Thursday, February 16, 2023

Eleanorisms

My mom at her 88th birthday in 2021
(photo by my sister)

In this post, you can come to know my mom through her own words. Be sure to check out These are a few of her favorite things to get to know her through the things she enjoys - and experience some of them for yourself!

My mom was constantly spouting aphorisms. To me, these were hackneyed old expressions, repeated thousands of times in my life. But others have pointed out many of them are unique, or so archaic as to be unheard of. Now that it's too late to hear them from her, my brother and sister are trying to gather together as many of them as they can. Here are a few:

Bury me with my car keys in my hand

When we were young - and even not-so-young - my mom was the primary source of transportation, constantly driving from place to place. When I was at Governor's School in Pittsburgh in 1984, when I was living in Delaware in 1989-1991, my mom thought nothing of hopping in her car and driving hundreds of miles. It is traditional for Catholics to be buried with a rosary in their hand. She felt it would be more appropriate to bury her with her car keys.

My mom, her 1990 Toyota Tercel, and our newly acquired (first-ever)
cat Josephine outside of my apartment in Newark, Delaware, 1990

For many years she used the same set of keys. I learned to recognize the specific chinging noise they made when she handled them, so I could tell when she was home just by hearing those keys outside.

(In the end - after everyone else had left the funeral home, before we closed the casket - we placed a keychain with the key from the car she drove until 2014 in her hand, alongside the rosary.)

Did I ever tell you I hate night driving?

For as much as my mom loved to drive, she hated driving at night. I suspect this was due to astigmatism, which produces star-spikes around lights at night. Later in life she would develop cataracts, which were surgically removed, but her vision became uncorrectably diminished in the last few years due to macular degeneration. In those years I have amassed a large number of magnifiers to help her read, especially the obituaries that she checked faithfully every morning for as long as I have known her. 

My favorite pages

For as long as I have known her, since at least when she was in her 30s, my mom has always been obsessed with the obituary pages. This would be the first thing she checked in the paper every morning. Even when she was in the hospital, she would have us bring in the obituary section and read her the obituaries every day. Every once in a while she would find someone she knew from school or work or from the customers she met while working at the bank. She once appeared in the obituary pages herself, sort of, when a woman with the same first and last name who lived about ten miles away died. We found this amusing until messages of condolence started coming in, particularly from her old dentist. She will finally get her chance to really and truly appear in the obituaries herself.

She would have gotten a huge kick out of being front and center on the Obituaries page, as befits an obituary superfan.


God made you upside-down - your nose runs and your feet smell

Said to my nephews when they were toddlers.

Rear: Brother-in-law John Castagna, son Jerry,
longtime parish priest and personal friend Fr. James Nash
Front: Grandsons Jeffrey and Joseph, Eleanor Jenkins

Christmas 2022


The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

This one I think is fairly universal, but it's good to remember. If there's a problem, if there's an issue, make a fuss about it and demand help or additional resources. Suffering in silence won't get you any additional help.

Take a cold potato and wait

An admonition for patience. You want a baked potato? So does everyone else, and they got in line ahead of you. Wait your turn, and you will be taken care of.

Discomboomerated

Disheveled, scattered, or disorganized, in appearance or in thoughts. Also discombobulated.

At my sister's with her cat Cosmo





My mom with my sister's cat Jack


The guy it doesn't hurt it doesn't bother.

A Polish phrase about "having skin in the game," or being a "stakeholder." If you're not personally invested in an issue, it's pretty easy to not let it concern you.

They only whip the mule that pulls the load. (alternatively, "horse")

Teamwork is great, except when it isn't. Ask anyone who has ever worked on a group project or been on a team with someone who is happy to let everyone else do the work. Maybe several someones. Maybe it's everyone but one person. And when it's time to improve the performance of the group or team, it's the one person who is doing the work who gets leaned on to work harder. 

"Old soldiers never die, they just fade away"

A snippet of an old song she would sing out once in a while, usually when someone was complaining about hard work.

Blessed are they who go in circles, they shall be known as wheels

Referencing people who engage in frustrating activity. Probably derived from "Blessed are they who talk in circles, they shall become big wheels," which has a totally different meaning.

Par for the course

A way of expressing resigned disgust at a frustratingly typical outcome from an essentially rigged situation. No more or less than what can be reasonably expected.

Fit to be tied

Someone who is extremely angry. Basically, so full of wrath that they need to be put in a straitjacket for their own good and the good of everyone around them.

For the birds (Added June 3, 2025)

An old idiom meaning worthless, usually in the sense of being a fruitless waste of effort and resources, often determined after the fact and expressed with frustration.

You zigged when you should have zagged (Added June 3, 2025)

Another old idiom, possibly from football, suggesting that someone ran a pattern the wrong way and ran into danger or an obstacle instead of away from it. Usually expressed when one of us had just had an accident of some sort.

More money than brains (added May 25, 2024)

A comment on people who conspicuously spend large amounts of money on something ephemeral or simply stupid. She might use it to describe someone who buys several hundred dollars worth of illegal fireworks and sets them off in their backyard, annoying their neighbors and endangering the neighborhood. In light of the current discourse, she would probably use it to refer to purchasers of Tesla's Cybertruck who then destroy them by going off-road while their friends film them, or the people who spent thousands of dollars on Disney's now-defunct Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge to sign on for a two day "cruise" where they were expected to actively supply the entertainment. 

Change the air in my lungs (added May 28, 2024)

A phrase used where others might say "a change of scene." While I kept her as safe from COVID as I could by keeping her at home and limiting my own exposure, she still got to get out of the house several times each month - usually for appointments, but sometimes for rambles in the car.

One of the last of these was in October 2022. I had taken her out to one of her routine appointments, but afterwards, instead of driving straight home, I told her we would be going out to see the leaves change color, something I had often done with my grandmother and my father. She protested, but I argued that we had no idea when we might get to do this again. We drove across the Susquehanna on the Nanticoke-West Nanticoke Bridge, east on Route 11, then north on Route 309 to Hillside Farms. We didn't get out of the car - there was plenty to see from the parking lot. On the way back we stopped at a shopping center where I had seen some pretty colors the year before. Then we headed home, admiring the leaves along the way. Even though she had just wanted to go home after her appointment, I think she enjoyed the trip. We would never get the chance again.


With her grandson Jeffrey as the Little Drummer Boy for a church play

One is as much in the muck as the other is in the mire.

Another universal, possibly only for Polish speakers. A friend whose parents were very Polish often referred to a local law firm as Muck & Mire back when we were in college. It means that in a dispute where two people each claim the moral high ground, odds are it belongs to neither.

You have wind under your nose, use it!

A Polish saying, specific to dealing with hot soup, encouraging the hearer to cool their soup by blowing on it.

Why are there more horse's asses than there are horses?

No explanation needed, I think. Referring to human stupidity, especially in the realm of politics.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride

A very old saying, apparently traced to Scotland in 1628. She usually used it in the sense of "stop your wishful thinking and start dealing with reality."

Jesus, Mary, and Josephine!

A substitute for any interjection involving the Holy Family.

God Bless America

Used in place of other interjections typically seen to take God's name in vain.

With her grandson Joseph's pit bull mix Nova. They absolutely loved each other. 


Matka Boska

Polish for "Our Lady." Another interjection - more like a prayer for intercession. Generally used in the sense "give me strength."

Jesus Maria

Another frequent prayer for strength, pronounced pretty much like it would be in Spanish (with "Jesus" being more like "Yay-zeus" than "Hey-zeus.")

Jezu kochanie (pronounced Yay-zeus kohani - go here for an audio version)

Literally "Jesus baby." It doesn't mean "Baby Jesus" but apparently translates as "Jesus, baby!"

Posing for holy pictures (added 7/25/2024)

My mom was a member of the "Silent Generation." Born in 1933, she grew up during the Great Depression and WWII and the McCarthy Era. Her generation was taught to conform, to keep quiet, keep their heads down, follow the rules, get married and have children: if you did all this, you might get ahead in life. 

When I was a kid in the 70s, Nanticoke had a place my brother and sister and I called "hippie corner." Every time we drove past there would always be two or three long-haired, bearded, scruffy-looking guys in ripped and dirty clothes standing on the corner smoking cigarettes. (I later learned this corner was a bus stop located near a mental health counseling facility, though I don't know if there was a connection.) Whenever my mom saw someone who looked like that she would say that they looked like they were "posing for holy pictures," someone who could model for an artist painting long-haired bearded Jesus and his apostles.

Running around like a cat shot in the ass

A rare vulgarity, indicating that someone was behaving in a frantic manner, or was being forced to do too much in too little time.

Tables are made for glasses, not asses

And another one. When we were kids we would often sit on tables, countertops, wherever. This is what she always told us when she would shoo us off the tables.

Don't have a pot to piss in

And another. A euphemism for being poor, often for people who pretend to be well-off.

Up your nose with a rubber hose!

Yes, it's from Welcome Back, Kotter (1975-1979.) Yes, she was still saying it 45 years later.

Idiot's Delight

Referring to recipes that are so simple anyone could make them. I'm not sure which recipes these are.

May you boil in oil!

An old phrase of unknown provenance. I've heard an audio clip of a comedian from the 1940s saying it, I think. My mom would use it as a facetious curse, often when someone has just presented her with a particularly fattening gift.

Lord, you keep pickin' them up, and I'll keep puttin' them down

A prayer for strength while soldiering on. Seems like an old saying, but I can't find any references online.

My grandmother (lower center) and her children. Sent by cousin Marie. Her
mother Theodosia (aka Tozia, lower right) kept this photo on her nightstand.

Going to see a man about a dog (alt.: horse)

Adults sometimes have to do things they don't want children to know about. This was a catchall answer - usually originating with my grandmother - whenever any of us kids would ask too many questions about what someone was doing and where they were going. Apparently originally used "horse," but the notion of going to see a man about a horse would just be too interesting for a kid to not immediately want to know more.

My hair looks like Witchiepoo!

My mom has always had a head of curly blonde locks, even when it's been a long time since her last perm. One of the last things she had asked me to do before her stroke was locate her bag of curlers and bring them up to Allied Rehab. Whenever her hair was getting out of control she would compare her appearance to Witchiepoo, the Billy Hayes character from the 1970s children's program H.R. Pufnstuf.

This is for the birds

A dismissive statement about a situation or procedure for being needlessly complicated or bureaucratic. 

You're full of canal water!

A nicer way of saying "You're full of crap."

Doohickey with a wing-wang

Doohickey was once a common expression to vaguely reference something specific whose name and general description have been forgotten. A doohickey with a wing-wang is distinct from a garden-variety doohickey.

With her brother Tony's sons and their children


Don't know beans from baloney

A less-vulgar version of "You don't know your ass from a hole in the ground." Also "you don't know shit from shinola."

Assume everyone else is an idiot who is trying to kill you

Pennsylvania auto inspection stickers used to bear the motto "DRIVE DEFENSIVELY." I once asked her what it means, and this is what she told me. Best driving advice I've ever gotten.

The flit hit the shan

Another prettied-up version of a phrase, in this case "The shit hit the fan."

Bumbershoot

She frequently used this word for "umbrella." Wikipedia lists this as "rare, facetious American slang."

The big chicken

How she would sometimes refer to airplanes, especially when there were kids involved. One of her fondest memories of her later life was a flight she took to Disneyworld with my brother and his children about ten years ago. They had a great time, and left as massive storms entered Orlando, causing a rare shutdown of the Disney properties there.

Absotively posilutely

A recent addition to her collection. Cute when heard once or twice. Not so cute when you hear it twenty-seven times a day.

I'm standing in a hole!

My mom was shorter than most, and lost additional height as she entered her 70s and 80s. This was her explanation for her height.

My graduation from the University of Scranton, May 1989

Looks like a dog's breakfast

I picked up a piece of clothing to be part of my funeral outfit. It was slightly wrinkled from months of sitting unused, but I figured it would smooth out upon being worn. "It looks like a dog's breakfast," I heard my mom say, as she had a thousand times before when my clothes were looking rumpled or disheveled. I tossed it in the wash to smooth out the wrinkles.

This was the form when applied to clothing. When applied to the person wearing the clothing, it was You look like an unmade bed. (I remembered that when I saw myself in the mirror after spending the night at the hospice.)

All dolled up (added 10/25/2025)

I remembered this one today at work when I saw someone who was dressed very nicely, nicer than usual. It was what she would say when someone was dressed up, and was usually meant as a compliment.

There are a lot of weak links in the system.

Derived from "A chain is only as strong as its weakest link." Used to express exasperation with bureaucratic incompetence, suggesting that the problems are being cause by multiple incompetent individuals.

Those that mind don’t matter and those that matter don’t mind

I don't recall hearing this one, but my cousin said she said it to her all the time.

The dumb guy won't notice and the smart one will think that's the way it's supposed to be

Not sure if this is exactly right.

Everyone's queer except thee and me, and even thee is a little queer sometimes.

This came from her mother, and means "people are funny" - not in a "funny ha-ha" way, but in a "fundamentally irrational" sense. 


Better than a sharp stick in the eye

This is from her brother Tony, suggesting that an outcome might not be ideal, but could be worse.

Pick your poison

Suggesting that all options are equally bad. Sometimes used ironically when all options are equally good.

Oh-joy-oh-hap-pi-ness

Sarcastically indicating that things have just taken a turn for the worse.

My knees are talking to me

As I sat up from the soft cushy couch at the hospice I said this out loud, and then remembered the hundreds of times my mom said it before she got both knees replaced.

Tired blood and pooped arteries/Old bag of bones

Referring to herself.

Bag of beans

Referring to a baby or small child.

Making Christmas cookies with her niece Dena's daughter Lily

"Holeda!"

This is an approximate pronunciation of something she has always used as a low-level interjection of exasperation. Turns out the word that is actually being said is "Cholera!" Google Translate provides a good example of the Polish pronunciation. Often accompanied by "Psia krew!" - "Dog blood!", pronounced something like "Sha kref!"

More (whatever) than Carter's got little liver pills

Carter's Little Liver Pills were a real thing, a patent medicine first formulated in 1868. I thought this was unique to her until I saw a reference in MAD Magazine.  

Run between the raindrops (added May 22, 2025)

It's been very rainy the last few days, and I thought of this as I made the decision to walk into work with my umbrella closed. The rain was light, my Irish flat cap kept my head dry, and there didn't seem much point in getting the umbrella wet when everything else would dry quickly. "Run between the raindrops" was her advice for situations like this.  

I feel like a wet noodle

She used this one a lot in recent years. It indicates a feeling of listlessness and low evergy.

Who woulda thunk it?

Suggesting that something that has come as a surprise should not have.

Coxey's Army

Wrong Way Corrigan

Two things she would say to us when we were kids, references to things that were common knowledge in the 1940s. Coxey's Army was a march of unemployed men demanding assistance in 1894. She would use this to refer to a motley collection of kids, or ragamuffins. Wrong Way Corrigan was an aviator who, in 1938, "accidentally" flew a transatlantic flight from Brooklyn to Ireland instead of Long Beach, California. She would use this whenever any of us was meandering in the wrong direction.

Pie-faced baboon (added August 25, 2024)

I remembered this when I saw some footage of baboons on TV. It was meant as a playful insult for children, on the level of "goofball." I wondered if the "pie-faced" might be related to "pie-eyed," meaning drunk, but apparently it means "round faced." I tried to find any references to the term and found a few from 1928, five years before my mom was born.

Kilroy Was Here (added July 17, 2024)

When we were kids going to elementary school, my mom would pack our lunches in brown paper bags and write our names on them. Sometimes she would add a little drawing of a bald man peeking over a wall, his nose and hands hanging over the edge. One day I asked her about it and she told me it meant "Kilroy Was Here," which explained nothing. Years later, decades before the internet, I would learn from the Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins that this was a WWII-era doodle, the sort of thing that in later years would  become known as a "meme."

Example from the National World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kilroy_was_here

(Added September 28, 2024): My sister reminded me that our mom would also draw bunnies on our lunch bags - sometimes bunny faces, with whiskers and one floppy ear, and sometimes bunnies as seen from behind, with fluffy cotton tails.



Handsome is as handsome does

A reminder that having a good character is more important than having a good appearance, and character is expressed through deeds.

Let the baby have the peanut, and you take the shell

An admonition about sharing for older children dealing with younger children.

Cackles with their eyes open

Her term for sunny-side-up eggs. Never heard "sunny side up" outside of a restaurant. "Dippy eggs" is apparently popular in some parts of this area, mostly in the Lehigh Valley, I think.

Garbageeaterupper

A childhood term for garbage trucks. I don't know if she came up with this or one of us did.

Cannibal sandwich (added May 28, 2025)

Eating plain lunchmeat. When we were kids my mom would often have Tupperware containers full of sliced spiced ham, soft salami, and American cheese in the refrigerator. When we were hungry around lunchtime, we would grab a few slices, roll them into a tube, and eat them just like that. 

Enough to feed the Chinese Army

Referring to an excess of food. We always had leftovers in the refrigerator or freezer. She would refer to meals cooked ahead of time and frozen for weeks or months as her Ace in the Hole.

Like a Chinese fire drill

An archaic expression referring to a state of chaos and confusion.

You could screw up a one-car parade (or funeral)

An accusation of chaotic incompetence.

Oy gevalt 

A Yiddish or Hebrew expression of alarm or cry for help - literally "Oh, violence!" More often used by my mom as an expression of exasperation.

She also used "Oy vey" from time to time, and occasional other Yiddish phrases. That, coupled with the fact that there was a large home-made Star of David in my grandmother's basement, made me wonder if we might be crypto-Jews. This was not the case, however: My mother's Uncle Jack was caretaker at a local orphanage, and one Christmas was tasked with making a Star of Bethlehem for a school celebration. Five-pointed stars are hard to make, harder than a six-pointed star that is just two overlapping triangles. So that's what he made, and that year the children of the orphanage had a Star of David hanging over their Christmas festivities. 

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

From the Latin Mass: "My fault, my fault, my most grievous fault." Used to facetiously accept responsibility for some disaster that was in no way her responsibility.

That's not even nice

Said to express disapproval at something someone has said or done, usually something incomprehensibly rude or offensive, with that someone usually being me.

You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar

A fairly common phrase that she repeated a lot, admonishing you to be nice if you are trying to win people over to your way of thinking. I formulated my own response, based on observations of the Fox News Channel: if you really want to catch flies, you need a rotting corpse or a big pile of manure.

Jewish penicillin

A not-uncommon term for chicken soup. She loved chicken soup, and I made it as often as I could.

Take, tatoes, and balls

This might have come from my sister. Ground round steak served with mashed potatoes and canned peas.

Good night and God bless you

Her nightly statement as we all went to bed. Used in other contexts, like the closing of a phone conversation at the end of the night. My sister told me that she was the one who was taught this as a goodnight statement by nuns in first grade, and in turn taught it to my mom.

Showing Lily the eclipse of 2017


Zostań z bogiem (Remain with God)

Idź z Bogiem (Go with God)

A Polish call-and-response for departing from a visit. The first line is said by the departing visitor, the second by the host. We always said this, or a phonetic approximation of it, when we left my grandmother's house - later, when we left my grandmother's room at the nursing home. Each Polish phrase above has a link to the pronunciation.

Bozie Amen

A childhood term for nighttime prayers. Often applied to our chihuahua Chico, who would sometimes sit with his paws folded as in prayer. "Are you saying your Bozie Amen?"

Make plans and God laughs

Another common phrase, but one that I particularly hate, because it implies that God is a sadist, cackling as he thwarts the plans of his pathetic playthings. But I guess that's what's going on right now: for three years I fanatically protected her from COVID - until one day, God laughed and said, nope, bang, you've got COVID, and blood clots, and a stroke, and now you die.

Most of my life she used a gentler formulation of this sentiment: "Man proposes, God disposes."

Accidental capture of my mom coming out of Christmas Eve mass in 2015.
I was trying to get an image of the Full Moon next to the church steeple.
 

Nothing stays the same

I was her chauffeur wherever she needed to go the last ten years or so. As we drove along well-traveled routes I often commented on the changing landscape, on places that had closed and been torn down, empty lots and culm banks and tracts of wildlife-filled wilderness that had been turned into warehouses, call centers, and distribution centers. I could see these places as vividly as they once were as they now are. She would chide me not to dwell in the past. "Nothing stays the same," she would say, recognizing that both nature and human enterprise grind on, whether we like it or not.

"If" is a king

She would attribute this to my father. An admonition not to get lost in and filled with despair by counterfactuals. IF I hadn't allowed her to get dehydrated. IF she hadn't gotten up from the table five minutes before I could have helped her. IF she hadn't fallen and hit her head - not badly, but seriously enough to require me to call 911. IF the ambulance crew that showed up had been wearing masks. IF she hadn't contracted COVID during that trip to the hospital. IF COVID hadn't caused clots to form. IF the surgeon had been able to clear the obstruction and restore normal functioning as he hoped. If. If. If. 

What's done 'tis done and cannot be undone

Often said to us as kids when we were railing about some action that had resulted in an outcome we didn't like, usually outcomes of the permanent sort. In time I would learn how to do resets and other tricks to rock things back so "permanent" outcomes were not necessarily permanent, but at the time this seemed like a very harsh statement.

Man's inhumanity to man

My mom loved to watch CNN. It didn't matter if she was getting the same eight or ten stories on infinite repeat, she wanted to see them. But anytime she saw a story involving violations of human dignity she would utter this phrase. In a world of police brutality and Russian crimes against humanity, she used this phrase quite a bit.

Money, money, money (pronounced "Munn-ee munn-ee munn-ee")

Another response to the news, in this case to someone (often a politician or business) screwing others for profit.

"Hooray for me and the hell with you."

A misquote of a not-uncommon phrase "Hooray for me, and to hell with you." A criticism of selfish and narcissistic attitudes.

If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit

Advice my sister received at a special summer course for speech and debate. My mom used it...a lot. Apparently derived from a W.C. Fields quote.

Old age isn't for sissies - and it doesn't come alone!

Even when she didn't show it, the burdens of old age wore heavy on her. Bad knees (eventually both were replaced,) spinal issues, dental issues, sciatica, cataracts (surgically removed,) macular degeneration, arthritis, loss of manual dexterity, difficulty standing for extended periods... She loved to cook and bake, but hadn't been able to do either in years. She loved to drive (except at night) and hadn't been able to do that in years, either. I was able to give her the illusion of independence, but she hadn't been truly independent in well over a decade. She had been a hard worker all her life, and saw old age as another burden to shoulder.

The advice that she would leave everyone with: "Don't get old." Which always led me to ask, "What's the alternative?"  





February 3, 2023, after she came home from Allied Rehabilitation

Dynamite comes in small packages - and so does TNT!

This is just a flat-out malapropism that makes no sense. I believe it is derived from the common phrase "Good things come in small packages," referring to her short stature, with the addendum "and so does TNT" which...I guess is true? I've never seen TNT outside of cartoons, as far as I know. Meant to imply that small people are metaphorical firecrackers, which is true, in my experience.

What can I say?

My mom's version of "It is what it is." Don't recall hearing it much, but my brother says she said it all the time.

OK, poopsie baby?

A way of getting confirmation for any statement. Also "poopsiekins."

That's just peachy Jim Dandy

An old expression that means everything is going great. Used ironically to indicate that a situation is absolutely not great. Also used as a nickname for our peach-colored cat Peaches.

The Last of the Mohicans

My mom had three brothers and a sister. Now she only has a single brother left. She would call the two of them "The Last of the Mohicans."






I woke up on the right side of the grass this morning!

Used in response to "Hi, how are you," meaning "I'm not dead and buried yet."

One foot in the grave, the other on a banana peel

Another response to questions about how she is doing.

I don't buy any green bananas

Yet another response to questions about how she is feeling, implying she won't live long enough to let green bananas ripen. Ironically, she always insisted on buying green bananas that would keep as long as possible. I last bought her bananas on February 2, 2023, the day before she came home from the rehabilitation center. They're in the refrigerator, their skins brown, but the fruit within creamy and delicious.

What are you doing on that computer all day?

OK, maybe that was just me.

Goombye (added September 28, 2024)

My mom loved to play with English, sometimes mixing it with Polish and baby talk. This was just her goofy way of saying goodbye, usually to her older friends.

Famous last words

Said whenever someone has made a statement that will probably turn out to be wildly, ironically wrong when viewed against subsequent events. An example from my November 14, 2022 post:


Yeah, baloney

After my mom was found exhibiting the symptoms of a massive stroke in bed at the rehab center, she was rushed to the ER and given a "clotbuster" drug in an effort to reverse the effects of the stroke and begin the recovery. It worked - briefly, maybe a half hour. My brother was already at the ER when this was happening, and he attempted to engage her in conversation. Seeing how messed-up her hair was, he joked that her hair looked beautiful. "Yeah, baloney'' she responded. Shortly afterwards she again lost  the ability to talk. "Yeah, baloney" were her last coherent words.



Wednesday, February 15, 2023

Fiction: The Lamentation of Cats

My mom is dying. She is in palliative care in the hospital right now. Unless a miracle takes place, if she lives through the night, she will go into hospice care in the morning.

Ten years ago I wrote this story about cats trying to prepare for the coming death of their owner. It was a challenge story: in my writing group I had a reputation for writing stories where people died. I was challenged to write a story to the prompt "The fluffy gray kitten played with the ball of yarn" where no one died. I came up with this.

The story is based on a projection of how I might feel in such a situation. My mom was 79 when I wrote this. The cats are not based on any of our cats. Sugar was a real cat who lived across the street and would wander over to get petted; we have had one of her grandchildren for the last fourteen years. The rules of cat seniority are real, at least in our house. The title comes from something I half-remember my father telling me about, how his mother had volunteered in the 1960s in an institution for children born with severe developmental issues, how some children would simply yowl through the night making a sound dubbed the lamentation of cats. My father was long dead when I wrote this, and had passed into the forgetting of dementia years before, so I could not verify the memory with him.

The cat poisoner next door was real. He died a few years after I wrote this, alone and unloved.

I forgot about this story for a long time, then came across it a few weeks ago while looking for something else, and it made me cry.


The lamentation of cats

The fluffy gray kitten played with the ball of yarn. She rolled in ecstasy, purring away with the pure joy of being a cat. She planned to play with her ball of yarn for a long time, and then maybe take a nap. Maybe two naps.

"Princess," said a voice. "We need to talk."

Princess stopped playing and looked up. It was Sugar, the Senior Cat. She had a very serious look on her face.

"Am I in trouble?" Princess asked.

Princess wasn't a kitten, not anymore. But at nearly fifteen months she was the youngest cat in the house, and she had chosen to hold onto her kittenhood as long as she could.

"No, you're not in trouble," Sugar said. "Though I do want you to stop pooping so much by the front door. You need to use the litter box."

"But I like pooping there," Princess protested. "And besides, Mom doesn't mind."

"Yes, she does. And you're making a lot of extra work for her, work she shouldn't be doing. But let's wait for Slinky before we discuss more."

"Here I am," came a muffled voice from the hallway. A young tabby padded out of the dark with the stealth that had inspired his name. He held something in his mouth, but set it down before he approached the other cats. "I was just checking on Mom," he said. "She's taking a nap."

"She sure takes a lot of naps lately," Princess said.

"Yes, she does," Sugar said.  "That's something I wanted to talk about today."

Princess cocked her head and looked at Sugar. Why would she want to have a meeting about Mom taking naps?

"Princess," said Sugar, "Mom is getting old and tired. She's taken care of us all our lives, but someday - maybe soon, maybe not for a while - she won't be around anymore. We have to talk about what we're going to do when that happens."

Princess looked back and forth between the two other cats, confused. Sugar sat there, dignified as always, while Slinky chose that moment to start licking at his leg.

"What do you mean, 'won't be around anymore?'" Princess asked. "Where would she go? Maybe out to the country to visit Tommy and the kids?"

Slinky stopped licking and shook his head as if he had a bug in his ear.

"No, Princess," Sugar said. "I mean Mom's getting old and tired and is eventually going to die. Then she won't be around anymore to take care of us."

Princess tucked back her ears and put her chin on the carpet. She began to meow plaintively. "But...if Mom's not around, what are we going to do? Who's going to feed us, and change our water bowls, and clean up our poop?"

"There'd be a lot less poop to clean up if you used the damn litter boxes," Slinky said.

"But if Mom's not there to feed us, we'll starve!" Princess howled softly. "Unless...wait! I have an idea! We'll find a bag of food, and tear it open, and eat it!" She brightened up. "We've done it before, we can do it again!"

Sugar shook her head slowly. "It doesn't work that way, Princess. Somebody needs to buy those bags of food from the store and bring them into the house. Without Mom, there won't be any new bags of food."

"Then we're doomed," Princess cried. "Mom's gonna die and we're gonna starve."

Slinky chewed at his back foot for a little bit, then looked at Princess. "Maybe, maybe not. Sugar and I talked about some scenarios here. We figure there's three ways things can go, with variations of each."

Sugar nodded. "The first possibility is that after Mom dies, Tommy will take us to live with him in the country."

Slinky scratched at his ear and let this statement settle in. "Now, we'd like to think that this is the most likely scenario. But we've got reasons to think it's not gonna happen"

"Why?" asked Princess.

"Well...you.  Tommy found you when you were a newborn kitten, abandoned in his barn. From what I hear, you were darned cute as a kitten."

"I still am," replied Princess.

"The point is, he didn't keep you then. What makes us think he would take you in now? Plus an old cat like Sugar and a part-feral like me. It would be nice, but we've gotta consider that it might not happen."

"I like Tommy and the kids," said Princess.

Sugar and Slinky exchanged a glance. Sugar began again. "Scenario two is less pleasant to consider: After mom dies, we get sent away to the pound."

"What's a pound?" Princess asked.

Sugar thought a moment and responded "It's a place where unwanted dogs and cats get sent so other people can see them and adopt them."

"Well, that sounds nice," Princess said.

Slinky scoffed. "Sure, it sounds nice. Truth is, there's too many unwanted dogs and cats for them to handle. They need to free up space. If you don't get adopted in a few days, maybe a week, they put you to sleep."

"I like to sleep," said Princess.

Slinky hissed and spit. He was about to say something but Sugar interrupted. "'Put to sleep' doesn't mean what it sounds like," she said. "It means...well..."

"Dammit, it means they kill you," Slinky said. "Jab you with a needle or gas you in a box, then toss your body in a furnace with all the other cats and dogs they 'put to sleep.' And there's no waking up, not ever."

Princess began to whimper and cry. "First Mom dies, then we die? I just want to take a nap and forget about all this."

"Slinky, you've frightened her."

"Dammit, Sugar, this is frightening stuff. It scares the hell out of me. I don't want to end up stuffed in a furnace either. So that brings us to scenario three."

"Is it worse than being put to sleep?" Princess asked.

"No," Sugar said. "If Tommy isn't going to take us, we wait until people are coming and going through the doors. They'll do that when Mom...when Mom is gone. And we wait for our chance, when maybe someone has a door open a little longer than usual, and we run away."

"Run away? Where?"

"There's a stable colony of ferals in this neighborhood," Slinky said. "I used to be a part of it. There's a lot fewer left than there were before, thanks to the poisoner who lives next door. We'll take our chances with them accepting us into the colony. If not, we move on."

"What do you think our chances are of being accepted?" Sugar asked.

"I...don't know." Slinky grew somber. "I was sick and dying when I left them last year. Mom took me in, made me better. But...I think they resent me for having left them and come in here. They might be more willing to accept the two of you. Or maybe none of us. Still, it's a better option than the pound."

The three cats sat in silence for a while. Finally Sugar spoke.

"That's a lot to think about, I know. And it might not happen for months, or even years. But we have to start thinking about it now. And there's more we need to discuss."

She looked at a reflected sunbeam on the ceiling for a moment, then continued. "If Tommy comes, he might want to take just you, Princess. He might decide to send me and Slinky off to the pound."

Slinky looked at her. "Well, we'd just run away then. Let Tommy take her, but the two of us can stick together."

Sugar shook her head. "I've been with Mom for fourteen years now, but I was already a grownup cat when she took me in. See, I was a pet who belonged to the people across the street. They let me wander the neighborhood. I got knocked up. I was almost ready to have my kittens when I found out my owners had moved away and left me behind."

Princess forgot about her problems for the moment. "But, why?" she asked.

Sugar shook her head. "They weren't good pet owners, and weren't ready to deal with a litter of kittens. I had my kittens next door, in the Bad Man's garden. That didn't turn out very well."

Slinky looked at her. "I didn't know. I had no idea."

"Most of them died, either from sickness or from drinking the bowls of antifreeze he put out for us. One or two got to grow up, at least survive long enough to strike out on their own. I don't know what became of them. Maybe one of them is your great-great-great-great-grandfather, Slinky."

She closed her eyes as the first traces of the afternoon sunbeam began to poke through the curtains. "My point is, I'm old. I've lived outside, until Mom took me in, and I'm not ready to live like that again. I'm too old for that sort of thing. Heck, maybe I'll die before Mom does." She looked at Princess with a steely gaze. "The thing is - if I die, or if I get taken off to the pound, you're the Senior Cat, Princess."

Princess looked shocked. "Me? But...but Slinky in older! At least nine months older, maybe more!"

"Seniority is based on years in the house, not age," said Sugar. "You've been in the house longer. Nearly a year longer. That makes you senior to Slinky. He understands this."

Slinky nodded somberly. "So the upshot is, after Sugar dies, I'm going to be looking to you for leadership and guidance."

"But...but if we have to go outside..."

"Then I'll give you whatever support and assistance I can," Slinky said. "But you'll still be the Senior Cat."

Princess meowed sadly and rested her head on her paws.

"Mom dying...you dying...all of us getting killed and burned up in a furnace, or running away and living in the wild..."

"This is all a bit much to take in all at once," said Sugar. "Let's adjourn this meeting for now. We can continue our discussion later. The sunbeam is about ready to show up. Why don't we all lay in it for the afternoon?"

Slinky turned away from the other cats and padded over to the thing he had dropped. He picked it up in his mouth and brought it back to where he he had been sitting.

"Lookee what I found in Mom's room," he said. "The catnip pillow we thought we lost last month. I thought we might need it after discussing all this heavy stuff. It's still good." He chewed and batted at it for a minute, then looked at the other two cats. "Want some?"

"No, thank you," said Sugar. "I quit that a while ago."

Princess looked at it sadly. "No, thanks," she said.

"Suit yourselves," Slinky replied, his eyes dilating.  He carried the catnip over to the spot on the floor where the sunbeam was already stretching out.

"Will you join us, Princess?" Sugar asked.

Princess stood up. "Maybe later," she said. "I think for now I'm going to go and check in on Mom. Maybe see if she needs some help taking a nap."

The story so far

As posted to Twitter and expanded on Facebook:

Well, COVID finally got my mom. After three years of keeping her a prisoner in her own home, a week in the hospital after her leg broke, a month in the rehab center, and five days back home - all without contracting COVID - she finally got it after a return trip to the hospital. She went to the hospital last Wednesday, was sent back to the rehab center on Sunday after multiple negative COVID tests, and then had one more test taken at the rehab center come back positive on Monday. Tuesday morning - Valentine's Day - she had a stroke, apparently caused by blood clots being shed by COVID while it interfered with her blood thinners. 

She is probably never coming home again.

I'm glad she got to reunite with her beloved cats, if only for a few days. I'm glad she got to see the Super Bowl - the first half plus the halftime show, at least. I'm glad I took up a bouquet of fake plastic roses and baby's breath with a "Happy Valentine's Day!" balloon on Sunday, rather than waiting until today. I'm glad I got to hear her rail against COVID last night in our final conversation. I'm glad for all the time we got to spend together, at home and on  hundreds of trips to see various doctors. But now it looks like that is all drawing to an end.

I really want to document and detail all of the above.

On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 my mom was going out with my sister to meet a friend at Red Lobster for a late lunch/early dinner. I disapproved of her leaving the house to eat in public due to COVID exposure risks, but she was OK with taking her chances. This was my first day back to work. They left the house around 1:30 PM, and I stepped into the kitchen to make myself a ham sandwich before starting work. A minute later my sister came back to tell me that my mother's leg had given out as they walked down the steps. 

My mom has had both of her knees replaced over the past few years with artificial joints. She's been very happy with her new knees. It turns out that the new knees were so strong that any stress applied to the knee was being transferred to the leg bones the knee was anchored into - causing her femur to shear, as was determined after she was rushed to the ER. She had surgery to repair her leg and replace the knee joint two days later on December 29, 2022. She was transferred to Allied Rehab (known by its old name, "John Heinz") a few days later - Tuesday, January 3, 2023 I believe. She fell out of bed a day or two later - I need to verify these dates - and wound up spending a day back in the ER on January 5. She returned to John Heinz and resumed her barely-begun physical therapy on Saturday, January 7.

Rehab was a long, slow process. My mom went through three roommates during her time there. The first was released just a few days after my mom arrived. The second one was there about two weeks before being discharged. The third, an avid FOX News watcher, was there for the end of January and into February.

My mom was in rehab for my birthday. A bunch of food milestones were piling up: we traditionally had lobster tail on New Year's Eve, and a dinner of pork on New Year's Day, and a cake for my birthday. Now we had lobster tails in the freezer, along with 2/3 of a long pork loin cut into thirds. I made a note to order a cake for her homecoming.

She was finally cleared to come home on Friday, February 3, 2023.


Unfortunately things were not ideal as soon as she came home. The cats took most of a day to forgive her for being away so long, and she was happy to have meals cooked by me, but she was showing signs of difficulty walking. Every morning she would get up and make her way to the bathroom with  her walker, and get dressed and out to the breakfast table without a problem. But as the day went on she had a harder and harder time walking without assistance. (We later learned this was because she was drinking far less than she had been at rehab, so she was getting dehydrated throughout the day.) The first weekend was bad, but after Monday I felt comfortable resuming my work-from-home shift. 

Tuesday, February 7 she had an issue minutes before I was to start work, so I called in an emergency FMLA day. Wednesday February 8 looked more promising. We coordinated her day better: breakfast around 8:00, lunch (a stew I had just made, one of her favorites) at noon, bathroom time at 1:00, then going down for a nap as I began work at 2:00. I woke her at my first break at 4:00 and asked if she wanted something to eat, and she said yes. I set her up at the table and served her a partial dinner before I returned to work at 4:15.

I don't know why she got up from the table at 5:50, but she did, and was about two steps from the table with her walker when the phone rang. For her, the phone is always the top priority, and this time was no different as she stopped to turn and answer it. She lost her balance, fell in slow motion, and hit the back of her head off the wooden chair at the dinner table.

I called 911. They advised me not to try to sit her up. She was cognizant and coherent the whole time. The ambulance crew arrived a few minutes later - unmasked - and they quickly raised her into a seated position on the chair, then got her on a gurney and out of the house.

At the hospital they determined she had no head injury from the fall - no neck fracture, no internal bleeding - but also determined she was dehydrated. They got her into a room and, based on poor performance on tests of her walking ability, made plans for her to return to John Heinz. I packed up the necessities we had just brought home a few days before, along with a week's worth of clothing, and got it to my brother. I was unable to visit her in the hospital until Saturday, February 11, 2023. We watched the Mass together, something we have done since the beginning of the pandemic. By this time she had tested negative for COVID once, and her return to Heinz was dependent on negative results on another test.

I left her on Saturday night at about 7:30 and stopped at a dollar store where everything costs $1.25. I have come to be amazed at the quality and detail of the artificial flowers available at this store, and had assembled several household decorations for her previous homecoming from flowers purchased there. I decided to assemble a Valentine's Day bouquet: roses, baby's breath, some onion grass as a background, a vase, some glass pebbles for weight, and a balloon on a stick.

Sunday morning, February 12, 2023 the results of her COVID test came back clean, and my brother transported her to Heinz. She was back in her old unit, and everyone was happy to see her again, though not entirely happy she was back. I went to see her that afternoon and presented her with her early Valentine's Day present. She looked fantastic. A nurse checked her temperature and found it to be slightly elevated - 100-101 degrees. She ate dinner and we watched the opening of the Super Bowl. Before she got out of the bathroom and ready for bed, the score was tied, 7-7. By the time I left it was 14-14. My mom is a huge football fan, and I hoped such an evenly-matched game wouldn't overstimulate her.

I called her Monday morning, February 13, 2023. Mondays are my day to work from the office, and I had preemptively taken it as an FMLA day. I asked her about her therapy schedule, and she told me that, because of her elevated temperature, they were isolating her until they got the results of another COVID test.

That test came back positive.

Now everything changed. My brother recommended that no one visit her until they released her from COVID isolation. I confirmed with the desk that I could visit but would have to follow COVID protocols - in addition to the standard mask requirement, I would need a gown, gloves, and face shield. I visited her for a shorter time, just a half hour. She looked absolutely fine. I called her that night after she was in bed and she was cursing out the bad luck of having avoided COVID for so long and then finally catching it. As I ended the call I told her I loved her and she returned the sentiment, as we always do.

The next morning, Tuesday, February 14, 2023, at about 7:00 AM, she had a massive stroke.

Monday, January 02, 2023

Poem: Cardinal

Starting off 2023 with my mom in the hospital, recovering from surgery to replace her artificial knee and the part of her leg above it that broke as she was going out to dinner two days after Christmas. Here's a poem that popped into my head yesterday. As I was leaving the house to go to the hospital a cardinal flashed by, and I remembered the folklore taught to me by a friend. This is a first draft.


Cardinal

They say when you see a cardinal

it is actually the spirit of a dead relative

come to tell you that they are in Heaven

and are happy


I must be very blessed

for I see cardinals all the time

buff-brown females with orange beaks

males just a shade darker than crimson

singing their song: "Pray for PEACE, pray for PEACE"


I don't know birdsongs

not like my birder friends do


I know one, from when I was a child, a long, complex song

I could sing it today

birds live many years, something I just learned recently

I have not heard this particular song in a very long time

so maybe each time I heard it it was the same bird

year after year, singing it for me

until it died of old age

or in the talons of a hawk

or the mouth of a cat

and now its song lives only in my memory


I could sing it today


Were the birds named for the clerics in their red vestments, I wonder

or were the clerics named for the birds?


I could find the answer in seconds, I suppose

but for now, I choose not to


Sunday, December 25, 2022

Merry Christmas 2022

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Once again I have failed to get out any Christmas cards, which, based on my Facebook memories, is more often the case than not. I have also managed to not bake anything this year, other than the traditional lemon meringue and coconut cream pies for my family. While preheating the oven to prepare the pie crusts, the oven suddenly emitted a frantic beeping noise and displayed an F code - F25, I think. A second attempt had a similar result, this time with an F11 code. Messing with the controls by trying to change the clock display produced more beeps. Finally I had the idea to let the timer run through a cycle - perhaps letting a normal function run to completion would get things back on track. I set the timer for two minutes. At the end of its countdown it set off its alarm tone. That seemed to clear any errors, and I was able to use the oven normally.

We are having the coldest December in many years, and much of the country is experiencing its coldest Christmas in decades. The weather pattern - and "Arctic Blast," different from the "Polar Vortex" of years past - produced a strange and dangerous pattern across many of the northern states: snow midweek, followed by rain and rapid warming into the 50s (Fahrenheit), followed by a sudden temperature drop accompanied by high winds, producing flash freezing on surfaces - including icing-up of cars.

My sister traveled to the area for the holidays and warned of the icy conditions. I had last driven our car on Thursday, making a final pre-Christmas run to the bank and the grocery store and to fill up the gas tank. Friday the car sat idle in the frigid temperatures, wet from Thursday's rains.

This afternoon, while getting ready to drive out to my brother's for the traditional Vigil Supper, I was able to get the car started with some difficulty. I spun the car around so I was facing the wrong way on the street, facing my sister's car. After a few minutes of warmup and waiting for my mom and my sister to come out of the house - we were going to take two cars - I noticed that the radio playing the local Christmas station was starting to cut out. Then the ABS light came on and stayed on. Then the battery light. I reparked the car facing the right way and we decided to only take my sister's car instead. Unfortunately, I had parked too far from the curb. When I tried to restart the car it would not turn over. Possibly an alternator failure, maybe something related to the alternator - a belt, the charging wires to the battery, something. Whatever happened I apparently drained the battery and will need a tow to our nearby service station. Fortunately I do not have to drive in to work until January 9 (we are closed the next two Mondays, which is my day to be in the office), so I have some time to deal with this.

Anyway. Merry Christmas!


Monday, November 14, 2022

Twitter: The burning library

This is my first post in nine months. I'm not entirely sure how that happened. For me, this has been a fairly uneventful time - no pets or family members have died, and my job continues as before, with the only change being that I am in the office every Monday, where the fraction of us in the building are all masked and physically distanced from each other. My dental issues continue - I have had two root canals in the last nine months, and am looking at at least two more in the next few months, assuming I can sort out some insurance problems (like my insurance company consistently telling my endodontist that I have no active policies with them, an insurance company that my endodontist will no longer be accepting after the new year.)

In the Big Wide World these have been an eventful few months. The January 6 committee has dropped bombshell after bombshell, though the practical upshot of their revelations remains to be seen. Russia went from conducting "exercises" on the border with Ukraine and pooh-poohing any suggestions that they were planning an invasion, to conducting a full-scale invasion and declaring it a "special military action," to claiming they were acting to save the Russian-speaking population of the areas they were busy bombing into dust, to getting their asses kicked by the Ukrainian resistance, to declaring the annexation of large swaths of Ukraine, regions which they have subsequently retreated from in the face of relentless Ukrainian armed resistance. Republicans declared their intention of a "Red Wave" in the November mid-terms, but so far it looks like they may at best have a tie in the Senate and have gained a slim majority in the House - a history-defying failure of the Party in charge to lose a large number of seats in the House and Senate.

And Elon Musk bought Twitter.

Historians will possibly have a better understanding of how this happened, but here's what I recall and what I have heard:

- Early in 2022, Musk wanted to buy his way onto the Twitter board. They said sure, as long as you agree to provide these disclosures, allow us to do these background checks, and promise to abide by these rules of conduct. Musk said no.

- Shortly after that, Musk put in a bid to buy Twitter outright at a preposterous price, an offer that could not be refused. He quickly tried to retract the offer when he claimed he "discovered" that the majority of profiles on Twitter are fakes. This resulted in months of negotiation and maneuvering, with many Twitter users wishing Musk would just go away, and many Musk fans wanting him to take control of the platform immediately. In the end Musk had two options: he could walk away from the deal if and only if he paid a penalty of one billion dollars, or he could follow through and purchase Twitter for forty-four billion dollars. 

- On October 28, 2022 Musk announced that he had purchased Twitter.

Almost as soon as he took over, Twitter was overrun by accounts posting racist and antisemitic slurs. Many of these were from brand-new, zero-follower accounts. The goal appeared to be to overwhelm the content moderation system, with legitimate Twitter users reporting the offensive accounts a dozen at a time. It was around this time Musk retweeted a right-wing conspiracy theory regarding the brutal hammer attack on Paul Pelosi, the eighty-two year old husband of Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. Twitter advertisers, already wary of buying advertising space on a site run by someone as erratic and unpredictable as Elon Musk, started to pull their ads and refrain from purchasing any more, leading Musk to threaten to "go thermonuclear" on companies that refuse to buy advertising space on Twitter.

The chaos that has ensued in the past two-plus weeks is a matter of record, and like much recent history, future students of history will find it almost completely unbelievable. In that short time Musk has managed to destroy both Twitter and his own reputation. Rather than doing the sort of things most non-CEOs of multiple major corporations assume that CEOs of multiple major corporations do, he has spent much of that time "shitposting," sending out tweets designed to earn the approval of his fans and attacking his enemies. He has tweeted out (and deleted) conspiracy theories. He has ballyhooed his commitment to free speech and even announced "Comedy is now legal again," and then permanently blocked the accounts of comedians who made him the butt of their savage humor. And he has fired thousands upon thousands of employees, many of them immigrants whose lawful presence in the U.S. is dependent on their continued employment.

Amidst all the chaos, many prominent and popular Twitter users have decided to close their accounts and move elsewhere.

The combination of an erratic new owner who seems uninterested in the continuing existence of the social media site he just bought for $44 billion, rumors about the ulterior motives of his financial backers, the loss of both advertising revenue and institutional knowledge carried by thousands of fired programmers and administrators, and Musk's tendency to announce "new rules" targeting those who criticize or challenge him, have led many users to wonder if they are living though Twitter's last days. Many have announced their departure for Mastodon, a competing social media site with some well-documented clunkiness and technical limitations. Others are heading to Instagram, or TikTok, or their Substacks and even old-school blogs.

In Last Chance to See, Douglas Adams compared efforts to document species on the brink of extinction to someone running through the burning Library of Alexandria, furiously scribbling down the titles of burning books in an effort to save some fragment of what was contained within. It would be preposterous to compare the loss of Twitter to that, even with all the unique content and historical records contained in it. Others have compared the current situation to the classic movie trope of the 80's and 90's where a heartless developer is buying the local recreational center with plans to tear it down and replace it with an office building. Sadly, it's looking like this sort of thing won't be fixed with a dance-off or talent show. I'm collecting names and alternate site addresses for when and if Twitter ends.

When I first joined Twitter I hated it. It felt to me like a wide open space filled with people driving through and shouting snippets of conversation in passing through their rolled-down windows. But in time I have come to appreciate and embrace its randomness, its chaotic nature. Half the people I follow I have followed because of a single clever post or comment. I have become familiar with eel historians, geologists, birders, lizard biologists, pig fanciers, fabric historians, astronomers, crafters, a goofy ventriloquist camgirl/philanthropist, social and political activists, on-the-spot reporters, writers, artists, poets, humorists, comedians, musicians, and people from every walk of life. This is the unique site, the unique society, that Elon Musk is destroying through his capriciousness - or through his arrogant stupidity.

Will there ever again be anything else quite like it?


Saturday, September 24, 2022

Late in telling: The Tale of the Rocket

This is a post I wrote on February 22, 2025. I am backdating and placing this link here to preserve its chronological point in my personal history.

Strange Tales: The Rocket

A preview, from the contemporaneous Facebook post:



Saturday, February 19, 2022

State of Decay

Well, the U.S. has essentially come to the consensus that they're sick and tired of COVID-19. They're done with it. Over it. So therefore, COVID is over. Masks off! No more restrictions!

This isn't over. I don't know if it ever will be. But the decisions that have just been made are going to result in a lot more deaths.

I had an appointment in Hazleton this week. It was the first time I've been there in many years. Hazleton is an oddball city: one of the largest cities in Luzerne County, but isolated from much of the rest of the county and situated practically on its southern border. It was once a wealthy city. A self-contained city, a place where you could be born, grow up, and die, all while being convinced you hadn't missed out on anything the world had to offer. It was also, I am told, once a Mafia-infested city, and the departure of the mobsters who once ran the place and propped it up financially can explain much of the sudden economic downturn the city has experienced.

About twenty-five years ago the ethnic makeup of the city started to change. Up to that point it was majority Polish and Italian, old-timers who had worked in the mines and ran the mines and owned the mines, and their families and their children who hadn't yet fled for greener pastures. 

The newcomers weren't there for mining. Many were immigrants from Mexico, looking to work as laborers in some of the remaining industries in the area. Their arrival was greeted with hostility. One local politician built his career on trying to drive out the immigrants. His efforts failed, repeatedly, at tremendous cost to the local taxpayers. These failures have not dissuaded him from continuing to run for public office - allegedly he is next planning to run for governor. Had he succeeded, Hazleton would today be a depopulated ghost town, as the old residents have died and their children have moved out of the area.

Hazleton has been a COVID hotspot from the start. There are several theories as to why. Regardless of the reasons, such a place should be approached with tremendous caution. At the endodontist's office I was the only one, aside from the doctor and her assistant, wearing a mask. I watched people go in and out of the pharmacy next door without masks. We're not gonna make it, are we?, I wondered.

There are two basic ways to get between my house and Hazleton. One is on Interstate 81, the major highway that runs through Northeastern Pennsylvania on its way from near Chattanooga, Tennessee to the Canadian border with New York. The other is PA Route 309. I took 81 there and decided to take 309 back. It's been years since I've taken that road, even longer since I took it in the daytime. I remember it as a scenic route through the mountains south of my house. (The other route, I-81, gives some beautiful views of the Wyoming Valley, though there are no scenic overlooks where you can park and really appreciate this.)

I got on 309 going the wrong way for a few miles. I realized I was going the wrong way when I spotted a landmark I've never seen before: an enormous, steep-sided culm bank located feet away from the road, feet away from at least two houses (one of which appeared vacant.) How can this be legal?, I wondered. And then I thought: This is Hazleton. This is NEPA.

It's over a quarter of a mile in diameter at the base. The sides have a slope of about 45 degrees. It's right up against Route 309. This is a disaster waiting to happen.

https://www.timesleader.com/news/1244206/another-tax-break-request-for-mine-scarred-site-coming-before-luzerne-county-council

I turned around and pointed the car home. Route 309 goes through the heart of Hazleton. Once upon a time Hazleton was a big, wealthy city, awash in coal money. Schools were big, churches were big, office buildings were big - by NEPA standards. That money dried up when deep mining in this area died in the aftermath of the 1959 Knox Mine Disaster, though some surface mining continues in the area to this day. Even twenty years ago, Hazleton still retained some of its veneer, though the end was on its way. On that day what I saw was a city that used to be: Schools still standing, their names seen only as shadows where there once were letters. Churches converted to new denominations, or standing empty. Vacant office buildings looking ready for business except for the orange plastic fences blocking access.

The ride out of town was just as bad. That part of NEPA has always been a bit odd, with residential houses freely mixed with businesses along the side of Route 309. But now many of those businesses are closed. For every two or three houses, it seemed, there was an empty business.

NEPA is changing. Everyone in this area knows that. When I went to college in Scranton in the mid-to-late 80s it was like a big, broken-down, abandoned amusement park. There were demolition sites everywhere as old, run-down buildings were torn down. Decades later Scranton has experienced a renaissance of sorts. Wilkes-Barre sustained horrific damage in the flood of 1972. It was rebuilt and revived in the 70s and 80s, experienced a decay in the 90s as Scranton's fortune rose, but has gradually worked itself up to a new state of prosperity. In both cases the fortunes have been largely tied to the rising fortunes of the University of Scranton, and King's College and Wilkes University in Wilkes-Barre. Hazleton, on the other hand, feels like a city that has had its plug pulled, like a place where the people who once propped it up have taken their money and left. Where will it go from here? Time will tell.

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The Omicron surge has largely passed. New cases have dropped, and deaths are finally dipping. Still, cases and death rates are still as high as or higher than they were during the initial surge in Spring 2020. Nevertheless, many states are giving in to the demands of the "REOPEN EVERYTHING NOW!!!" crowd to drop any mask mandates and other restrictions that might in any way present an inconvenience. More people are going to die, especially the most vulnerable: the elderly and those with compromised immune systems. As restrictions fall away, anti-maskers are taking a more aggressive approach to those who are still wearing masks - some of whom have no intention to put up with any of their crap. 


Cases are dropping dramatically, in the U.S. as a whole and in Pennsylvania as well. In both graphs, case counts exceed where they were in Spring - Fall 2020 and much of Summer 2021:



Deaths, not so much:



And in the face of all this, everyone is declaring "RETURN TO NORMAL."

The world that we knew in 2019 and before is gone, along with millions of people we knew back then. COVID-19 and all its variants are here. Welcome to the new normal.


Friday, January 14, 2022

Filling in the gaps

Sometime in late 2020 I realized that while the COVID-19 graphs provided for free by the Financial Times were wonderful, flexible, versatile sources of graphic information, they had one flaw: While you could easily specify a starting date for the x-axis, you had no control over the ending date - it was always the most recent day for which data was available. Which means that, in the event something like the Omicron variant came along and dwarfed all previous y-axis values, you permanently lost the ability to look at the detailed variation of the past data. I realized this early on when data from early March 2020 was rapidly compressed to insignificance by the enormity of the numbers coming in beginning in late March 2020.

Unfortunately, my blogging hiatus in the second half of 2021 meant that the last set of graphs I posted before the end of the year were from July 10, 2021. Nearly six months of data, including the rise of the Delta variant, the failure of the Great Unmasking, and the coming of the Omicron spike were just...missing.

But not really. Just because I hadn't been posting these graphs didn't mean that I hadn't been saving them. Here are the relevant ones, the ones that tell the story, and present the data before it got crushed  to nothingness.

July 16,  2021, six days after my penultimate 2021 post.
The Delta wave was here, taking advantage of the summertime Great Unmasking.



July 22, 2021. Where just weeks before it looked like we were on a trajectory to grind COVID-19 into the ground, the Delta variant combined with the end of mask mandates to undo two months of progress.

July 31, 2021: while the nation was on an upswing, it wasn't affecting every state equally. This graph displays new cases per 100,000 people. The top states by far were in the South, while Pennsylvania was lurking near the bottom. This would change a lot by the end of the year.

August 7, 2021: The same sort of breakdown shows things getting worse everywhere, but continuing to be especially bad in the Southern states.

September 4, 2021: New mix of top states, still all from the South. Pennsylvania is climbing its way up.

December 5, 2021: The same sort of graph, but now the top spot is held by New Hampshire, with Southern states dropping low, and Pennsylvania vying for the top spot.

September 6, 2021: A tale of two countries, the United States and Norway. Cases per 100,000 people. Norway has consistently done better than the United States in dealing with COVID-19. Maybe we should try to do what they're doing.

September 4, 2021: Deaths per 100,000 people attributed to COVID-19 in the United States and Norway. We really should have been doing whatever the hell Norway is doing. 

So that's it. I wish I had captured more graphs. The data is still out there, waiting to be analyzed.

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The latest, using the same sort of graphs that are displayed above:

New cases in U.S. as of January 13, 2022. Continuing to set new records every day.

New cases by state, per 100,000 people. Sates in the Northeast now dominate, with Delaware just missing the cut below New Jersey, and Pennsylvania lagging a few spots behind. For some reason, Florida is right up there between New York and Massachusetts. Maybe Ron Desantis can explain. (He'd probably blame Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez for visiting her mother in Florida last week.)

Norway vs. the United States, cases per 100,000 people. Norway actually led the U.S. by a considerable margin from early November through late December, but the U.S. raced ahead after that.



Norway vs. the United States, deaths attributed to COVID-19 per 100,000 population. Obviously Norway is doing something right that the United States is not. We need to find out what.


Sunday, January 09, 2022

On the Last Day of Christmas

Well, Christmas is over, officially, by almost every measure.  Today is the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, and in the Catholic Church that's the end of the Christmas season. (Some older traditions push it to Candlemas Day, February 2nd, but I don't know if anyone follows that anymore.)

Yesterday was "Russian Christmas," Christmas as observed by the Eastern Orthodox Church, which uses the Julian calendar. By tradition this is the last day to have lights on, and many people in this area light everything up in solidarity with the Eastern Orthodox celebration. Traditionally it always snows for Russian Christmas, and this year was no exception. We had our first decent shovelable snow of the season on Friday, a light fluffy powdery inch of snow that brushed away with little effort. That was followed today with a thin layer of ice which required an application of salt to sidewalks.

Today was undecorating day for the Christmas Tree. I was very happy with this year's tree, even though in reviewing pictures from last year it doesn't seem substantially different from last year's tree. It was a pleasant thing to have in front of me throughout my work day, and I'll have to think hard of what to put in its place.














All now carefully sorted, boxed up, and going into storage until the tree goes up the weekend after next Thanksgiving, November 26 or so. God willing.


Saturday, January 08, 2022

Goodbye, Wayne

One of my classmates from high school was buried today. He died of COVID, the first of our class to do so, as far as we know. I didn't go to the funeral, or the memorial.

I did go grocery shopping this afternoon. About half the shoppers and all of the employees were wearing masks, which is a big improvement over the last time I was there. I wanted to grab the unmasked people and say "We buried someone I knew in high school today. He died of COVID. Do you think you're safe? Do you think this is over?" I didn't. Instead I got my groceries and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

COVID deaths in Pennsylvania, as in all of the U.S., continue to climb. This isn't slowing down. This isn't over. Get vaccinated. Wear a mask.


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The Omicron variant continues to make hay of all previous graphs. This variant is allegedly "milder" than previous versions, but can also walk through walls - vaccinations provide very little protection against getting it, but they do minimize its effects, allegedly. Even masks and social distancing seem to offer little protection. The official line is "everybody is going to get Omicron," which means that we've basically entered the "Fuck it, whatever" stage of the pandemic. (And the new catchphrase now is "It's no longer a pandemic, the disease is now endemic," which is a distinction meaningless to most of the people uttering it.) Schools are open, while at the same time many local (and state, and federal) offices are closed. Many people are being ordered to return to the workplace, where it's impossible to avoid being exposed to infected coworkers. These are the same schools and workplaces that closed in March 2020, when COVID cases and deaths were so low they don't even show up on current graphs.

The other view is "Not to worry, if you've been vaccinated and aren't disabled or have other comorbidities, you'll be fine, so everything is OK," which is not at all comforting to those who are disabled, have those comorbidities, are immune compromised, or are unable to get the vaccine for medical reasons. It feels like they're being written off as an acceptable loss.

Sometime soon this graph will be unreadable without a logarithmic y-axis.
The logarithmic version. I first started using this when it looked like cases were going to drop so low that the day-to-day variation would be unreadable. Now new cases are rising so high that the previous variation may soon be unreadable with a linear y-axis, much like the March 2020 data is now.



Far more cases of a less deadly variant have resulted in a fairly steady rate of deaths. It's math.

There was an upturn to the slope from December 2020-March 2021, and a downturn from March 2021-August 2021, but overall this has been a fairly straight line since April 2020. Assuming the dynamics continue as they are, we'll hit one million deaths by June 2022.
But it's not a safe bet that the dynamics will continue as they are.


Sunday, January 02, 2022

First post-apocalyptic grocery run of 2022

Something seemed off as soon as I left the house.

I hadn't meant to go shopping today. Sure, sometime this week - I had a coupon worth $5 off a $25 order that needed to be used within two weeks of December 23 - but I still had half of a half gallon of milk left, and really didn't need much else. But my mom told me she needed bananas, and a refill for hand soap, and large Band-Aids, latex-free, so the hunt had begun. I drew up a list of a few other things we needed, geared up, and set out.

I heard a commotion in the distance as I walked to the car. It sounded like a crowd of people all shouting and arguing at the same time. The sound seemed to be approaching, and gradually took on the tone of a great many dogs barking excitedly.  I looked up and scanned the sky. Soon I located the lopsided V of geese high overhead, flying south. On January 2nd. Better late than never, I suppose.

The parking lot at the supermarket was crowded, but less so than on recent trips. I strapped on my mask, grabbed a cart, and headed in. I immediately started seeing faces - unmasked faces, customers and employees alike. As if there were no pandemic going on. As if Pennsylvania were not having its highest infection rates ever.

Pennsylvania is having its highest COVID-19 infection rates ever.

But that wasn't the weird thing. Not wearing masks has been the standard around here since the summer, when it looked like maybe we were about to beat this thing and the state dropped the mask mandate. No, what was weird was what I saw as I made my way past the pastries and baked goods, past the fried and rotisserie chicken, to the fruit displays - the empty fruit displays. Not all empty, just some. Maybe some fruit was now out of season, even for import, and the displays were being changed over for whatever would take its place? No big deal. All I needed were the bananas my mom had asked for. I headed for the banana display in the back.

No bananas.

No onions or potatoes, either. The whole area was empty, as if some accident had happened requiring everything to be thrown away.

Not to worry. There was another grocery store about a mile away. I could get bananas there. Maybe.

I ran through my list. I found almost everything on it. Store brand hand soap refills were nowhere do be found, but I was able to get a more expensive jug of the Softsoap brand. Still, among things I didn't need, there seemed to be random shortages. No frozen chicken, or so I heard. No My-T-Fine lemon pudding and pie filling. No Reddi-Wip whipped cream. No canned cat food, or almost none. I had promised my cats as I was leaving the house that I would get them something from the store, so I went to the cat toy section where I had just been the day after Christmas. The same things that were missing that day were missing today, including the catnip satchels that the cats had gone nuts for on Christmas. I remembered I wanted to pick up potato sandwich rolls. There were none. Well, none of the brand I usually buy, or my first or second alternate brands, or anything other than a lone orphan pack of generics that had apparently been rejected by everyone else. I decided I would look for them when I went to the other store for bananas. 

As I headed to the checkouts, I heard a vaguely familiar song on the piped-in music. It gradually resolved into "Hot Hot Hot!!!" by The Cure, from 1988's "Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me," a song I hadn't heard in about twenty years.

I hit the other store and picked up Reddi-Wip - which I had decided I actually needed -, bananas, cat toys, and potato sandwich buns.  (I found the brand I liked there, but only in slider-sized. I took them.) 

I got home and found out one of my high school classmates had died of COVID.  The first, as far as I know. Probably not the last.

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Small changes to the national COVID graphs since December 31, 2021:





Tomorrow, much of the country goes back to work, with many back in their offices. Many children will go back to in-person learning at school. Meanwhile, airlines continue to cancel flights due to weather - and COVID. Police in New York City are calling off sick en masse (well, nearly so) with COVID, which continues to be a major cop-killer, in part because of resistance to getting vaccinated by many members of the police. Expect to see infection rates in the next four weeks to soar well above where they are now. Expect to see deaths continue to climb, too.