Toy Story

    When we were children, we had very few toys. I remember a single cardboard box with miscellaneous blocks, "rescued" pieces, donated and hand-me down toys. We enjoyed them all, and when we were little would spend hours with blocks for walls,random Erecto-set sections as tracks for roads and animal figures to enclose and transport.
   My mother had even fewer toys. But her most cherished were, no surprise, figures of animals. She told me that when they were little and still living in the city of Troy, that, whenever good fortune smiled on them, and they were able to accumulate some money,  she and her siblings would go to the five and ten-cent store and buy little metal banks  in the shape of  animals. She said they cost 5 to 7 cents each.
     She kept them, possibly the only things  she  brought into her married life and she let us play with them. I remember a lion, a donkey, a dog and a deer with a broken-off leg. Nobody cared about that deer; Whatever became of it is a long-gone mystery. Joseph claimed the lion, which I think was blue, Dorothy wanted the donkey. It was silver and was the closest thing to  horses, which she had loved from infancy to the end of her days. I got the black dog. I liked it, but used to wish it didn't have the backpack; I didn't get it at the time. And the dog was not as articulated as the lion and the donkey, but small matter then.
    The donkey was painted gold during the gilded age of Ann Burke. But the dog is just as it was during those halcyon days of yore.

Center of the Universe JACK'S Confectionery Store, "Sara's"

Really, now?

   I was finally contacted in regard to an issue I'd raised with my health care facility. I was told I'd be contacted in a day, but it was more than two weeks before I heard from a manager. She said the reason was that she hadn't been given my date of birth. And "Do you know how many people have the same name as you?  There are many, many."  Well, no, I didn't know that but when I googled it later, I found the answer, or an answer, to be 19 in NYS, and most did not have the same spelling as my last name. I told her that it was hard to believe my DOB was not available, as I've been asked for it thousands of times. I was considerate enough not to say my telephone number and email address were available, but that would be too simple.
   As to my concern that my portal is not private, that my information could go elsewhere, since I have not always received the medical reports, she responded by saying that  if I did not receive a report, I should call. I said (1) that it is very difficult to get through to a responsible party there. She did agree. (2) I said not all doctors enter reports. She said surgical notes are not entered. I said some are, though not as detailed as the interloping report. She looked at the data, and agreed.
  She will have the illegitimate entry removed asap.  She gave me her private number so that if I have any other questions or comments about anything, I can call her direct. What more could I want.

Me and Sara's Store

     "Be careful not to let it get in the road," was the caution. But too late: the cat, mostly white with tan markings, escaped and ran directly into the road in front of Sara's store. And sure enough just as a car was passing by. The car brushed the cat. It didn't seem badly injured, but no one could be sure. Sara said to me, since I seemed to be  a responsible party, that, pending a trip to the vet to see if the animal was hurt, I would have to take it up to her house and put it in the porch. I asked whether the front porch or the back porch. She said the back porch.
   I brought the cat to Sara's house and around to the back porch, which was enclosed. The cat did not want to stay there, and I had a hard time keeping it inside while I closed the door. It was a double door and closed much like the shed in our yard. Because the cat kept trying to get out, I was unable to close the doors correctly. They were slightly ajar.  I wanted them to close securely but was afraid the cat would escape if I opened the doors to adjust them. So I left it the way it was, though I felt uncomfortable doing so.
    A while later, I dared to open the doors to check on the cat. There in the back porch was a wooden swing set and the boys, apparently my grandsons, two of them anyway, were swinging away, with the cat swinging in a third swing, completely distracted and content to be there. I felt relieved and thought that the boys should be praised for their efforts to appease the cat. I left them there.

Puny, Pathetic, but Purple

Diagnose This:

(Sorry, Duke Health)
Findings  BONES:  Postsurgical changes to lumbar region
      A)  Reading represents surgery of other organs in general area of spine
      B)  Naturally occurring bone fusion looks like surgical intervention
      C)  Don't ask any questions or I'll have to guess

Note to Dylan Thomas--"There's a pill for that."

"Do not go gentle into that good night.
  Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Art, 2003

  Asked about the paintings hanging on the wall, I interpreted the images to be storks.  He thought they looked like tombstones.  He dreams of images of industrial sites, which flash and are gone.

TIMES UNION, What else is new?

Full Moon on First Night of Spring

View from my front door around 11:00 p.m.

March 20, 2019 At last.

Milo the Robot

  So autistic children are supposed to identify with a robot to assist them in gaining skills, social and otherwise. I should think that would be the last thing that would positively reinforce their behavior. But what do I know.  As I've declared countless times, "I am not a robot."

Lost Identity

  Yesterday I went to the mailbox and got my mail. At least I expected my mail. There were 3 letters, One bore my address but had the name of Kenneth L. someone I'd never heard of. The second letter was for my daughter, but carried her former Valley Falls address, so had an Attempted Delivery sticker applied. The third was for me, from my local library, but our last name was misspelled; I hope they get it right on the donor's plaque.
   Today I opened my longstanding Patient Portal at St. Peter's/Samaritan Hospital. First entry bears my name at the top but is a colonoscopy report for someone I never heard of, performed by a doctor I'd never heard of.  The report goes into much greater detail than any of mine ever did, maybe because patient David R. is being assessed for a renal transplant.
   Whose life is this anyway?

End of Day

   Today is St. Patrick's Day.  I've visited with all of my family, either through FaceTime or in person:  husband, three children and spouses, and eight grandchildren. We shared greetings, well wishes, and meals, including a  corned beef dinner here.
   Everybody has gone back to their own life events, so there's no one here but me and the cat. The meal has been cooked, the dishwasher run, and I have no further duties or responsibilities. But stronger than ever is the sense of waiting.  Always stronger in the evening, and especially so this day. It's not an expectation, just a feeling.
   When I was a small child, I remember my mother would be in the kitchen cooking supper for when my father would get home from work at 5 0'clock.  Most of the time he rode as a passenger with a man who drove several others to work and back, so they were on a regular schedule. Once in a while my mother would comment, "Your father is late tonight."  Instantly my stomach would drop and I would go to the window and watch the headlights of the cars coming over the bridge, hoping that one would pull up to our driveway and deposit my father. I remember only the anxiety of the fearful watching, not the times he safely arrived home, which he always did.
     All through the years it seems I've always waited for someone or more than one person to arrive home. Years spent looking out the window, staring at the phone and willing it not to ring with bad news, listening for the crunch of tires on our gravel driveway, waiting to see if the glare of headlights would turn in or pass by. Now that is the job of others; I am free of it. But still the expectation is  there. In dreams, I even hear the door being opened, and somebody coming home.  In the words of the song, freedom is having nothing left to lose.

Puppies and Babies and Little Cape Wearers

   It's true that kids and dogs are not really that appealing unless they're your own, but I always get a bad feeling when I see the car commercial where the little kids are playing in close proximity to the wheels of automobiles where their parents are selling cars. The dogs are usually leashed, but the kids are often free range, and one of them sometimes spins out of sight in the showroom.  Assuming they are all under the supervision of at least several adults, the children are obviously in no imminent danger. But should it seem acceptable that they, and others through the magic of television,  think it a good idea to play near the wheels of an automobile?
   Even more of a potential threat to the health of children is the recently aired OTEZIA commercial. The setting is near a swimming pool, and a young girl approaches a woman, presumably her mother, who KNOTS a cape around the girl's NECK and then sends her off to play, near or in the swimming pool. I'd thought it was a given that children are better off with Velcro or snap fasteners than with anything that is knotted. Especially when the knot fastens a flowing cape, and most especially when that is knotted around the neck, and even more especially when the child is playing near water.  As my old high school science teacher used to say, call it simple sense, not common sense, because sense is not common.
 

Bull's Eyes

GOETZE'S  Original Caramels. Price is $16.95 for a 2 lb. bag at

The Vermont Country Store, plus $5.95 shipping.  Or you can buy a 12-ounce bag at SNS for $2.79. 

Yesterday and Today

Loose in the World

   There was a time when I regularly visited the carwash, but Dave took over that chore so it's been years since I took it upon myself to get my car washed. Of course, even that mundane event is a different world.
    I remember inserting the money, and when the time was up, the water supply stopped. If you wanted more time, you put in more money. Simple as that.
   Today, I inserted my credit card, waited for approval, and began washing the car. I circled and circled the car so many times I was getting tired, and the car looked as clean as I could get it. So now, I decided, was a good time to read the instructions on the wall. The cost is $3.00 for 5 minutes, which seems pretty reasonable. But I gather if you use a credit card, it's up to you to press, "STOP," or else the cycle automatically renews. So I'm not sure how many cycles I used; I'll have to check the charge on my credit card.
    It's probably a good thing I was getting fatigued, and tired of walking around my car, bending down and washing the wheel wells.  How clean can a car get.

Hot Cross What

  I had to go the next town to find them, but finally succeeded, to some extent. Nowhere could I find Entenmann's or any name brand. Price Chopper's are okay, kind of yeasty ,with scant fruit of any kind, and only a thin strip of confectioner's icing. Better than none at all, but I miss the old kind.

Tweet This

  Will the White House have any comment on the college admissions scandal.

Inflated News Item

   What a surprise! How novel! How did he think of that!  Just Imagine!  What a great and lifesaving trick!
    All comments about the stranded swimmer in Australia who inflated his jeans and used them as a flotation device. But this is hardly an original idea.
    When my kids were taking Red Cross swim lessons in Mechanicville with dedicated instructors Eileen Pickett and Mike Martone, one of the designated activities as they advanced from one level to another was the use of jeans as an emergency flotation device. It was a mandatory part of their classes when the students reached the level of lifesaving measures. Each swimmer had to bring a pair of jeans to class, knot the legs, and blow them up.  The kids were reminded to specifically bring jeans, as the denim would retain the water. They were told other materials may be of help, but would not be so effective.
     I'm not sure if this is any longer part of the Red Cross training, but am sure that evidently none of the news-readers ever heard of it, or else they feigned surprise at such a creative "twist" on the part of the swimmer.

Poetry Post-Script Also Prose

   I don't think I was feeling sorry for myself back then, but I did find these poetic sentiments in my notes from that era: 
    "I dwelt alone in a world of moan,
      And my soul was a stagnant tide."

"And so I learned that familiar paths traced in the dusk of summer evenings may lead as well to prison as to innocent, untroubled sleep."

  Ah, the poor unsuspecting unaware.

Poetic Justice

  I too broke my right wrist, on March 23, 1994. I was called to sub that day, as was usual. And as usual, would drive Danny to school. Dave was getting ready to leave at 7:30 a.m. for a golf date in Miami Beach. Maybe Don was going with him, but I'm not sure. I ran out to start my car. The day was cold.  At the time there were boards laid on the pathway in  front of the house. I slid on the slippery wood and fell. My car keys, on a rather large key ring, were in my right hand. When I fell, the keyring caught between the boards, twisting my wrist. It was painful. I lay there for a while. This I know because one of my fellow committee members mentioned later that he'd seen my lying in front of my house. Must have seemed ordinary to him for me to be lying on the ground at 7:30 on a cold March morning, because he drove right by. The jerk.
   Anyway, I picked myself up and went into the house. I told what had happened, and that my wrist was hurting. Dave, excited about his trip, asked if I could move my fingers. I could, and did. "Then it's not broken," he said. So he left, and  I left in my car, but I could not turn the key in the ignition, so Danny had to do it for me.
  When I got to the high school where I was subbing, I stopped at the nurse's office for her to check my wrist. Dr. Rydinsky got agitated because he thought I'd fallen on school property, but when I told him that wasn't the case, he lost interest. The nurse offered me a cold pack, with instructions to return it, as they were in short supply.
   I did my subbing duties, and was in the faculty room at lunch time when the girls' phys ed teacher noticed me with the ice pack on my wrist, took a quick look,  and told me it was broken. She said I should see a doctor.
   At the end of the school day, Barbara, teaching then, drove me to an urgent care in Clifton Park, where an X-ray confirmed my wrist was fractured. I was referred to an orthopedist in Troy; I think his name was Dr. Constantine. He advised me that if you cannot move your fingers, your wrist would be broken, BUT being able to move your fingers does not mean it's not broken. He liked to use humor with his patients.
     I wore this brace for several weeks, including my 2 weeks stint as a scorer for National Evaluation Systems in Albany. I remember taking it off and laying it on the desk so I could do the scoring:
                                                                                                                                                       When I returned to the orthopedist, I left this thing in my car because it was so dirty,  and Dr. C. was not pleased. How is it going to help you if you don't wear it!

Summer of '66

Add caption

Swimming at the Locks.  Joined by a really nice dog.  If you look closely, you can see a cigarette in both pictures, even when he was swinging upside down from a vine. Fun days though.

That Spinning Wheel...

    Wheel of Fortune, The Price Is Right, etc.   I've watched these shows, more or less,  for a long time.  I know the drill.  The contestants spin the wheel, sometimes landing on a cash prize. They guess correctly or their disc slides into a slot with a large amount of money. They uncover a phrase and decipher the clues. They go to the final round of the show and sometimes win big. Rewarded for less than an hour's involvement.
     For even the amount of $10,000 or so, the crowd goes wild. Friends and family are in the audience and rush the stage afterwards. There is hugging and kissing and outright jubilation. Celebrating may or may not continue after the show is over; no one can know that.  But the joy and happiness is obvious for the occasion, no doubt about that.
    In real life, ...

The Actuality of the Actuary

    When you read through the pages of your investment insurance policy, you can see, spelled out in black and white, how much longer you are expected to live. Can't hate them, that's what actuaries are paid to do.

Peeler, Scraper, Parer and Potato

Ever since I inadvertently disposed of my 1968-issue 39-cent Ekco potato peeler, I cannot peel a potato without great effort.  I give up. I never really liked potatoes anyway.

2-Party System?

     In the humble little election district I live in, there are 437 registered voters. The total for the 2 major parties is 223 voters, while 214 are registered as Blank or with another party, of which there are 7.

March 1, 2019 7:00 a.m.