Tag: family

To the Marriage of True Minds

photog 5 Comments Current Events, Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner, Reclaiming the Family ,

So, I was at one of those parties today and I met a bunch of nice folks and spent time with some old friends too.  And one of my friends was telling a story about a relative of his who had a job that involved a lot of international travel including Europe where he met his future wife.  And because of his desire to build up some equity in a home he bought a house in a town where he did not necessarily want to eventually settle down when he returned permanently to the US.

So, when he and his new wife took up residence in this home, he had his eyes open for his dream house which would include a huge garage that would accommodate his hobby of rebuilding classic old cars.  And one day he found it.  It had everything he wanted and was in the part of town he liked best.  So, he informed his wife of his find and that they should get ready to sell their house and move to the new location.  What he didn’t realize was that since moving back his wife had put down roots in the neighborhood and made friends and after moving to a new continent she would be devastated if she had to pull up roots again and start from scratch.

So, he stayed and had to forego the dream garage.  And my friend finished by saying that he had always been extremely shocked that his relative hadn’t insisted that they move in order to get the garage he really wanted.  So, I said to him, “But aren’t they still happily married?”  And he said “Yeah.”  “Well,” I said, “what’s harder to find, a good wife or a good garage?  And what are the chances of finding a second wife as good as the first?”  He chuckled and said, “I see your point.”

Now mostly this is just an amusing story.  The whole reason that his relative didn’t demand a move is that in any halfway decent marriage there is always a whole continuum of tradeoffs and negotiations that go on between a husband and wife.  We all have our “garage” that we want badly and also a laundry list of things that come ahead of it in the calculus of family life.  The kids’ braces come before that man cave you lust after.  A minivan has to be financed before the fishing boat you’ve always wanted.  Sometimes by the time it’s your turn to buy your heart’s desire, your heart no longer desires it.  Or you’re too old to put it to good use.

But managing to raise a family in today’s society and still being married to someone you like at the end is something of an accomplishment and I guess that was what I was trying to say.  It’s a trite saying, “Happy wife, happy life.”  But if you’ve had a happy marriage, it rings true.  Now before I get too sappy, I’ll append the classic answer that Art (Deputy Marshal in “Justified”) gave to the criminal when asked if he loved his wife, “Well, most of the time!”  But even that limitation admits to the fact that (mostly) happily married men recognize that even if a marriage is fraught with feminine annoyances the alternative is much sadder and lonelier.

The American Path

photog Current Events, My Fiction, OCF, photog's Corner, Reclaiming the Family , , , ,

I was thinking about some of the comments on yesterday’s post “Persistence of Memory.”  It was about detachment, “… it’s the consequence of the rootless existence that has evolved to be the American path.”

And I replied, “You are correct about the path. We’ve atomized our existence. We’ve monetized our lives to such an extent that we almost don’t exist except as consumers. We’re just cogs in the machine. It’s inhuman.”  And that stuck in my mind.

And today I got a call from a friend whom I knew from high school.  He lives in Hawaii and only comes home to Brooklyn once a year at Christmas.  And we talked about meeting up next Christmas.  Now I haven’t seen him in thirty years.  I wonder if he would even recognize me.  And we’ve managed to speak on the phone every Christmas but we haven’t interacted other than that.  Well, I sent him a copy of my book and he called me up today and it was like a time machine.  He was laughing and saying how he always thought one day I’d write a science fiction story.  He was very complimentary and said he really liked the story and of course that was very gratifying.  But in the back of my mind, I was thinking what a strange world we live in.  Here was one of my best friends in the world and I hadn’t seen him for almost half a lifetime.

And so that conversation reinforced the statement, “… it’s the consequence of the rootless existence that has evolved to be the American path.”  Our way of life is somewhat related to the nomadic existence of herders.  They move to follow the grazing grounds of their herds.  There is no one home.  But our way is even worse.  Because the herders live in tribes or at least extended families that move together from place to place.  But we separate into at most nuclear families and often just single individuals, moving from job to job and city to city without anyone permanently included in their “tribe.”

I’m pretty sure that none of this is sustainable.  And maybe that’s why corporate America is backing a policy of wholesale immigration to provide a steady supply of new workers that Americans are no longer providing from their own descendants.  After all, how do you produce a family when all you are is a nomad living from job to job without a family to prop you up and give you help when things get tough or you need the resources to get married or buy a house or pay for expenses associated with children?

And this gave me an idea for my next book after “The Sniper.”  It should have to do with the smartest and richest guy in the world trying to fix “the American path.”  If someone powerful enough wanted to restore our country to viability, what would he think to do?  Maybe he’d redefine the partnership between communities and corporations.  Would it be a feudal system or a socialism?  Or neither.  I haven’t figured out what my “utopia” will be based on.  Maybe I’ll wave “artificial intelligence” around as my deus ex machina.  But I do want to think about it a little.  How do you go about fixing the world?

Persistence of Memory

photog Current Events, Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner ,

I was at my mechanic’s shop to have the rear brakes replaced on my “new” car.  Well, long story short, getting replacement parts from Toyota was going to take longer than expected so I couldn’t wait around.  I called Camera Girl for a lift home.  While I was waiting for her, I started reading some of the stuff he had on the walls of the shop.  There were photos of the cars the shop was selling and the first one was from 1930.  That’s ninety-six years ago.  And the place has had the same last name all this time.  Now Steve looks to be about my age.  That means his grandfather was probably about thirty years old in 1930 (in that ballpark).  Looking at those photos and illustrations from the 1930s was interesting.  His grandfather and probably his father and maybe his uncles have been working at this business for generations.  That would explain why he seems unflappable with respect to mechanical problems.  You probably see almost everything when you’ve been working around cars your whole life.

And here was this company in a tiny town in southern New England lasting for generations and serving a community that know each other from birth to death and beyond.  And that got me thinking of where I came from.  The Brooklyn neighborhood where I was born was just as solid to my eyes when I was young.  The people had been there for generations.  They had their traditions and institutions and a sense of community.  There was a feeling of permanence.  But that was an illusion.  All it took to annihilate that illusion was crime and poverty.  And over the course of time that entire neighborhood disappeared without a trace.  I’ve been back there, mostly for funerals.  And that’s the funny thing.  The Catholic church is still there although it has all the masses in Spanish now.  So, the old people come back for their funerals and then they’re driven out to be buried in Long Island.  And then their children and grandchildren disperse back to the four corners of the Earth.

So that’s the difference.  New England still has towns and those towns still have families that live here for generations.  Maybe not everyone stays put.  But enough so that you can feel like you come from a place that isn’t just going to blow away when the wind shifts.  And I think that’s actually something worth having.  We’ve been programmed to believe that we can drift across the continent finding work where it happens to be and move our kids and expect that everything will be like it was when we were kids.  But I don’t think it works that way.  You don’t have traditions without permanence and you don’t have a neighborhood when you don’t even know who your neighbors are.  And if you only see your family at weddings and (worse) at funerals, then how quickly will family become strangers?  Well just something I thought about while waiting for a ride.

My Own Take on Super Sunday

photog Current Events, Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner, Reclaiming the Family , , ,

I had to postpone my trip to see “Iron Lung” with my grandson.  We got another six inches of snow between yesterday and today and had to spend the day clearing it.  And I really think the meteorological profession is retrogressing.  A couple of days ago they said we would get a “dusting.”  Some dusting!  And unfortunately for me the wind was wild.  I ended up with an ice beard and a frozen face.  But it’s done and tomorrow morning we’ll see what cosmic horror lurks at the bottom of an ocean of human blood!  I’ve read a bunch of reviews and what I’ve gleaned is that this is an homage to the video game of the same name and anyone who isn’t a fan of the game will find it a bit long (maybe quite a bit too long).  But that’s okay.  It will give me a chance to hang out with my grandson afterward and find out what he especially liked about it.

Basically, this movie is sort of the “Star Wars” of his generation.  Because it’s for them.  It’s a nerdy touchstone that they bond over.  So, I want to show deference to their choice of insider totem.  I want to get a sense of what they enjoy.  Should be interesting.

Going through the news is becoming goofier every day.  Apparently, Trump called the Obamas monkeys in some kind of video meme.  I think CBS was angry that Trump hadn’t apologized.  Well, calling Obama a monkey is kind of insensitive to monkeys.  As far as I know monkeys treat all humans equally.  Whereas the Obamas are anti-white racists, which I consider much worse than monkeys.  They’re awful human beings.  I hope Trump apologizes to monkeys for comparing them to the Obamas.

There was another article stating that Starlink has been shut off in Ukraine and now the Russians can’t control their drones.  The article made it sound like the Russians were cut off because they didn’t have legitimate accounts with Starlink.  So, does that mean that Putin was doing what most people’s young adult children do when they use their parents’ Netflix and Disney Plus accounts?  The idea that this war in which hundreds of thousands of men have been killed is being run on pirated GPS usage just seems a bridge too far.  Is this really what’s going on?  What’s next?  Will we find out that ChatGPT has been drafted by Putin and is running the battlefield strategy?

And of course, tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday.  I guess it must be at least seven years since I’ve watched a Super Bowl.  And honestly, I can’t imagine why I’ll ever bother watching it again.  And that goes for all of professional sports.  All the virtue signaling over race and homosexual identity have made all of it nauseating and I’d rather watch a test pattern than endure their nonsense.  I did see that Anheuser-Bush has put together some commercial for the Super Bowl that involves a Clydesdale horse befriending a bald eagle.  Well, the only thing I could think of was, “Which one is a stand-in for Dylan Mulvaney?”  I don’t think horses and eagles are going to get Bud Light their customer base back.  Enjoy your Sunday.

Echoes of a Summer Night

photog Current Events, Life in Dunwich, OCF, photog's Corner, Reclaiming the Family , ,

Only a single week of July left.  One last draught of fiery perfection.  Drink deep the heat and light and dark of real summer.  The lightning bugs flash from the grass and trees and trigger memories of a young boy collecting those living phosphors and watching them far into the night.  Where do those memories reside in my old brain?  What other memories do they trigger?  People who have been gone from this world for decades.  But I can still hear their voices and see their expressions.  Kind and cruel, smart and slow, funny and humorless, warm and cold, sane and mad.  And all these traits mixed in many combinations and proportions.  All those summer nights, all those years ago.

All those parties and occasions where we talked about the future and all the things we wanted to do and all we hoped to achieve.  And some of it we did.  And some of it worked out as we hoped.  But so many things fell by the wayside and some spectacularly so.  But those of us left must keep moving forward because there is no other way.  We just keep time to the beat of the days and seasons ticking by cycle after cycle trying to keep up with the pace and maintain a relevance with the waves of younger and livelier participants in the dance.

I was talking to my young granddaughter about her vacation in Maine.  I asked her what she liked best and she said she loved it all; the sand, the water, the sun, the amusement park rides, the carnival foods, the ice cream shop.  So, I told her the story of how we came to pick that beach; how an old friend, an old engineering friend who was more than thirty years older than me answered a question.  I asked him where I could find a nice long beach with white sand that wasn’t horribly crowded, expensive and pretentious like all the New England beaches I had tried.  And once we gave his recommendation a try, our kids went there for years while they were growing up and now her mom was doing the same for her.

As I was telling her I could see she didn’t think it was that amazing a story.  But I wondered if in twenty or thirty years she might be reminded of this story while she was talking to one of her descendants.  Maybe she’d tell her kids about their crazy old great grandfather who told stories about even more ancient people and events and always made sure there was some extra rich ice cream available for dessert and always had time to push a kid on a swing, pick berries or provide a butterfly net for catching lightning bugs.

Yep, summer is reaching its crescendo.  A few more parties and outings and then fall and the great seasonal ritual of death.  The fall equinox and Halloween and battening down the hatches.  I see that Guillermo del Toro has a Frankenstein movie coming out in November.  Maybe I’ll give that a try.

Escape from New York 2025

photog Current Events, OCF, Reclaiming the Family , ,

Three down, four to go.

So, yesterday I went to Brooklyn for a family reunion.  Driving through the Bronx and Queens I could see the Manhattan skyline and as much as the city has become a cesspool, that skyline is beautiful and impressive.  It’s a bittersweet sight.  My family has lived in New York City for a hundred and forty years.  We loved it and were proud of its grandeur and dynamism.  And now?  Well, pride is impossible.  Just within the time we were travelling down the streets of Brooklyn I could see thuggery and depravity on display.  A city of eight million people that used to be a showcase of culture, business and the Arts reduced to third world barbarity.

Now it’s a dysfunctional space where crime, poverty, homelessness and drug-use dominate the landscape.  It infects everyone who lives there.  It degrades all the magnificent monuments of the past and makes a mockery of their former achievements.  And it makes travelling into its bowels dangerous, frightening and infinitely difficult.  Where can and can’t you drive?  Where can you park your car and find it in one piece when you return?  Where can you walk in the day but not at night?  All the fun questions of NYC urban life.

But ultimately it was worth it all.  For the second time in a few months, I saw members of my extended family that I haven’t otherwise seen in decades.  I met the second and third generations on these branches of the family tree and saw the family resemblances and the new additions to the stock.  Charming.

Ultimately America is convulsing under the forces that the elites can bring to bear.  How we react and compensate for these disturbances is all we have any power over.  My family, for the most part, has abandoned the cities and looked for opportunities and safer surroundings where we could find them.  And that process continues.  Those that stay in these dangerous areas tend to pay a heavy price.  There are physical and mental health consequences to trying to raise children in a hellscape.  Premature death is not unheard of.  And it’s sad to see this reality.  But it’s inspiring when you see someone who has struggled with the traps of that world overcoming the problems and succeeding.

And when it’s over we always have the epic, “Escape from New York!”  I was riding shotgun and the death-defying feats of my driver were truly inspiring.  You haven’t experienced real terror until you’ve cut across five lanes of traffic to make an exit on the BQE.  But we got out and then my drive home from the suburbs was uneventful.

When I reached home Camera Girl was entertaining grandsons Tertius and Quartus with a hockey game on television.  Apparently, this New England sport has caught on with this generation of my descendants.  And I have no objections although I myself have never been able to see the puck on television.  I have to go by the noise of the crowd to know when the puck has actually ended up in the net.  Mostly I just watch the players assaulting each other around the periphery of the rink.  Which is entertaining in its own right.  By the time the boys left it was after midnight and I crashed into the blessed oblivion of sleep.

Well, this was late for obvious reasons.  And the next few days will be equally sketchy because of my slightly punchy condition and the length of my workdays tomorrow and Tuesday but I will attempt to produce some kind of content.  Adios.

The Human Element

photog Current Events, Life in Dunwich, OCF, photog's Corner, Reclaiming the Family , , ,

Einstein is said to have made the imaginative leap when he based his Theory of General Relativity on the notion that time (t) is just another dimension to go along with the three spatial dimensions (x, y, z).  Space-time.  When we talk about the where of a particle (or a person) we must also specify the when.

So yesterday when I travelled back to the place where I was born, I would have to travel back in time to reach my place of origin (x, y, z, t = 0, 0, 0, 0).  But Einstein also said that for matter time can only travel forward.  But maybe the mind (or the soul) isn’t composed of protons and electrons; leptons and hadrons.  Because I had an uncanny feeling I had stepped back into an earlier era.

After battling New York City traffic that defied belief, to attend a family funeral, I walked into the little Roman Catholic Church that I attended as a child and was transported into my past.  Sure, a few little things had changed.  They had freshened up the paint on the ceiling over the altar and on the bas relief stations of the cross but the stained-glass windows, the icons around the altar and the pews we sat in triggered memories that perfectly mirrored my surroundings.  And then there were my cousins and their children and their children’s children surrounding me with proof that the world I left behind decades ago still existed in a very human, very tenacious way.  God said be fruitful and multiply.  And we have.  From a tiny family that set foot on this continent less than 150 years ago there are now a whole town’s worth of descendants.

And some of the latest additions were unknown to me by name.  But just looking at their faces I could see the kinship.  And in the middle of the Mass one of the youngest made such a noisy nuisance of himself that he forced his mother to retreat to the annex to return the ceremony to dignified order.  But this outburst was of the very nature of the family.  We are noisy, somewhat spoiled, sometimes rude but genuinely good natured and extremely funny people.  And we do enjoy each other’s company.  Being surrounded by this small army of family felt so right.

One of my cousins remarked that it was a pity that only such occasions rounded us all up together again.  He spoke nostalgically about when we were all living within blocks of each other within the Italian ghetto that we all were now flocking to for this solemn occasion.  He reminisced about the parties and get togethers we used to have on a regular basis; holidays, birthdays, weddings, graduations, births.  But I reminded him that no one’s grandchildren could hope to afford the multi-million-dollar price tags that now attached to the buildings in this once humble neighborhood.  What young people could afford to buy houses here now?   I kidded that we would have to buy a whole town somewhere in the middle of nowhere if we wanted to live together in this modern and expensive age.  He ruefully nodded his head in agreement.

Quickly the ceremony ended and we said our goodbyes.  I wasn’t headed out east to the Long Island cemetery.  I was headed north toward New England through the grid-lock of the outer boroughs and onto the highways beyond.  But we made one stop before we headed home.  There was an old time Italian Bakery that specialized in Italian pastries.  They had sfogliatella riccia (seashell), coda d’aragosta (lobster tail) and various other pastries stuffed with cream that we would eat on Sunday nights when we were kids.  The only problem with this wonderful store was the old woman who had run the counter.  She was a sharp-tongued shrew who carped at everyone who entered the store.

I entered the store today and found the shelves still lined with all those Italian delicacies.  But now the store was run by a Chinese family that had bought the recipes for the pastries when they purchased the business.  And thankfully the pastries were just the same!  And even better, the young lady running the counter was entirely friendly and polite.  A miracle!

After too many hours I returned home with my small cache of desserts and told Camera Girl of my epic journey.  We’ll eat the cakes with our coffee this week.  And that will remind me of what I learned.  Einstein was wrong about not being able to go back in time.  You can.  What you can’t do is go back to the same place.  It’s always different.  But it can be worth the trip.

Circling Back

photog Current Events, Life in Dunwich, OCF, photog's Corner, Reclaiming the Family ,

The next couple of days will be different.  I have to attend a funeral for a close relative.  She was ninety-seven and so I’m travelling both closer to my geographical origin and back in time to my childhood.  I’ll be going back to the Catholic church I attended as a child and seeing the neighborhood I lived in.  And a lot of my cousins will be there and my siblings.  I probably will also see some old acquaintances for the last time on this Earth.  And that is a thought that gives me pause.  This is the second death of that generation in the last few weeks.  Those folks had a lot of vitality.  All of them on that side of the family have reached their nineties.  I’m not exactly sure how I feel about that legacy.  It’s not an unmixed “blessing.”

I’ll look over the old neighborhood.  Last time I was there it had become a Southeast Asian enclave of one sort or another.  I’ll be interested to see if the homeless and the illegal aliens have shown up to any degree.  I suspect things will look worse than even it looked a decade ago when I passed through.  The only thing that seems to have endured since my childhood is an old-fashioned Italian bakery that somehow has endured.  The family still runs it and from what I’ve been told they still make crumb cake and crème doughnuts that are worth buying.  So, after the wake and the mass I intend to stop by that store and buy some pastries to bring home to Camera Girl.  She’s partial to good crumb cake and I like it too.

When I get back, we’ll have some good coffee and enjoy some pastries while I tell her what the old neighborhood looks like.  And I’ll tell her who showed up for the funeral and who didn’t.  What everybody looked like and any family news for good or bad.  And hopefully, there won’t be any new feuds breaking out to report.  At this point in the cycle, I’m hoping everybody is looking to let bygones be bygones and go quietly into that good night.  But you never know.  I come from some pretty ornery stock.  There are old feuds that go back well over a hundred years that I’ve heard about and as far as I know are still being honored.  But hopefully those folks won’t be showing up for this family gathering.

And in fact, I know of at least one party who will attempt to spark a gathering of the clan for a summer party sometime in the summer.  I used to have one every summer about a decade ago at the Compound but people got older and travelling became more difficult so it subsided.  Maybe this will revive the custom.

So, I’ll see what I can do to keep this site active while I’m on the road.  At the very least there will be pictures and quotes.  I’ll see if I can get one more post scheduled after this one to fill in the gap.  But we’ll see.

Well, back I go.

Guest Contributor – War Pig – 26DEC2024 – Elemental

photog Guest Contributors, Reclaiming the Family, War Pig , ,

war pig

Given the choice between kids with simple toys and physicists, I’ll take the children every time. There is something elemental about children learning a new skill. They have to understand trajectory, momentum, judging speeds & accurate distances, bound orbits; and then teach their bodies to react precisely to intercept a bound orbit vector at speed and to furthermore cushion the landing of the ball to prevent it bouncing out of the cup again.

Small wonder we have so much trouble programming humanoid robots to do simple things children can do.

The Intersection of Christmas and the Woke

photog Current Events, OCF, photog's Corner, Reclaiming the Family ,

It’s at this time of the rolling year that we think about what matters most in our lives.  Just as Charles Dickens designed into his story we think of the past, present and future.  And at this point in my life these become very distinct groupings.

When I think back to my childhood and youth it’s as if I’m looking out on a different world.  The America of my past was like a fantasy world where opportunity and optimism was omnipresent.  And Christmas was the epicenter of that sense of optimism because children are the center of Christmas and America was arranged around providing the next generation with a future of limitless opportunity.  And that culture back then was still a Christian culture and the religious and moral aspects of the Christmas story were at the very least still acknowledged.  Even Charlie Brown ended his troubled search for the meaning of Christmas with Linus reciting the New Testament text at Luke 2:8-14.  And all this positivity and solidarity produced a remarkably happy life for the great majority of Americans.

Now look at the present.  It’s not an exaggeration to say that pessimism is the dominant sentiment among Americans of every stripe.  And young people are convinced that the opportunities their parents and grandparents enjoyed will not be there for them.  And as far as Christmas goes, not only is religion now almost abandoned by the young but any spirituality or even morality associated with Christmas has been drained out of it by the popular culture and the cultural institutions on the Left.  Christianity is only referenced as a symbol of Western oppression or the patriarchy.  What has replaced it is a confused cult of “social justice” that allows any depravity as long as it’s in the name of sexual identity.

But what of the future?  I think it’s certain there’s no way back to the past I knew.  But that does not rule out escaping from the desolation we find ourselves in now.  We do not have to try to reclaim the lost souls that surround us on the Left.  We do not even have to hate them.  But we do have to separate from them.  In their confusion and despair, they have taken it upon themselves to destroy our children by confusing them with their insane views.  This must be prevented by any means possible.  The beginnings of this resistance can be seen appearing in various parts of the country.  To know if this will be effective, we’ll have to wait and see if it starts expanding during the friendlier environment of the Trump administration.  And there is some hope that the Supreme Court will lend a hand.  There are hints in the statements after the reversal of Roe v Wade that gay marriage may be headed for a similar reversal.  As with any discussion of the future every fork in the road is a flip of the coin.  But sometimes the coin comes up heads.  So, there’s hope.  What we’ll need to do is rebuild our culture on the durable parts of our heritage.  Morality will have to be redefined to support a healthy community that centers around normal family life.  Those who don’t fit into that pattern will have to be left to the other side to find a place in the world.  We’ll concentrate on people who can face reality and want to build something positive for their children.

So here we are on Christmas Eve and I try to remember and point to the past as a template, ignore the worst of the present and hope for and work for a better future.  Now past the roast beast and gravy and let’s get this show on the road.