What's in a name?

 I was assigned a student who needed tutoring due to an eye condition that hindered his reading. His name was Jeremy and he was in 5th grade. I asked what name he preferred to be called by, Jeremy or Jerry. He said it didn't matter. I asked him what his family called him at home. He thought for a moment and then said they didn't call him anything, didn't use his name.

  This might seem like an isolated and strange situation, not using  a person's name to address them, but I know this is not an isolated occurrence. Maybe someday I'll write how I know that is true, but not right now.

To Quote a Phrase...

 You must forgive me if I'm prone to quote, but all

the goods are right here, including a textbook from Syracuse University, which appears to be in excellent, unread condition.

Donkey and Dog Relo's

 From their travels from Troy to Valley Falls, commencing from about 1912 or so to the present, I figure Dog moved at least 10 times and Donkey moved 12 times. They look pretty good for 110+ years old. 

Inheritance

 My mother was born in Troy, New York, the youngest of the 5 children of Ellen O'Brien and Matthew Donovan. Ellen had emigrated from Ireland in the midst of poverty, following several relatives who had made the trip before her. My mother's father died of tuberculosis before my mother was a year old, plunging the young family further into the depths of poverty. Her mother, as I recall, did housework and laundry for income and the oldest son, Timothy, found whatever work a young teen could do to support the family, eventually falling to his death from the scaffolding of a Troy business. 

During her early years in Troy, my mother would collect pennies and go shopping at the ten-cent store in Troy. Her goal was to amass enough pennies to buy into the selection of iron banks the store sold. Most sold for about 7 cents. Even then, my mother's prime interest was animals, and banks in the shape of animals were her wishes. She bought several, at least 3, as the story goes.

  The family moved to the country after brother Timothy died in the fall from the business. My mother was 11 years old and I can't imagine the family had much in the way of possessions to move, or much of a way to move what they did have. But my mother's collection of banks made the move, as later became obvious. She grew up in that house, having to leave school to find work, as mother's helper and briefly in a shirt factory in Troy. 

  She met my father at a dance where he was playing fiddle and when they married they moved, probably first to an apartment in Valley Falls, and later to a tenant house in Melrose, before a series of moves to other rented houses before they were able to buy a house in Valley Falls. 

   At some point, the banks emerged,  when we were still very young. My mother had preserved these treasures throughout all the moves, and eventually turned them over to us. I remember Joseph had the lion, Dorothy claimed  the donkey, and the dog was mine. We used to play with them outside in the dirt driveway. I don't know who designated which bank went to which kid. The donkey and the lion were more intricately sculpted than the dog. I liked the dog well enough, but when playing, I always  wished that the  dog did not have that pack on its back. I didn't relate to that.

These metal banks are well over 100 years old.

Those LITTLE Irritating Things

 I direct my thousands and thousands of unspoken words to you, Blog, my only audience, the details of which are of interest to no one else. Here goes.

   Out of a lengthy history, I'll start with my car's tire pressure symbol lighting up shortly after its inspection and repair to tires. On emergency trip, mechanic said it was weak battery in tire fuse or something and of no consequence. A new battery was installed but 3 days ago, the battery went dead. Joe T. did jumpstart the battery a day later, and so far the car runs, but I have a suspicion that something is draining it and fear being stranded if I do go somewhere. I have Roadside Assistance, but I have found there can be considerable delay in responses.***Due to malfunctioning leaky furnace, and ongoing repairs and aborted  service calls, automatically scheduled fuel delivery was ceased, without prior notice, due to "delay" in my payment. So the house was cold for a while, although when so advised, the district manager promptly made delivery. ***The power went out for a period of time, leaving no means of communication. I remembered I had a portable radio stashed away, and was able to locate it, only to find it had no batteries. Last week, I went to sNs to buy batteries. They were not in the location where they had previously been, so I asked at the desk. The clerk said batteries are now at the ends of aisles 2 and 3. I looked in vain, making 3 full circuits, looking at both sides and both ends. No batteries in sight. Home, I ordered batteries on Amazon, which arrived in 2 days. I replaced, rather placed, the batteries, but am unable to turn the radio on. I''d also tried to redeem a $7 coupon for Ensure, which I've done previously, but the young cashier apologized and  said they couldn't take the coupon, or he might lose his job. Egad!***When our new furnace was installed 8 years ago, a new smart thermostat was also installed. Several days ago, the light on it went out. I need to use a flashlight to adjust the settings if I want to change the settings. I asked Chat GPT how to resolve this minor inconvenience and Chat provided 6 different paths of possibility. I can't fathom any of them.***Last year, the door to my toaster-oven broke at the corner, and due to its age and now imperfect operating condition, I purchased another but I hated it because of its complicated operating instructions so  I returned it, retrieved my old appliance and jammed some kind of stickum into the hinge of the door. Recently, that gave out, so I bought Gorilla Glue. I was  unable to open its container by usual means, so used pliers to get the top off. But the glue, seemingly viable, refuses to leave the container. Instructions say do not put in microwave. Maybe I'll try putting the container in hot water, and see if that puts the substance in notion.***The lens fell out of my reading glasses, and I find a small crack in the plastic frame. I glue it with Smart Grip, but I guess that's not meant for plastic, as the lens fell out again.***I decide my extraordiarily organized array of financial statements and credit card statements and bills dating back for years are no longer of value, so I decided to purge them. I deposited them in a large paper bag which broke so I inserted that into a laundry basket which reached over-capacity. I planned to do what I've done before in  winter time: take them out back,  arrange them in a snowbank and burn them. I search the house but can't find any matches. I ask family to bring me some matches, but instead  they take the basket of papers to burn in the fireplace. Maybe I'm not trusted to start a fire. What could go wrong?  (Well, once again, enough time has passed so Spelling Bee will be playable, any time after 3 a.m. 

Update:  Thanks to an astute relative, I was able to locate, replace, and re-activate the light on my thermostat. I now know how to forcefully pry it open and replace the 2 AA batteries. Who knew...

From the Blog-archives , 2009

 P.S. Though Dr. Z. offered little help on this visit, he later performed 2 separate and very successful cataract surgeries, allowing good vision to this day.

CT Memories (In lieu of the news)

 Dorothy was first to have that lengthy bone scan after her diagnosis, where the patient is in the machine for about 30 minutes. She told me she had a breakdown there, with the immobile positioning and the horror of the sounds emanating from the machine, and they had to stop and then restart the procedure.  She felt sorrow and compassion for me when 7 years later, I was to have the same procedure, for the same reason.  Actually, I withstood it quite well because I realized she had paved the way, and eventually survived it intact. So I was somehow  able to put my mind in a zone and was  able to think of absolutely nothing, as stressful and uncomfortable as the scan was. 

  A few years ago, after a different diagnosis, I was prescribed a CT scan in a local hospital. I knew I would be  able to endure it, but was not looking forward to the sounds. But when I was in the machine, the medical technician in charge of the procedure asked me what music I'd like to listen to. He assured me it would be anything I chose. I thought for a few seconds and said Meatloaf. He told me I was the first to pick Meatloaf but in short order the strains from Bat Out Of Hell wafted through the air of my confined space. Time elapsed and the CT scan ended just as "I'd Do Anything For Love" began playing. The technician, announcing the scan was at an end, said,  "I bet that's your favorite song of the album, right?"  Of course it was, but I never found out then, or ever for that matter,  that when Meatloaf  sang "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that"  what it was that he  wouldn't do.