I'll light the fire, you place the flowers.....

My Grandparents moved into our Baltimore house early in the 20th century. It was a big step up from the apartment above my Grandfather's tailor shop and served them for many years until my Grandmother's death in 1967.


Many people lived in that house beyond the immediate family, and it included many relatives over the years. In my lifetime, it included my Aunt and Uncle and later my parents and me. It was a full two family house eventually, with the addition of an extra full bath done sometimes in the 50’s.

Everyone loved the Baltimore row house in Forest Park, and I have many photographs of happy family gathered on or in front of the front steps.

You can see my Grandparents and me sitting for the camera on the late 40’s and my Grandfather and my Uncle sitting out on a nice summer day.

Now, with the use of Google Earth I was able to go back and look at the house and to my horror, the lovely house is no more, just a boarded up shell, with the porch roof gone, and all family ties disappeared. My childhood memories are no less dim, but no more memories will be formed around this derelict property.



I am crushed.

My cousin says: The following is a quote from an article about the Chinese architect Robert Fan in the Washington Post, 2009:


"The history of a country changes, but often the buildings do not. They continue to stand, mute witnesses to the narrative around them. Those who control them, manage them or live in them fill them with meaning, and that's what they stand for, until history changes again and they represent something else."

Interpersonal Communication Nightmare

My dear friend Howie, the late Professor of Communication had a dilemma. It was in the 70’s (as best as I can remember) and the Department Chairman had a secretary with an evil personality. She simply didn’t seem to like people, at least not Howie. It seemed to him that other people also didn’t like her, but she was efficient, and part of the University system, and basically you had to get along with her. What she did was important to his well being, but no matter how hard he seemed to try, it wasn’t working. She at best ignored his presence.


As a Professor of Interpersonal Communication, it was up to him to devise a way to reach this woman and make her “interpersonal”. He sat and drew out a plan, and did it in a professional way, and developed a campaign.

In a step by step fashion he worked on this woman. Not unlike one of those books, “How to Pick Up a Woman”, he devised for himself a method to make someone like you. His goal at first was not to win a date with the aforementioned secretary, but to win her over as a friend and make his life simpler. However, his academic hat came out and he realized that this was good research material. So, he began to document his step by step approach to winning her friendship.

Over time, it worked. He really was very happy, and he and the secretary enjoyed their time together and he had the opportunity to get on the Department Chairman’s schedule when needed etc. He wrote up the research and submitted it to a very prestigious journal and it was accepted. And so, a year after he started, his article was about to come out explaining how to interpersonally seduce (not literally) an obnoxious secretary and make her like you.

The moment of truth had arrived! He had to tell the secretary what he had done, because she would see it and hear about it for sure. After all, he wrote the article under his own name and had to live with it.

He went in and tried to explain this to his new, “best friend”.

And now, the Department Chairman had a secretary with an evil personality. She simply didn’t seem to like people, especially not Howie. It seemed to him that other people also didn’t like her, but she was efficient, and part of the University system, and basically you had to get along with her. What she did was important to his well being, but no matter how hard he seemed to try, it wasn’t working. She at best ignored his presence and now, she was his sworn enemy.

A Brief Piece about Richard Strauss

On Saturday night we went to see the Hamilton Philharmonic and the theme for the evening was Mozart Meets Strauss. The last piece of the evening was the Strauss “Death and Transfiguration, Op. 24". Before hand, one of the patrons I knew said he was planning on leaving early because he expected this was a dire tone poem and was bound to be a disaster. Nothing could have been further from the truth.


Written as a young man, it focuses on death, and takes a young man’s view. However, it features prominently in his last words, and is an amazing tale. He realizes (in life and not in the story) that what he has dreamed about death at 25, becomes the truth about death at 85.

This piece alone was worth the “price of admission”.

From Wikipedia:

Richard Strauss died at the age of 85 on 8 September 1949, in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany. Georg Solti, who had arranged Strauss's 85th birthday celebration, also directed an orchestra during Strauss's burial. During the singing of the famous trio from Rosenkavalier, Solti described how "each singer broke down in tears and dropped out of the ensemble, but they recovered themselves and we all ended together." Strauss's wife Paulina was inconsolable. She died six months later.


Although Strauss himself declared in 1947 with characteristic self-deprecation, "I may not be a first-rate composer, but I am a first-class second-rate composer" there are commentators who would disagree with his analysis. The Canadian pianist Glenn Gould described Strauss in 1962 as "the greatest musical figure who has lived in this century." There are certainly few composers in the twentieth century who can compare with Strauss in terms of orchestral imagination, and no composer since Wagner has made a more significant contribution to the history of opera. Strauss's late works, modeled quite self-consciously on "the divine Mozart at the end of a life full of thankfulness", are perhaps the most remarkable works by any octogenarian composer.

Death and Transfiguration (Tod und Verklärung), Op. 24, is a tone poem for large orchestra by Richard Strauss. Strauss began composition in the late summer of 1888 and completed the work on November 18, 1889. The work is dedicated to the composer's friend Friedrich Rosch.

Unusual for a composer of 25 years of age, the music depicts the death of an artist. At Strauss's request, this was described in a poem by the composer's friend Alexander Ritter as an interpretation of Death and Transfiguration, after it was composed. As the man lies dying, thoughts of his life pass through his head: his childhood innocence, the struggles of his manhood, the attainment of his worldly goals; and at the end, he receives the longed-for transfiguration "from the infinite reaches of heaven".

There are four parts (with Ritter's poetic thoughts condensed):

• I. Largo (The sick man, near death)

• II. Allegro molto agitato (The battle between life and death offers no respite to the man)

• III. Meno mosso (The dying man's life passes before him)

• IV. Moderato (The sought-after transfiguration)

In one of Strauss's last compositions, "Im Abendrot" from the Four Last Songs, Strauss poignantly quotes the 'transfiguration' theme from his tone poem of 60 years earlier, during and after the soprano's final line, "Ist dies etwa der Tod?" (Could this then be death?).

Upon Strauss's own death, he remarked that his music was absolutely correct; his feelings mirrored those of the artist depicted within; Strauss said to his daughter-in-law as he lay on his deathbed in 1949: "It's a funny thing Alice, dying is just the way I composed it in Tod und Verklärung."

Here is a part of that piece:

The Battery - Part Two

From: The Battery – Part One

"My driveway was long and straight, and usually I parked up front, near the street, rather than pull way in to the back of the property. I came out one morning to start my 1972 Dodge Van and it was dead. I turned the key a few times but got nothing. Finally, in desperation, I got out and opened the hood. There was little I could do, but opening the hood is a requirement if your car won’t start. I was shocked to see I had no battery!

It took a moment to realize someone had opened my car and taken it! Violated my space! I was dumbfounded."

The Battery – Part Two

It was 1982 or so, six years after the home battery experience and it hit again. Not in a small way, but in a big one.

The car and the battery were not mine, but instead belonged to one of our faculty members who had pulled his car onto the paved area of the school, so he could get close to the building, in order to remove art work from the studio on a Sunday. He parked, and as it was a patrolled area left his car open so he could bring out work easily without having to worry about opening and closing doors, etc. His station wagon back was open to accept art work.

The building was patrolled, 24/7. by a security agency. We had guards roaming the buildings and manning the entrance doors at all times. We chose to use armed guards as a preventive measure and were told to always hire guard services, so as not to have the guards as school employees, increasing the schools liability just in case something weird were to happen.

A criminal type person snuck up on the station wagon when he saw the instructor go into the building. He reached into the vehicle and released the hood latch and was able to raise the hood and remove the battery. He took the battery and put it under his arm and made his way across the paved area to the parking lot. When he crossed the paved area he came into the view of one of the guards. The guard, quick to respond, jumped up, ran out the door, yelled at the man to stop and gave chase. The man did not stop, and ran off of the school grounds and into the neighborhood. The guard, doing what he assumed was correct, shot the fleeing bandit!

The results of this action did stop the criminal, did get the battery returned, and not unlike the first battery story it had a street value of about $2.50. The criminal was sent to jail for a variety of crimes, including this one, and from his cell obtained a lawyer. The lawyer filed suit against the guard service and secured for his client in jail, $25,000!

I can only guess it’s like football; the guard was penalized for unnecessary roughness!

The Battery - Part One

It was 1976 and all was right with my world. I had returned to Baltimore after a year in Kansas City, I was back at my job and the stars were all in alignment.


My old house, the one involved in the last two posts, was fine, and just required the normal constant maintenance, as would any place from 1894.

My driveway was long and straight, and usually I parked up front, near the street, rather than pull way in to the back of the property. I came out one morning to start my 1972 Dodge Van and it was dead. I turned the key a few times but got nothing. Finally, in desperation, I got out and opened the hood. There was little I could do, but opening the hood is a requirement if your car won’t start.

I was shocked to see I had no battery!

It took a moment to realize someone had opened my car and taken it! Violated my space! I was dumbfounded.

I called the police to report the violators and was of course, just like any other first time theft experience, shocked that they didn’t appear within minutes with a crime unit and dogs, taking prints and interviewing neighbors. They gave me a report number to give to the insurance company. I, like any other violated citizen, ran in and called the insurance company, having gotten my special, new case number.

I gave a detailed report to my insurance company and they took careful details which included the date the battery went into service. I didn’t think about this as my concern was for justice! I had to spend lots of money to get a new battery and I wanted justice.

A few weeks later I received a check from the insurance company for compensation for my new battery. It was based not on replacement value, the amount I had to spend for the new one, but on residual value, the amount of value left in the battery itself. The amount was based on the facts I gave them, it was the battery that came with the car, four years before.

I received a check for $2.46.

To add insult to injury, several years later the company dropped us because we had made three claims in a five year period. One was for the battery, one was a serious claim for roof damage in a storm, and one was for bicycle theft for less than $25. The only good news was that we were moving, and dropping us didn’t matter, besides, we changed states, so we became new customers of the same insurance company 500 miles away!

The bicycle was recovered by the police a year after the theft and I called the insurance company and asked them to retrieve their bicycle. They said they would, but after several more years I gave it away.

If A Tree Falls....Part Two

So there was this carnival in the street, the road was blocked, the tree fire had died out and the electric lines were live. The various system people had been called and the street was filled with people. Parents were carefully watching the kids so they wouldn’t be fried by the electric wires. Lots were running for cameras because this giant, 150 year old tree had fallen over and it was huge!


I eventually went into the house to call the Electric Company, the police etc. when a man came driving up our little street with a car full of kids. He stopped, looked at the mess in front of him, and with everyone yelling at him he proceeded to try and make a U turn in the street because he could not go forward. As he did this, in turning, he hit my car parked in the street and dented the side. At this point, with at least 25 witnesses and a car full of kids, he hightailed it out of the neighborhood.

In the crowd was my neighbor who was a member of the Auxiliary Police Force and gung- ho to get his man. He chased the guy down the street yelling at him to stop, and in doing so memorized his license plate number. I ran back in and called the police and a policewoman was there in a few minutes. She was amazed by everything that was going on. We had electric workers, guys with chain saws and families out to see the sights. As well, I had a dented car and an unknown assailant.

She took the number from my volunteer cop and called it in to discover the criminal (alleged) lived a very few blocks away. She went off to find the guy. When she arrived at the house (she came back to fill us in) his wife said he was in bed. The policewoman suggested that perhaps he had been out but his wife didn’t think so. The policewoman went out to the garage and felt the car hood to determine the car had just been used. The wife suggested that was possible.

The case was laid out for the wife who did not go and get her husband, but who thought about it for a minute or two. She said they would call the policewoman asap.

The policewoman assumed the guy must have been over the limit on booze and didn’t stop because of that He also was a lawyer and didn’t need any trouble for himself. It turned out he also was a friend of my uncle.

In any case, in the end, the man sheepishly came by and paid us in cash for the damage, which wasn’t very much anyway.

If a tree falls....part one

I thought I’d written this one before (this is a recurring problem) but I looked through several hundred stories and can’t find it. I’ve told these all so many times they always seem familiar.
In the early 70’s I moved into a house in Sudbrook Park, in Pikesville, MD.

As my daughter complained in my most recent post, “even though none of you care about my ………., I will Wikipedia the heck out of it and tell you the “facts” anyway.”……

Sudbrook Park is a historic neighborhood near Pikesville, Maryland located just northwest of the Baltimore City limits in Baltimore County.

The community dates to 1889 when it was designed by American landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted, Sr. (1822–1903) and developed by the Sudbrook Company. Known most for designing well-known urban projects like Central Park in New York City, Olmsted conceived this "suburban village" with curved roads and open green spaces, traits that set the community apart from its contemporaries.

Sudbrook Park was registered on the National Register of Historic Places in 1973, and from 1993 to 1999 portions of Sudbrook Park became listed as Baltimore County Historic Districts.

Today, the community continues to uphold Olmsted's vision through community association regulations. It is a tight-knit community and holds several annual events and neighborhood activities.

The house, as pictured here in about 1975, sat on an acre and a half of property and had a lovely collection of beautiful old trees.

I went out on a blustery day in the late fall, 1975, to cut some wood for the fire places. It was a windy day, and I was dressed for the weather, and took my new, trusty axe with me. I was facing toward the back of the property, about half way down the yard when I swung my mighty axe.

The sound that came from my hit was overwhelming! I had no idea what had happened, but there was a giant bang! Where did it come from? I couldn’t have done that! As my head cleared I realized the sound was from behind me, and it had occurred at the exact moment I swung the axe.

I turned around to see a giant tree, having been hit by lightning, a hundred and fifty year old one from my neighbor’s yard, coming at me! I froze for a second. The tree was stopped for a moment when it hit the power lines, burning, took out the power lines and continued it’s decent. I was much younger and I ran towards the back of my yard quite quickly. The tree landed covering my neighbor’s yard, the street between and my yard!

The neighborhood came running out to see such an event. We had downed, live electric lines, a tree still smoldering and a carnival atmosphere to boot!

An Antique Journey

What a journey it must have taken! We can only imagine.

It was shipped to me from San Francisco, California, but where has it been the last 100 years! Surely someone bought it here in Ancaster but where has it been and how did it get to California. Who knows? I love the fact that we’ve brought it home. Ya’ gotta’ love antiques!

Ruby glassware is best known for both Victorian glass, and later Depression glass. The rich ruby color is created using gold, so it is more expensive than other glass colors. Ruby glass is a dark red color similar to the gemstone that it is named for. It was a popular Victorian color that continued to be popular after Victorian times.

Sometimes the red color is added to clear glass by a process called flashing. Flashed glass is clear glass dipped in a colored glass, then pressed or cut.

This glass was produced in late 19th century from about 1891 to 1915, and that was the height of its popularity, and later pieces of ruby flash glass were used as souvenirs and the people and place names were put on them, usually in gold.

*Even though none of you care about my delightful antique purchase, I will Wikipedia the heck out of it and tell you my “facts” anyways.

*(My daughter added this next line to my story when I went upstairs to have dinner and she thought I'd never see it)

Scotch and Soda, Mud in Your Eye.....

My wife, just back from Scotland, wanted to bring back a bottle of Balvenie Doublewood Scotch she had tried on her trip. “It was wonderful”, she exclaimed, “but hard to bring back because it didn’t work in the one liter bag you are allowed for liquids, so it couldn’t come back carried on and therefore it had to travel in her luggage. This would add weight, and in the end her suitcase weighed 48.5 pounds, just a pound and a half below the limit. As well, if it broke in transit, it would have ruined a lot of clothing including a beautiful hand knit sweater she had just purchased for herself. She also had to take it on two planes, one from Edinburgh, Scotland to Newark, NJ, and another from Newark, NJ to Buffalo, NY, giving it another opportunity to break.


The Balvenie Doublewood Single Malt Scotch Whisky is a 12 year old single malt which gains its distinctive character from being matured in two woods. During its period of maturation The Balvenie Doublewood is transferred from a traditional oak whisky cask to a first fill Spanish oak sherry cask. Each stage lends different qualities to the resulting single malt - the traditional casks, having previously held bourbon, soften and add character, whilst the sherry wood brings depth and fullness of flavor.

The Malt Master, David Stewart, whose signature appears on each of the Balvenie bottles, enthuses on this aspect "The Balvenie's high quality is down to the traditional way of making malt whisky... it's this seamless transition through generations of creativity and craft that has preserved The Balvenie’s consistency in producing such delightful drams."

The price at the duty-free in Edinburgh was 36 pounds. Translated into dollars it’s about $57. The price on line in the UK from the factory seems to be 29.95 pounds, or about $48. In the US, on line, its $64 delivered. She was concerned that she would not be able to find it at the US border Duty-Free in Niagara Falls or in Canada at the LCBO. As well, if she found it, what would the price be, given the travel costs? However, clear heads won out and she left it in Scotland and hoped to find it here.

On the way back from the airport yesterday we found it at the duty free. The price, $41.

The video is Bob Shane of the Kingston Trio singing Scotch and Soda in 2007.

Mary Poppins (Sort Of)

Several days ago I had to take Max out for a walk late at night. Most of you know Max is the Wonderdog that inhabits my house, and he is with me much of the time.


I didn’t realize it was raining, and as I crossed the threshold, I was hit with the spray. I was ¾ out the door, with no protection, and I had to do something quick. Max was ready to go!


I pulled him back into the entryway and reached inside the door to look for an umbrella in the umbrella stand. In the past we’ve had several small, black ones that were masculine enough for me to feel comfortable using. I looked and saw three, two of which were so girly I couldn’t do it, and there was one black weird one I just took and ran with it.


As I walked along I opened the umbrella and it was a ghostly Mary Poppins that came to mind. I have no idea which "Nightmare before Christmas" look this was supposed to bring and for whom. I have no idea where it came from and it was nowhere near Halloween yet, so I am stumped! My wife, still in Scotland, could not be reached for comment.

So, as you can see, I held it over my head, trying to stay in the covered parts, laughing hysterically about my Mary Poppins image and trying to get the now, very wet Max, to take a dump!

Anne and the Gorilla

I know I forget if I have already written something, and in the early days, I just would reread the blog and see what I’d written. 430 some stories later, it’s too much to read and I guess I’ve told so many of these tales for so long that it seems like I wrote it. So, for the sake of those of you who haven’t heard it I’ll tell the story of Anne and the Gorilla.


Long ago and far away in a mystical land…OK, in the early 80’s in Detroit it was a relatively quiet day in the offices. Jerry, our fearless leader, was on the phone with (I believe) the Vice President of Chrysler Design, and all was going very well. These calls were usually revolving around some sort of delicate negotiations, in which we had on our begging suits and we prayed for help and understanding from the corporate giants. Often, we felt like Ralph Cramden and Ed Norton in these kind of things, just trying to make the big score.

Jerry’s secretary Anne (she was only there in the late 70’s and early 80’s so it’s easy to date) was having a birthday. The office staff would be having a cake or something later on, but not during the call, because it was pretty easy to hear what was going on even if you closed the door.

Someone, I know not who, had arranged for a gorilla to visit the offices to give greetings (a gorilla-gram I believe) to Anne and maybe bring flowers or something, I can’t remember. However, Anne was pretty young and cute (a married woman as well) and the Gorilla, along with Anne’s exuberant screams, picked her up and ran around the office with Anne in his arms. There was huge laughter and howling and the look of death on Jerry’s face as he was trying to explain to the V.P. Design that a gorilla had just come into the office. Unlike Chrysler, we did not have (or need usually), tight security on our building.

I must assume at this juncture that we were able to explain, and he was able to get off the phone. It was an amazing experience.

why yes my dear, there are more uses for Vagisil

My son and sometimes editor always tells me when I am in trouble and he finds two parts of this post offensive. In order to answer his concerns I am removing the offensive parts and providing replacement asterisks for the letters (*).


On Saturday evening I took Max, our dog, out for his late evening walk. My wife usually does this run but she’s out of town so it falls to me. I can’t see a damn thing after nine o’clock and we went about our merry way. Max was his usual self, and he dawdled a bit too long but I wasn’t paying much attention, I was just trying to see in the dark so I didn’t fall and break something, like Max.

When I came home I decided to put Max in his crate and picked him up to remove his collar and found he was wet and sticky along his right leg and neck. It was weird. I wiped him with a paper towel and put him in the crate. I wiped my hands a bit and yelled down to my daughter that Max was in the crate and that I was going to bed, but also that Max was wet and sticky. My daughter, much more sensitive than I, ran upstairs and there was a huge amount of screaming and moving about and I was being yelled at by my daughter. She was calling me names, as it seems that Max had rolled in wild animal crap and he was covered with it, and he stank!

“One form of dog behavior that owners dislike is when the animal will roll in something smelly. Although dogs may sometimes roll in the grass, a pile of autumn leaves or the snow in winter because it simply feels good, rolling on the carcass of a dead animal, feces or something else smelly has instinctive roots, perhaps going back to wolves and wild dogs. There are several theories on why a dog will roll in something smelly. Although there is a temptation to scold your dog, it is best to realize it is natural behavior and make sure your pet doesn't have the opportunity to roll in stuff” (from the School for Champions web site)


My daughter was shampooing Max with Kleenex stuffed in her nose, and crying, and yelling at me simultaneously. I didn’t realize I was smeared with wild animal poop (raccoon, possum or skunk probably) as well, and needed to clean up a bit. She wanted to clean and disinfect everything and everybody she could, and she was quite upset. I had to try and calm her down and get us and our clothing all cleaned and to bed.

The next day Max still smelled a bit, and we used vinegar and water in a spray, Michael Coors perfume and several other remedies to see if anything would work. We explained the situation to my wife in Scotland who was horrified but she laughed a bit. She thought about it while I looked on the web to find a number of ideas, most of which were more of the same things we had already done.

A phone call from my wife on the Isle of Iona in the Hebrides came through with a solution. A group of women including my wife and my mother in law came up with the idea of using Vagisil to end the smell. We were dumbfounded, and my daughter could hardly get the word out without blushing.

I was to go and get some immediately to end this problem which I had ceased to notice, although I did wash my sweatshirt that I had been wearing. I agreed to go and get it, but I was warned by my daughter to develop a cover story because she could not imagine my just going in and buying such a product. I of course went in and bought it, what did I care?

She put it on Max and then we decided to look at the directions. We found out that one was not supposed to ingest Vagisil! Of course not, even though I refrained from telling my daughter that many people have  ********  **  without knowing it was there!

However, they did not weigh 19 pounds, like Max! It was dangerous! It is a numbing medication.

“An overdose of numbing medications can cause fatal side effects if too much of the medicine is absorbed through your skin and into your blood. This is more likely to occur when using a numbing medicine without the advice of a medical doctor (such as during a cosmetic procedure like laser hair removal). Overdose symptoms may include uneven heartbeats, seizure (convulsions), coma, slowed breathing, or respiratory failure (breathing stops). Your body may absorb more of this medication if you use too much, if you apply it over large skin areas, or if you apply heat, bandages, or plastic wrap to treated skin areas. Skin that is cut or irritated may also absorb more topical medication than healthy skin.


Use the smallest amount of this medication needed to numb the skin or relieve pain. Do not use large amounts of benzocaine topical, or cover treated skin areas with a bandage or plastic wrap without medical advice. Be aware that many cosmetic procedures are performed without a medical doctor present.


Do not use benzocaine topical if you have a blood cell disorder called methemoglobinemia.


Before using benzocaine topical, tell your doctor if you have any type of inherited enzyme deficiency, a breathing disorder such as asthma or emphysema, or if you smoke.


Call your doctor if your symptoms do not improve or if they get worse within the first 7 days of using benzocaine topical. Also call your doctor if your symptoms had cleared up but then came back.


If you are treating a sore throat, call your doctor if the pain is severe or lasts longer than 2 days, especially if you also develop a fever, headache, skin rash, swelling, nausea, vomiting, cough, or breathing problems.”

We decided to watch Max, discourage him from licking his leg which he was doing, and keep watch for a while and then wipe it off the areas he could lick, but leave the rest on, which we did.

Did it work in the end?

No.

However, Max smells a lot like a ******!

Writing my blog

The photo is Amy Adams and Chris Messina from the film, “Julie and Julia”.


In “Julie and Julia” There was this scene between Julie and her husband that hit so close to home in relation to my blog writing. The roles are reversed as I am the writer and in the film Julie is the writer, but its way into the film and she just lost a visit from a famous food critic because of rain. They argue and it goes like this:



A-“That was the guy

from The Christian Science Monitor.

It's raining.

And we live in Long Island City

and she's, like, older.

It's mortifying.

C-But on the bright side, more stew for us.

A-Just for once, could you not

look on the bright side?

C-Yeah. Well, it's not the end of the world.

A-I thought, I really did think, I just did.

I thought "book contract."

Me, Judith Jones, happily ever after.

And then we'd have a little money

and we wouldn't live over a pizzeria

for the rest of our lives.

How am I gonna’ explain this?

My readers are gonna’ be really upset.

They were so into it.

C- Your readers are gonna’ be really upset.

A- I never should've told everyone.

C-They'll live.

A-Somehow,

C-your readers will live.

A- Is it bland?

C- Not anymore.

A-Thank you for telling me that.

You almost let me feed Judith Jones

bland boeuf bourguignon.

This is a nightmare.

I told everyone she was coming.

C-They will survive.

And when this year's over,

and I cannot wait until it is,

your readers will somehow

get on with their lives.

A- And I won't, is that what you're saying?

C- I don't know. I have no idea.

I mean, what's gonna happen when

you're no longer the center of the universe?

A-That's just great.

I am finally totally engaged in something.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little narcissistic.

C-A little? On a scale of 10?

A-Okay, a 9.3. But what do you think a blog is?

It's me, me, me day after day.

I thought it'd be fun. How stupid is that?

C-It just turns out to be a lot of

what you call "meltdowns,"

but they don't feel like meltdowns.

They feel like I'm living with

a totally self-absorbed person

who writes this stuff

for a bunch of complete strangers.

And it's supposed to be a big adventure,

but it's not.

It's our life. It's our marriage.

And, here, in this room, it doesn't

feel like an adventure, it feels like shit.

A- It was your idea!

C- I know, I'm so sorry.

What the hell was I thinking?

And I'll tell you something else.

I am not a saint.

A- Yes, you are.

C- No, I'm not!

A- Yes, you are!

C- No, I'm not!

C-And it makes me feel like an asshole

every time you say it!

And do not write about this in your blog.

A- About what?

C- About this fight
I'm outta here.”

And so the husband leaves. It’s a lot more dramatic to watch than it is to read the script, and my situation is not as dire as Julie’s, but I know how she feels.

The $300 Night Light, one more time

This is a repeat of the very first post I did in February, 2009. My wife is in Scotland and my life, while a bit easier is in many ways is more confusing as my daughter and I wander through by ourselves. I'm tired and started to write a lovely ditty about my lunch yesterday and how I was in love again with a wonderful lady when I realized that no matter how I did it, it was not going to be good.

No, I'm not really in love, I love lots of people, and it was going to get me and the young lady into trouble as I wrote. My feelings were of friendship and tenderness, but it would sink me fast. So, I am purposefully repeating myself this time with my very first story from February, 2009, which most of you haven't read, I imagine. It was the fist thing I was pissed about that evening, 430 posts ago.

Enjoy:

We have an over the range microwave oven, which has a fan and a light in the bottom of it. This is a Jenn-Air which was about $600, and is about 3 or 4 years old. (OK, I paid $400 and it was an out-of-date model!)


I replaced a bulb in the bottom portion, used to light the range below it and it becomes a night light. I twisted the bulb the wrong way because it’s in a backwards position and it came apart in my hand. This caused a big bang, and a flash and no more light working.

I checked around and there was no separate fuse. I used a meter and there was no electricity. I gave up.

Sandy wanted it fixed, and we found a guy who was willing to come out and look, as most appliance repair places will not bother with microwaves.

The visit, with tax, was $77. I fried the board, and to replace it will be $179 plus $30 labor. My wife wants her light. The oven is still good and a new one (of the same brand and size) is $600.

I have now ordered the $300 night light!

The Eyes Have It!

Yesterday I had a meeting in the morning with a group of volunteers, and we were talking about our annual Estate Sale, a really fun event with boxes of stuff delivered by lots of different well meaning people, and one never knows what we will get.

I explained that some people sneak in boxes of recycling to school, assuming we need their old milk cartons and toilet paper tubes. This is not for our sale, but we assume it’s for our children’s programs and we usually have to recycle it ourselves.

This led me into the unusual kinds of items people give me, and often it’s an amazing adventure. I often say no, but if it’s crazy enough I’ll go for it figuring someone will use it in their art work. We also get found art work from dumpsters all over town; everyone figures they should be on the Antiques Roadshow and that they’ve found the Mona Lisa in the trash. And sometimes, while not the mother lode, they do get good stuff.

A man in Dundas in the 50’s and 60’s created glass eyes, prosthetic eyes for those in need. I guess today they are made of plastic and come from China, but in the day, they were glass and made locally. His collection of perhaps samples, were offered to me and I went for it. For several years I’ve had them in my desk and every now and then they come up and some artist takes some to include in a work.

Yesterday, at the end of the meeting, I was delighted as I mentioned them and everyone wanted to see them. I brought in the bag and it was like kids in a candy shop. A group of adults, with great delight, sat around and played with the eyes, mostly trying to make matched pairs, and trying them on for size. People stayed for a long time, because everyone wanted some, and I offered them the opportunity to take a pair. They will appear in a quilt, in some pottery pieces and maybe be a conversation piece on a coffee table somewhere in town. I hovered over the bag in the end because I wanted some of them back for another time.

Who knew that a great ice breaker at any gathering would be a bowl of eyes?

and now a word or two from Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay (February 22, 1892 – October 19, 1950) was an American lyrical poet and playwright. She was the first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. She was also known for her unconventional, bohemian lifestyle and her many love affairs. She used the pseudonym Nancy Boyd for her prose work. Poet Richard Wilbur asserts: "She wrote some of the best sonnets of the century."

Journey


AH, could I lay me down in this long grass


And close my eyes, and let the quite wind


Blow over me--I am so tired, so tired


Of passing pleasant places! All my life,


Following Care along the dusty road,


Have I looked back at loveliness and sighed;


Yet at my hand an unrelenting hand


Tugged ever, as I passed. All my life long


Over my shoulder have I looked at peace;


And now I would fain lie in this long grass


And close my eyes.


Yet Onward!


Cat-birds call


Through the long afternoon, and creeks at dusk


Are gutteral. Whip-poor-wills wake and cry,


Drawing the twilight close about their throats.


Only my heart makes answer. Eager vines


Go up the r7ocks and wait; flushed apple-trees


Pause in their dance and break the ring for me;


Dim, shady wood-roads, redolent of fern


And bayberry, that through sweet bevies thread


Of round-faced roses, pink and petulant,


Look back and beckon ere they dissappear.


Only my heart, only my heat responds.


Yet, ah, my path is sweet on either side


All through the dragging day,--sharp underfoot


And hot, and like dead mist the dry dust hangs--


But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach,


And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling,


The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake,


Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road;


A gateless garden, and an open path;


My feet to follow, and my heart to behold.



Edna St. Vincent Millay said:

The young are so old, they are born with their fingers crossed.

We are all ruled in what we do by impulses; and these impulses are so organized that our actions in general serve for our self preservation and that of the race.

What the customer demands is last year's model, cheaper. To find out what the customer needs you have to understand what the customer is doing as well as he understands it. Then you build what he needs and you educate him to the fact that he needs it.

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.

Millay’s career and celebrity began in 1912 when she entered her poem “Renascence” into a poetry contest in The Lyric Year. The poem was so widely considered the best submission, that when it was ultimately placed fourth, it was quite the scandal for which Millay received much publicity. The first place winner, Orrick Johns, was among those who felt that “Renascence” was the best poem in the volume, and stated that “the award was as much an embarrassment to me as a triumph." One of the second prize winners even offered her his $250 prize money. In the immediate aftermath of The Lyric Year controversy, a wealthy woman named Caroline B. Dow heard Millay reciting her poetry and playing the piano at the Whitehall Inn in Camden, Maine, and was so impressed that she offered to pay for Millay’s education at Vassar College. She graduated in 1917.

My wife’s Great, Great Aunt was a very well known Professor of Physics at Vassar College. Her name was Frances G. Wick. She published a vast amount of writing relating to radium and X-rays etc. She was the Physics Professor of Edna St. Vincent Millet. The following line is from her memories, passed down through my wife’s family.

In Professor Wick’s class, she was asked a physics question on a test, the following is the legendary answer, “I don’t know and I wish I were dead!”

The Pie Crust

My wife seldom or never reads this stuff, and usually my daughters don’t either. They hate my writing it, and wish I didn’t speak or write, unless spoken to. This is my lot in life and while I don’t understand it, I live with it. As a communicator by nature, I could really care less, because I will continue. However, there are a few stories I start to tell my wife which she immediately tells me I can’t say, usually because she feels it would embarrass someone somewhere. I generally don’t care about it, and enjoy the challenge.


This is one of those I guess, but I can’t imagine this embarrassing anyone, it’s just sort of funny. I will leave out all names and references, and the person I’m writing about will recognize herself immediately and find it funny.

I had a call on the weekend asking if either my wife or daughter were home. The caller, when asked, needed baking advice and wanted to speak to the bakers. I explained that they both were out and asked if I could help. I was baking and cooking before my wife was born, but this seems to be lost on most people. I do know how to do stuff, even though I’m seldom called upon to do it.

She was baking a pie shell and wanted to know if she should prebake and if it was OK to use rice as she had no dry beans. I thought she could, although I’d never done that myself and she thanked me. I made many assumptions, as did she.

She assumed I knew nothing!

I assumed she knew something!

In this there is a world of difference.

She made the pie crust with rice as a weight but failed to realize that one must put something on the wet pie crust first before you put in the weights, or you will bake the weights into the pie! She poured the rice onto the wet pie shell and baked! She made a “hard rice pie”.

Prebaking a pie or tart crust is done so that you partially or completely bake before it is filled. This is done to help keep the crust from becoming soggy from a wet fruit filling, or so that you have a cooked crust if you are filling the pie with something already cooked, such as custard.

To prebake a crust, you roll it out and put it in the pan. To keep the bottom from puffing and the sides from falling, you should line the crust with parchment paper or aluminum foil, with holes poked in it. Fill it with beans or rice. There are also special pie weights on the market.

Make sure to gently push the beans or rice up against the sides of the parchment or foil to keep the sides of the crust from collapsing in the heat of the oven. Place the crust in a hot oven (say, 425°F; 220°C), which will help set the flour in the sides before the fat starts to soften, and bake for 20 minutes. Carefully remove the weights and liner from the crust, prick the bottom with the tines of a fork to allow steam to escape, and return the crust to the oven.

If you are prebaking the crust, it may only need another 5 minutes in the oven, until it is a very light brown. If you want to fully bake the crust, it may need 10 to 20 minutes more baking until it is done. You may also have to prick the bottom again.

Now, having done all this prebaking, you also must take care if you're subsequently going to add a filling and bake some more, that you don't overcook the edges of the crust that you so magnificently crimped or fluted or otherwise decorated. You can buy a pie crust shield, or if you're a master of aluminum-foil origami, you can make your own.

Remove the beans, rice, aluminum foil, parchment paper, metal weights and anything else before you put in the pie filling!

A New Malware Scam

Yesterday at around 6:00 p.m., I received a call from an obvious phone center probably in India, based on the accent of the caller. He wanted to talk to me by name, although he had a devil of a time pronouncing it. My phone showed no observable number, it was a blocked phone number. He wanted to let me know that their “international computer center’ showed that I was sending messages from a viral computer, and that I had a serious problem in my system.

I said I didn’t. He asked if my computer was slowing down and I said no, which a lie is of course because everyone I know has a computer that seems to be slowing down. He asked if my computer was crashing, I said it wasn’t.

The truth was I wanted to get another gin and tonic, and I didn’t want to play with him. As interesting as the call could have been, I really could care less except I saw a new scam developing on the horizon and I was interested as a consumer. If you read this blog regularly, you may remember I was scammed once with a malware scheme, and I don’t scam easily anymore.

Getting my drink after hanging up on this man set on saving my computer, I looked on line and here’s the UK story I found.

My caller did not claim to be from Microsoft, and he had moved on from the UK to Canada.

From The Guardian, July 18, 2010

Virus phone scam being run from call centres in India

Britons targeted by cold callers pretending to be from Microsoft phoning to fix a fake computer problem

Beware cold callers – especially those claiming your computer has a virus.

The scam always starts the same way: the phone rings at someone's home, and the caller – usually with an Indian accent – asks for the householder, quoting their name and address before saying "I'm calling for Microsoft. We've had a report from your internet service provider of serious virus problems from your computer."

Dire forecasts are made that if the problem is not solved, the computer will become unusable.

The puzzled owner is then directed to their computer, and asked to open a program called "Windows Event Viewer". Its contents are, to the average user, worrying: they look like a long list of errors, some labeled "critical". "Yes, that's it," says the caller. "Now let me guide you through the steps to fixing it."

The computer owner is directed to a website and told to download a program that hands over remote control of the computer, and the caller "installs" various "fixes" for the problem. And then it's time to pay a fee: £185 for a "subscription" to the "preventative service".

The only catch: there was never anything wrong with the computer, the caller is not working for Microsoft or the internet service provider, and the owner has given a complete stranger access to every piece of data on their machine.

An investigation by the Guardian has established that this scam, which has been going on quietly since 2008 but has abruptly grown in scale this year, is being run from call centers based in Kolkata, by teams believed to have access to sales databases from computer and software companies.

Matt, a Londoner who has recently set up his own company, had just arrived home at 7pm when the phone rang and someone with an Indian accent asked for him by name, quoting his address. "It's Windows tech support here," said the caller. "We have reason to believe that there's a problem with your computer. There have been downloads of malware and spyware, and they're slowing down your computer."

He went along with the caller's demands to log into a website and enter a six-digit code into his computer. "I thought it was a new service from [Microsoft] Windows," he said. "I could see them moving the cursor about. It took about half an hour."

The caller could not have obtained Matt's name via HP or PC World, where he bought the machine, because he gave his business address, not his home address, during the purchase.

This suggests that the caller was using the phonebook to find names. Patrick McCarthy, who lives in Dublin, received a call from one of the companies – but they addressed him by the name of the apartment block where he lives instead of his own name, a longstanding error in the Irish phone book.

Often, the victims are inexperienced or elderly, convinced by the apparent authority of the callers and the worrying contents of the Event Viewer. In fact, such "errors" are not indicative of any problems.

Investigators who have spoken to the Guardian on condition of anonymity say that one man, based in the city of Kota in Rajasthan, is behind the centers running the scams.

He has provided fake documentation to a number of payment companies including PayPal and Alertpay, a Montreal-based online payment company, to set up accounts which route money to a bank account in Kota with Axis Bank.

Though people on dozens of web forums have recorded their experiences with the scammers, police and trading standards officers in the UK are powerless to stop them.

UK telephone numbers for contacting the company on the sites are not "geographical" tied to a location but instead allocated to voice-over-internet providers.

That means that the calls connect internationally, but cost the scammers almost nothing when anyone calls them.

In the same way, it costs them virtually nothing to make the calls because the international part of the call goes via the internet.

If the payment has been made on a debit card as many are there is no hope of reversing the payment. A number of payment organizations used by the scammers have shut down their accounts. PayPal, the eBay-owned credit transfer company, and AlertPay have both taken rapid action against scam sites which used them.

In March, site hosting company Hostgator shut down one of the longest-running sites used for the alleged scam, F1Compstepuk.com, after complaints.

After confirming with Microsoft that the site was not acting for it, Hostgator immediately shut it down. Josh Loe, Hostgator's co-founder, said that following the initial complaint, "we asked for more information regarding this to confirm. We received a message from a Microsoft representative via this particular person who contacted us first about this. At that time it was enough evidence to close the site and it was done so the same day."

But one investigator who has been tracking the growth of the scam says the challenge is that new sites offering the same fake "service" keep popping up "like mushrooms".

At first the scammers tried desperately to maintain the reputation of their sites, by flooding any forum which garnered enough criticism of their activities with postings claiming that the site helped fix their machine.

But the poor spelling and grammar of the replies – allied to internet addresses which show that the commenters are based in India – contrasted sharply with that of people in the UK, US and Australia complaining about the attempted scam.

Now they have shifted to creating multiple sites from templates, using stock phrases and photos. However, investigators are sure that the same man and central operation is behind all of the schemes. "I don't think that this could really have spread that far. Even if they can see that some of their friends are making money from this, the calls are too similar every time," said one. "It's got to be the same organization each time."

Microsoft denies any connection with the companies that call people up offering these services.

When contacted about the scams, Microsoft said it was "currently investigating a series of instances in which the business practices of an organization within the Microsoft Partner Network [that] have given rise to significant concerns from a number of sources. We take matters such as these extremely seriously and will take any action that is appropriate once our investigation is complete."

Three weeks after being contacted by the Guardian, it issued another statement: "We confirm that we have taken action to terminate our relationship with certain partners who are clearly misrepresenting their relationship with us and using our company name in order to facilitate their telephone scam operations."

However, this week, two sites alleged to be involved were still listed as "Microsoft Gold Certified Partners", which Microsoft says means that they must have "demonstrated expertise" and "must employ a minimum number of Microsoft Certified Professionals".

The company has noticed the problem. "Microsoft does not make unsolicited phone calls to help you fix your computer," it says on its website.

"If you receive an unsolicited call from someone claiming to be from Microsoft Tech Support, hang up. We do not make these kinds of calls."

Too Many Suicides

From the site: PsyArt:

“During his last years, Édouard Manet painted a Parisian dandy’s suicide. A painting that was clearly personal and private (it was never entered into the annual Paris Salon), "Le Suicidé" may reveal the artist’s conscious or unconscious wishes and desires. Using the post-Freudian concept of narcissism, I consider "Le Suicidé" a disguised self-portrait of the artist in the guise of a modern crucifixion. The Baudelairean persona of the avant-garde artist as a persecuted, tragic martyr recurs in Manet’s oeuvre scholars have viewed works of this nature as disguised self-portraits. Life-long feelings of persecution and critical disparagement lead to Manet’s fantasy of himself as a wounded martyr. Stricken with the debilitating, terminal stages of tertiary syphilis, Manet may have identified his life’s burden—alienation, public persecution and physical and psychic suffering—with the burden of the Christian Messiah”

I’ve known too many suicides. I used to keep count of them in the late 60’s and early 70’s but I eventually forgot them as it was too gruesome. I am now trying to get a few memories down on paper with out too much information, so I’m not opening old wounds for people. These things seem to have popularity and run for a while and they go out of favor again.

I never understood the depth of feeling involved in this. When the late Jim Striby and I were teaching at the Maryland Institute, we were very surprised at the number of graduate students, (we sort of had deeper conversations with them than with the younger ones), that had contemplated suicide. It was the majority! Neither one of us ever had had those feelings (being insensitive louts) and we were taken aback by this fact.

The earliest one I can remember was when I was a boy some kid (I knew) set himself on fire. He was about 13, he did it in a school yard and there was his report card nearby.

I can remember a speech I heard in the early 60’s by a Pennsylvania educator, speaking to the Howard County, MD teachers, who said that a number (as I remember it was about 500-600) of children committed suicide in Pennsylvania in 1963 (I think) and in every one of the suicides the child had his or her report card with them, and the youngest child was 8. This was a dramatic speech (I still remember it) and it helped ease the importance of grades in the minds of children and parents; at least for some of us.

My mother seemed to have some friends who did themselves in, whether on purpose or not. She had a friend; I can’t remember her name although I have a photo of her somewhere, who died from an overdose of pills and booze. This may have been in error, my mother thought.

My mother had a boss who was a very important and proud man, as she described him, who after discovering he had an incurable, debilitating disease, shot himself in the head.

I remember a friend who had run into some bad times, and was half way out of them, and then found new problems to take their place. These were all women problems, not drugs or criminal activities. He chose to shoot himself rather then face the reality. It was a shame. Especially as I see it now, so many years later, it just makes no sense.

My friend John who did himself in for an assortment of reasons that not one of us left really understands, stays in my memory. He will always be the fun guy he remains in the last photograph I have of him, taken in the 70’s.

I knew a young man who found his father dead, and lived with the scene impressed in his memory. As an adult, when he could take it no more, he did the same thing.

My mother’s friend’s daughter married a young man who fathered a child with her, and when the baby was little, went off and shot himself in a motel.

My youngest son had a friend whose brother did him self in, and it happened while I was in Europe. I remember speaking to him from Italy, and trying to block copycat activity from far away. Discussions with his mother from Europe ensued. If he’s reading this, it’s OK, its 25 years ago and I figure he’s out of the woods on this one.

It turns out that so far from the time, I have lost track of most of the names and dates however, the 60’s engendered much of this kind of activity. I know people still consider this as an alternative, and I am not talking about Dr. Kevorkian type drama, but people just trying to escape our reality. My heart goes out to them all, but I’ll never understand, as it still hasn’t crossed my mind.

It’s just too much fun being here.

Trust

Trust is an issue for many. You have to be able to trust your family, your doctors, your lawyer, your minister, your teachers etc. I guess we all have to trust each other. So as an administrator and as a teacher, part of what I do must be to insure trust in me. It has to be in what I say, and what I do. I may be wrong many times, but I should give the best answer I know and if wrong, admit it.

As an employer of many, and over the years I have been the employer of hundreds of people, I must have their trust in order to insure a successful working relationship. Again, if wrong, I may be an idiot, but always it’s been important to me to be an honest idiot!

Many years ago I was in a situation where I was selling a house and buying a house in a different state. The timing was such that I needed a swing loan, and my banks, being in different states, could not easily (at that time ) work together on this one. A deal is not a deal until it’s done.

I asked my mother (one hell of a choice for a financial advisor) what she thought I should do. She suggested that I ask my Aunt who may have enough cash to front a one month loan for me. My mother was a bit over the top on the details of my situation, and even though I assured her I was good for it, she did have concerns. After all I was changing jobs and residences and what if something went wrong? I knew the chances but what do you do, and besides, you have to trust me, everyone else does.

I called my Aunt and pleaded my case and she was very kind and loaned me the money for a month or two. I paid her back at the appropriate time and she never charged me interest, she was family. Now, if you are family and reading this, don’t ask, I’m trustworthy, not loaded.

I would have probably forgotten such a fine gesture, but when my mother died, I was reminded of this good deed. My mother, a forty year insurance company employee, had changed her life insurance policy when my Aunt made me the loan, and made my Aunt her beneficiary, just in case I never paid her back!

All the paperwork was included in my mothers papers at the time of her death. As soon as I paid my Aunt back, (a month or two later) she reinvested me in her riches!

Trust is a funny thing. My mother just didn’t trust me (too much).

I will sit on no psychiatrists or psychologists couch because of this one. OK, I will sit on my daughter-in-laws couch (the psychologist) but as a guest, not a patient!

It’s a funnier story that a condemnation, although I have no idea what I would have done if something hadn’t worked out. My glass is never half empty!

Besides, you gotta' trust me!

Chinese Lunch

No matter where I’ve lived, I’ve always had at least one local Chinese restaurant where I could go and sit very cheaply and have lunch. These days, I usually go and sit by myself and listen to whatever book I’m on in my MP3 player. Lunch is synonymous with the next chapter.


Yesterday, I carefully observed the experience and it amused me. I arrived and there were just a few patrons. The restaurant has two sides, the side where I always sit has no distractions, and the other side has a TV. Yesterday the tennis matches were on. There was one table with two couples on my side and a single man or two on the other.

The two couples were older and large, and for me to notice older and large, they really had to be. I guess we were the older and large side of the restaurant.

I ordered one of the usual specials, an inexpensive combination of dry garlic ribs, mixed vegetables and steamed rice. This runs, as do most of the specials, $4.95. I always assume most people get the specials, although sometimes, in an effort to make some small change in my routine, I order a regular dish. When I arrived the two couples were having soup. After my food came, the waiter started to bring large plates of food to them; a large plate of fried rice, followed by a large plate of chicken wings, followed buy a large plate of chicken balls followed by more stuff, all pretty fried looking from where I was sitting. I was eating and listening to the story, but the amount of food they were consuming was even scary to me!

They were still eating when I left.

After paying the bill, I went in the back to use the bathroom. On the way in I observed a man sitting with something that did not register, but as I left, he was asking the waiter for catsup! I tried to see what he had in front of him as I was leaving, but without glasses, I had no idea. It was difficult for me to imagine ever asking for catsup in a Chinese restaurant.

My fortune cookie told me I was creative, so now there was at least one other source in my life, besides my mother, who confirmed this diagnosis.