... Can I hear the words Good Morning?
Would you bring in the newspaper? I'm not dressed yet.
...Would you get the mail? I'm still not dressed.
...Will you put the trash cans out? I'm still not...well, yes, I am, but it's raining.
....Can you take the cat to the vet's?
...Will you empty the cat litter?
...Can you go to the store for bread? We're out.
... Now can you get milk? We're out of that too.
...And stop at the bank to deposit this check?
....Can you figure out why our furnace is emitting the odor of oil? After 7 visits.
....Will you return Rich's call about our CD?
....Does this outfit make me look fat? Stupid? Ugly?
....Will you do something with me, and not just for me?
...Can you get our printer to copy full-page?
...Do you hear that noise? It's 2:00 a.m.
...Will you help me apply this flea medicine to the cat's neck?Just hold her.
...Can you put air in my car's tire? The warning light is on?
....Can you reach that cobweb in the corner? It's too high for me.
...Will you drive me to my medical procedure? They say I need a driver.
....Will you tell that guy in the driveway we don't want his extra seafood?
....Will you tell the other guy we don't want his leftover driveway sealant?
...Can you scratch the middle of my back? Torn rotator won't move my arm there
...Do you have any idea where the remote is?
...Will you align the bag inside the kitchen garbage can? I never do.
...Can you make me stop talking to myself?
...Can you take the cap off this GatorAde? I can't do it without a knife blade.
...Can you explain this Spectrum bill? Forget it---you never do that stuff.
...Will you have my car inspected? And whatever else it needs?
...Can you bring me breakfast in bed? Just kidding, not since the 1970's.
...Will you return this purchase? Kidding again--you don't do returns.
...Will I hear the words Good Night?
..
Monday, September 30, 2019
Saturday, September 28, 2019
A Bridge (Not) Too Far (At least for today)
Decided to walk the bridge again today. The day was pressing in on me, and I don't want to spend time outside because the mosquitoes are evidently immune to the repellent effects of OFF. So I ventured to the bridge, hoping the mosquitoes would not find me there. And they didn't. So the pictures show that the valley is still mostly green.
Thursday, September 26, 2019
Wednesday, September 25, 2019
Tuesday, September 24, 2019
Monday, September 23, 2019
St. John's Cemetery
This July 11, 1984 Certificate of Sale to Dorothy Madigan. For Sec. A Range 8, Lot 29.
Size is 10 x 3 1/2 for 1 Grave.
Back of receipt shows diagram where Grave #1 would be Dorothy's with #2 and #3 Lot 30 in name of Joseph E. Madigan.
The 3 lots directly in front of these 3 belong to Madigan/ Schroder. The first grave is where our mother was buried in October of 1983. The adjoining 2 graves are for me and Dave.
The list of Regulations on the Certificate of Sale numbers 9. Regulation # 5 states, "No person shall have a right to make any changes, repairs, renovations, cut grass, or do any work whatsoever on any lot...All work shall be done by cemetery employees, or ...by persons receiving our approval.Arrangements for work of any kind must be made at the Rectory."
Regulation #7."The Pastor reserves the right to remedy or to remove if necessary anything that becomes an impediment or impairs the general welfare or appearance of the Cemetery."
The paperwork for Section A, Range 8, Lot 29 also states "The required corner posts are the m/s Posts which will mark the whole lot." That would be the 3 graves-Ma's, Dave's and mine. Those posts were there at one time, but I can no longer find them. Some may have been destroyed or buried by the lawn care equipment. But I know when they open an adjoining grave-site, they are so sparing of real estate that they come close to and expose the bordering graves. The bronze posts may well fall into the newly opened burial sites. I suppose a few of the 4 could be buried in the grass.
What is disturbing to me is the flagrant violation of the Cemetery Regulations by the gravesite shown in the previous pictures, and the Cemetery's unwillingness to enforce those regulations. It seems that some of the tattered remains of an attempt at marking the family plot has intruded into the physical space of our plot. Which would be on the foot of our mother's grave.
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Just a little creeped out
Tonight just after the show on NXVVIMM, or whatever, and during the later Gretchen Carlson interview with the real Oxenberg, about 10:15, I went to the window to close the blinds and noticed a car parked on the side of the road by the fence in front of our house. It appeared to be a shiny, maybe bronze-ish SUV type vehicle. I waited while it was there, not knowing how long it may have been there before I looked out. It started and moved toward the village, though it seemed to almost stop before it reached the curve. But it's gone now...
I tried to turn the alarm on but voice said low battery and no link to dispatcher. And also that a sensor was open------somewhere???
I saw a doctor this summer, about the reason for exacerbated symptoms, and he said I'd "reached a breaking point." And he wasn't kidding...
Now I receive a query, FB Log in Alert, noticing an unusual log in from a device or location not usual to me. On Sept.21 at 10:36 p.m. from Port Ewen, NY. Was it me, they ask? Hell, No. I think I'll sleep sitting up tonight with a shotgun in my lap.
I tried to turn the alarm on but voice said low battery and no link to dispatcher. And also that a sensor was open------somewhere???
I saw a doctor this summer, about the reason for exacerbated symptoms, and he said I'd "reached a breaking point." And he wasn't kidding...
Now I receive a query, FB Log in Alert, noticing an unusual log in from a device or location not usual to me. On Sept.21 at 10:36 p.m. from Port Ewen, NY. Was it me, they ask? Hell, No. I think I'll sleep sitting up tonight with a shotgun in my lap.
Friday, September 20, 2019
Our Father
He was not an emotional man. Most men did not show emotion back then. But his parents' headstone (later also his), shows that his mother and father died the same year, 1930. Our father would have been 36 years old. Of course, as children, we thought that anything that had happened before we were born might as well have been in the Dark Ages. Actually, though, it was well less than a decade later.
The first time I ever saw my father with tears in his eyes was in our House, in the "middle room." He was making a rare reference to his mother. Maybe it was her birthday or the anniversary of her death. I would have been too young to be aware even if I'd heard. He was talking to my mother about what a hard death his mother had, how much she had suffered before she died, from cancer in her neck and face. I think I left the room, scared of his emotion. I never heard him mention her again.
He cried when his sister Lizzie died. I remember him siting at the supper table, somber and serious. Our mother told us not to talk, not to say anything. I think she whispered to us why he was sad.
I'm not sure of the time sequence. I suppose I could look it up somewhere, but it doesn't matter. He grew emotional, tears in his eyes, when it was announced that FDR had died.
The last time I saw him cry was when his youngest brother Frank unexpectedly died. He'd gone to the hospital for routine hemorrhoid surgery. His daughter was a nurse at a different hospital, but it seems she had been with him. My parents visited him in the hospital after the surgery. He told them it was embarrassing, the position he'd been placed in for the surgery. He seemed to be recovering, but my mother had expressed a concern; she hadn't liked the way he was pulling at his bedcovers. For sure, that didn't register with me, even though I was grown up by then. I was there with my father when the call came, a few days later, saying Frank had passed away. My father, hearing the news, dropped to his knees in the living room, between the oil burner and the sofa, and sobbed out loud.
The first time I ever saw my father with tears in his eyes was in our House, in the "middle room." He was making a rare reference to his mother. Maybe it was her birthday or the anniversary of her death. I would have been too young to be aware even if I'd heard. He was talking to my mother about what a hard death his mother had, how much she had suffered before she died, from cancer in her neck and face. I think I left the room, scared of his emotion. I never heard him mention her again.
He cried when his sister Lizzie died. I remember him siting at the supper table, somber and serious. Our mother told us not to talk, not to say anything. I think she whispered to us why he was sad.
I'm not sure of the time sequence. I suppose I could look it up somewhere, but it doesn't matter. He grew emotional, tears in his eyes, when it was announced that FDR had died.
The last time I saw him cry was when his youngest brother Frank unexpectedly died. He'd gone to the hospital for routine hemorrhoid surgery. His daughter was a nurse at a different hospital, but it seems she had been with him. My parents visited him in the hospital after the surgery. He told them it was embarrassing, the position he'd been placed in for the surgery. He seemed to be recovering, but my mother had expressed a concern; she hadn't liked the way he was pulling at his bedcovers. For sure, that didn't register with me, even though I was grown up by then. I was there with my father when the call came, a few days later, saying Frank had passed away. My father, hearing the news, dropped to his knees in the living room, between the oil burner and the sofa, and sobbed out loud.
Back in the Day
The neighbor lady, JVD, was a frequent visitor to our house, as she liked to share village news with our mother, who was known as a very good listener. On this day, she had news for us kids, aware, as it was universal knowledge back then in the age of cowboy lore, that all kids listened to The Lone Ranger on radio.
"You should know,"she told us, "that they're going to turn the radio show into a television show, and you'll soon be able to watch the episodes, not just listen to them."
I agreed with her that it would be a good thing, a wonderful thing. But deep in my 8-year old heart, I knew that would never happen. I knew because our father, ever the realist, had informed us, when we were avidly listening to Lone Ranger tales, that the klip-klops of the horses' hooves were not from real horses, but from lids clapped on the table in front of the microphone, and similar sound effects were devised for gunshots and whinnying, circling buzzards and other sounds of the West.
I didn't see this as the makings of a television show; at least listening on the radio allowed us to imagine the scenarios. And I was absolutely convinced that no adults would ever, ever, spend time or money to create a show for kids. As if people were going to use real horses just for the entertainment of children. Kids had no status in the 1940's and we knew it.
"You should know,"she told us, "that they're going to turn the radio show into a television show, and you'll soon be able to watch the episodes, not just listen to them."
I agreed with her that it would be a good thing, a wonderful thing. But deep in my 8-year old heart, I knew that would never happen. I knew because our father, ever the realist, had informed us, when we were avidly listening to Lone Ranger tales, that the klip-klops of the horses' hooves were not from real horses, but from lids clapped on the table in front of the microphone, and similar sound effects were devised for gunshots and whinnying, circling buzzards and other sounds of the West.
I didn't see this as the makings of a television show; at least listening on the radio allowed us to imagine the scenarios. And I was absolutely convinced that no adults would ever, ever, spend time or money to create a show for kids. As if people were going to use real horses just for the entertainment of children. Kids had no status in the 1940's and we knew it.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
(Wrong) Word of the Day as per POTUS
Dastardly
Trump said the "U.S. could plan a dastardly attack against Iran." Really?
Could he have meant "devastating?" That starts with "d" and has "st."
Trump said the "U.S. could plan a dastardly attack against Iran." Really?
Could he have meant "devastating?" That starts with "d" and has "st."
Tuesday, September 17, 2019
AGT---YeGads
I've only watched America's Got Talent sporadically this year. Last week I watched because I thought it was down to the final 5. But now I find those 5 winners are added to 5 others---for the semifinals. I'm not even familiar with those other 5, so I'll have to invest all over again. I'm jaded, I guess. It seems everything's been done before. None of the acts blows me away, but the show would be entertaining to watch except for the overly effusive praise of the judges.So phony and boring...
September 17, 1956
Ah, those old memories, that all the world is waiting to hear.
September 17 was the date of the first day of college, for Dorothy and me, and also Ruthie. Few, if any, are around and able to confirm or deny the details of our beginning college days; I'll relate what I believe to be a pretty accurate representation of the beginning of our college experience.
That was the year Ruth's brother, henceforth to be known as ELO, was discharged from the U.S.Navy, and was returning to his alma mater for his master's degree. He had gotten himself a car, a big old blue Buick, but did not yet have his driver's license. Until that happened, Jackie Brackley, out of the kindness of his heart, drove us all to Albany. I think he was attending Albany Business College. So for that period of time, there were six of us packed into the Buick: Ruthie, Dorothy and me in the back seat, and in the front seat, Jack, ELO, and Joe M., who was beginning his sophomore year at Albany State Teachers College, probably glad to have a ride after hitching a ride for most of his first year.
Commuting enmasse meant everyone's schedules had to be taken into consideration, so we left Valley Falls early in the morning and returned at the end of the class day. When ELO obtained his license, and Jack no longer drove us, ELO began to drive his sister Ethel to her job at the State Office Building, which extended our day even earlier and later, to accommodate her work schedule, and for the trip downtown to her work place. The drive was already monumental, as the time was before the Northway was built, and our travels took us through the entire city of Troy, and Menands, where we spent endless hours in bumper to bumper traffic over the Menands Bridge, added to the eons of time driving to the State Office Building and then back up to the college.
We three girls in the back seat were crowded, often cold due to non-working heater, and subject to cigarette smoke in the car. Rather inconvenient and uncomfortable travel arrangements, one might say, but idyllic compared to our commutes in the following three years. O, the Horror!
September 17 was the date of the first day of college, for Dorothy and me, and also Ruthie. Few, if any, are around and able to confirm or deny the details of our beginning college days; I'll relate what I believe to be a pretty accurate representation of the beginning of our college experience.
That was the year Ruth's brother, henceforth to be known as ELO, was discharged from the U.S.Navy, and was returning to his alma mater for his master's degree. He had gotten himself a car, a big old blue Buick, but did not yet have his driver's license. Until that happened, Jackie Brackley, out of the kindness of his heart, drove us all to Albany. I think he was attending Albany Business College. So for that period of time, there were six of us packed into the Buick: Ruthie, Dorothy and me in the back seat, and in the front seat, Jack, ELO, and Joe M., who was beginning his sophomore year at Albany State Teachers College, probably glad to have a ride after hitching a ride for most of his first year.
Commuting enmasse meant everyone's schedules had to be taken into consideration, so we left Valley Falls early in the morning and returned at the end of the class day. When ELO obtained his license, and Jack no longer drove us, ELO began to drive his sister Ethel to her job at the State Office Building, which extended our day even earlier and later, to accommodate her work schedule, and for the trip downtown to her work place. The drive was already monumental, as the time was before the Northway was built, and our travels took us through the entire city of Troy, and Menands, where we spent endless hours in bumper to bumper traffic over the Menands Bridge, added to the eons of time driving to the State Office Building and then back up to the college.
We three girls in the back seat were crowded, often cold due to non-working heater, and subject to cigarette smoke in the car. Rather inconvenient and uncomfortable travel arrangements, one might say, but idyllic compared to our commutes in the following three years. O, the Horror!
Nighty-night
When we were very little our mother taught us our prayers, all 3 kids in one fell swoop. Every night--the sign of the cross, "Now I lay me down to sleep," and the blessings---"God bless Mommy, Daddy, Joseph, Mary Ellen, Dorothy, Shirley, Frances, Tommy, Agnes, Thomas Michael (added later,) Helen, Matt, and Nanny."
Only 3 of those so blessed are still among the living; I hope all will be in touch at some future time.
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Grim Reminders (Things I hate and dread)
1) Portent of fall: First houseplant brought inside
2) Epic Fail of Friday the 13th
2) Epic Fail of Friday the 13th
Wednesday, September 11, 2019
September 11, 2001
"Where were you on September 11, 2011?" OK, I'll answer. I was in Valley Falls, home alone. It was a nice summer day, and Dave had just left, as usual, for the Battenkill, to play golf. Normally, I would have turned the TV on hours before, but that day I waited for Dave to leave and then tuned in to watch Regis. The program was interrupted because a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center Towers. The camera actually showed a plane sticking into the building, and of course my mind went to the time we had taken our kids there, even having their photographs applied to t-shirts purchased there. I remember thinking "Gee, I hope nobody got hurt.." The coverage seemed, at first, to be of a non-urgent nature.
That soon changed, and I went into panic mode. I tried to call my family members, and, oddly, everyone I spoke to seemed quite nonchalant about what was happening.No one had called me. I called the Battenkill: Dave was out on the course, I was told, and yes, he had heard the news. The only person who soon returned my call was David. I knew he was about to fly out of town, on that day or in the next few. He'd been at work when I called, but he was instantly concerned as he realized that the path of one of the attacking planes would have come in almost direct contact with his house on North Street.
Everyone eventually had to confront the gravity of the situation. But my memory of the day is being alone, shocked, and searching for someone to talk to.
AGT
I have not been a faithful follower of the show this season, or last season either, for that matter. The show is just so stretched out, with contestants making it to another level and then another and another. But I decided to watch it last night because they're finally narrowing it to the final 5. Some of the acts I hadn't seen before, but here are my predictions of who will make it to the Final Five, tonight. I, unlike the fawning judges, was not "blown away" by any, but I would wager that making it to the final 5 are: The 4 singing dudes of color, the comedian with no hands, the artist who did the 9-11 showcase, the opera girl and the guy who played the electric guitar. That would eliminate the other 6--the Detroit children's choir, Falco the dog act, the singing Swede, the 12 year old boy singer, the magician, and somebody else I can't remember. The suspense is unbearable.
Impose A Ban
I'm all for freedom of speech. People should be able to express their opinions freely, and publicly, if they wish.
But remember the old Hollywood days when the stars' publicists, then mostly studio representatives, did not allow the stars to talk about their families, or to even admit they had them. Being a parent was a taboo subject. It was considered not sexy; the stars were pictured in the fan magazines riding motorcycles, hanging out in luxury swimming pools with other beautiful people, touring the town in convertibles, top down of course. If children existed, they were tucked away at home. Family life was a reminder that movie stars were just like the rest of us; it detracted from the glamor.
I'm not suggesting a return to those days of artificial and contrived glamor, but please, can we have a moratorium on celebrities discussing their children during appearances on television shows. We already know that most parents love their offspring, and have a lifelong commitment to them. We don't need to hear that celebrities' lives were forever changed when they first laid eyes on their babies. Or to applaud the cute sayings of their children. We hope and accept that stars love their kids, don't wish to deny them that pleasure. Since some people have risen to the limelight, and we acknowledge that they may have vastly more adventures and experiences than we can even conceive of, we still have the right not to be bored out of our minds listening to professions of parental love which are apparently exclusive to the famous.
But remember the old Hollywood days when the stars' publicists, then mostly studio representatives, did not allow the stars to talk about their families, or to even admit they had them. Being a parent was a taboo subject. It was considered not sexy; the stars were pictured in the fan magazines riding motorcycles, hanging out in luxury swimming pools with other beautiful people, touring the town in convertibles, top down of course. If children existed, they were tucked away at home. Family life was a reminder that movie stars were just like the rest of us; it detracted from the glamor.
I'm not suggesting a return to those days of artificial and contrived glamor, but please, can we have a moratorium on celebrities discussing their children during appearances on television shows. We already know that most parents love their offspring, and have a lifelong commitment to them. We don't need to hear that celebrities' lives were forever changed when they first laid eyes on their babies. Or to applaud the cute sayings of their children. We hope and accept that stars love their kids, don't wish to deny them that pleasure. Since some people have risen to the limelight, and we acknowledge that they may have vastly more adventures and experiences than we can even conceive of, we still have the right not to be bored out of our minds listening to professions of parental love which are apparently exclusive to the famous.
Monday, September 9, 2019
Didja ever?
Getting folksy here, or apologies to Andy Rooney. But did you ever spend a wretchedly sleep-interrupted night because you had a rough edge from a broken fingernail that became the focal point of your life, catching on sheets and blanket and nightclothes, all because you were too lazy to get up and file the nail down? What fools we mortals be.
Sunday, September 8, 2019
Life-changing development? Not so much...
September 9, 2018 marked the end of an all-encompassing struggle. It was favorably resolved, and it seemed an enormous relief. As it turned out, most of the jubilation my wildest dreams had conjured up fell rather flat, nothing like the victory celebrations when a player wins big on Wheel of Fortune or The Price Is Right. So, congratulations on the win, but it really doesn't change anything, as far as his health is concerned. All too true.
Not such a Herculean task this time, but important as it's the only thing left to do for him, as far as I'm concerned. Not a lot of insight or encouragement along the way, but since I have nothing else to do,...
Not such a Herculean task this time, but important as it's the only thing left to do for him, as far as I'm concerned. Not a lot of insight or encouragement along the way, but since I have nothing else to do,...
Saturday, September 7, 2019
Friday, September 6, 2019
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
Early Morning Light
At 5 A.M. I looked out the window as I do when I first wake up. Now that it's September, the morning light was not nature-borne, but from the porch light. I leave the outside lights on all night, to either deter burglars, or else light their way in. In that case, I would hope that they would be further deterred by spotting the flickering blue light of the house security devices.
This morning, the eerie sheen on the lamplit lawn registered, to my not yet fully awake mind, as a covering of snow. Oh, not yet, not yet.
This morning, the eerie sheen on the lamplit lawn registered, to my not yet fully awake mind, as a covering of snow. Oh, not yet, not yet.
Monday, September 2, 2019
Basement----Corner by Corner: Update 9/9/19, and 9/11/19 and 10-5-19
Total to date for basement clearance: $15 + $30 + $15 for bikes, ammo box and garden gate respectively. Much of the stuff was put curbside for free, but better than paying for removal or trashing the treasures. Added, $75 for Dorothy and Gus's Toohey Dart Board, Felker Tile Cutter, $8.55, Heritage Coin Collection $130
Stupid Chipmunks
The chipmunk found a home in the crevices between the bricks. It is evidently trying to store food for the winter, if chipmunks do indeed do that, by bringing in crabapples from the tree around the corner. One apple didn't fit so it tried another. That didn't fit either, so the gnawing began. Either just to eat on the spot, or maybe to whittle it down to size. Here he is:
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