Random Access

Thursday
First things first: A heartfelt “Thank you” to all for your well-wishes. It’s always good to know that you have a group of friends supporting you when the horizon grows dark.

Thank you, again.

Today wasn’t bad, on the whole. I kept my head (mostly) in my work. Having something on which I could focus helped a bit. And, at the end of the day, I was satisfied with what I had accomplished.

After work, and I met , her father and a couple of their friends for dinner at Tucci’s at Larryland South. Good dinner. Good company. Good conversation.

Following that, we came home, dropped off a car and met , and Spydr for coffee (even though I had hot chocolate). More good company. More good conversation. And, jazz. Ahhh, sweet jazz. Naturally, there was randomness. It was just the right ending for the day.

NPR Stories
Actually, just one story: Neil Gaiman on Talk of the Nation

Stray Toasters

• Coffee and revisionist history.
• From the “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot” file: This…
• The nostalgic in me smiled when I read this. The first computer that I really used was a C-64; the Sinclair ZX80 that I had gotten a year or two before was more of a paperweight than anything else.
• For : Monty Python’s Holy Grail goes Broadway

Quotes of the Day

• Me: I just figured out who you remind me of…. Barry Manilow.
• Spydr: The Borg have the whole Taoist sexy… but with weapons!
• : Boobs! Skirt!
• Spydr: Now she just looks like “Geisha-Whore Ballerina.”

Namaste.

I had a few things that I had considered using for today’s post, but they aren’t going to get used. Not today. Today, I’m writing about something else; this is personal… and it’s a bit long-winded.

I received a phone call today at 4:04 P.M. It was my father. He was calling to tell me that my grandmother had just died. He said that she passed while watching television. Quietly. Without warning. Very unexpectedly. He said that he would not have noticed that anything was wrong had it not been for the fact that she was slumped over in her chair.

…

She was my last remaining grandparent. I have been seeing fragmented images of time that we spent together and/or talked on the phone (in no particular order):

• The last time that I was home (February 2002). This was also the last time that I saw her.
• Homemade bread and cakes and cookies. The sense of smell is often associated with memories. I’ll always remember the way that her house smelled when she was baking. I remember a time that she baked a cake for my father and me… ostensibly for our birthdays (we’re in the same month, about three weeks apart)… because I had asked for it.
• How “mad” she would get when I would just show up on her doorstep unannounced. She wasn’t mad… more… worried, I guess, about what I would have done if she hadn’t been at home. (It wasn’t like this was a jaunt across town; at the time, we lived about three hours – and two state lines – apart.) But, I knew that if I had called, she would have gone to the trouble of cooking a big lunch/dinner. I was much happier taking my chances than having her do something like that… which never stopped her from doing it on a smaller scale once I showed up.
• Traveling with her and my grandfather. Including the time that we went to California and I came down with some bug… and the way that she doted over me while it ran its course. And various road trips between their house and Maryland. Or Ohio. Or just down the road to Bluefield or Princeton.
• Spending Christmas vacations at her house. She would let me stay up until just after midnight and play with my toys before going to bed. She and my grandfather would stay up for a bit and play with me.
• The time that she called me to ask me to attempt to talk my sister out of spending a semester studying in Russia. This made me laugh. She was asking me, the one who decided to pull up stakes and move to Utah, to talk one of my sibs out of doing something that they wanted to do? *shakes head* I told her that I would not and could not do it… and that I supported her desire to go. That didn’t earn me any Brownie points.
• Christmas 2000 when I went home… with Jess in tow. And the fact that she forgot Jess’ name… in the middle of a family prayer. Jess and I found this to be rather amusing.
• Watching/listening to her sing with her church choir.
• Picking blackberries in her garden.
• Telling me not to throw rocks at a beehive – something that you wouldn’t think that you would have to tell someone who is allergic to bee stings… but I was kid; as such, I knew that I wouldn’t get stung – and then her taking care of me after a bee decided to prove me wrong.
• Spaghetti! I have yet to find someone who could fix spaghetti that tasted like hers.
• The time that I drove from my apartment in North Carolina to her house in West Virginia, picked her up and drove her to my father’s (in Maryland) because she had… hmm… I don’t remember what the reason was. I just remember that time was critical and that my schedule was the only one open enough for to get her, get to Maryland and get back home without creating major conflicts. I remember talking with her as we drove through western Virginia and Maryland. I don’t recall the content of the conversation, but the overall “feeling” that I am getting from the memory is “good.”
• Taking her to buy a computer when she had decided that she wanted to learn to use one. She didn’t use it that much, but my sibs use it when they’re home.
• I even remember a time when I was spending a couple of weeks with her and my grandfather and found a few cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon that my uncle had left in the downstairs refrigerator after one of his visits. And I convinced her to let me have one. After all, my mother had let me have a few sips of beer before. She protested, saying that there was no way that I was going to drink a whole one and that she would either have to drink it herself – she hated the taste – or pour it out. But, I persisted and she let me have a can. I opened it, took a few sips… and I was pretty much done. She wasn’t really happy with me about that. I was about six or seven at the time.
• Finding out that she was leaving WV and moving in with my dad and stepmother. I think that I gave my dad some good-natured flak about the changes/improvements that he made to the basement when she moved in compared to when I was living there.
• More… lots more.

On the way home, I had a thought. A random one. Imagine that. I started thinking of the various incarnations and personifications of Death. The sickle-wielding, robe-enshrouded Grim Reaper. Neil Gaiman’s gothic sister of The Endless. Gods and goddesses of pantheons come and gone. A fair angel alighting next to a person to usher them on to their place in Heaven.

Then an image popped into my head: Neil Gaiman’s Death appearing next to my grandmother… the way that she appeared to her charges in issue #8 of The Sandman. I could see my grandmother looking up at her and shaking her head. Not out of fear. Not out of disbelief. But, because she just didn’t “get” this Death and the way that she was dressed.

It made me smile. And that made me happy… if just for a moment. And that was a good thing.

People have asked me how I am feeling. That’s not an easy question to answer. I’m feeling a lot of things: Sad. Numb. I’d even say a little “lost.” A bit of frustration… and maybe a little angry. But, I don’t feel “bad.” I’m not sure that I can adequately put it in my own words, so I’ll use an excerpt from Dan Millman’s The Way of the Peaceful Warrior to try and sum it up:

I decided to pay Joseph a visit and tell him what had happened. As I walked down Shattuck a couple of fire engines wailed by me. I didn’t think anything about it until I neared the cafe and saw the orange sky. I began to run.The crowd was already dispersing when I arrived. Joseph had just arrived himself and was standing in front of his charred and gutted cafe. I heard his cry of anguish and saw him drop slowly to his knees and cry. By the time I reached him, his face was serene.

The fire chief came over to him an told him that the fire had probably started at the dry cleaners next door. “Thank you,” Joseph said.

“Joseph, I’m so sorry.” “Yes, me too,” he replied with a smile. “But, a few moments ago you were so upset.”

He smiled. “Yes, I was.” I remembered Soc’s words, “Let feelings flow, then let them go.”
Until now, this had seemed like a nice concept, but here, before the blackened, waterlogged remains of his beautiful cafe, this gentle warrior had demonstrated how to make peace with emotions.

“It was such a beautiful place, Joseph,” I sighed, shaking my head.

“Yes,” he said wistfully, “wasn’t it?”

For some reason, his calm now bothered me. “Aren’t you upset at all?”

He looked at me dispassionately, then said, “I have a story that you might enjoy, Dan. Want to hear it?”

“Well — OK.”

In a small fishing village in Japan, there lived a young, unmarried woman who gave birth to a child. Her parents felt disgraced and demanded to know the identity of the father. Afraid, she refused to tell them. The fisherman she loved had told her, secretly, that he was going off to seek his fortune and would return to marry her. Her parents persisted. In desperation, she named Hakuin, a monk who lived in the hills, as the father.Outraged, the parents took the infant girl up to his door, pounded until he opened it, and handed him the baby, saying, “This child is yours; you must care for it!”

“Is that so?” Hakuin said, taking the child in his arms, waving good-bye to the parents.

A year passed and the real father returned to marry the woman. At once they went to Hakuin to beg for the return of the child. “We must have our daughter,” they said.

“Is that so?” said Hakuin, handing the child to them

Joseph smiled and waited for my response.

“An interesting story, Joseph, but I don’t understand why you’re telling it to me now. I mean, your cafe just burned down!”

“Is that so?” he said. Then we laughed as I shook my head in resignation.

“Joseph, you’re as crazy as Socrates.”

“Why, thank you, Dan — and you’re upset enough for the both of us. Don’t worry about me, though; I’ve been ready for a change. I’ll probably move south soon — or north. It makes no difference.”

“Well, don’t go without saying good-bye.”

“Good-bye, then,” he said, giving me one of his bear hugs. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“Are you going to say good-bye to Socrates?”

He laughed, replying, “Socrates and I rarely say hello or good-bye. You’ll understand later.” With that, we parted.

About 3:00 A.M. Friday morning I passed the clock at Shattuck and Center on my way to the gas station. I was more aware that ever of how much I still had to learn. I stepped into the office already talking a mile a minute. “Socrates, Joseph’s cafe burned down. He’s going away.”

“Strange,” he said, “cafes usually burn up.” He was making jokes. “Anyone hurt?” he asked, without apparent concern.

“Not that I know of. Did you hear me, aren’t you even a little upset?”

“Was Joseph upset?”

“Well… yes and no.”

“Well, there you are.” And that topic was simply closed.

Well, there you are. I’m going to miss my grandmother, but I’m happy that she went peacefully. There will be a definite change in the house without her there.

I think that there are more things that I had wanted to say. But this was enough for now.

Namaste.

This was a week ago.

When I woke up this morning, it was 51°.
About an hour ago, it was 39°… and rainy.
Now, it’s 43° and still cloudy, with traces of blue on the horizon.

Did I mention that it’s still the middle of September?!

Fortunately, I have my trusty coffee mug filled with hot caffeinated goodness to see me through.

Think that your job is bad? Take a look at these…

Canada Immune from RIAA? Hmm…. Recording Industry Association of AMERICA. Let’s look at that last part: “..of America.” And the article is about Canada. America…. Canada. Four syllables… three syllables. Not the same. (And the article does explain why Canadians are pretty much exempt from action by RIAA.)

Video Screen in Thin Air

It seems that someone who shall remain nameless (but whose user name is comprised of a one-eyed, secret agent rodent and a state whose tourism-driven claim touts “The Greatest Snow on Earth”) asked someone else who shall remain nameless to verify where I am originally from in order to compile a list of the unusual city names from my home state.

I was rather amused.

The names of Utah cities/towns that I had in Sunday night’s post were just the ones that I saw on the signs on the trip back from Las Vegas. But, since the gauntlet has been thrown down, my inner antagonist feels the need to add a few more names to the “What in the Nine Hells Were Utahns Thinking When They Came Up With THOSE City Names” list:

• Aneth
• Shivwits
• Shem
• La Verkin (Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?!?)
• Uvada (Not “Utah.” Not “Nevada.” Uvada!)
• Paria
• Verdure
• Ucolo (Not “Utah.” Not “Colorado.” Ucolo!)
• Ticaboo (I don’t have a joke here, I just like saying “Ticaboo.”)
• Clawson

I’ll leave it there… for now.

Monday
It was a good day.
It ended with a good night.

Namaste.

Oog.
I had forgotten how much quick-turnaround trips can take out of you. But, I would do it again in a heartbeat. Why? Because I (finally) got to see my mother and stepfather for the first time in far too long. Sometimes it just takes an emotional recharge to get things back in order. The change of scenery didn’t hurt either. Both were overdue. Long overdue.

Friday:

• Slept in.
• Had lunch with Jess’ mom
• Hit the road! The ride down wasn’t bad – there were a couple of slow-downs through construction zones.
• Found our hotel.
• Talked with Mom… discovered that ‘tonight’ would be difficult to get together. Made plans for her to call in the morning.
• Got something to eat and wandered around the casino.

Saturday:

• Woke up (which is always a good way to start the day) when Mom called. We set up a time to get together.
• Observed the hygiene rituals and then..
• Met up with the folks!!! They met us at the MGM Grand… and I saw the funniest site: My mom feeding quarters into a slot machine. It was cute. (I wasn’t aware until a little later that this was her first trip to Vegas.) We had lunch at the Rainforest Cafe in the MGM and then tooled around for a while. We wound up at the Boulevard Mall so Mom could look for an outfit to wear to the football game that she was in town to see. Shopping with Mom is… an experience. I believe that Jess said that it was “interesting.” But it was fun/amusing, nonetheless.
• We split up again: They went to their game, we went back to our hotel. Somewhere in there, I fell asleep-ish for a while.
• We got together with the ‘rents again around 10:30. Headed to Caesar’s Palace. Not many things can shake/surprise my mother. Vegas did. She was stunned by how active The Strip was at 10:30. She was shocked again around 12:30, when we left Caesar’s… and The Strip was still quite active.
• We dropped them back at their hotel and said our goodbyes. I’ll be seeing them again around Christmas. Hoo-AH!
• Headed back to our hotel and wandered around the casino for a little bit… and then called it a night.

Sunday:

• Slept well… until Mom called at 0710. To ask if I had left something at their hotel. I hadn’t. *sigh* But, it was a chance to speak with her and say “Goodbye” before they flew out. Sleeping after that, however, was difficult.
• Woke up, handled the hygiene rituals, packed up and got on our way again.
• This leg of the trip was made more amusing by taking pictures of the signs with some of the more… unusual names of the towns in Utah. Why pictures? Because if I just said “I passed a town called (name)….” most non-Utahns would think that I made them up. (There are also pictures of the St. George LDS Temple and the Virgin River Gorge and a few other signs that I found amusing.) I was talking with earlier and noted that the sexual repression around the predominant culture here is apparent in some of the town names:
  • Beaver
  • Fillmore
  • Harding

  Does it really take a rocket scientist to see this?! I think not.

And that’s how I spent my weekend, more or less. I am rather tired. I think that I’m going to sleep in and make an abbreviated workday of it… if I go in. I will most likely go in, but I did say that there was a chance that I wouldn’t be back in the office until Tuesday. We shall see…

…but for now, sleep.

Namaste.

Off to Vegas!

We just had lunch with ‘s mom and are getting ready to set sail… or whatever the appropriate term would be. In a few hours, we’ll be in Glitter Gulch. Sin City. Lost Wages.

Amen.

Stray Toasters

• Goodbye and good journey to Johnny Cash and John Ritter.
• Congratulations to Christian Bale. Why? Because he is going to be the next Bruce Wayne.
• . If you aren’t reading this yet, start now.
• PVP. Ditto.
• I found this article on Cinescape’s site late last night. I’ll have more to say about it later.

That’s about it for now. Not sure if I’ll be posting from Vegas, but somehow, I doubt it. In any case, have a good weekend.

Namaste.

2001

2002 (Part 1)
2002 (Part 2)

Namaste.