"Just the One Who Died"

At David's memorial service, Paul  talked about my sister's murder and said he grew up knowing very little about her or her death (he was a toddler when she died).  I was not aware of deliberately not discussing her but since she hadn't done much after her death, there wasn't much more to talk about.

But Paul said he didn't want that to happen to Dave.  He didn't want Dave to be "just the one who died."  He wrote a song about him, which he performed, and David was featured prominently in Paul's monologue show, "Sedona, Arizona." He said that was the way that Karen felt to him...she was just the one who died.

Both Paul and David died before Facebook and the explosion of social media and I think it's fair to say that neither of them will ever be "just  the one who died."  Each year on their birthdays and on the anniversaries of their death there are many people who post things about them -- photos or comments -- and dozens more who respond to those. 

My friend Ron, who died last year, and who met Paul only once, told me one year when I posted this photo:

that he was always happy to see this picture whenever I posted it, because he liked it so much.  Other people post pictures of Paul and/or David on their special days.  Jeri posted this yesterday.

This is Dave with the cat he and Jeri owned, when they were sharing an apartment.

We have our traditions surrounding the two of them.  Every year on Paul's birthday, his friend Jessica takes a small jar of mayonnaise to put on his grave, because he hated mayonnaise so much and it's her way of reminding him that she's still angry.

On each birthday, Walt and I go out for sushi, which came about because Paul and I used to have sushi together whenever Walt was out of town and we went to a sushi place one year to celebrate both boys' birthdays (Jan 29, Feb 5) and so we continue the tradition.

And, because Kraft Macaroni and cheese was David's favorite meal -- he had it for lunch every day for years -- we served it at his memorial service and I cook it for dinner every year.  (Somehow it doesn't taste as good as it used to!)

I wonder what Brianna and Lacie will think of Paul and David as they grow up.  We talk about Uncle Dave and Uncle Paul all the time, but will that translate into their being "just the ones who died"?  I don't know, but thanks to the internet, they are certainly being remembered a lot more than Karen ever has been.  We're doing out best to make sure they aren't "just the ones who died."  I hope that makes Paul happy.

Sunday Stealing

Hi! Welcome to Sunday Stealing. This feature originated and published on WTIT: The Blog. Here we will steal all types of questions from every corner of the blogosphere. Our promise to you is that we will work hard to find the most interesting and intelligent questions. (Past hosts include: Our first - Judd Corizan, Mr. L, Kwizgiver and Bud) Cheers to all of us thieves!

From Unconscious Mutterings.  There are no right or wrong answers.  Don't limit yourself to one word responses, just say whatever pops in your head.  Thanks to The Gal Herself for the suggestion.

 

I say ... and you think ... ?

Hurry! ::
up

Dumb ::
as a rock

Fudge :: 
Mmmm...hot fudge sundaes!

Sturdy :: 
trees

Printing :: 
is good, but kids need to learn cursive

Itch :: 
that's what back scratchers are for

Creaks :: 
doors

Paste :: 
doesn't work as well as double-stick tape

Waste of time :: 
signing petitions to change #45's mind about anything

Let down :: 
milk!!  (remembering my breastfeeding days)

Cancellation ::
At this time of the year, "cancellation" makes me think of favorite TV programs that are no more.

Suspect ::
we haven't heard the last of the Mueller report.

Fireplace ::
The unused place in our house where you can sit...because of pollution we aren't supposed to use our fireplaces any more.

Spring ::
a beautiful time of year here, unfortunately followed by summer.

Commute ::
Something I don't have to do, which, seeing  the roads and freeways around here during rush hour, makes me very happy.

Places ::
in the heart

Fraud ::
Any millionaire politician who thinks because he has money (or not) he can run the country.

Adoption ::
Puppies. 

Election ::
A day of hope.  Depending on how 2020 goes, either relief or all-out depression.

Moving day ::
boxes and boxes.  And more boxes. Our house is full of things left over from moving days of many people!

Saturday 9

Welcome to Saturday: 9. What we've committed to our readers is that we will post 9 questions every Saturday. Sometimes the post will have a theme, and at other times the questions will be totally unrelated. Those weeks we do "random questions," so-to-speak. We encourage you to visit other participants posts and leave a comment. Because we don't have any rules, it is your choice. We hate rules. We love memes, however, and here is today's meme!

 Secret Love (1953)

Unfamiliar with this week's song. Hear it here.  I love doing this song because it was from her movie Calamity Jane, the soundtrack of which was one of the very first LP records I bought as a kid.

Rest in peace, Doris Day (1922-2019)

1) In this song Doris admits she's spoken to the stars, "the way dreamers often do." Do you often daydream?

Always.  I have weird daydreams.  When I am reading something and am starting to feel sleepy, my brain rewrites a scene into whatever I'm reading.  When I "come to" and go back to the book the scene my brain wrote has nothing to do with the story, though it has all the same characters.

2) What's the last secret you kept? (It doesn't have to be romantic.)

I learned how to keep secrets typing medical notes for an ob/gyn clinic.  I was very careful to forget all the personal secrets that I uncovered, so well that now when I am told a secret, I don't usually remember it myself, unless it requires me to do something.

3) While "Secret Love" was one of Miss Day's best-selling records, and the song won an Oscar, she did not perform it at the Academy Awards Ceremony. She said she was just too nervous to sing it live before an international television audience and an auditorium full of entertainment professionals. When did you last suffer an attack of nerves?

Good lord, I suffer nerves about everything.  I'm nervous speaking to an acquaintance at a party (not a friend, fortunately).  I'm nervous making a business-type phone call.  Heck, I'm even nervous to check my bank balance on line for fear I won't understand it.

4) Doris' well-publicized attack of Oscar stage fright was unexpected because she began her career as a band singer, performing before live audiences every night. But she reportedly did develop more phobias over the years, including a fear of flying. Is there anything that scares you now, as an adult, that didn't frighten you as a child?

I am more nervous now driving/riding on the freeway than I ever was before some 30 years ago. 

5) Doris Day made 39 movies between 1948 and 1968. She said one of her favorite things about filmmaking was working with costume designers on her wardrobe. Do you enjoy shopping for clothes?

I hate it.  When you are built like I am it's terribly embarrassing to shop in the fat ladies store and discover they have nothing that fits you.  And if it fits you, it looks terrible.  I can't remember when I last shopped in a store for clothes, but it's probably been 10 years at least.

6) Doris confessed that when she had to lose weight for a role, she gave up ice cream. If we checked your freezer, would we find any ice cream?

You would indeed.  We have mini Haagen Daz bars for dessert every night so there is almost always ice cream in the freezer.

7) In 1985 she hosted a cable show called Doris Day's Best Friends. She used the show as a platform to promote pet adoptions and animal welfare. Most of the guests were celebrity friends who reportedly donated their salaries for appearing on the show to Doris' pet foundation. Did you more recently ask a friend for a favor, or perform a favor for a friend?

It's a little thing, but the last favor I asked for was when I asked Ned if he could change the water bottle in our water cooler for me.

8) For more than 20 years, Doris co-owned the Cypress Inn in Carmel, CA. The Inn expects to continue on without her, and maintain the pet-friendly policies she introduced. Have you ever traveled with your dog or cat?

Only once.  When we first got Sheila, I took her everywhere with me.  We took her camping once (though not overnight) and it was fun, but since we usually had two dogs and traveling with Lizzie was a pain and Polly won't ever settle down, we leave her home when we go anywhere.

9) Random question: What's the last thing you complained about?

Well, THIS week it's the damn new laws going into effect in Alabama.  Or maybe the impending war in Iran.  Little things like that.

That's HOT

I'm trying to clear out the freezer and use up things that have been in there for months (some for years).  Now that I have ordered freezer labels, I think things will go more smoothly and I won't run the danger of pouring pumpkin pie mix into my spaghetti sauce again.

Tonight I defrosted a rather large container of "something."  I could see it had beans in it and it smelled chili-ish, so  was fairly certain this was a legitimate dinner.  And it was.  It was a chili I made awhile ago and as I stirred it on the stove and took a small spoonful I remembered this recipe.  This had more heat than most chilis I make.  I don't know why I followed a recipe.  I never follow a recipe for chili, but I must have been inspired by a food network program or something.

In any event, as I tasted it, I remembered that when I first made it, this had been almost too spicy to eat.  And still is.

You know, of course, that when you have something super spicy, water does nothing to ease your mouth, but milk does.  I found something even better.  I also had half a package of tater tots and some fresh cherry tomatoes so served those with the chili, and taking one or the other or both after each mouthful of the chili made it palatable.  However, I told Walt (who cleans the kitchen each night) that unless he liked the recipe, he had my permission to throw the rest of it away, even though there was enough for another meal.

I was reading Malala Yousafzai's book about displaced families and the terrible conditions under which they live and what they go through to try to find peace in the United States, and telling Walt to throw away perfectly good food when there are so many starving around the world gave me a twinge of guilt.  But since I couldn't mail the food to them, I assuaged my guilt.

I have never been an adventurous eater.  In a fast food place, I order my cheeseburger plain (no sauce), buy mild cheeses, etc. The most adventurous I ever got was having escargot with Gilbert on his birthday in a French restaurant in San Francisco.  

But with all the food network programs I've been watching, I've decided to start trying to eat a little bit more spicy foods.  Everybody is always tossing in red pepper flakes to "turn it up a notch" and I'm starting to do that...just a tiny notch.  I am now actually adding the sriracha they send with our Home Chef meals (still only half of what is supplied) and am slowly helping my taste buds adjust to a slightly more spicy diet

Of course the fact that your taste buds change as you get older helps.

My favorite candy bars for forEVer have been either Snickers or U-No bars.  Now I find them both too sweet for me.  I used to love a nice rare steak or a big slab of prime rib.  Now I look at them pictured on menus and know I can't eat a fourth of what the pictures show.  I am no longer tempted by restaurant commercials which show delicious multi courses of delicious foods.  I know I couldn't eat a quarter of the foods shown.

Even my favorite crab salad sandwich at Fenton's is too big and I usually take half of it home either for Walt or for my next meal.

I now understand my (paternal) grandmother who, toward the end of her life, said rather plaintively "when I can eat again, I just want a big slice of prime rib."  I don't think she ever got it.

I guess this is why, though I think I eat way too much, my weight has not changed in about 5 years or more.

---

I am remembering the pledge I made a couple of years ago, to set aside time for reading, since I hadn't been reading as many books as I wanted.

While I would like to read something like 75 books a year, it seemed that my average was about 50.  But this year, as of the first of May, I had read only FIVE.  So I've been spending time reading for the last two weeks and am enjoying it.

It helps when I continue to read books as bad as "A Diary on my Screwing Up my Year Abroad."  All I wanted to do at the end of that book was to read a better book.

I chose a book that I described in my review as a "palate cleanser."  It was "The Tour: A Feel-Good Irish Springtime Read," which was a low key, easy read story of a group of people taking a bus tour around Ireland.  They were predictable character types and the life each one of them (including the bus driver, who had his own drama) was changed during their one week tour.  

Lots of suspension of disbelief that they all had such major life changes. 

But it was an easy read that took slightly over a day to read.

When that was finished, I was ready for something a bit more meaningful and chose the Malala Yousafzai book I mentioned before, which tells the stories of several women who were forced by violence or other circumstances to leave their homes and relocate elsewhere.

It's too bad our glorious leader doesn't read or his heart might be moved by the stories of what caused these women to leave their countries and why they endured such hardships to get to where they hoped they would find peace and safety in this country.  Of course, he doesn't have a drop of empathy in him, so I doubt he'd be moved anyway, even if he did care about the conditions of refugee women and children.

Next I'm moving on to re-reading "The Hobbit," which I first read in 1969 (I know because Paul was the baby at the time).  Bri tells me that's our next book club discussion and I have from now until July to finish it.

On Being 11

Brianna is 11 years old.  You probably know that.

 

A happy little girl, small for her age.

 

It's a terrible thing to even contemplate, but if she lived in Georgia and were to be raped and become pregnant, the government would make her bear the child and give birth to it.

 

The newly signed bill, which goes into effect in 2020, forbids all abortion past the time of heartbeat, a time when most women don't even realize they are pregnant.  There are no exceptions for rape or incest.  If she were to go to another state for an abortion, that is also illegal.

If Laurel were to become pregnant again in Georgia or Alabama, and should she miscarry, she could be forced to undergo questioning to prove she did nothing to abort the baby.  Miscarriage is painful enough but to have to go through an interrogation to prove that you did nothing yourself to cause the loss of the pregnancy is rubbing salt in an already raw wound.

Abortion is always going to be a controversial, emotional issue.  Since Roe v. Wade (which I heard this morning is now in jeopardy, as some legal eagles are saying that there are issues which can be challenged to revoke it), the number of women killed trying to get a illegal abortion has declined significantly.  Since Roe v. Wade, women have had a say over what happens to their own bodies, and the government is trying to take back that choice.  Death rates will rise again.

There has even been talk (by our great and glorious leader) that there must be punishment for a woman who has an abortion -- 99 years in prison has been suggested -- though nobody seems to want to bring punishment to any of the men who father these unwanted babies.  Punish the men?  Pfft.  Surely you jest.

I worked for 12 years in an ob/gyn office where abortions were performed on Tuesday nights.  It was not strictly an "abortion clinic" because it also did women's health and obstetrical care.

I started as a part time transcriptionist and when I was offered to become full time, I had to do a lot of soul searching.  Until then I would not work on Tuesdays and considered that I was "wishy washy" on abortion.  If I was going to work full time, I had to come to peace with whatever my opinion was.  I finally decided, along with the Supreme Court, that the decision to abort or not should be between the woman and her doctor.  That if it was OK to end the pregnancy for a little girl who had been raped, could we say that her next door neighbor with six children who couldn't handle another one, but whose religion forbad the use of contraception, could not choose to end the pregnancy?

I finally decided that I was pro-choice.

I did not always agree with the choice that some women made.  I always think of  the woman who had an abortion because she didn't want to be pregnant in the summertime, who returned a year later for help in getting pregnant because she was ready and was having difficulty.

I hated the high school kids who showed up with their friends for their pre-abortion appointments in the morning as if they were going to a social event.

But I also saw so many women for whom abortion was a serious decision, who had good reasons.  The doctors and staff were never judgmental, unlike the protesters outside the office who would beg me not to kill my baby (I guess because I was fat they assumed I was going into the office for an abortion, not to type).

It always amazes me how uninformed the men (and yeah, there are some women, but mostly men...middle aged to older men) are who makes the decisions about women's bodies.  Does Trump really think that doctors will deliver a baby, then wrap it up and, with the mother, decide whether to kill it or not?  He has described that gruesome scene many times.  Does that idiotic senator really think that you can just remove an ectopic pregnancy and move it from wherever it has imbedded into the uterus?  Even if you could (and nobody has ever done it) it would be major surgery, and life-threatening for the woman.

There is no good answer to abortion, but given the choice between back alley abortions that often kill women, and abortions done by trained doctors in sterile environments I go for legalizing it and letting women decide what works for them.  If our legislators put half as much work into taking care of the children of the world now, homeless, suffering starvation, rejected by parents, as they do the life of a fetus, this would be a much better world

 

Why Facebook?

There are a lot of bad things said about Facebook -- cyber bullying, terrible political battles, hacking by Russians and others, etc., etc., etc.

But when you use Facebook as I have since 2007 it's more fun than not.  I have made lots of "imaginary friends" (as my CompuServe friend's wife used to call us) here, most of whom I'll never meet but who have been following me--and I them--for more than 20 years.  I can't think of any negative situation I've had with Facebook, at least not that I'm aware of.

I've received unsolicited gifts, which surprised and delighted me.  I've had more sympathy than anybody has a right to and have joined in countless digital memorial services (even a wedding or two).  My mother's family has its own group where I can keep up with what is going on with everyone.  I've learned so much from the Dementia group here.  I get so much information and recipes from the Instant Pot group. And since nobody that I talk with on a regular basis is a fan, it's great to have somewhere to share feelings about Outlander.

 

Yesterday was one of those days where I hoped Facebook would come through for me--and it did--in less than 10 minutes.  It was one of those times which I have too often when I hit something on the keyboard without realizing it as I was leaving the room and when I came back I couldn't figure out why everything was outlined in blue.  Everything.  Not just Facebook, but WordPerfect and even Photoshop.  I couldn't get rid of the blue outlines.

I have had speakers attached to my computer forever but they have not worked in decades, so it was not until I put speakers in my ears to listen to an audio message that I realized that the blue outline indicated the things that were being narrated.  I opened up G-mail and suddenly the whole pages was being read to me!

I spent a long time trying to look through everything to find out how to turn OFF narration, but to no avail.

I finally put a note on Facebook, wondering how long it would take to get an answer.  The first answer came within 3 minutes, but from someone who is a Mac user (they are invariably the first, usually to let me know how inferior my PC is), who said he didn't know but this was what he did on his Mac.  Literally 2 minutes later, a PC user was there with the answer and within 10 minutes, my narration was turned off.

I cannot list the times when Facebook followers have come through for me, helping me solve a nagging minor computer problem -- or commiserate with me while my guru has the computer and is trying to fix it.

Facebook is also good for stupid quizzes, which yes, I know are designed to get information from you to be used nefariously, but I still enjoy them, like this one today, the Enneagram, designed to get my personality type.

 

Turns out I'm The Peacemaker. Your Enneagram personality type is the Peacekeeper. You're a daydreamer at heart with incredible artistic potential. You're driven by love, a love for others, a love for life, and a love for all challenges that life brings you. You fear loss and separation and you thrive in cooperative and peaceful environments. You tend to avoid conflicts and you'd rather not shake things up. This can often make you somewhat detached from the conflicts around you. Use your natural peacemaking skills to help others resolve their issues. You're a true diplomat that unites total opposites. World peace may very well be on your shoulders. Are you up for the task?  That seems pretty spot on, though I'm too old to wrestle Jared for solving the middle east problem at the moment.

So Facebook is a good friend.  It's there when I need conversation, and can be shut down without being rude.  It has not (yet) brought me ill and I was such an open book on the Internet long before Facebook was invented that I don't worry about my privacy being breached because you have long been able to find out most of what you wanted to know about me anyway, long before I even though that privacy was something to be guarded.

Around "The Home"

I was surprised when I approached Eldervilla today to see two police cars parked out in front.  As I got out of the car, one of the residents was being led by one of the police officers into the police car.  She stopped and waved at me.

Sandy came over and told me she had decompensated and had been attacking people for the past several days and he finally had to call 911, which sent the police to take her to the emergency room.

I went into the house and was pleased that Sandy stayed outside with the police and that my mother was lying in her bed in her room, which meant I might actually have a visit with HER and not with Sandy.

I had brought a Mothers Day package -- a small balloon, a card, a little planter with roses in it and a box of cinnamon rolls.  She, of course, didn't relate to "Mothers Day" but thought the card was pretty, though she struggled to read it.

Before long there was a knock on the door and there was Sandy, and my "visit," such as it was, with my mother was over.

 

I really like Sandy and I love his reports on how she is doing, but he just won't ever go away.  On the other hand, since my mother has such a difficult time with conversation, having Sandy there is a nice way to be with her and not try to get her to visit (which Ned and Jeri seem to do quite well!) 

There is a new resident in the home now, a guy named John, who has been there a week.  My mother is doing so well that she's no longer Sandy's #1 concern and he has been concentrating on John and the woman who was just sent off to the emergency room.

 

Even when my mother was showing me her card and talking about it, I had to divide my time between her and the video Sandy was trying to show me (which, actually was kind of cool--showing my mother sweeping the kitchen floor.  She has definitely found her "home" at Eldervilla!).  He says that her aggression is completely gone she she almost always makes it to either the bathroom or the commode in her room.  She obviously cares about him, as she holds his arm and puts her head on his shoulder, as she used to do to her "boyfriend" at Atria.

I time my arrivals to get there after lunch, but they ate lunch late today, after 1 p.m., and invited me to join them, so I had lunch at Eldervilla...some nice fried fish with corn and green beans, and chocolate covered blueberries, which Sandy passed out to those of us at the table.  It's not the restaurant type food from Atria, but more home cooking, and kind of nice.

Of the people there, Jeannie is my mother's "best friend" and the two of them like to sing together.

 

Jeannie was dressed up today because she had just gone out with her family.  Sandy tells me that she has no stomach and so they have to watch what she eats, but doctors said that people like her can't gain weight, and she has gained weight at Eldervilla.  Just like newcomer John, who could not walk when he moved in and is now walking fine.  Sandy definitely has the magic touch.

It wasn't like the Mothers Days of old, but we had a nice time together and I told Sandy I would be back next week.  He said that the affection my mother and I have for each other was helpful to her, and that the family of one of the other residents caused problems whenever they showed up, and he had to ask them to come less frequently.

---

For my own mother's day, Walt gave me a nice card and fixed breakfast for me.  I had a nice long chat with Jeri, Ned (who is working all day at the University's Whole Earth Festival) posted a greeting on Facebook, and Tom called from Brianna's softball game.  No chance to chat with the girls, but I had a nice conversation with Tom.  Walt is taking me out to dinner so I don't have to cook on Mothers Day.