has been elitism of an ugly sort. I've not converted to a football fanatic, but I have changed my attitude about one game, and I've changed my attitude completely. I've allowed myself to consider myself "better" than the riff-raff who watch football. And now I'm among the riff-raff. And that's OK. It's better than OK. Maybe I'm getting over my self-induced snobbery.
But, no, I won't go to the next high-school football game with you. Rabid Republicans go there. I would just get into a fistfight.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Seeing Through Shadows
A former friend of mind (I say that because I've tried to contact him for years and he never returns my calls, etc.) once wrote that my mother "saw through shadows." He wrote that in an appreciation and acknowledgement in a book he and another acquaintance wrote. It was an English composition book, I believe. I always thought he was referring to her ability to understand issues that were complex and "foggy." But now, I wonder if he was referring to the fact that she helped him proofread the book even though she had cataracts and was "seeing through shadows."
This entered my mind tonight only because I'm seeing through shadows in my left eye. It hurts like holy hell and I don't know why. Blink drops don't do any good. I can't go to an ophthalmologist tomorrow because I have to leave town until Thursday. Shit. But now I wonder what my former friend meant. What did those words mean? My mother helped the two of them by proofreading their book; did she see through the shadows of meaning, or did she shee through the shadows of cataracts and still offer good advice to them?
I need to know this. I just do.
This entered my mind tonight only because I'm seeing through shadows in my left eye. It hurts like holy hell and I don't know why. Blink drops don't do any good. I can't go to an ophthalmologist tomorrow because I have to leave town until Thursday. Shit. But now I wonder what my former friend meant. What did those words mean? My mother helped the two of them by proofreading their book; did she see through the shadows of meaning, or did she shee through the shadows of cataracts and still offer good advice to them?
I need to know this. I just do.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Scotch
I successfully cajoled my wife into going out for breakfast this morning. We went to The Deli-News, a very expensive deli. Two eggs, 2 pieces of sausage, some hash browns, and some toast for each of us...and a cup of bad coffee for me. $20. I'm not going to complain. I'm just not going back (at least not for breakfast).
Then, a full and productive day at the office.
Now, we're home and I'm drinking a Scotch and water...first time drinking one of those in my own house in 15 years or more. But I did have a few of them while I was visiting my brother in Mexico over the Christmas holidays...so it hasn't been long since I've imbibed in the good stuff.
Then, a full and productive day at the office.
Now, we're home and I'm drinking a Scotch and water...first time drinking one of those in my own house in 15 years or more. But I did have a few of them while I was visiting my brother in Mexico over the Christmas holidays...so it hasn't been long since I've imbibed in the good stuff.
Attitudinal Alignment
I'm going to go out today and enjoy it, despite the fact that I have to spend it at the office and then do errands I'd rather not do. I'm not going to let my attitude ruin my attitude. And just to prove it, I'm going to try to cajole my wife into going out to breakfast with me before we go into the office.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
No Tengo Cajones Grandes
Just a few more days until I leave for Washington, DC. Monday, to be precise. I have as much interest in going to DC as I have in slitting my own throat...less, actually. And it's a long trip (relatively speaking, of course). I don't get back until late Thursday evening. And then I get to pick up the boatloads of work I did not do while I was out of the office. And then, the following week, I'm out from Tuesday through Friday. Only to return to even more bullshit.
I overheard someone speak tonight, on what I think was a reality show on television, about what's really important in life. And he gave advise that, as trite as it sounds, should be my marching orders. What he said, essentially, was this: "Don't put off what you want to do, not for another minute. For tomorrow you may die."
Why does it take me (and most of us) a lifetime to finally "get" it, only to find that it's too late to make the most of it?
If I had any balls, I'd walk in tomorrow and announce the closure of my business and my departure for an entire new life. But I guess I don't.
I overheard someone speak tonight, on what I think was a reality show on television, about what's really important in life. And he gave advise that, as trite as it sounds, should be my marching orders. What he said, essentially, was this: "Don't put off what you want to do, not for another minute. For tomorrow you may die."
Why does it take me (and most of us) a lifetime to finally "get" it, only to find that it's too late to make the most of it?
If I had any balls, I'd walk in tomorrow and announce the closure of my business and my departure for an entire new life. But I guess I don't.
Monday, January 25, 2010
At the Moment
I spoke to a former boss today...he called me out of the blue. He retired on December 31 and is loving it. He said he has told his colleagues and former clients he'll be happy to have lunch or dinner or drinks with them and would love to visit with them by telephone, but he insists any such interactions must not include any conversations about the work he did or the associations he managed. I can relate so well to his restrictions. That's the aspect of retirement I most anticipate! Utterly erasing from my life everything about the day-to-day bullshit of dealing with clients and staff is so appealing.
Maybe I could do it...but I'd have to start dealing drugs or become a hitman specializing in right-wing fanatics to make enough money to pay my expenses, and that's definitely not on my radar at the moment. At the moment.
Maybe I could do it...but I'd have to start dealing drugs or become a hitman specializing in right-wing fanatics to make enough money to pay my expenses, and that's definitely not on my radar at the moment. At the moment.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
ABQ Connection
There are many things to like about Albuquerque. I just found three more. First, I just learned that, here in the Albuquerque airport (ABQ), they offer FREE wireless internet. None of the "for your convenience, you can get internet access at the low, low fee of $79.99 per hour" garbage here. It's free. No charge. Costless.
Second, to go with the free wifi, they have long tables with sturdy chairs...and just in front of the tables, on the wall, are dozens and dozens of plugs. So (if I had not packed my power cord), I would sit here for hours working on my computer.
Finally, they sell Fresca at the outlets in the airport.
I take these to be signs from the bright side that I should move here. Despite the snow from this morning. And in spite of the cost of gas. And regardless of the cost of housing. The food has already convinced me that I have a deep connection to the culinary subculture of the area (though I probably want to keep my connection just as distant as it is now). Now, I find that I have connections to their airport management team.
I feel a magical giddiness sweeping over me...this could be... No, I can't let myself get too caught up in the glory of the moment. Not now. Not today.
Second, to go with the free wifi, they have long tables with sturdy chairs...and just in front of the tables, on the wall, are dozens and dozens of plugs. So (if I had not packed my power cord), I would sit here for hours working on my computer.
Finally, they sell Fresca at the outlets in the airport.
I take these to be signs from the bright side that I should move here. Despite the snow from this morning. And in spite of the cost of gas. And regardless of the cost of housing. The food has already convinced me that I have a deep connection to the culinary subculture of the area (though I probably want to keep my connection just as distant as it is now). Now, I find that I have connections to their airport management team.
I feel a magical giddiness sweeping over me...this could be... No, I can't let myself get too caught up in the glory of the moment. Not now. Not today.
Frontier Restaurant and the World of Albuquerque
Awoke to a white Albuquerque, with plenty of snow still coming down. Ignoring that, we jumped in the car and went to the Frontier Restaurant , an old place with plenty of character in the University of New Mexico neighborhood. We had huevos rancheros, Frontier style (with a couple of over-easy eggs, red or green salsa (red for me, green for my favorite wife), beans, and several huge flour tortillas). The place is worth making a trip for...it's old and gritty, with no table service...order at the registers and pick up when your number is called. I love the place!
The other option was a place much further away; and it didn't open until 9:00 am, which I consider an affront to breakfastry. Maybe lunch.
We leave this afternoon around 5. Fortunately, thanks to my membership in whatever membership club this hotel recognizes, we got a late checkout (2 pm). So, we're off to explore Albuquerque.
The other option was a place much further away; and it didn't open until 9:00 am, which I consider an affront to breakfastry. Maybe lunch.
We leave this afternoon around 5. Fortunately, thanks to my membership in whatever membership club this hotel recognizes, we got a late checkout (2 pm). So, we're off to explore Albuquerque.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Quick Trips & Uncle Sam's Insensitivity
Today started with a "free" breakfast at the hotel. Then, west on Highway 60 toward the Very Large Array radiotelescopes we visited during another visit. But after going only 36 miles west, the climate changed; snow, frigid winds, and slushy roads. I think the altitude changed by about 1800 feet, too, contributing to the weather.
So, back to Soccoro to visit the Mineral Museum. Then, lunch back at the Owl in San Antonio (where we had ordered green chile cheeseburgers yesterday, but were given burgers with no green chiles). Today, we got what we ordered and they were good. The waitstaff was utterly incompetent, though, and did not seem to be at all interested in representing the cheesy little dive in a more customer-pleasing way.
Then, north to Albuquerque, where we just got a room for the night and my wife instantly opted for a nap. I'm ready to explore, if she'll just get up.
I have been unable to stop myself from checking email and it's a good thing I have. Multiple issues surfaced that would have utterly ruined my Monday had I let them wait. On the other hand, I feel like I'm not on a break but, instead, just away from my office during work hours.
Why won't Uncle Sam let me retire early and give me full Social Security benefits? It's because he's a stinking bastard who deserves to have his throat slit and have "his" money emptied out of all the banks and put into mine.
So, back to Soccoro to visit the Mineral Museum. Then, lunch back at the Owl in San Antonio (where we had ordered green chile cheeseburgers yesterday, but were given burgers with no green chiles). Today, we got what we ordered and they were good. The waitstaff was utterly incompetent, though, and did not seem to be at all interested in representing the cheesy little dive in a more customer-pleasing way.
Then, north to Albuquerque, where we just got a room for the night and my wife instantly opted for a nap. I'm ready to explore, if she'll just get up.
I have been unable to stop myself from checking email and it's a good thing I have. Multiple issues surfaced that would have utterly ruined my Monday had I let them wait. On the other hand, I feel like I'm not on a break but, instead, just away from my office during work hours.
Why won't Uncle Sam let me retire early and give me full Social Security benefits? It's because he's a stinking bastard who deserves to have his throat slit and have "his" money emptied out of all the banks and put into mine.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
New Mexican Tingo
Our first thoughts this morning were about breakfast. So we went to Cecilia's, a little Mexican place in Old Town. We both had burritos; machaca for my wife, carne adovada for me. I took photos; will post later. The place is worth the trip.
Next up: driving south. Maybe Soccoro, maybe Truth or Consequences, maybe south and west to Silver City. Too bad we're flying back Saturday.
I'm in the mood for a six-month road trip. But NOT in the Pontiac G-6 we rented last night after we got in. The car is a "full size" car; full-size if you're a starving dwarf.
We expect to have rain and snow most of the next two days. Such is life. I can live with it.
I feel good! I could engage in a dance with Australian wild dogs (the tingo), I feel so good! Hence the title (courtesy of my friend Ellie, who coined the meaning of the word (though I'm relatively certain tingo is also a Paraguayan tea...).
Next up: driving south. Maybe Soccoro, maybe Truth or Consequences, maybe south and west to Silver City. Too bad we're flying back Saturday.
I'm in the mood for a six-month road trip. But NOT in the Pontiac G-6 we rented last night after we got in. The car is a "full size" car; full-size if you're a starving dwarf.
We expect to have rain and snow most of the next two days. Such is life. I can live with it.
I feel good! I could engage in a dance with Australian wild dogs (the tingo), I feel so good! Hence the title (courtesy of my friend Ellie, who coined the meaning of the word (though I'm relatively certain tingo is also a Paraguayan tea...).
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Feeding Lions
Last night, I had dinner with a group of people with whom I do business, plus the spouse of one of those people. The spouse, who I'd met several times before, had seemed like a nice-enough guy; not the sharpest person on the planet, but affable.
But my opinion of him changed last night when I brought up the Haitian earthquake and that I hoped large-scale humanitarian aid efforts would reach all the victims before it was too late. This guy responded that he believed the quake was god's vengeance on the people of Haiti for worshipping false idols! I was stunned. This guy and his wife CONSTANTLY talk about being "blessed" by god and about god's plans for them...and he thinks "god" is punishing Haitians for not believing in him!
If I weren't sitting at a restaurant surrounded by clients, I think I would have expressed my opinion that this moron should be euthanised for even THINKING such thoughts. But I didn't. Instead, I pretended to be a "believer" and argued that a merciful god would not do such a thing. He spewed back the clap-trap that he had been fed at his deep east Texas black baptist bible-banger church. At every step of the way I refuted his arguments, but he kept responding with "well, what CAN'T be disputed is what god said about..." I gently reminded him that whatever version of the bible he was reading was 1) translated from the original language, quite probably by people who are not PERFECT in their understanding of both languages; 2) written, in the first place, by mortals who very probably embellished their stories a good bit; 3)subject to wildly varied interpretations of the VERY SAME WORDS, depending on who had the most to gain or lose from its message; and 4) contradictory from version to version, story to story, and message to message.
His preachers had filled his mind with this drivel at "Sunday school" and he was not buying my opinions. He was steadfast in his belief that Haitians are simply paying the wages of sin. I told him I was contributing to the relief effort because I didn't care about their religions or lack thereof, I simply felt compelled to show some human compassion toward people who desperately need help
When I got back to my hotel room, I wrote a vitriolic post on the topic on Facebook, but then decided this morning to remove it really didn't belong there. But it belongs here. And my nice Christian friend from last belongs in a cage with lions; my compassion does not extend to him.
But my opinion of him changed last night when I brought up the Haitian earthquake and that I hoped large-scale humanitarian aid efforts would reach all the victims before it was too late. This guy responded that he believed the quake was god's vengeance on the people of Haiti for worshipping false idols! I was stunned. This guy and his wife CONSTANTLY talk about being "blessed" by god and about god's plans for them...and he thinks "god" is punishing Haitians for not believing in him!
If I weren't sitting at a restaurant surrounded by clients, I think I would have expressed my opinion that this moron should be euthanised for even THINKING such thoughts. But I didn't. Instead, I pretended to be a "believer" and argued that a merciful god would not do such a thing. He spewed back the clap-trap that he had been fed at his deep east Texas black baptist bible-banger church. At every step of the way I refuted his arguments, but he kept responding with "well, what CAN'T be disputed is what god said about..." I gently reminded him that whatever version of the bible he was reading was 1) translated from the original language, quite probably by people who are not PERFECT in their understanding of both languages; 2) written, in the first place, by mortals who very probably embellished their stories a good bit; 3)subject to wildly varied interpretations of the VERY SAME WORDS, depending on who had the most to gain or lose from its message; and 4) contradictory from version to version, story to story, and message to message.
His preachers had filled his mind with this drivel at "Sunday school" and he was not buying my opinions. He was steadfast in his belief that Haitians are simply paying the wages of sin. I told him I was contributing to the relief effort because I didn't care about their religions or lack thereof, I simply felt compelled to show some human compassion toward people who desperately need help
When I got back to my hotel room, I wrote a vitriolic post on the topic on Facebook, but then decided this morning to remove it really didn't belong there. But it belongs here. And my nice Christian friend from last belongs in a cage with lions; my compassion does not extend to him.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Broken Pipes and Golden Cleaners
We got home about 4:45 this afternoon. As we neared our house and I saw water flowing along the side of the street, I wondered aloud to my wife, "I wonder where all that water is coming from?" Then, as I turned into the alley I saw that it was flowing from my backyard. And it was pouring out of my garage onto the driveway. And I knew. A water pipe had burst.
Last night's temperatures had dropped to the low teens, but so had they the night before and we didn't have any trouble. But today we did. We were only gone seven and a half hours (at the office, to my chagrin), but it was enough.
There were two inches of water in almost the entire northern half of the house. The carpets were soaked. As I stepped on the carpet that looked dry, I felt my foot sink into the carpet a couple of inches and water almost sprayed from beneath my feet.
I was able to turn off the water quickly, but the damage had been done. We got a plumber to come out relatively quickly to fix the broken pipe (for $225), but we still haven't heard from nor seen the people from Service Master (who ostensibly should have called us within an hour after our insurance company called them and should have been here within four hours). I guess a lot of people have the same issues and the company is busy. Until they come extract the water, we'll be sloshing around a very wet house.
The exterior wall of my house, in back where the plumber had to tear it up to find the broken pipe, is hideous and will need some expensive repair. Who knows how much time and money the carpets and related water damage will cost. Like the plumber (who spent less than an hour), I suspect the Service Master people will give me a bill that suggests they are golden.
Oh well, we still have a nice warm place to sleep tonight and eventually the water will disappear and all will be normal again. But forgive me if I complain just a little.
Dammit!
Last night's temperatures had dropped to the low teens, but so had they the night before and we didn't have any trouble. But today we did. We were only gone seven and a half hours (at the office, to my chagrin), but it was enough.
There were two inches of water in almost the entire northern half of the house. The carpets were soaked. As I stepped on the carpet that looked dry, I felt my foot sink into the carpet a couple of inches and water almost sprayed from beneath my feet.
I was able to turn off the water quickly, but the damage had been done. We got a plumber to come out relatively quickly to fix the broken pipe (for $225), but we still haven't heard from nor seen the people from Service Master (who ostensibly should have called us within an hour after our insurance company called them and should have been here within four hours). I guess a lot of people have the same issues and the company is busy. Until they come extract the water, we'll be sloshing around a very wet house.
The exterior wall of my house, in back where the plumber had to tear it up to find the broken pipe, is hideous and will need some expensive repair. Who knows how much time and money the carpets and related water damage will cost. Like the plumber (who spent less than an hour), I suspect the Service Master people will give me a bill that suggests they are golden.
Oh well, we still have a nice warm place to sleep tonight and eventually the water will disappear and all will be normal again. But forgive me if I complain just a little.
Dammit!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Over the Hill at 49
Today, I celebrated the last year of "youth" of one of my staff members. Her 49th birthday is tomorrow and she thinks it's her last year of youth. So I told her, yes, it's the last one. When you turn 50, I suggested, your bones quickly turn into powder and you begin drifting off to sleep at 6:30 pm. I think she actually thinks there's a switch inside us that is triggered at 50; it causes us to have dinner at 4:30 at Luby's Cafeteria and we climb into rocking chairs and ease into our much-needed 12 hours of sleep.
We'll see what she's like in a year.
We'll see what she's like in a year.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Streams of Unconsciousness?
I was "friended" on Facebook, a few days ago, by someone with whom I went to high school. I asked her had been going on in her life for the last 38 years. She gave me some flip response, saying she would need to drink a cocktail or write her memoirs to get started, so I suggested that she get in touch with me the next time she swilled a cocktail or published her memoirs. She did not respond. Maybe my response was construed as unfriendly; but I just wasn't in the mood for games.
I intended to start the new year with a better attitude and a more friendly demeanor. Well, as I said in my last post, the year begins when I say it begins, so I still have opportunities to behave better.
There was some success yesterday when I did not tell the president of a client association to back off and shut up. That's progress. I simply suggested to her that I could get my job done better and in a more timely manner if she would spend her time talking to someone else...but I really was more diplomatic than that.
Yesterday I wrote the first few paragraphs of a prospective autobiography, in which I will describe what it was like planning and then carrying out a behavioral modification program on a guy who caused some undeserved grief for a relative. The key is making it all look like an accident; and I will.
Tonight, dinner included the world's best salsa, chips, and canned sardines in salsa picante. Not a particularly healthy meal, but tasty.
UT is playing Arkansas tonight; I'm proud I actually got the teams right. One of the teams will win and there will be joy and despair across the city tomorrow. Why this is, I do not know.
I intended to start the new year with a better attitude and a more friendly demeanor. Well, as I said in my last post, the year begins when I say it begins, so I still have opportunities to behave better.
There was some success yesterday when I did not tell the president of a client association to back off and shut up. That's progress. I simply suggested to her that I could get my job done better and in a more timely manner if she would spend her time talking to someone else...but I really was more diplomatic than that.
Yesterday I wrote the first few paragraphs of a prospective autobiography, in which I will describe what it was like planning and then carrying out a behavioral modification program on a guy who caused some undeserved grief for a relative. The key is making it all look like an accident; and I will.
Tonight, dinner included the world's best salsa, chips, and canned sardines in salsa picante. Not a particularly healthy meal, but tasty.
UT is playing Arkansas tonight; I'm proud I actually got the teams right. One of the teams will win and there will be joy and despair across the city tomorrow. Why this is, I do not know.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Dos mil y diez o veinte diez
Whatever it is, it's 2010. A new year. A new decade, or maybe one year shy of a new decade. An opportunity to mark the beginning, or the end, or both.
I don't yet have any New Year's resolutions, at least none that have any basis in reality. But I will. And when I do, they will be significant. Very significant. Things will be different. I will be different. And different will be good. Very good.
In the interim, I'll devote my time to getting my wife's eye infection, or whatever it is, behind her so she can start the New Year feeling better and in a better frame of mind. After all, the New Year begins when you decide it does and not a minute sooner. Our New Year may begin January 4 or January 20 or March 29. When it does, it will be the start of a spectacular New Year.
I hope you who read this have a spectacular New Year, as well, whenever it began...or begins.
I don't yet have any New Year's resolutions, at least none that have any basis in reality. But I will. And when I do, they will be significant. Very significant. Things will be different. I will be different. And different will be good. Very good.
In the interim, I'll devote my time to getting my wife's eye infection, or whatever it is, behind her so she can start the New Year feeling better and in a better frame of mind. After all, the New Year begins when you decide it does and not a minute sooner. Our New Year may begin January 4 or January 20 or March 29. When it does, it will be the start of a spectacular New Year.
I hope you who read this have a spectacular New Year, as well, whenever it began...or begins.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Happy New Year
2009 is coming to an end in just under eight hours and I'm looking forward to a spectacular new year in 2010, the year that good things will happen for my friends and family and the year that proves to me that there's a very, very good reason to enjoy the company of people who matter.
Happy New Year, everyone! Be safe, be happy, and have a year in which the meaning of prosperity become clear...and while I hope it includes money, take prosperity any way you can get it!
Happy New Year, everyone! Be safe, be happy, and have a year in which the meaning of prosperity become clear...and while I hope it includes money, take prosperity any way you can get it!
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