Farewell John McCain

John McCain was not of my political party.  John McCain was not of my politics. 

But he was a unique person on the political landscape.  I admired him even when I disagreed with him (which was often).  But it wasn't "always" either.  And that "always" is the thing we have lost these days.  The ability to sometimes agree with people you normally disagree with is essential to democracy...

A Soviet Chess Grandmaster (I forgot who) once said "I sometimes forget my opponents have good ideas too".  That applies to politics too.  John McCain sometimes had "good ideas too".  He was a very good Senator, who spoke honestly and directly.  That is a quality we will all miss.

We will never know whether he would have been a good President.  He might have been a great one or a terrible one.   History suggests mavericks can go either way.  I've tried to think of when he would have been a better President than the person who won.  It's difficult.  He probably would have been the right person to campaign against Gore in 2000.  I would have been twisted in knots about that choice, and either would have been better than Bush.

In 2008, I was torn between McCain and Obama, but decided that Obama was likely better at organizing the office and managing the affairs of government.  It wasn't easy.  My heart was for McCain, my mind was for Obama.

The deciding factor was that McCain would bring the Republican party into power and I thought the Democrats would do better overall.  But it was very close.  Both men seemed honest, honorable, and thoughtful.  And Palin mattered.  It signaled to me he was a good Senator who maybe didn't have a great talent for choosing qualified people to work around him.  There is something to be said for getting good subordinate executive managers.   Just look at Trump for examples of that.

If it was "just the President", I would have gone with McCain, hoped that Obama would run again in 2016 with more Senate experience, and won then. 

But that is all water over the dam now.  We have lost a person who was so very honorable, brave, and willing to think for himself.  Yes, "honorable, brave, and willing to think" does not necessarily mean a great executive,  but it is probably better than the opposite.  We could sure use more people like him than fewer.

Farewell John McCain...

Missing Skeeter

TBT:  Today, 6 years ago, my heart cat passed over the Bridge.  His name was Skeeter and he was the best cat I ever had. 

He slept under the covers hppily without dsturbing my sleep, he sat on my lap without feeling heavy, he licked my hand without roughness.  He happily ate whatever I provided (especially tuna), played wand toys any chance I gave, and was a kind and protective big brother to LC who arrived the year after he did.  He protected LC from Mean Old Tinkerbelle. 

He patrolled the yard endlessly to make sure there were no introoders.  He was a dedicated and talented Mouser.  He was always relaxed in in himself, by which, I mean he knew who he was and never had to pretend to be otherwise. 

Skeeter was Skeeter all the way. 

He had a hard start.  I found him in a small local pet shop alone in a cage where the whole store was being beaten apart loudly.  I had gone in looking for a Siamese, I came out with him.  It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

He never quite recovered from the horrible noise and dust of his kittenhood, and I protected him from that all the days of his life.  When LC came along from the same store, he welcomed her.

Skeeter was MY kitty, LC was his...

Skeeter once grew to 16 pounds of mancatly hunter.  I saw him jump once 6' high to catch a sparrow.  He was all muscle!!!

In his last years he lost weight down to 14 then 12 pounds.  He was still a great hunter.  There were fewer voles and mice his years than any years before or since.

In his last year, he lost weight and muscle.  I had never had a cat who lived to 16 before.  The Good Vet explained about kidney failure and we did our best for him his last months.  The vet said he would start to loose balance at the end, but would not be feeling pain, but that I should bring him in at that point. 

"That Point" occurred on December 9, 2008, and I brought him to his final vet visit Dec 10th.

He left my world at 3:45 PM, in my arms, as I told him much I loved him...

I brought his body home and laid it out for LC and Ayla to sniff.  I wanted them to know (as best they could) that he gone, not wandered off.  LC understood, I think.  Ayla was young, but she seemed to understand.  They both sat next to him for a while.  Then the both slowly walked away at the same time.

I brought him out to the spot he had last seemed to enjoy and dug a 2' deep hole for him. 

I love Ayla, Iza, and Marley very much, and I am deeply glad for them.  And I am glad for the ones who came before.  But Skeeter was the first cat who lived his whole life with me and had me send him off to the Bridge. 

His first moment home...
 
 In his prime, and just look at those fur patterns..

On his last day...
Oh Skeeter, I miss you so much.

You would be proud of the Cat's-Who-Came-After.  Marley keeps the peace as you did.  Iza and Marley are great mousie-hunters.  Ayla remembers you (and LC), and is the great hunter you taught her to be.  Your hunting skills have lived on from one generation to the next...

I just KNOW you and LC are romping through the fields over the Bridge together.  We will meet again one day...

Living With Dad, 7

Its the finances that are going to be the death of me.  Not costs, I mean the checks and bank statements, trash documents, etc.  Every single little document is a source of frustration.  We spent 1.5 hours deciding what to do with 1 received check, 2 change of address confirmations, a homeowner association board meeting notice, and a monthly investment statement.  It was maybe 10 minutes work for me if I got those myself.  But with the detailed explanations required for Dad, the repeat of the explanations a few minutes later, the backtracking after that, the filling out of a simple form and addressing of a simple envelope, and "the keeping of the documents", we used up 1.5 hours.

Dad is completely confused about his several banks with multiple accounts.  He considers each separate account "a bank" in conversation, which gets really confusing.  Fortunately, I have managed to eliminate one actual bank.  Every simplification helps.  A constant concern of his is bank failure and loss of his money (he is old enough to remember the bank failures of the Great Depression).  I explain that assets are federally insured, but Fox News reports and gold-seller advertisements all over TV have him worried.  I would like to get his checking and standard savings accounts into a local bank, a money market account into another, and some money into CDs at a credit union (for the higher interest).  Yeah, that's 3 banks, but they would be separated by type of accounts and I can keep THAT straight.  Plus new accounts get me a clean start so that I can start balancing his checkbook and entering his earned interest monthly.  Right now, he just trusts the monthly bank statements to be accurate.

And I'm still trying to get his older records sorted out (mostly looking for 2011 tax information).  So after the new mail was taken care of, we spent another hour+ as we went through the remaining ones in his duffel bag (his version of a file cabinet drawer).

Dad keeps stuff in old envelopes chronologically.  Worse, its chronologically by date of receipt, not the month it actually applies to.  So an amendment to his 2008 taxes is with Oct 2011 stuff because thats when it was processed.  And the Oct 2011 envelope has his property tax voucher in with bank statements, PR junk from a bank, and donations for the month, etc.  ARGHHH!

He can't understand why I want to sort documents by company and subject...  I'd understand if he could find any documents with his system, but he can't.  And I have to be able to find his documents.

His wallet is another scrambled mess.  There aren't many cards in it, but they are all just stacked together.  HE can't find anything in it when he needs to, and objects if I try to find anything.  For example, finding his Social Security card or credit card takes forever.  Not because he has so many cards in the wallet, but because he keeps them (deliberately) packed into just a couple plastic holders (all the others are broken on the sides).  I'd LIKE to get him a new wallet with new cardholders for each card, but he won't spend the money for one OR allow me to just buy one.  He wants his OLD wallet, broken as it is...

I'm hoping to get a chance to buy him a new wallet for Fathers Day and HOPE he will use it.  One nice plastic holder for each card he has in the old wallet.

I understand his concerns about keeping records the way he is accustomed to.  I really do; changes in personal organization are difficult.  But his way doesn't work for HIM either anymore and I'M the one who has to find records now.

I also know that I need to make changes slowly so that Dad can get used to them (in reality, "slowly" so that he has SOME illusion of control). 

I think the hardest part of all this is that I'm not dealing with a child.  I'm dealing with a person who knows he is an adult but COMPREHENDS like a child.  A child doesn't know or care about records and forms.  An adult does.  Dad KNOWS that these documents are important (and quite frankly, HIS).  While he knows that he can't understand them anymore, he can't stop trying.  THAT'S the Sisyphean hill we labor against every day...

Dad's fading mental abilities are the rock he is trying to push uphill.  But I'M the one doing most of the pushing and I have to keep running around him awkwardly to get a good grip on the rock.  When he asks the same set of questions about "settled" actions for the 3rd or 4th time, the rock slips downhill a bit and I have to get the rock uphill a bit further than it was when we started the day.

The rock will get bigger and heavier as time goes on and Dad has greater difficulties in understanding things.  I expect it, and I'll deal with it as best I can.  Because there will come a day when Dad no longer even tries to manage his affairs.  That will be a more difficult day.  Easier in the sense of "just handling his bills myself", but harder in that I will be watching my Dad fading from this world...

Mark

I Miss JFK

I remember where I was when I heard he died.  In a classroom, staring at the public announcement speaker at the top of the wall behind the teacher.  7th grade Social Studies class, I think, but that wasn't important.  The PA Speaker was light brown wood, about a 12" cube, dark brown cloth covering the grill.  The announcement from the Principal, that President Kennedy had been killed in Dallas Texas and that school would be closing for the day.  That students who took buses were to go to the assigned pickup points and wait with teachers.  That students who walked or rode bikes and had a parent at home (pretty routine in those days) should go directly home.  That those who did not should go directly to the cafeteria to wait for a parent to pick them up.  And then just stunned silence. 

I sometimes wonder what he would have been like in a 2nd term, then retired to "senior statesman" status for another 30 years.  Would the Vietnam War have developed as it did?  Would he have influenced the Civil Rights years?  Would he have become a great person in his elder years?  We'll never know, of course.

I wonder what he would think about our current political situation.  Could he have imagined that both parties would cease having conservative, moderate, and liberal factions?  Yes, there used to be Conservative Democrats and Liberal Republicans...

There used to be only 3 TV networks, too.  NBC, CBS, and ABC.  All that was on TV for several days was news about his death, the aftermath (Jack Ruby killing Lee Harvey Oswald), and the funeral.

I miss him.  A glowing candle, snuffed too soon, dimming the room for us all...

Its Been A Hard Week

Well, I should summarize the week...

Sunday - Ayla suddenly started extruding pus from her vulva.  I spent the afternoon and night keeping her as clean as I could.

Monday - Brought Ayla to my regular vet first thing in the morning.  He did some tests to eliminate urinary infections, then did x-rays to search for a reproductive tract problem.  He scheduled surgery for Tuesday.

Tuesday - Ayla was opened for exploratory surgery first thing in the morning.  At noon, the vet called to say that he had found the spayed uterus remnant was infected, which led him to discover her left ovary was intact.  He removed both.  Considering that the breeder's vet had done both a first and a followup spay operation, he was quite surprised!  I was very angry towards the breeder's vet.

Ayla (and I) have gone through frequent and lengthy heat cycles for 3 years.  Most times lasting for 10 days separated by 2 weeks of calm.  Occasionally, there was a whole month between heat episodes.  The news that my vet had found the cause was a matter of extreme joy.  I was thrilled.  The $800 was well worth all the trouble.

Tuesday night I picked Ayla up to give her the antibiotic, and I discovered she was dripping with red stuff all over the incision.  I assumed it was blood and brought her to an emergency pet hospital.  I was there for 2 hours.  The ER vet put a pressure bandage on her, did some tests, and decided she should see my regular vet in the morning. 

Wednesday - My vet was upset and distressed that I had had to go through all the ER stuff.  He explained that scar tissue is difficult to seal and that sometimes there is seepage.  But he apologized for not having advised my of that, and I am OK with the apology.  It DID cost me $1,000 at the ER hospital to learn that Ayla COULD have just lain on a thick towel all night.  The ER vet COULD have told me that, but he is running a business and I DID request service.  It was still pretty shoddy, though.

Anyway, my vet kept her for observation and examination all day at no charge. 

Thursday - Brought Ayla back to my vet for further observation.  He found the incision healing, not seeping, and he removed the IV catheter.  No charge, more apology, and lots of discussion.  And he gave me his home phone number in case of night time problems.

I hate the cone she has to wear, so I went out and bought an inflatable collar (XS dog collar, if you want to find one for a small cat, S for a regular size cat).  Ayla doesn't mind the inflatable collar, it even seems to make a decent pillow!

Friday - Ayla is alert and walking around, eating, and drinking.  She seems fine now, healing well with no "sera" seepage.

I spent the morning giving her lots of attention and scritching the itchy incision area that she can't get at with the inflatable collar.  She enjoyed that a LOT!

In the afternoon, I unwound by watering the veggie and flower gardens.  I have a nice system.  Stab a spading fork with a "D" handle in the ground, fit a hose nozzle in the handle (most will fit one way or another), and turn the water on for 5 full minutes at each spot.  Move the spade and repeat.  All afternoon!  Sit in a chair in the shade and drink a beer while listening to classical music on a little boom box.  Very relaxing and theraputive. 

It was 100+ outside, but I was sitting in the shade and there was a slight breeze.  There was water spraying, birds around, etc.  I NEEDED that!

Speaking of the gardens, the reason I was watering was because we are so dry here in MD.  There have been rains, but brief and hard and not much for several weeks.  How dry has it been?  The hosta bed still has dry crunchy leaves from last Fall.  They won't decompose!  Too dry.

More bad news!  A sign at the entrance to my neighborhood advises that electricity will be turned off for 5 hours August 1st!  Oh joy...  The forecast for that day is over 100 again.   I see that Verizon is digging up the neighborhood for some reason, so that must be the cause.

More bad news!  Have you ever used a garden hose and forgotten to turn the water off?  And the hose burst?  And not gone out there for 2 days?  That happened to me Tuesday.  I don't know exactly when the hose burst.  If I am lucky, it burst just before I went out and noticed.  If I am unlucky, it happened shortly after I went inside and it spewed water for 2 days.  And, of course, the water was not even spewing near any of my plants...  I will find out on the next quarterly bill.

More bad news!  Because of Ayla's apparently finally successful spay Tuesday, I contacted a radio vet show (The Animal House).  I had been a guest in June of last year discussing unsuccessfully "Twice-Spayed Ayla, and they asked for followup.  So I was scheduled for a taping Wed afternoon.  Well, Wed morning I had been up all night and morning, so I had to call to cancel (because I needed to collapse in bed).  They didn't want to reschedule for the next week, so they are just going to read the email I sent them.  I sure wish I could have been on-air to talk to them.  That would have been thrilling!  I guess I missed my 15 minutes of fame...

It will be broadcast in August and I will give details for that later.

I think it is finally safe to have "too much to drink tonight"!  And I plan to.  I just haven't decided whether it will be my favorite cheap wine (Twisted vine Zinfandel) or my own Sling recipe (1/2 oz gin, 1/2 oz pomegranate liquer, a shot of real pomegranate juice, fill up the glass with ginger ale over ice, and drink through straw).

I HAVE had worse weeks, but not often, and this one ranks way up on the list.  My baby sister died last Summer, Mom died last Fall, Skeeter died in Dec 2008, LC died in Jan 2010, I failed out of college in 1975 (I returned and graduated in 1993), and I got fired from a job because I couldn't roll tires off a truck fast enough.  All considered, I think this week places 5th.  Maybe 6th because I think at least Ayla IS finally spayed and that's good.

Mom

My mother died today of natural causes.  She was 83 years old.  My father was with her at the end.  To my knowledge, they loved each other unreservedly all their years together.

I loved her while a child, I admired her while a teenager, and we were friends all the days of my adult life.   As her first-born child (of 4), I probably received an unfair amount of attention, and I thrived on it.

From the day I left home to attend college to the time about 5 years ago when Parkinsons Disease robbed her of her ability to write, we corresponded regularly.  Her letters were always insightful, humorous, and responsive to mine.  We enjoyed challenging each other to be clever.  If she wrote about a party invitation she had sent out in rhyme, I would respond in kind pretending I was accepting (we lived far apart, so it was only in fun).  We enjoyed each others wit and wisdom.   We wrote about our cats' antics.  She always loved Siamese cats (and here I am now with two).  When she could no longer write letters by hand, she obtained a Brother word processor and typed out letters with great difficulty.  Sadly, she became unable to do that in the last few years.  My lifelong correspondent was gone, and it does not work by telephone.

She gave me her sense of sly humor, a love of the vagaries and frustrations of the English language, an appreciation of classical and broadway music, a love of reading and writing, the impractical beauty of flowers, and a love of cats.

I would not be the person I am today if not for her.

She met my dad the first week at college and they never dated anyone else from that day.  Dad was a year ahead, so she graduated in 3 years to catch up.  She was a promising stage actress in college, being the leading lady in several college plays, but did not attempt a career at it.

She was happy to be a wife and mother.  She was an avid golfer. She told Dad she wouldn't date any guy who didn't play golf, so he learned the game and became an avid golfer himself (getting to a zero handicap at one point).  They played golf constantly for decades.

MEMORIES

Learning to cook:  I was chief potato peeler and masher.  I cracked walnuts for her wonderful banana cake (I have never seen a banana cake remotely like hers).  When I left home, I used to ask her for the recipe.  She would laugh and say I would get the recipe when she died.  Fortunately, she sent it to me 10 years ago and I have made one every few months since then.  She also made a Boston Cream Pie (a cake actually) to die for.  But I lost my sweet tooth after college and she stopped making it.  But she sent me off to college with basic cooking skills, and that has done me well ever since.

Classical and Broadway music:  We listened to classical music at dinner most nights.  I came to love it.  But my best memories are of broadway musicals.  We learned all the songs of Camelot, The Sound of Music, Tenderloin, etc.  Her favorite was Tenderloin.  We memorized every song.  To this day, I can pretty much sing all the songs at will.  She loved it so much that before the recorded album was released, we would write down the lyrics as they were played on the radio.  Yes, there WERE stations that played broadway songs back in the 60's.  And just a few days ago, my best friend recalled that I used to sing the Camelot songs to myself while in college (I don't remember that, but friends know things about you that you don't know yourself).

Her endless childhood stories:  Everyone tends to repeat the same stories of their childhood.  The ones that you learn to anticipate word-by-word.  I know how she got her first cat, how one of her brothers accidentally killed his first dog, how she cut her wrist open closing the glass door, the stories of her relatives, etc.  I know them by heart.  But I will never hear her tell them again...

Learning to sew:  Yes, I learned to sew; few guys do.  I was always curious about how things worked.  I must have expressed some curiousity about sewing at some point.  I learned the basics.  She taught me to hem pant cuffs, do a chain stitch, and darn socks.  I'm not very good at it, but I can get by.  That's another thing more guys should learn.  And from what I understand these days, more women, too.  Maybe I should mention that her Dad was a tailor...

Language:  Mom taught me to read before I entered Kindergarten.  That may be common today, but it was rare in the 50s.  Parents read to their children, but she encouraged me to read to her at bedtime.  I recall going to the town library to get my library card.  I had to write my name and address.  I could have written a short essay!  Apparently, I was a surprise to the librarian because of my young age.  I read voraciously.  By the time I was 12, I had exhausted the "teenage" reading library and was allowed to check out adult books.  I thank Mom for that lifetime gift.  I have been a reader all my life.

Humor:  I'll combine creativity and humor here.  Mom taught me to love language, puns, and humor.  She was creative in everything she did.  An example:  The club they belonged to had a "Crazy Hat Party" once.  Dad made her a cardboard hat with a wide brim.  We attached my Ben Hur Chariot Race figurines all around it.  2nd place had some peacock feathers on a regular hat.  Mom won by a landslide.  There was no such thing as "over the top" with her.  I learned to be creative in everything I did, thanks to her.

I mentioned party invitations earlier.  Mom loved to entertain at parties.  She loved themes.  If the theme was "Beach", there would be fishnets on the walls and driftwood tables.  The invitations she sent out would be crafted in beach-theme poetry.  The food and drinks would be beach-oriented.  When they moved away from me to NH, she would always send me a copy of her poem invitations.  I loved that, and replied in poetry as if an invitee (none of her guests ever did).  My best was a rendition of 'The Raven'.  She loved it!  Her party-throwing days ended 20 years ago so there have not been any clever and delightful party invitations since.  I miss that.

Cats:  Mom was one of the best cat-namers I ever knew.  She would research languages to find the right names.  She loved Siamese cats and we had 2 while I was growing up.  Both were named "Pretty Little Girl".  But it was "Kenani" in Hawaiian and "Hai U Phin" in Thai.  I had a series of wonderful gray tabby cats through the years and tried to give them clever names, but it wasn't until 3 years ago that I got Siameses of my own.  My names weren't as fancy, but when I explained to Mom that their names were from a story about Cro-Magnon characters and described the story, she thought they were very good names.  She could never remember the names of my previous cats (she always called Skeeter "Skeezix" and LC "Elsa"), but she remembered Ayla and Iza correctly.

Nature:  When I was a child, Mom took me around the yard putting out bits of yarn for the birds to make nests with.  Then we rejoiced at seeing the yarn in nests in trees later.  It taught me how to notice bird nests in trees to this day.  And there was "Squinty the Squirrel".  Squinty had one eye.  Mom left toast crusts on the kitchen windowsill for it.  Squinty was a regular visitor for several years.  Later, Mom became the official burier of birds that crashed into the house windows.  We had a whole mini graveyard.  She taught us that animals had lives too.  And that lives end.

There is so much more, of course, but I have to stop somewhere.  It's been a sad Summer.  My sister died suddenly last month and now Mom.  They are the first deaths in the immediate family.  I hardly know how to deal with this.  But putting some of it in writing helps.

I'll end with 2 pictures.

Mom and me...

Mom and Dad a few years ago...

Goodbye, Mom.  I'll miss you all the remaining days of my life.

Remembering...

Jennifer

I figured out the scanner.  Here are her young pictures...  This is my memorial to her.

She was such a happy child.  I delighted in every move she made.

When she was very young, she loved to play peekaboo with me.  The box is where the christmas ornaments were kept.  When it was empty, she loved to hide in it an pop up.

In no particular order...

This is the most precious picture I have of her...Absolute happiness.  She loved that Raggedly Ann doll for many years.

Drinkin the Big Brother drink... Above.  And wearing my hat,  She loved that.  She always thought my hats were special.  Wearing my hat always made her feel great.

One of her earliest moments.  That is Hai U Phin in the doll bed.  Jen loved that cat.  As did I.

Jen asleep in my old bed.  She always liked my red and yellow walls. 

≈

Jen posing for a picture.  She loved to be photographed.  I wish I had taken a 1,000 more,,,

 Jen with Hai U Phin...

 The oldest picture I have...  Jen as a teenager.

 My dear little sister Jen...  44 years old, gone forever...

The spots in the photo are accidents of time.  But I want to think of them as stars in the cosmos.  She deserves to go out with all the stars around her.  She would have liked the idea of "cosmic"...

Intelligent, organic, loving, good mother, friend...

Farewell good sister, good friend...  My life is emptier without you in it.