GRRRRR, COMCAST, GRRRRR

         I had already a post for today, but that was before our wonderful internet and cable provider, Comcast, took up my entire Wednesday. I have never ever disliked a company as wholeheartedly as I dislike this company. It might be different if there was a choice to be made, but Comcast has a monopoly in my little city. Yes, I’ve seen Century Link and Frontier trucks out and about, and I even think there are some people who have one or the other, but they aren’t any happier than I am.

          When I got up Tuesday morning, I let the dogs out, made my latte and sat down to watch the crawl on Good Morning America. There was no service. I got a message saying the company had a problem and they were working hard to rectify. Thanks for your patience. Fine, I went on with my day.

Late last evening, I turned on the TV again, only to receive the same message. I texted my neighbor and she responded saying their cable had been out earlier in the day, but came back on about 2:00 pm. So, I tried all the usual things, unplugging, plugging back in, and finally called Comcast. When the computer operator learned my zip code, she informed me there was an outage, assured me they were working hard, thanked me for my patience and hung up.

I went to my computer. Additional frustration because I could not get a real live person. All I got was a computerized assistant who told me the same thing I’d heard on the phone only in print. No matter how I tried to word my question, I got the same message over and over. Fine, pissed, I went to bed and read for a while. I usually set the TV on mute and to turn itself off in an hour. I had a bit of difficulty going to sleep because without outside interference, my brain likes to dance about from one topic to another, keeping me awake.

This morning, I got up, let the dogs out, made my latte and turned the TV on. Same thing, same message. I went on my walk and when I came home, I called Comcast again. Got the same operator who gave me the same information and hung up on me.

Moved to the computer and said to text me when an operator was available. I also said I wanted to wait for an agent on line…figured I’d get some help one way or another. Well, I got a phone call and when I got off, I had five text messages…three said I could chat now, one said my service had been restored, one said my time was up.

Back to the computer and this time I got to chat live with William who was very helpful. He did everything he could to get me back on line. Nothing he did worked, so he had to talk to his support division. I then got a text telling me a technician would be here today between 2:00 and 4:00 pm. I got the message before William did.

Now the technician (Will) has been here for more than an hour and it still isn’t working. He’s now outside checking various connections. He found more than one connection that is apparently still on line…the connection to the living room and the one to the bedroom should be the only live ones. He’s in the process of shutting down all the other connections…apparently the one that used to go to John’s room and the one that went to my sewing room. He’s even on the side of the house where I didn’t think there was anything.

I wish there was some way I could bill Comcast for my time. I figure if I was still working, I’d be making $50-60/hour, so that company could end up owing me an entire month’s payment (or more), or one month of free service. That, of course, won’t happen. Actually, it should be more because of the other things I had planned to do today. None of those happened except for cleaning and dusting my desk…did that while I was waiting on William’s multiple responses. At least I’m now surrounded by dust-free and shiny surfaces in which I can throw my hissy fit.

Will left a bit after 6:00 pm, so he was here a good three plus hours. I certainly cannot fault him for his service…he was GREAT. Besides checking everything in the house, he climbed up the telephone pole and checked everything there. He gave me a new box, he ran a line from outside to the box, but no matter what he did, including talking to other folks elsewhere, he kept getting the very same message I did. Eventually, he talked to someone who said it might be a node…whatever that is. Another technician was going out to check on that.

Will asked if he could hang around for a while to make sure it worked whenever the node was fixed. I gave him a diet Coke and we swapped stories about caves and travel and families. After being home alone f o r e v e r, it was nice having someone at the other end of the room on the couch participating in a conversation with me.

Then, just before KOMO TV news came to an end, voila, the TV came on. Will disconnected his line to outside and the TV froze, but as soon as he connected my cable, it came right back on. He finished gathering his materials and went home for dinner. Will said in his 20 years of service, he’s never had a problem like mine…how about that, once again I’m an original. 

Now, while I may HATE Comcast, the technicians I’ve dealt with today as well as those from a year ago were first rate. They were kind, knowledgeable, eager to fix my problem(s), and didn’t quit until the TV was on and working again. In a survey this morning, I gave William gold stars and if they ask about Will, he’ll get the same…nothing but positive comments.

I still think I should get a month free though…don’t you agree???

MORE PLANT STORIES

         Yesterday I posted about Pam and the begonia which made me start thinking about the part plants have had in my life. In fact, today I transplanted the plants that needed it, and moved some of them around. I still have some to go, maybe not a complete transplant, but they always appreciate a trip to the deck and a serious hosing off. It started to rain, so I’ll need to finish this up another day.

          When I was growing up, my Grandma Alice grew gorgeous African violets. She would give me starts, but no matter what I did, they never ever equaled the ones she grew. Perhaps I didn’t pay enough attention…when you’re a teenager, there are so many other things to grab and hold your attention. No one else in the family really did anything with house plants, but they did garden outdoors.

          When John and I bought this house, I didn’t have a single plant. When we separated six years later, I eventually moved into a little house by Green Lake. I built a brick and board bookcase for my stereo, records and books. It looked a bit bare, so I began to purchase a plant here and there. By the time I moved back home, I had the beginnings of a collection. My brick and board bookcase took up residence at the east end of my living room.

          Yesterday I said I’d had the begonia going on 40 years. Well, the Beefsteak Begonia pictured here I’ve had for 48 years. While John and I were separated and after I filed for divorce, I went to the Open Door Clinic in the University District. I needed some help getting strong enough to make John stay away from me, not AJ, just me, because I still loved him so much and it was so hard.

I made plant stand too

          I got the help I needed, but something else came to light in my sessions. I had a tendency for child abuse…not physical, but mental. My counselor signed me up for sessions at the Ryther Child Center. I learned a lot during the time I attended all those group sessions and maybe I’ll write about those another time. Anyway, my Ryther counselor had this plant hanging in her window. At some point she gave me a start of her Beefsteak Begonia.

          As you can see in the photo, it isn’t very big. Over the years it has grown big, been cut back, almost died, been nursed back to health and continues to live with me. It was in a much smaller pot before today. I hope it likes the new pot it’s living in now.

          In the process of doing this plant maintenance, I also noticed that another one of the Begonia gigantiosium has a bloom stalk. If you look in the middle of the photo, you can see it.

          A couple years after moving home, John replaced my brick and board planter with a three-tier redwood tongue and groove planter. He also installed gro-lux lights up against the ceiling. I’m sure lots of the neighbors thought we were growing pot, but we weren’t doing that at that point in time.

          A neighbor and I taught ourselves how to macrame. I made macramae hangers for my plants. At one point in time, there were two plants hanging in front of every single window in the house. I even tried selling them at the Lake Forest Elementary School craft fair one year. John built me a beautiful display and one of the PTA ladies told me that she could tell how much he loved me just by the way he looked at me…nice.

          I’ve also included a photo of a macrame hanging I did way back when. It used to hang on the living room wall, but I have an original painting I purchased at the Jungle Party one year. Amazingly, I haven’t been able to find the artist anywhere on the internet…guess the kids won’t be able to sell the painting to some museum for a ton of money.  When I made the hanging, I followed the directions to the letter, but no matter what I did, the central portion came out not centered. Finally, I threw the directions down and just did what made sense…it came out centered that time.

          Over time, and as I grew older, my plant collection dwindled. Some of them died. I gave some of them away. Some I didn’t pay enough attention…I’d love to have my red orchid cactus back. I took it outside for a wash, left it there and didn’t get it back inside before it froze…sad, sad, sad. We repainted and removed the hooks from the ceilings in the process. I just didn’t have the time or energy to give them the care they required. At the height of my plant phase, taking them all outside for a cleansing spray and repotting could take almost a whole week.

          John took out the redwood planter when we removed the carpet and had the hardwoods restored. Since Haley is 18, that would be 15 years ago. He also removed the gro-lux lights from the ceiling, so the plants now have to depend on whatever natural light comes in through the windows. I do have one standing plant light, but it doesn’t provide enough light for the entire group. Just the ones that could use some extra get to be close to it.

          When I was thinking about having a garage sale and eliminating a lot of stuff in the house, I figured I’d include the majority of my plants. I'd keep my two special begonias and probably a couple of others, but I do believe I could let the remainder go for a good price. I know if I move to a small place, I wouldn’t want all that many plants, plus if I ever get to travel again, I wouldn’t be able to be gone for long periods without providing for their care.    

          I’m seriously hoping I can save my black bean tree. I’ve had it forever and it’s been through a lot. When Zooey the cat was young, we came home one day to find the black bean on the floor, some of its leaves shredded and it’s roots out of the pot. I babied it and it recovered and continued to grow. Now, it has scale again. I put it in the shower, washed it off and have put a No-Pest Strip between two of its branches. It's residing in the bathtub until the scale is dead. If the scale doesn't die, then I may have to send it to the yard waste can…don’t need scale on all my other plants.

I do need to finish with the house plants so I can turn my attention outside. I have an appointment at Swanson’s Nursery on Friday to go pick out tomato plants. With all the cars except mine gone, I can now grow my squash, tomatoes, beans and who knows what else down the north side of the driveway…they’re all going to love the heat from the asphalt…and I’m going to love eating them and maybe sharing them with friends and family.

It felt good today though to mother my plant babies and think about where some of them originated. I like the way I’ve arranged them this time, but then I always like the way they look when they are dust free and shiny. I’ll get to the rest of them in the next week or so and then I’ll be done, except for watering, until this time next year...unless I have that garage sale.

PAM AND THE BEGONIA GIGANTIOSIUM

         This is a post about friendship and a plant. My east coast or Cape Cod best friend is Pam. We first met when we both worked at the University of Washington. Her husband, Ed, was getting a degree in Oceanography and she’d been hired as the Department of Physiology and Biophysics editor. We worked together for about a year or so on the text book I posted about before.

          Pam grew up in New Jersey and how or why we became best friends, I’ve no idea, but we did. I love her sense of humor and she must like mine. We also like the same kind of books and movies. When her husband finished his degree, he was hired by Woods Hole in Massachusetts. So, she left, but we stayed in touch via letters and cards…no computers in the 1970s. They built a house not too far from the beach and I figured I’d visit her someday. In 1979 her husband was awarded a year’s sabbatical back here at the University of Washington. I was so excited to have her close by again, plus I was pregnant.

          Well, big surprise. When Pam arrived here, she told me she was pregnant too. I’d be having a baby in February (Thor) and her baby (Alex) would be born the beginning of April. How fun it was to share this experience. I could hardly stand it when she and her baby and husband returned to Massachusetts that summer.

          Jump ahead a couple of years and John and I were going east to attend a friend’s school graduation in Baltimore. I left a few days before John and flew to Boston. It was February with snow and ice, but her husband came and picked me up. I had a few days with her and her son before returning to Boston and flying to Baltimore. In fact, I was lucky her husband was able to get me to the airport, and even luckier that our friend had a friend with four-wheel drive. The east coast was suffering from the worst blizzard they’d had in 40-some years.

          While I was at Pam’s, I was taken with this wonderful plant she had. She didn’t know the name, but it was gorgeous. Jump ahead, I don’t remember how long, and her husband came to Seattle for some reason or other having to do with oceanography. Thor and I met Ed at McDonalds in the University District. He had a big black garbage bag for me. He’d carried it on the plane (couldn’t do that now) and inside was leaves and pieces of the rhizome from that wonderful plant. I was so excited.

          It’s now almost 40 years later and that plant, Begonia Gigantiosum, still lives in my house. In fact, at the moment I have five pots of them…it’s the most I’ve ever had at one time. Over the years, I’ve populated the northwest with this plant. I’ve given it to family, friends and even took some into the Woodland Park Zoo for the Tropical Rain Forest. I do warn them, however, that it can get large enough to require its very own room.

          Just now, while writing this, I looked on the internet to see if I could find this begonia. There are like 1800+ different begonia plants and I couldn’t find mine among the ones listed. I do know I have the name correct, because when I found it all those years ago, I thought the name most fitting because it does become as huge as you’ll allow it to be. I just wish I could remember how and where I found the information…there was no internet then.

          What caused me to write about this plant and Pam today was the fact it is actually blooming. This is the very first time I’ve had my begonia bloom like this. Other people, to whom I’ve given the plant, have had it bloom, but it apparently didn’t like me well enough to bloom before now…I guess I had to grow on it. Now it is blooming, and while the bloom isn’t all that attractive, I’m happy it’s happy enough to bloom in my bathroom.

          It doesn’t look all that large in the photo, but by the end of summer, it will take up a huge amount of space in my bathroom.  Fortunately, I’m not terribly tall and the room has a high ceiling so I don’t run into it. The leaves will be bigger than my hands put together and the leaf stems can become a half-inch to an inch in diameter. It looks gorgeous in there and when I sell the house, I may need to leave the one in the bathroom behind…if the new owners want it.

          Unfortunately, the rhizomes also grow and can become a couple of inches in diameter. Almost every summer, maybe every other summer, I’ve had to take the plant outside, remove the majority of its leaves, take it out of the pot and cut it into two or four sections before replanting. This is why I have so many now…I didn’t find homes for the extras when I did this last summer.

          As I said above, Pam and her family returned to Massachusetts the summer of 1980. Shortly after, my husband came up with a stash of tape recorders. I sent one to Pam and rather than writing, we began to send each other tapes. Sometimes they were 60 minutes, other times 90. Sometimes we sent or received more than one. Part of my idea was that our boys could talk to each other when they began talking. That didn’t happen too much, but what a treat it was to hear my friend’s voice every month or two. Those tape recorders eventually wore out and we replaced them. I think we stopped sending tapes when email and cell phones came on line.

          I’ve been back to Cape Cod twice more since the visit in 1982. Thor and I went when he was 10 or 12 years old. Pam’s library provides passes to a variety of places, so she took us to Plimoth Plantation, Plymouth Rock, and the Mayflower. We had a great time and the two boys got along famously. They went wind-sailing together down at the beach, and Thor shared his love of comic books with Alex.

It was kinda funny actually having a conversation face-to-face after all the years of sending tapes. Pam offered to set her timer and after I talked for an hour, it would be her turn. I went to see her once more on my own after my mother died. Pam worked every day which was fine because it allowed me the space I needed for grieving, plus it was so good to see and be with her.

Pam’s first son was born in Seattle and came back for a job interview some years ago. It looked like he and his wife might relocate to Seattle, but that didn’t happen. They’re in Maryland I think. Her youngest son, born in Massachusetts, did relocate and now lives in Bellingham. Pam came out about a year ago to see him and his wife, her first trip back here since 1980. It was so good to see her and I toured them around the zoo and took them to dinner at Ray’s. She was supposed to come back this spring, but the pandemic has squashed that idea.

These days, we email back and forth if we have something to say. If we use our cell phones, it’s not unusual for our conversations to last more than an hour, sometimes close to two…we don’t set a timer. We’ve talked about doing some traveling together. I know she loves cruises because she’s done it and didn’t want to get off the ship. Maybe when all this craziness is over, we can pick a destination and meet up at some port or another. And, just maybe, I can figure out how to take her a new Begonia gigantiosium.

THE NEW FASHION STATEMENT

         It’s a sign of the times, I guess. When I go out, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the people I see other than making sure I’m not in their space and they are not in mine. Back in the day when I used to go to work, I was used to getting compliments on my apparel, haircut, nails, whatever. Once I retired, being complimented for something was rare because I mostly wore sweats or jeans with tank tops. I stopped using makeup ages ago, and if my hair wasn’t great, I put on a hat.

          Even though I just went to the store on Thursday, I didn’t plan well, so had to go back on Sunday because the doggies were out of food. Their Chewy order will arrive at some point in time.

          Finished at the checkout counter, I went to take my cart and the bag person goes, “I really like your mask.” I was so surprised I almost didn’t thank her. But I did and said that my daughter-in-law made it for me which she thought was very cool.

          Actually, I now have three masks. My walking partner, Kathy, made me one weeks ago and I’ve worn it faithfully when I’ve had to go out. I’ve also washed and dried it. We have received compliments on the masks Kathy made when we’ve been out walking. In fact, she’s now made more than 100 and gifted them to family, friends and on Buy Nothing to anyone who wanted one…for free!!! This woman has a trillion Karma points!!!

When I saw my son and his daughter last Monday, I really liked the way their masks fit. I asked where they got them and AJ said his wife, Angie, made them. I asked if she’d make me one. The ones Angie made are different than the ones Kathy makes. Angie puts something bendable in the middle top so you can squeeze it over your nose. AJ said it’s the rigid part of the top of a coffee bag. And, the material isn’t folded over at the sides the way Kathy does hers. Angie folds the middle at the top and bottom, so you have a little open space in the middle below the nose pincher.

          Angie then made me two. When she sent me the photos, I told her I’d take the blue one, but she said I had to have both because my granddaughter had picked out the fabric of the red one. When they arrived, all I had to do was fix the elastic so they fit properly.

          There have also been some photos on Facebook of a wide variety of masks. There were some really fancy ones for Easter. There was another one that looked like the mask the woman was wearing had red lips. Then, she pulled on it and it opened up into a huge mouth…made me laugh out loud. There are many many creative and funny examples of face masks. I guess face masks are the new fashion statement. I’m so glad I have such talented women in my life who made me mine.

At the end of this post, I included a photo of one of the fanciest masks I’ve seen on Facebook. Mine aren’t that fancy, but I love all three of mine and will rotate them through the days. I also think I’m going to start looking at the people I see when I go to the store. Being complimented on my mask made my day. Maybe I can make someone else’s if I pay it forward. 

JUST FYI...THIS POST IS POLITICAL

       

They, whoever they is, say you shouldn’t talk politics, but sometimes, I just cannot help myself. I couldn’t believe our idiot of a president (note, I did not capitalize that word) actually told people to inject Lysol to protect themselves from coronavirus. And, Lysol had to widely post information telling people not to inject or drink Lysol.  Sheesh.

          Then, I received an email from a friend that contained a picture of tRump and his mother in his far younger years. The quote that accompanied the photo was:  

“Yes, he’s an idiot with zero common sense, and no social skills, but he IS my son. I just hope he never goes into politics. He’d be a disaster.” 

          Now, I don’t know if his mother, Mary Anne Trump, actually said that. I didn’t go to Snopes or any of the other sites that would indicate if this was a true statement by her. The fact of the matter is I believe she must have had a crystal ball because she was totally right, he is a HUGE DISASTER!!!

          Other bits and pieces I’ve heard over the last month include he was provided with information the end of November about the as yet to be realized pandemic. Information was included in his daily briefing in January about the upcoming pandemic. Also, let me say I didn’t get this information from FOX news, but Good Morning America on ABC.

Throughout the whole of 2020, tRump has made statement after statement that’s been wrong, idiotic, stupid, whatever. In fact, I received an email from a friend that catalogued the arrival of coronavirus and what he did or said. Here’s that list if you’re interested:

Jan 8th - First CDC warning
Jan 9th - Trump campaign rally
Jan 14th - Trump campaign rally
Jan 16th - House sends impeachment articles to Senate
Jan 18th - Trump golfs
Jan 19th - Trump golfs
Jan 20th - first case of corona virus in the US, Washington State.
Jan 22nd - “We have it totally under control. It’s one person coming in from China. It’s going to be just fine.” “We’re in great shape … and I think China’s in good shape too, by the way,”
Jan 28th - Trump campaign rally
Jan 30th - Trump campaign rally. “China is not in great shape right now.”
Feb 1st - Trump golfs
Feb 2nd - “We pretty much shut it down coming in from China."
Feb 5th - Senate votes to acquit. Then takes a five-day weekend.
Feb 10th - Trump campaign rally. “And by the way, the virus, they’re working hard.” “Looks like by April, you know, in theory, when it gets a little warmer, it miraculously goes away.”
Feb 12th - Dow Jones closes at an all time high of 29,551
Feb 15h - Trump golfs
Feb 19th - Trump campaign rally
Feb 20th - Trump campaign rally
Feb 21st - Trump campaign rally. Stock market closes the week with 12% drop.
Feb 24th - “The Coronavirus is very much under control in the USA… Stock Market starting to look very good to me!”
Feb 25th - Stock market loses 8% in one day. “CDC and my Administration are doing a GREAT job of handling Coronavirus.”
Feb 25h - “I think that's a problem that’s going to go away… They have studied it. They know very much. In fact, we’re very close to a vaccine.”
Feb 26th - “The 15 (cases in the US) within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero.”
Feb 26th - “We're going very substantially down, not up.” Also "This is a flu. This is like a flu"; "Now, you treat this like a flu"; "It's a little like the regular flu that we have flu shots for. And we'll essentially have a flu shot for this in a fairly quick manner."
February 27: “One day it’s like a miracle, it will disappear.” “It will be gone by Easter.”
Feb 28th - “We're ordering a lot of supplies. We're ordering a lot of, uh, elements that frankly we wouldn't be ordering unless it was something like this. But we're ordering a lot of different elements of medical.”
Feb 28th - Trump campaign rally. “This (Covid19) is their new hoax.”
March 2nd - “You take a solid flu vaccine, you don't think that could have an impact, or much of an impact, on corona?”
March 2nd - “A lot of things are happening, a lot of very exciting things are happening and they’re happening very rapidly.”
March 4: “If we have thousands or hundreds of thousands of people that get better just by, you know, sitting around and even going to work — some of them go to work, but they get better.”
March 5th - “I NEVER said people that are feeling sick should go to work.”
March 5th - “The United States… has, as of now, only 129 cases… and 11 deaths. We are working very hard to keep these numbers as low as possible!”
March 6th - “I think we’re doing a really good job in this country at keeping it down… a tremendous job at keeping it down.”
March 6th - “Anybody right now, and yesterday, anybody that needs a test gets a test. They’re there. And the tests are beautiful…. the tests are all perfect like the letter was perfect. The transcription was perfect. Right? This was not as perfect as that but pretty good.” “I like this stuff. I really get it. People are surprised that I understand it… Every one of these doctors said, ‘How do you know so much about this?’ Maybe I have a natural ability. Maybe I should have done that instead of running for president.”
March 6th - “I don't need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn't our fault.”
March 7th - Trump golfs
March 8th - Trump golfs
March 8th - “We have a perfectly coordinated and fine-tuned plan at the White House for our attack on Corona Virus.”
March 9th - “This blindsided the world.”
March 10th - “We stopped it.”
March 11th - “No, I’m not concerned at all. No, I’m not. No, we’ve done a great job. Thank you very much.”
March 13th – US declares state of emergency. “It will go away,” Trump said at a meeting with Republican lawmakers. “It’s really working out.”
March 17th - “This is a pandemic,” Trump tells reporters. “I felt it was a pandemic long before it was called a pandemic.”
March 20th - “I don’t take responsibility at all.”
March 23th- Dow Jones closes at 18,591.
March 25th - 3.3 million Americans file for unemployment.
April 2nd - 6.6 million file for unemployment. 245,213 infected with COVID-19, 5,983 deaths.
April 3rd - Coronavirus claims over 1,000 U.S. lives in a single day. "With the masks, it's going to be really a voluntary thing. You can do it, you don't have to do it. I'm choosing not to do it, but some people may want to do it and that's OK".
April 4th - The US leads the world, over 308,000 COVID-19 cases, 8,500 Americans died. “Maybe we could allow special, for churches, maybe we could talk about it. Maybe we could allow them, with separation outside, on Easter.

          I copied and pasted the list exactly as it was sent to me. When I read it over, I simply couldn’t believe, and yet it’s right here in black and white, what a huge example he is as a totally clueless leader. Or, as the friend who sent the email said, “Yup, a real take charge kind of guy. Rallies and golf…oy vey!!!”

          Then, there’s this quote from an article “’Stable genius’ or dangerous ignoramous?” in The Washington Post by Jennifer Rubin,

“Like a con man peddling patent medicine, Trump dispenses false hope and crackpot remedies, thereby promoting disdain for scientific inquiry and valid research. Once more, one is compelled not only to shudder that such an intellectually unfit man could be president but that legions of right-wing hucksters and sycophants could regularly contort themselves not merely to defend his blabbering but also to lionize him."

          You might also be interested in looking at an article which was forwarded to me by another friend and can be found in the link I'll include shortly. It's entitled, "British Writer Pens the Best Descriptionof Trump I've Read." It's spot on and can be found here:

https://pasdemerde.com/2019/10/18/british-writer-pens-the-best-description-of-trump-ive-read/?fbclid=IwAR3e83Zz2GrblTSzB45V3OJVRTo_ow2ZGrlu1MTqx-CvCIecqz1Lr8txnUY

          Enjoy!!!

          There, I’ve had my say. I believe the majority of my readers will probably agree with what I've posted and be interested in the information I cut and pasted into this post. Of course, there may be others who disagree with my opinion. It’s my hope they’ll read the above and take into consideration the Lysol “joke,” or was it “sarcasm,” tRump made and really think about who they want to see in the White House come January 2021.

          For me, I’m hoping to get a bumper sticker (a big one) that says, “Give me Biden or give me Bleach.” Join me won’t you!!!

A TALE OF TWO BIRTHS

          It’s funny how things happen. Yesterday’s post had to do with AJ’s birth, but there’s quite a bit I left out which really didn’t have much to do with AJ or me. I’m going to include it here

          At the Primate Center, I worked on the fourth floor. Another secretary was hired for the third floor and her name was Paula as well. They referred to her as Little Paula and I was Big Paula…she was shorter than me.

          Little Paula got pregnant about a month before I did. There was a huge difference between how the two of us prepared for childbirth. The majority of the other women at the primate Center were older and had already had children. Once we informed them of our pregnancies, coffee breaks and lunch topics became all about childbirth.

          Every single one of those older women had tales to tell about themselves, relatives, acquaintances, whoever that had horrible experiences in childbirth.

          “Oh, I remember cousin Emma. She was in labor for three days.”

          “I remember my mother when she had my little brother. She labored for days without any medication.”

          "Poor Sue. Her baby was so big. She was so torn up and could hardly sit or walk for weeks."

          They just went on and on and on and on. When this would begin, I’d make an excuse and get up and leave. I think I eventually stopped going to coffee. I didn’t need to hear their horror stories. When I had my child, I’d have my own story and it would not be a horrible one. I was going to think positive. I knew by doing that, I’d be just fine. For all of my life, I have never ever shared a childbirth horror story (and I do have one) with a pregnant woman. They don’t need to hear that shit.

          Anyway, both Little Paula and I breezed through our pregnancies. I believe she left a couple of weeks before I did because she was due way before me. So, imagine my surprise when they put me into the labor room and finished asking me questions to hear this little voice say, “Paula is that you?” Little Paula and Big Paula were sharing a labor room.

          You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. Surely, she’d already had her baby. When we got a chance to talk, I found out that she’d been in and out of the hospital for the last couple of weeks, maybe more. She was so tired and angry that her baby had yet to appear. She’d come in, be in labor, it would hurt, they’d give her medication, the labor would stop and they’d send her home.

          That day, it was pretty much the same thing. Whenever it began to hurt, they’d give her medication and the contractions would slow. AJ was born at 2:43 pm, plus there were five other babies born before AJ. In fact, her intern showed up in my delivery room while I was holding AJ and waiting to be taken out. He rather snottily thanked me for having my baby. When I was taken out of the labor room, Little Paula lost it completely…like it was my fault.

          I didn’t have any medication until they got me in the delivery room. There they rolled me onto my side and put a needle in my back. I could have shot them for that. It was on the orders so I had to have it. At that point, I had two pushing contractions to go. I could have done without, especially since I wasn’t allowed to sit up for six hours after. Can you picture me lying flat in bed, starving, and being given food? I somehow managed to shove it into my mouth without making too big a mess; and boy, it was the best chicken and rice I’ve ever had. When I had my second child, I made it crystal clear…unless I request it, no medication.

          Later that evening, Little Paula and I went to the nursery to look at our babies. She told me then, “This was the absolute worst experience of my life. I’m never ever doing it again.” I don’t know if she ever did.

          So, I guess the significance of this story is to encourage people to keep horror stories to themselves unless writing a fictional horror story. Or, if someone absolutely has to share their, or that of someone they know, experience with you that’s absolutely beastly, walk away. 

VACATION 1969/CHILDBIRTH 1970

        Since I’ve spent the last two posts back in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I may as well finish them off. John and I purchased the house in which I currently live in February 1969. Boy, talk about a change in our circumstances. I may have mentioned this before, but we went from paying $92.00 a month for rent that included a couple of the utilities, to paying either $211.00 or $204.00 a month plus all the utilities. We didn’t eat out much and our entertainment budget was nonexistent.

          Earlier that year, John’s good friend Jim had left his wife and another woman in our circle of friends left her husband and daughter. They got on a Greyhound bus and left town for California together. Now this was a scandal, and it served to support our idea that something(s) had been going on with some of our friends that were partying way far down in the south end. I don’t think we ever went, or maybe we went once. Anyway, we didn’t want to go and there was a bit of talk about what went on at those parties.

          We always tried to take our vacation after the kids returned to school in September. In December 1969, we needed to take a cheap vacation, so we decided we’d drive to California to see Jim. After that visit, we’d go to Las Vegas and see the musical “Hair.” We didn’t call ahead, just showed up and knocked on the door. You could have knocked Jim over with a feather. He figured all his friends in Seattle thought poorly of him for his departure with another man’s wife, and would never visit or speak to him again.

          Jim answered the door in his bathrobe and was on the phone with the woman. It was Christmas time and she had had to return to Seattle because of her daughter. Poor Jim was spending Christmas and New Years alone…until we showed up. He was so glad to see us it was almost pitiful.

          Now, Jim was a great guy with a sense of humor that could, and often did, make you groan. I first met him as the “cat under the sheets in John’s bed” the year John and I became engaged. John’s mother came to John’s room and told him he had a visitor. Jim had followed right behind her. And, there I was naked in John’s bed. We’d gone to my company’s Christmas party the night before. After, we went to John’s to get him some clothes so he could stay with me at my place. Once at his house, John decided he shouldn’t be driving in his condition. So, we went to bed.

          Jim’s standing in the doorway and I’m buried under the covers hoping John will get up and take him away. Instead, John pats my fanny and tells Jim it’s just his cat under there. Embarrassed beyond belief, I stick my head out and John goes, “Jim, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Paula. Paula, this is Jimmy.” Jim almost always brought this up and laughed about how he met me every time I saw him after that. In fact, if I were to see him today, he’d probably have some comment to make about a “cat.” I got over being embarrassed and would laugh with him and John.

          Over the years, whenever we went to California, we’d go see Jim and his wife. Whenever they came up this way, I would try to arrange some kind of party where everyone could get together and see them. My sons grew up knowing Jim, and there’s a particular kind of joke that they refer to as, “Uncle Jimmy humor.”

          That particular vacation stands out for another reason…it was when I got pregnant with AJ. During that year, I had several fallopian tube infections which seemed to go away as long as I was on the antibiotic. A couple of weeks later, it would return. I cannot tell you how painful such an infection is…it’s agony. With the last one, I waited through the weekend and went into the Primate Center and asked my boss to please get me an appointment in the Women’s Clinic. He did so and I painfully waited to see this man.

          I was supposed to see the head of OBGYN, but he wasn’t actually in the building that day. Instead, my appointment turned out to be with his Chief Resident. Now this person was extremely annoyed to have his schedule screwed up by having his boss’ colleague pull strings. His initial exam was surface only and it hurt like hell. In fact, he didn’t bring any gentleness to the exam until he got a look inside. Then, he was so amenable and helpful you would have thought I might die.

          That day, and the following day, I had to have a penicillin injection. The needle was the size of a pencil lead and the big barrel held a thick solution that looked like pudding. After each injection, I had to wait for 30 minutes so they could make sure I wasn’t going to have a bad reaction to so much medication. For a decade or so after that, whenever I had to have a penicillin injection, the site developed a huge mosquito bite-like reaction.

          My follow-up visits once the infection was cleared up for good were with the head of OBGYN. He told me it was unlikely I could get pregnant because of the scarring. We could figure that out in one of two ways. He could do a very painful test or I could take my temperature each morning to see if I was ovulating before he did the painful test. He highly recommended I take my temperature first.

          The first month, I was faithful about taking my temperature and it did, indeed, look as though I was ovulating. The second month, I remained faithful to the thermometer, but John and I were on vacation. We had lots of free time to do stuff before leaving for California, like having sex often. I kept putting John off because, “My temperature is going down tomorrow. I’ll get pregnant.” Finally, after almost a week (which was a really long time for us way back then), I couldn’t stand it either and we had a wonderful time in bed.

          The next morning, my temperature went down, only to go up and stay up for nine months. Yes, I could ovulate and I could get pregnant. How about that. I even told John the next morning when I saw the thermometer, that I was pregnant. He insisted I was wrong, I couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible. HAH!!!

          So, when we went to see Jim, I was pregnant. When we went to Las Vegas, I was pregnant. We returned to celebrate New Years with Jim, and I had a lot to drink that night. Back then, there hadn’t been any published studies about alcohol and fetuses. I’ve wondered once those studies came out if those drinks harmed AJ in any way.

          We returned home and I think it was February when I saw my doctor again. John was still convinced I wasn’t pregnant. The day of my appointment, I was so sick. I couldn’t even have a small piece of gum without having to run to the bathroom to throw up. Once the doctor confirmed my pregnancy, I stopped throwing up and never had morning sickness. John called that afternoon and I told him, yes, you’re going to be a daddy. He spent the rest of the afternoon and evening throwing up. The next day one of my bosses said John and I were sick because I was pregnant.

          Now, you have to understand that John and I had made the decision to not have children. The world was in such a sorry state, it didn’t make sense to bring a child into such a place. For nine months, I could have had a cold. John wasn’t terribly interested in my pregnancy. That made me feel bad, but what could I do. I just had to keep on gestating.

          I left the Primate Center the end of August and that’s about the time John began to get nervous. I don’t remember the due date I was given for AJ, but John called me every other hour that day. The baby is supposed to be born today, what the heck’s going on. Following the due date, John continued to call me during the day to make sure I wasn’t giving birth right that second.

          Early morning September 16^th, I was pretty sure I was in labor. We got up and went to University Hospital. My doctor came to see me and told me he went home at 5:00 pm. John walked the halls for hours. After lunch, I was hooked up to a Pitocin drip…that drug is a miracle worker…and they placed an electrode on the baby’s head. John went to get me some ice chips (I was starving) and my doctor's intern checked me. The next thing I know the intern is shouting about how the baby’s coming.

          They pushed my gurney out of the room, past John who was plastered up against the wall with a cup of ice chips, and into the delivery room. A nurse ran alongside chanting, “Don’t bear down, breath, breath.”, and panting in my ear. My doctor had been pulled from whatever class he’d been teaching and came dashing into the room pulling on his gloves. Eleven (11) contractions after they started the Pitocin drip, AJ was born. 

          I got to carry him to the nursery on my gurney and everyone from the Primate Center was waiting in the hall (They’d been trekking down every day to see if I or another pregnant employee had yet arrived.). John was there too (They didn’t let dads in the delivery room in 1970.) and what he’d ignored was suddenly real. The little swaddled red-faced adorable bundle in my arms was his son, his child. John, from one millisecond to the next immediately and forever after loved his son AJ.

A RENAISSANCE MAN

         Yesterday, I posted about my editorial career and working for Dr. Ruch. Doing that made me think about him and the part he played in my life way back when. He was the first highly educated person for whom I ever worked and quite possibly the main one. And, I was the first well-trained secretary they’d ever had in that position at the Primate Center. Previous secretaries had always been college graduates or doctoral students who knew how to type, but didn’t have a clue about being a secretary.

          The first time Dr. Ruch and/or his assistant director returned a letter all marked up and wanted me to mail it, I was horrified. My work was not only a reflection on me, but it was a reflection on them as well. I refused to mail it without retyping it so it was perfect (no computers back then, only Selectric typewriters and not correcting Selectrics either). The filing system was also a mess and by the time I left to give birth to AJ, I had totally reorganized the system which they continued to use for years and years.

          Anyway, enough patting myself on the back, let’s return to Dr. Ruch. I never did call him by his given name. I sometimes called him Professor or Boss, but never Ted or Theodore. Dr. Ruch was the first real gentleman I ever met, and was actually the last because society changed so much beginning in 1970. He was kind, charming, sincere, amusing and never ever got my last name correct. He also encouraged me to take advantage of the one free course per quarter to which my position entitled me…and I did.

Don't remember why this

was painted, but doesn't

he look regal

          I went back to work for Dr. Ruch in 1971 when John and I separated. He had been forced to retire from his position as director of the Primate Center when he turned 65. He was given an office upstairs and continued to work on his textbook there. Every morning, both when he was director and after he retired, my first task was to organize his desk. How he managed to find where he’d left off, I have no idea, but he wanted his desk neat and tidy. I did try to put it in some sort of order, but he was so messy it wasn’t easy. Not only that, but his handwriting was atrocious and he would continue sentences up the side of the page, across the top and around the entire thing. He also left out the middle of words. The medical dictionary and I became fast friends.

Every morning when he came in, a good hour after I arrived, he would always go into his office, remove his coat and put down his briefcase before coming back into my office to have a little chat. During those chats, I heard about how he grew up in Oregon. He was born in 1906. His father passed away and left his mother to raise him and his four siblings. She turned their home into a boarding house for students at the University of Oregon. In any case, the fact he had to have a good education was understood and as I wrote yesterday, he graduated from the University of Oregon in 1927, and received his masters from Stanford a year later. If my memory serves, all his education was funded by scholarships.

          Until his chats, I’d never heard much about Rhodes Scholars. It’s a great honor to be chosen as one. I don’t know about then, but I believe only 16 US citizens are chosen each year. To be chosen, you have to meet some rigid criteria and Dr. Ruch definitely did. Anyway, a Rhodes Scholar is an international postgraduate award for students to study at the University of Oxford. It was established in 1902, two years before Dr. Ruch was born, by Cecil John Rhodes, an English businessman and politician. He created the award to promote unity between English-speaking nations and instill a sense of civic-minded leadership and moral fortitude in future leaders in their respective and varied fields.

He told me about his time in England, his time at Yale and shared many amusing stories about his family, friends and fellow scientists. To this day, I cannot order in a restaurant without remembering the study he told me about that was done by someone in Boston. She, I think it was a she, took scrapings from beneath the fingernails of restaurant workers. In almost every case, she found fecal bacteria. It’s a wonder I ever eat something that I haven’t prepared myself; but based on her study, I probably have some under my nails as well. Whether it was his mother’s teachings, his time in England and/or in academia, he was above all a gentleman in his later years with me.

          When I knew him, he lacked the passion he most evidently had during his career, as evidenced by all his degrees and publications This was due to the heart attack that almost claimed his life in the early 1960’s. Until that attack, he smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish to use those old metaphors, or at least that’s what I was told by other academicians. His health, once he recovered, had to be his first priority. He no longer smoked and was allowed a single beer each evening…no more martinis, which I believe were his original favorites.

          I don’t remember the name of the beer company that used to put sayings or something inside their bottlecaps. Dr. Ruch would bring me ones he thought I’d find interesting. He also confused my name with a beer I never heard of, Kronenbourg. I don’t think he ever got my last name correct. If I wasn’t introduced as a beer, I was introduced as Carlsbad, Karlbergen, or something that began with a C or a K and sounded kind of like my name. I never knew if he got it wrong on purpose as kind of a joke or if he never could keep it straight.

          Dr. Ruch lived in a grand old house in Madison Park with a lovely garden that was his delight. He talked about his garden and gardening quite a lot. He planted snow peas every Washington’s birthday (2/22) without fail. And, it was quite a process. He dug a trench, put in mulch and manure, and mixed it all together before ever planting a single seed. Those peas though were quite good. And the flowers he grew were gorgeous. There was one lilium he grew and I wish I could remember the name, (Star of Persia maybe) but he brought me a couple of the flowers once they dried. The dried flower was huge, about the size of a cantaloupe and graced my bulletin board for a long time.

          I was fortunate to actually see his garden and only then because I was invited to a wedding. Dr. Ruch had an assistant who was like no one I ever met before or since. She wore designer clothes, was raised by her aunt in Boston and supposedly grew up with the Kennedys. (After her aunt came out for the wedding the Professor told me he thought her aunt was a servant in the Kennedy household, not the “friend” his assistant portrayed.) She thought I was beneath her deign because I didn’t have a college degree. For some reason, after Dr. Ruch’s second heart attack (more on that later), she became my best friend (in her mind maybe). Dr. Ruch and his wife hosted her wedding in his garden and I, with two other people at the Primate Center were the only guests from work.

Since she was much older, this woman became pregnant fairly quickly. Her closet was full of famous names but she asked if she could borrow my maternity clothes, all of which I had made my very own self, because she couldn’t find anything she liked. That was the last time I ever heard from her. She never returned the “borrowed” maternity clothes and I’m glad I cut off all the sterling silver buttons I’d sewn on a blouse…those buttons were a gift from a friend who had purchased them in Germany.   

          Now, to Dr. Ruch thanking me for saving his life. I’ve never had anyone do that either before or since. I came back from lunch one afternoon. He called me on the intercom and asked me to come into his office. His door was always locked, so I let myself in. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands flat on top of it. He said,

          “I believe I’m having a heart attack. I need you to call my cardiologist. Tell them not to send a gurney.”

          I went to my desk and placed the call, providing his instruction, which, of course they ignored. I returned to his office and asked if there was anything I could do. He gold me no, he’d just sit there and wait.

          His assistant director was upstairs so I went to tell him what was happening. He was a rather excitable fellow and didn't disguise his annoyance at being interruped, but I insisted. Once I told him, he made to dash down the steps to go to his boss’ aid. This was the last thing Dr. Ruch needed, so I stopped him from doing just that and cautioned him to be calm. By the time we returned to the office, the gurney and medical staff were there and Dr. Ruch was soon wheeled away.

          Dr. Ruch was in University Hospital for some time. I cannot now remember how long, but it was while he was there that he asked me to come see him and thanked me for saving his life. I hadn’t realized it was as serious as it apparently was. Good thing too or they might have needed two gurneys…an additional one for me and the baby I was carrying. He did return to his post as Director shortly before I left to give birth to AJ.

          As I said yesterday, it was 1973 or 1974 when I left Dr. Ruch. He went on to retire completely from the University of Washington in 1976. He and his wife moved to Santa Barbara which is where I think their daughter lived. He returned once after that and we met for lunch at the Northlake Tavern. He ordered an onion pizza which I found amazing…and quite good actually. He sent his leftover portion home with me.

          My last correspondence with Dr. Ruch was in 1980 when he sent me a copy of Volume I. He passed away in 1983 at the age of 77…the same age as John was. Amazingly, when I tried to find information about him on the internet to reinforce these memories, there was none to be found that didn’t deal with his work in physiology, in particular the textbook. There were other citations about his work on the brain and neural function which was his field, as well as publications having to do with the health of laboratory primates.

I found it rather surprising I could find so little about this remarkable man that wasn’t associated with the textbook. To me Dr. Ruch was extraordinary, the only what I would call a renaissance man I ever knew. He graced my life with his gentle humor, kindness, knowledge and affection. I’m forever grateful for the years I spent as his “secretary-editor-friend.”