Lawn Mowers

 

Two weeks ago our lawn mower failed catastrophically. Somehow it began pumping oil and gas out through the air filter, smoking and clogging and just generally Not Working. I’ve never seen a mower do that before. Now I’m no mechanic, but I realized that our mower was Broke.

Well, I don’t ever buy anything on impulse, so I started researching mowers and brands and features and prices and considering my options, and while I was doing all that Mona went out and bought us an electric lawn mower with a rechargeable battery.

I really wasn’t even considering an electric model, but now that I’ve used one I don’t think I’ll ever go back. It’s just as powerful as a traditional gas-powered mower, and it’s roughly the same price, but there’s no gas or oil or air filters to bother with, it’s lighter, and it’s a lot quieter. It has a five year warranty-- not bad.

So I guess there’s something to be said for impulsiveness.

Flowers

 

 

(clicking imbiggens)

The top picture shows a yellow "weed" that is every bit as pretty as the flowers we paid for.

The big green plants in the bottom picture are sunflowers, ringed with four-o'clocks coming up underneath.  If you look closely, you'll see a birdfeeder in the middle of it all.

The sunflowers are planted for us by the birds, a fair exchange for the seeds they eat.

When I was a little boy I collected seeds from my grandfather's garden and planted them (with Mom's help) at my own home.  Several moves and more than fifty years later, these four-o'clocks are the latest generation of his flowers.

I still miss you, Grampy.

"Factors and Considerations"

The email I received below is just hilariously inept. "Various factors and considerations?"  I cut-and-pasted it below, in its entirety.  There's not a cliche she missed-- it's a case-study in obfuscation:

From:  Karla Cooper <Karla.Cooper@uthet.com>

Dear Silver Elite Member,

We hope this message finds you well. We are reaching out today with some important news regarding our Silver Elite Program.

After careful consideration and evaluation, we have made the decision to conclude our Silver Elite Program effective May 31. This decision was not made lightly, and we want to assure you that it was based on various factors and considerations.

We want to express our sincere gratitude for your participation and support of the Silver Elite Program. Your engagement and loyalty have been invaluable to us, and we truly appreciate the opportunity to have served you through this program.

While the Silver Elite Program is coming to an end, please be assured that our commitment to providing excellent service and support to all our patients remains unwavering. We are here to assist you with any questions or concerns you may have during this transition period and beyond.

If you have any questions or need further assistance, please do not hesitate to reach out. We are here to help in any way we can.

Once again, thank you for your participation in the Silver Elite Program and for being a valued patient. We look forward to continuing to serve you in the future.

Best regards,

Karla Cooper
Marketing Manager
www.uthealtheasttexas.com

vive la différence

 

Mona and I each bought a set of measuring cups.

I picked functional ones made of stainless steel, with the volume stamped on the handle.

Mona picked a set that is equally functional, but is multicolored and a lot prettier.

Chaos Theory

 

(clicking imbiggens)

Bringing order out of chaos is probably why I enjoy playing solitaire.

Like Poems, Like Prayers

 

(clicking imbiggens)

While in college, my mother was recruited by Martha Graham to join her dance troupe.  She turned her down, because education was extremely important to her father and she had promised him she would get her degree.

She could have had a very different life.

 

And I'm not sure what the trouble was that started all of this…

 

Full lyrics HERE.

I remember the "Just Say No" years, when Ronald Reagan was president and he let Nancy take the microphone.

There was zero understanding.  There was no attempt at empathy.

I remember the almost gleeful response to John Belushi's death.  He was considered a reckless hedonist who got what he deserved.  

Prominent Christian Jerry Falwell said, "Well, I never thought he was funny anyway."  As if that mattered.  As if that justified an unhappy ending.

 It came out later that John had wanted so desperately to be free of drugs that he'd paid a security guard to shadow him constantly to keep them away from him.  As extreme as that measure was, it proved ineffective.

I think things have gotten a little better since then.  Mathew Perry's death was treated as the tragedy it was.

But other addicts, like Andy Dick and Robert Downey, are still treated as punch lines.

A little empathy would go a long way.

 

Towels and Cats

 

That's my favorite dish towel.  It's pretty old, but there's something about the cat that I find very appealing.

And that reminded me of this:

 “Cheshire Puss,” she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. “Come, it’s pleased so far,” thought Alice, and she went on. “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.

“I don’t much care where—” said Alice.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.

“—so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. “What sort of people live about here?”

“In that direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “lives a Hatter: and in that direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.”

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”

“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.

“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on “And how do you know that you’re mad?”

“To begin with,” said the Cat, “a dog’s not mad. You grant that?”

“I suppose so,” said Alice.

“Well, then,” the Cat went on, “you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.”

“I call it purring, not growling,” said Alice.

“Call it what you like,” said the Cat.

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol is in the public domain and may be read online or downloaded for free from Project Gutenberg, HERE.

Sharing a Breath

 

(clicking imbiggens)

Many years ago, the hospice nurse warned Mona when her mother's time was nearing its end, and Mona leaned in to share her final breaths.

Portage County, 1956

While going through my father's belongings I found this trophy.  Apparently he was on the Portage County Championship Bowling Team in 1956, and was proud enough of it that he kept it for the rest of his life.

Box of Rocks

When I was a little boy I lived at 42 Coventry Drive in Chillicothe, Ohio.  My best friend, Lori Zonner, lived right next door at 40 Coventry Drive.

When it was raining we would stay inside and watch her guppies or play in the sandbox in my garage, but if the weather was nice we'd walk along the road looking for pretty pebbles.  

There were a lot of brown ones.  We prized the red ones.  Some were just an interesting shape.  I would take them home and give them to my mother.

When we were cleaning out my father's estate I discovered small box full of rocks.  Mom had saved them.

I felt silly feeling so emotional over a box of rocks.

 

1985

 

(clicking imbiggens)

Mona in college.  That's a typewriter in front of her, a phone attached to the wall, and several photographs she took of Earl Thomas Conley in concert.

No.

 

I'm not doing it. 

It wasn't that long ago that when you took your cart to the cashier, you were done.  The cashier took the items from your cart and rang them up, then passed it down the line to the bagger who sacked your groceries, took them to your car for you, and helped load them into your trunk.

Now Walmart is trying to brainwash us into believing that if we don't do their work for them, for free, then somehow we're the problem.

They want you to believe that this is somehow a test of your character.  

It is not.

I'm not falling for it.

Gene

 

Mona took me to see Gene Watson at Liberty Hall last night, and he was really, really good.

He's now the oldest performer we've gone to see.  He's 80 years-old, which makes him three years older than Ringo the last time we saw him, but his voice is still strong and clear.  I'm not grading on a curve, here-- close your eyes, and he sounds the same as he did forty years ago.

It was an energetic performance and an appreciative audience, and just a really good time.

7

There is an internet trope that every atom in your body is replaced every seven years, and I looked it up to see if it is true.

The short answers is, as I expected, "No," but they are rotated fairly frequently.  Atoms in your skin and hair are replaced fairly quickly, atoms in your muscle and organs can sit there for a decade or so, atoms in your brain and teeth remain stagnant for your whole life. (source)(source)

What made me think of that was the recent death of my father.  We took his body and put it in a box with his name on it, but that was really only his final form.  Seven-year-old Lloyd, forty-year-old Lloyd, even eighty-year-old Lloyd, had mostly already moved on.

If you think about it, your body changes with every breath.  Atoms that had been a part of you-- carbon, water vapor, perhaps alcohol if you had a fun night-- are all swapped out for something new with each inhale and exhale.

And this is a bit of a tangent here, but since the human body is mostly water,  when a body is cremated most of it is released upwards into the clouds, where it then it rains down everywhere.  My parents are now part of the grass, part of the trees, part of the rivers and streams, and part of all the life within them.

That comforts me.

Nothing's Free

Alice Cooper put out a wonderful concept album, The Last Temptation, back in 1994.  It’s all about sin, fall, and redemption, and I highly recommend it.  Block out a little time to listen to it in its entirety.

In once scene Satan offers a boy anything his heart desires, and the boy says, “I want to be free.”  After Satan removes his school, his friends, and his family, the boy cries out in shock, “I’m all alone!”

“But you’re free,” Satan answers.  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

❉ 

I was my father’s caretaker the last five years of his life.  He was somewhere on the autism spectrum, and was obsessive compulsive.  Everything he did had to be done the same day, the same time, the same way, or there was a meltdown.

I would get frustrated and whine that I wanted my life back, that it wasn’t fair that I had to shoulder all of this responsibility.

Now he’s gone, and I’m free.

Isn’t that what I wanted?

Whirligigs

 

I love these.

I remember as a young boy tossing them into the air over and over, and watching them spiral down.

 

Arrr

Someone posted this:

And it reminded me of this:

I accidentally bought a pirated copy of Modern Family Season 10 on Ebay.  I didn't notice at first-- the sound and video quality were excellent, and the box looked the same. 

But there were two giveaways:  the menu was slightly different, and we didn't have to sit through anti-piracy warnings every episode.

It was actually pretty nice; five stars, would definitely do it again.

The Failure of Language in the Face of Catastrophe

Nick Cave in conversation with Sean O'Hagan, Faith, Hope, and Carnage, ©2022:

Yes, the small things that people say or do are often the things that stay with you.  So true, the small but monumental gesture.

There's a vegetarian takeaway place in Brighton called Infinity, where I would eat sometimes.  I went there the first time I'd gone out in public after Arthur had died.  There was a woman who worked there and I was always friendly with her, just the normal pleasantries, but I liked her.  I was standing in the queue and she asked me what I wanted and it felt a little strange, because there was no acknowledgement of anything.  She treated me like anyone else, matter-of-factly, professionally.  She gave me my food and I gave her the money and-- ah, sorry, it's quite hard to talk about this-- as she gave me back my change, she squeezed my hand.  Purposefully.

It was such a quiet act of kindness.  The simplest and most articulate of gestures, but, at the same time, it meant more than all that anybody had tried to tell me-- you know, because of the failure of language in the face of catastrophe.  She wished the best for me, in that moment.  There was something truly moving to me about that simple, wordless act of compassion.

There is a local doughnut shop nearby run by a Korean family, and I'd drop by about once a week and buy three doughnuts to take and share with my parents.

One of the hardest moments for me was buying doughnuts after my Mom died.  I walked in and the clerk asked brightly, "Three doughnuts?"

"No, just two now."

And I will never forget the way she looked at me.

Altered States

 

When I was in my early twenties, my Dad worked in a different city.  He became ill with shingles, and I dropped everything and drove four hours to get to him.  When I arrived I saw that he was clearly in a bad state, so I immediately drove him to the hospital.  He was there for three days.

What I didn't know about shingles was that it is really The Chickenpox Part II.  The virus lays dormant in your body and eventually resurfaces.  I had never had chicken pox, so I was susceptible.  A little over a week  later I broke out with the telltale itchy sores.

Chicken pox is not a problem for children, but it can be very serious for adults.  My Dad should have taken me to the hospital.

He did not.

He left me alone and went to work, and as I laid on the bed soaking wet with fever suddenly the apartment began to shake.  Someone was playing "In The Air" so loudly that the windows were rattling and items were falling off the shelves.  I looked out the sliding glass doors and saw a 200-foot Phil Collins glaring in at me.

I passed out.

When my Dad came home I started to tell him what had happened, and that was when I realized it had been an extremely vivid hallucination. 

It kind of ruined that song for me.