Tag: life

Blow-Up Godzilla and Highway Mayhem

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The Third of July was a busy day.  We had to get the pool vacuumed before guests arrived and then there were chores around the yard.  And then we had a good summer cookout with burgers and potato salad, corn on the cob, sausage and peppers and watermelon.  No wonder losing weight is such a slog!

And it was a good visit with reminiscences about summers up in Maine when my kids were young and other trips.  And I had an interesting conversation with Princess Sack of Potatoes.  She said something about how useful mothers were.  So, I mentioned to her what fathers were useful for.  I asked her if she ever got tired while out somewhere and her father carried her around like a sack of potatoes?  Or what exactly would happen if the car got a flat tire far away from a tow truck?  Or if suddenly traffic stopped on a crowded highway in the middle of summer and after an hour someone would have to get out and walk up the road to see how long the stoppage would be.  And this caused a yelp from Princess Sack of Potatoes’ mother.  She remembered that day very well after all these years.  And she was still upset by it, remembering how certain she had been that I would never come back alive.  We all got a big laugh out of that.

This was shortly after I had moved out of New York City but I was driving into Manhattan to attend a wedding in SoHo.  It was a science fiction themed wedding with a blow-up Godzilla in attendance.  We were on the FDR Drive when the traffic screeched to a halt and nothing happened for about forty minutes.  So, since it was very hot that day and my car’s air conditioning was non-existent, I shut off the engine and started walking between lanes of traffic to see what was going on.  And about a half mile up the road there were police, fire and emergency vehicles blocking the road in both directions.  And along with several crashed cars there was a very fancy sports car that was upside down and wrapped around a light pole and some other parts of the highway infrastructure.  The firemen were cutting away what was left of the frame to get at what was left of the driver.  It looked pretty grim.

The good news for us was that our direction on the highway would be released as soon as the ambulances got their patients stowed away and headed to the hospital.   The other side looked like it would be stuck for hours.  So, after satisfying my morbid curiosity for a few minutes I headed back to my car with the news that we would be moving in less than another half hour.  And my youngest daughter looked so relieved when I managed to return before the traffic had started to move.  She was convinced that if I hadn’t gotten back before it started to move then of necessity I would be squashed like a bug in a cartoon.

It’s funny, up until today I hadn’t thought of that day in thirty-some-odd years.  Funny what stuff just pops into your head.

Vernal Equinox 2026

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According to Grok the vernal equinox occurred on Friday, March 20, 2026, at 10:46 a.m. EDT.  At that time Camera Girl and I were probably in Walmart buying eggs, coffee and chop meat.  When we got to the register the cashier was this friendly talkative old lady who wanted to tell us that if we took out one of our eggs, we could balance it on its end.  She explained that it was because of “the e-quick.”  Well, she was a very nice lady so I smiled and said, “That’s great.”

The reason I was along on this expedition was because Camera Girl’s twenty-year-old ride (Nelly) was in the shop and the surgeon wasn’t too sanguine on Nelly’s future.  The brake lines were leaking but when Dr. Steve put her up on the lift, he found metastatic rust throughout the length and breadth of poor Nelly.  Camera Girl was devastated and so was my bank account.  The surgeon asked if a mercy-killing wasn’t the best option but as a devout “right to lifer” I said, “No!!!!”  So, Dr. Steve left me with the sad news and said it would take a few days to get the parts and finish the work.

But when we got home slightly after the equinox, there was a message from Dr. Steve saying we could bring the patient home.  We rushed to find Nelly looking alive and well.  Dr. Steve said it was “a miracle.”  Nelly wasn’t as far gone as he had initially thought.  And equally importantly it hadn’t cost as much as I had feared.  So, Camera Girl and Nelly were reunited.  They drove home together and later on I celebrated this Equinox Miracle with a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

But the larger lesson I’ve learned is that nothing lasts forever.  Not even blue Toyota Corollas.  The power of New England winter road salt is existential.  The body of a car may look pristine with a bright paint job and a functional cd player in the dash board.  But the mortality that follows from chloride corrosion cracking is as final and fatal as death itself.  Nelly has served us faithfully and well.  And generations of our dogs have had their own blankets on the back seats that they relax on during trips to the vet’s office and the nail clipping place.  And decades of grandkids have sat in the back seat elbowing each other and complaining about how cramped they are.  But very soon all this will be disrupted.  They will notice that Camera Girl’s old car is no more.  And she is very sad about the whole thing.  I am too!  I have to buy another car.

Well, never look a gift horse in the mouth.  We’ve been given a reprieve and I’ll start figuring out what Nelly II will be.  And it turned out to be a nice day walking between stores and parking lots and I even had a nice review for my book on Amazon and some more sales.  So, all in all it wasn’t a bad e-quick as e-quicks go.

It Doesn’t Compute

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Most of life is about paying the bills.  We work most of our days to pay for food, shelter and raising children.  And for the most part we don’t think too much about all this.  After all what we do is the human analog of what very living creature on Earth has to do to keep its species alive into the future.  And none of them question why exactly all this goes on.

But when you get to a certain point and the end of the race is in sight and maybe you have a little more time on your hands than you used to, you might start asking some questions about what all of this is.  This is called philosophy or religion or maybe just plain curiosity.  One day you look around and think, “How the hell did this whole thing get started and where the hell is it going to end up?”

And it’s a good question.  The pessimist’s answer is the whole thing is just a complete accident.  Life itself is just a random occurrence that probably will just peter out and end when the sun dies in several billion years or maybe even sooner than that if some things go sideways for us here.  Who knows?  Maybe we ourselves will be responsible for the end of life.  Some madman may decide it would be fun to figure out a way to kill off every last bacterium and virus and make it so that none could ever reappear on Earth again.  It seems like a stupid idea but there are lots of crazy people and who’s to say that a really smart crazy man might not take it into his head to do something like that.

But there is definitely a sizable chunk of humanity that believe that we are here for a reason.  They believe in some kind of God.  Not necessarily the personal God of the Bible.  Some think there is some sort of universal spirit that is associated with all life or maybe just human life.  And it’s safe to say they have no way of ever proving what they believe in is real.  I’ve heard lots of people trying to prove God’s existence.  And I don’t think anyone has ever come up with anything that would convince an atheist that he is wrong.

No, the belief is not based on proof.  But at the same time, I don’t think for the most part it’s wish fulfillment.  I think it’s a form of intuition.  Some people look around and say I just don’t believe that all of this is the result of random chance working out over the course of several billion years.  It’s like that old idea that if a billion monkeys typed on a billion typewriters (word processors) for a billion years that they would come up with the Complete Works of William Shakespeare.  I think it’s a case of not letting large numbers intimidate you.  I can understand that over the course of geologic time mountains can turn into valleys and stars can explode.  But how does that create Mozart or Shakespeare or even you?  It doesn’t compute.

Echoes of a Summer Night

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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.

You Have to Acknowledge the Losses

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I’ll be travelling Saturday and Sunday.  I’ve got a meeting with the boys up in northern New England.  I’m driving up Saturday morning and driving home Sunday late morning.  Then I have two long days at work Monday and Tuesday.  So, posts will be on a best-efforts basis.

But my life has always been (from my point of view) on a best-efforts basis.  None of us has much (if any) control over the vicissitudes of life.  The weather, our health, the actions of family, friends and especially enemies and total strangers intervene to make the best laid plans of mice and men playthings for the gods.

So, all that is true.  But working our way through all of the twists and turns of life is infinitely compelling.  Even if we have a mundane, even boring week we hear about someone’s disaster, someone’s tragedy.  Someone sentenced to death, someone struck down with awful injury.  And when these are good friends; good people, you’re stunned for a second, “How could that be?  I just saw him.  He was solid and animated; busy!  How could he be dead or dying?”  But very soon he’s gone.  Pretty soon you struggle to remember details of recent visits.  People fade out of our lives.

Well, it’s a matter of bandwidth.  I can only concentrate my mind on a very few things at a time.  So, the periphery has to stay there at the edge.  If someone I haven’t seen in almost exactly fifty years dies, even tragically, only a moment can be spared to acknowledge the loss.  You can only hope that the last fifty years were packed with significance and striving for some lasting impact on the people around him.

I guess what’s important for me is to reflect on whether I have achieved any lasting impact on those around me.  I know of at least one affirmative.  I have impacted Camera Girl in a lasting way.  She has been irritated by me for fifty years now.  That’s got to be significant to her!  To a lesser extent I’ve left some impact on my children and an even more tenuous impact on their children.  I’ve had friends and family in my life.  That counts for something.

Well, I guess it’s the nature of life that as we age, we begin to anticipate death.  How will it intersect with life?  How much warning will there be?  I’ve known some people who were terrified of it.  I’ve known others who were serenely calm about it.  I remember many years ago as a teenager I was working in a hospital and I asked a middle-aged man why he was in the hospital.  He smiled at me and said, “I’ve got a touch of the C.”  I looked at his chart later and he had metastatic bone cancer.  He died a day later.  But he took it all in stride.  So, there is a continuum of human attitude toward mortality.

Recent events around me have got me thinking of such things.  I used to say that the break even point in life is fifty.  If you were allowed fifty years of healthy life then you couldn’t rail against fate as having played you dirty.  If you didn’t dawdle fifty would allow you to raise a family and leave a mark on the world.  Of course, as you get older you can see how sixty and seventy enhance the satisfaction of seeing the future come to fruition.  But the fifty number still makes sense to me as a break-even point.

Okay, enough maudlin sentiment.  Mortality is a fact of life.  But every once in a while, something around you catches your attention and you realize that the stage is changing.  Faces appear and then disappear.  You have to acknowledge the losses.

There’s Gotta Be

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Now all the stuff comes at us left and right.  Today is Father’s Day and that’s great.  But also, I went to the high school graduation commencement ceremony for one of my grandsons.  It was raining so we were sitting in raincoats on chairs covered in plastic with another sheet of plastic over our legs.  So, it wasn’t exactly relaxed and carefree.  But you come out to support the family and these ceremonies have their logic and things will go according to this logic.  There are the two main speeches by the kids with the best grades and there might be a poem from the poet laureate (imagine, at eighteen!).  And all that’s fine.  It’s all about beginnings and endings and growing up and moving out into a larger world.  And that’s great.  The kids are thinking about all the friends they’ve made and all the growing up they’ve done and being excited for the future.  None of the sentiments are all that original.  But that’s not the point.  For the adults it’s nostalgic and for the kids it’s marking the day and saying goodbye to childhood.  All good.

But then they send up this girl whose speech is associated with some kind of a prize.  Maybe the speech was what won her the prize.  Although if that were true, I have to wonder who is in charge of the curriculum at this high school.

First of all, it was way too long.  The valedictorian’s address took about seven minutes.  This other thing seemed to go on and on.  Of course, maybe it just seemed to go on for hours.  The thesis was that the classroom was the only place where she was happy.  And she hammered away at all the other parts of life where she was unhappy.  Home with her family, between classes at school, at events with “friends,’ working on projects with her classmates and interacting with other people in general.

She described how only in the classroom did she feel accepted and valued by those around her.  Her family, her friends, her classmates in general and just random members of the human race made her feel unappreciated and negatively valued.

After this had gone on for what seemed forever Camera Girl and I looked at each other with the same expression, “What the hell is this!”  So, I looked around and I could notice at least a few of the spectators had a pained confused expression.

Finally, it ended and there was applause but compared to even the poet laureate it was short and half-hearted.  Later on, I was thinking about this speaker.  She was sort of odd looking.  Short, heavy, noticeably unattractive and her expression was a sort of grimace.  And I wondered whether her speech had been vetted by whoever is in charge of the commencement.  I’m guessing not.  Maybe that’s part of academic freedom.  The speakers are free to say whatever they want.  Well, if that’s so then I would at least hope they would make an effort to choose for speakers only those who weren’t undergoing a mental breakdown.

Honestly, I wouldn’t allow someone that morose to speak in front of a crowd of high school students and their friends and family.  It might convince them that the faculty and the administration were nuts too.  I think this girl is symptomatic of the general breakdown of mental health in this generation.  This girl’s maladapted view of life seems to have been selected as a virtue by whoever selected her to speak.  I think we were supposed to empathize with her point of view.  I didn’t empathize with her.  All I felt was sympathy for her friends and family for having to live with someone so messed up that sitting in a classroom was preferable to all other forms of human interaction.  I’m guessing she is part of the LGBTQ “community.”

I guess in a way I should take comfort from the experience.  When school ends this week, I’ll be seeing my grandkids.  And we’re bound to get along better than the antisocial nightmare I listened to.  When I see the graduate, I have to ask him what he thinks of the girl who made this speech.  There’s gotta be a story behind that trainwreck.  There’s gotta be.

Guest Contributor – ArthurinCali – 14MAY2025 – A Young Man and the Sea

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What’s so interesting about Oliver Widget?

Arthur tells us:

“Oliver Widget, a man from Oregon has captured the attention of millions for his decision to sail around the world with his cat Phoenix.”

“Receiving a medical diagnosis of a strong possibility of becoming paralyzed in the future would cause most to become more cautious in their decision-making.”

“The genuineness of Oliver’s videos is an aspect that cannot help but come across watching them. Oliver is not a trained media personality and himself admits that social interactions are not his forte. Yet, this lack of polish and veneer from his persona are what add a depth of authenticity to him. What you see is what you get: a guy on a sailboat with only his pet cat traversing the Pacific for the first time giving unscripted moments on the journey.”

 

All the World’s a Stage

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The Bible (Psalms 90:10) says, “The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.”

So, seventy years are a little less than 25,000 days.  That seems like a big number.  But at the end looking back, it’s the blink of an eye.  That time is swallowed up in sleeping and commuting to work and drinking bad coffee and keeping your boss from firing you and fighting with vendors and trying to satisfy clients and paying the bills.  Hopefully you spent enough time with your wife and kids so that they had some inkling of who you really are.

The best days are carrying the babies home from a family party where everyone was glad to see each other and there was something to celebrate; a holiday or an occasion.  Or taking the kids to the seashore for a week or two in the heat of July.  Or maybe taking your wife out someplace special for a big anniversary.

And then the kids get married and then the grandchildren come along.  So, there’s a progression.  The cycle comes around again.  Only now you’re on the other side of the wheel.  Way out there on the far side.  You recognize the program but now you’re seeing it from far away.

So, the thing to do is try to make yourself useful and try to add a little something to the plot of the story.  You’re no longer the lead.  You’re not even near the center of the stage.  You’re kind of the guy in the wings with a copy of the script ready to whisper the lines to the actors if they forget their lines.  Well, it’s still useful and who knows maybe there’s a non-speaking role for you as a spear carrier.  That’s when you get to be backup driver for soccer games or band practice.  After all it’s honorable service.

But it is weird how life works.  You really can’t delay gratification.  You can’t work for forty years to make enough money to make the last years worth having missed what came before.  You have to figure out how to squeeze the joy out of the process of living.  You have to enjoy being a kid and a young man and your prime and what comes after that.  You have to find some friends along the way, go on those coffee walks at break time and go to your kids’ soccer games and their kids’ baseball games and volunteer around town and even do really annoying stuff like getting involved in local politics.

Like I said, it’s the blink of an eye.  Twenty-five or thirty thousand days is a short span when so much is eaten up by routine that is almost unavoidable.  I guess if you’re a billionaire it’s a little different but I’ll bet it’s still the same tradeoffs, responsibilities versus joy.

Of course I haven’t seen the last page.  As Shakespeare said,

“Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

Well, I better hurry up and get my ducks in a row.

I’m Still Working Out the Details

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So, which is it?  Rage against the dying of the light or serenity in the face of the inevitable and natural cycle of life and death?  I was at a funeral and I looked at my cousins and saw what time was doing to them.  All of us were proof of the inevitability of aging and death.  Each one was a slightly different take on mortality.  Some seemed to be aging gently and they exuded humor and calm.  Others looked very tired and deeply saddened by how hard the way is.  Well, that difference comes of a combination of internal and external factors.  Luck plays a part and also wisdom and also temperament.  If I’m going to guess I’d say luck and temperament play the largest parts.  I mean I guess someone like Gautama could remain tranquil in the face of fate’s onslaught against our loved ones and our selves but most people are not so stoic.  We need some luck to keep us going.  Even Job finally had enough and wanted a word with the Big Guy Upstairs about all those boils.

So, is there a correct attitude toward the Big Sleep?  I’ve always taken a somewhat legalistic attitude about what kind of deal we get from fate.  When I was a bit younger, I used to say that fifty years was somewhat the break even point.  What I meant by that was if fate gave you fifty good years you should think that you got a decent deal.  Not great but decent.  The first fifty years are the best part of a life and with any reasonable amount of effort you can get quite a bit done in a half century.  You can raise a family.  You can become an expert in your profession.  You could even have served as President of the United States by then.

It’s not really a full lifetime but if you don’t lollygag around until forty you can cram a lot of living into fifty years.  So, if you live comfortably to seventy, I think you can feel like you got a pretty sweet deal.  I’m approaching the biblical “three score and ten” mark myself.  And even though I’m not anxious to throw in the towel quite yet I can’t see myself going through the whole wailing, gnashing my teeth and shaking my fist at heaven act.  I feel it would reflect a certain amount of ingratitude.  After all, think of kids who die of cancer or some other terrible disease before they ever get their permanent teeth.  That’s where I see someone lodging a legitimate grievance against the way the universe is run.  I’ve always been repelled by the suffering of the innocents; “the problem of pain.”

So that’s my somewhat simplistic but easily explainable philosophy of life and death.  God owes us fifty good years.  And we owe it to ourselves (and Him) to use the time wisely and diligently.  And this is coming from a profoundly lazy man.  No male in my family has ever truly grown up before thirty.  We have a talent for floating above the ground for an inordinate amount of time before being forced to finally settle down and get to work.  For this reason, I feel like I have been blessed in having reached my age with all of the milestones accomplished.  Of course, all of the credit for this goes to Camera Girl.  She refused to let me stall her plans and so she had her kids while we were very young.  Which means we were desperately poor for the first ten plus years of our married lives.  Which means I was that much luckier to get the whole thing to work out.

So, seeing death and dying is a humbling experience.  But it also makes me grateful for what I’ve already been allotted.  And honestly, I’m not very excited about ending up a nonagenarian or even an octogenarian.  I’m hoping for some very lazy death.  I’ve toyed with the idea of starving myself.  But I’m afraid I might keep putting it off every time I smell something good on the stove.  I’m still working out the details.

Now Prove Me Wrong

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So, Camera Girl works double time for a week and I just spend two days eating thousands and thousands of calories of delicacies over the long holidays but I’m the one who’s exhausted and complaining!  I guess we each have our own strengths and weaknesses.

So, mission accomplished.  Two days hanging out with the grandkids and all the rituals were observed.  I even bonded with my sons-in-law.  They were good sports and tolerated all of my quirks.  They uncomplainingly watched my showing today of W.C. Fields classic “The Man on the Flying Trapeze.”  They even laughed at several of the most absurd scenes of Ambrose Wolfinger with his cellar full of singing burglars, his career as a “memory expert,” his criminal adventure as an unlicensed manufacturer of apple jack, his passion for professional wrestling and his trials and tribulations dealing with his truly awful wife and her mother and brother.

The kids fell right in with the silliness on display.  The only protest came from my six-year-old granddaughter who recognized both Fields and the actress playing his wife from the previous showing of the other Fields movie where they played a husband and wife, namely “It’s a Gift.”  Princess Sack of Potatoes wanted to know where the son and daughter in that previous movie had gotten to in this movie.  I explained that even though Fields and the actress were playing husband and wife again they were different characters.  I think this situation didn’t sit well with her.  Apparently, she felt that her suspension of disbelief was being abused and she wanted those interesting characters returned.  I did my best to smooth over this outrage but it took half the movie to return her to willing participation.

And as everyone was heading home, I was thinking what a strange world we live in.  All the silly rituals and behaviors that we associate with happiness and family.  Three generations of people playing penny ante poker or watching movies from ninety-some-odd years ago or eating peasant foods from a country none of us has ever lived in.  It’s all just a hodge-podge of things that make up a stream of experiences that we all share together travelling down the years.

And for me, those are the realest things in the world.  All the other things I read about “on-line” and the important progress that is being made by artificial intelligence, global convergence or whatever else they call what they are doing with government money are utterly fake.  Watching my two youngest grandchildren trying for the first time to master the silly game of getting a wooden ball on a string to land in a little wooden cup was more meaningful than listening to two physicist talking heads debating about whether dark matter was faker than modified gravity.  These high powered (we hope) intellects should be concentrating their efforts on solving the world’s energy problems.  The physics they need to be studying is defining the criteria for engineering a safe fission reactor.  Humanity needs to snap out of its stupor and produce an ecosystem of abundance and prosperity that fosters human happiness and maximizes human intellectual potential.

It’s amusing to hear people who “believe in science” stating categorically that there is no God and that the universe and life are just meaningless accidents.  And their proof is “The Big Bang.”  They declare confidently that the universe began x number of billions of years ago with all the matter and energy of creation appearing out of nowhere and all of that creation is still expanding at an ever-greater acceleration into empty space with entropy leading to the heat death of this universe in y billions of years from now.  But if you ask them where the big bang came from, they just shrug their shoulders and say that is unknowable.  In essence they are saying they don’t know anything about the beginning and end of the universe.  So basically, they’re saying, “and then there was light.”

I tend to think life is not an accident.  From my point of view, what I experience in my small piece of the universe is the point of the whole thing.  A little kid playing with a ball and cup toy is the reason for the big bang and everything else that has been put in motion.  Now prove me wrong.