A Goodbye In Full

It's been a year and a few days since my dad died.  He was 94 and lived an incredible life involving travelling around the world (literally!) as a scientist.  In the end, my older sister and I did our best to keep him comfortable, along with some amazing nurses and the Frederick County Hospice.  He died in his new home here in Frederick, Maryland, with his family and friends all getting a chance to say goodbye.

Taking care of him was hard at the end.  Dementia had taken over, and it was hard not to be upset with him when he cursed at a nurse, or even at me or my sister.  The anger came from his own knowledge that he had lost and was losing control of the simplest things, and I don't blame him.  I guess I find myself a year later dealing with my own anger at -- what exactly?  Human biology?  Aging?  These are hard, immutable facts that we all have to deal with in our own way.

I'm substitute teaching now, but still looking for something full time.  I think he'd be pleased though.  He grew up dirt poor, and education was his pathway to having an amazing and fulfilling life.  I think he'd appreciate all my stories about the good days and the bad days.  I'm also missing simple things like watching college football with him, or having a meal or some coffee.

We're all deeply complicated as people.  And I think we generally do our best, and try to learn from those moments when we're not at out best.  I wish I'd given him more hugs, or been a little more patient with him.  At times it was so hard to know exactly what he wanted, and I hope just being there was usually -- certainly not always -- enough.

We miss you a lot Dad.  I know you can still hear me, sometimes, when I talk to you.  And if you're napping or busy in the garden, that's also fine.  It can wait.

Vote!

Last Saturday I worked as a poll judge for Maryland early voting.  I'll do it again this Wednesday and Thursday (Halloween!).

It's interesting, but also exhausting.  We go from roughly six in the morning until nine at night.  No phones.  We cannot leave the building 

On Election Day, November 5th, I'll also be working.

I'll admit, it's a nice pay day.  I'm still substitute teaching as well but I'd be crazy not to work as many days of early voting as possible.

For what it's worth, Saturday was extremely busy.

"that is the last they see of one another"

Where Babies Come From

Many are from the Maldives,

southwest of India, and must begin

collecting shells almost immediately.

The larger one may prefer coconuts.

Survivors move from island to island

hopping over one another and never

looking back. After the typhoons

have had their pick, and the birds of prey

have finished with theirs, the remaining few

must build boats, and in this, of course,

they can have no experience, they build

their boat of palm leaves and vines.

Once the work is completed, they lie down,

thoroughly exhausted and confused,

and a huge wave washes them out to sea.

And that is the last they see of one another.

In their dreams Mama and Papa

are standing on the shore

for what seems like an eternity,

and it is almost always the wrong shore.

-- James Tate

North Korea Enters Ukraine

North Korean troops are apparently about to fight alongside Russian troops in Ukraine.

I don't see how this changes much.  Do they get thrown into the meat grinder, or kept back as reserves?  Do they speak any Russian re: integrating into the larger forces?

If anything, it strikes me as desperate, or a stunt at best.  And Kim Jong-un will expect to be paid handsomely.

Mellow Fruitfulness

I think Fall is finally here.  I even wore a jacket today.

Then again, this being Maryland, it could be 90 next week.

Lazy Sunday

 

Frederick, Maryland.

Eyes on the Prize

Han Kang has won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

I've only read The Vegetarian, but I enjoyed it.  Be advised that it's incredibly dark.

"a color in its own right"

"The colors of the autumn in the garden were now brown and black.  I had learned to see the brown of dead leaves and stalks as a color in its own right; I had collected grasses and reeds and taken pleasure in the slow change of their color from green to biscuit brown.  I had even taken pleasure in the browned tints of flowers that had dried in vases without losing their petals; I had been unwilling to throw away such flowers.  On autumn or winter mornings I had gone out to see brown leaves and stalks outlined with white frost.  Now the hand of man had been withdrawn from the garden; everything had grown unchecked during the summer; and I felt only the cold and saw the tall grass and the wet and saw black and brown.  On these short walks in the ruined manor garden, going a little farther each time, past the aspens, then past the great evergreen tree, then approaching the big white-framed greenhouse, after all this time as solid and whole-looking as it had ever been, on these walks brown became again for me what it had been in Trinidad: not a true color, the color of dead vegetation, not a thing one found beauty in, trash."

-- V.S. Naipaul, The Enigma of Arrival

The Agony and The Agony

For two straight years the Orioles have made the playoffs and then totally disappeared, offensively.  (They are a hitting team, not pitching wonders.)

And I'm really not feeling football this year, maybe because I miss watching it with my Dad.

So, thank you for reading this pity-party of a post.  I'll root for the Dodgers and Shohei I guess.

Beef'n Buns'n Paradise!

 

I drove past this place many a time (east side of Frederick) and finally stopped in.  It's a weird location, and you don't really appreciate the beach shack vibe until you pull into the parking lot (only outdoor seating).  I got, of course, the club sandwich and it was pretty good.

Well, there's a glaring problem here.  A club with no chips or fries simply doesn't provide a sufficient level of starch goodness.  It's my fault really, because I could have ordered fries for just a few more bucks.

O.K., still a little sad but improvisation nevertheless.  What I really liked about this sandwich were the tomatoes -- juicy and fat and definitely in season.  Everything else was nicely put together.

Everybody else waiting in the takeouts line got milkshakes, so I need to go back and try one of those.  But I'm looking forward to it!  And yes, that's the real name.

"Geezus Chrise"

"He started a fire with some chunks of pine he got with the ax from a stump.   Over the fire he stuck a wire grill, pushing the four legs down into the ground with his boot. Nick put the frying pan on the grill over the flames. He was hungrier. The beans and spaghetti warmed. Nick stirred them and mixed them together. They began to bubble, making little bubbles that rose with difficulty to the surface. There was a good smell. Nick got out a bottle of tomato catchup and cut four slices of bread. The little bubbles were coming faster now. Nick sat down beside the fire and lifted the frying pan off. He poured about half the contents out into the tin plate. It spread slowly on the plate. Nick knew it was too hot. He poured on some tomato catchup. He knew the beans and spaghetti were still too hot. He looked at the fire, then at the tent, he was not going to spoil it all by burning his tongue. For years he had never enjoyed fried bananas because he had never been able to wait for them to cool. His tongue was very sensitive. He was very hungry. Across the river in the swamp, in the almost dark, he saw a mist rising. He looked at the tent once more.  All right. He took a full spoonful from the plate.

'Chrise,' Nick said, 'Geezus Chrise,' he said happily."

-- Ernest Hemingway, "Big Two-Hearted River"