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.”

MY EDITORIAL CAREER

         Tuesday morning, I woke up and didn’t feel so good. I probably overdid working in the garden on Monday. Every single joint hurt and I’m positive there wasn’t a single square inch of skin of which I wasn’t aware. I postponed my walk, took an Aleve and went back to bed for a while.

          While I lay there waiting for the Aleve to kick in, I started thinking about how wondrous the body is. I could picture the medication dissolving in my tummy and being transported through my blood vessels to the rest of my body. I have just enough medical knowledge to be dangerous because way back in the early 1970s, I was the editor for the Ruch-Patton Textbook of Physiology and Biophysics.

          This textbook was first published in 1896 by William H. Howell. As time went by, he took on a partner and published revised editions. Eventually, my professor, Dr. T. C. Ruch became the lead editor with Dr. H. D. Patton as his partner. The 20^th edition on which I worked came out in three volumes and in reverse order. Volume III, Digestion, Metabolism, Endocrine Function and Reproduction was published by W. B. Saunders in 1973. I didn’t have a lot to do with that volume, but Dr. Ruch’s inscription reads, “To Paula, without whose abilities and patience this book would never have been edited (so well).” I was responsible for finalizing the page proofs and checking every single reference cited.

          Dr. Patton was responsible for Volume II, Circulation, Respiration and Fluid Balance. He was also the Director of the Department of Physiology and Biophysics at the University of Washington. I went to him to inquire as to how he wanted to proceed with his volume. He told me he didn’t care, that I could do whatever I liked about it.

          I guess I should provide a bit of an explanation here. Initially, I worked for Dr. Ruch when he was Director of the Regional Primate Research Facility at the UW. He was responsible for getting it built; however, in the process he had a very serious heart attack which affected something like 75% of his heart. It also affected his mental capacity. Dr. Ruch had been a wizard in his field, graduating with a B.A. in psychology from the University of Oregon, 1927; a master’s from Stanford, 1928; a B.A. (1930) and a B.Sc. (1932) in physiology from Oxford University as a Rhodes Scholar. His Ph.D. in physiology was obtained at Yale in 1933. That’s also where he worked with Dr. J. F. Fulton who brought him on as a co-editor of the textbook’s 18^th edition.

          Even in the early 70s, doctoral students who came to the UW and found out Dr. Ruch was around had stars in their eyes. Unfortunately, he was no longer the wizard and most were very disappointed with their interactions because Dr. Ruch didn’t live up to their expectations based on his reputation. It was his reputation that also got the 20^th edition published. It was the last edition, and really only saw publication because of Dr. Ruch. Scientific research was moving so rapidly, it was easier for researchers to publish monographs and get their results out to other scientists more quickly than a book every five years.

          Now, it was 1971 or 1972, science had changed and it was no wonder Dr. Patton didn’t much care. The 20^th edition would be out-of-date before it hit the printing presses.

          I persevered, however, because it was my job. I wrote a letter to all the authors of chapters in Volume II. In the letter, I gave them a due date and said I would have Saunders publish their old chapter if they didn’t provide a new one. Boy, I had some power and used it didn’t I?

There was one professor in the Department of Physiology and Biophysics of whom I was seriously afraid…he’d once been a marine. His secretary (as we were called then) also terrified me and I often wondered if she’d been a marine too. I sent the letter anyway; and, sure enough, this professor came calling. I braced myself when I looked up and saw him in my office door. Rather than yelling at me for sending that letter, he said I was to let him know if the folks in his department didn’t follow through in a timely manner. He and his secretary became a lot more friendly and I was no longer scared.

I don’t know how many of my readers know what goes into getting a textbook published. Here’s a little synopsis. This textbook (and maybe all textbooks) consists of chapters written by the expert in the field. The chapter author submits a revised chapter. The editor (moi) reads through and makes corrections and sends it on to the publisher. The publisher sends back galley proofs which are long sheets of paper with the chapter printed on them. The editor (moi) checks and corrects any mistakes, including the location and citation of the tables and figures, and spends days in the Health Sciences Library checking the references to make sure they are cited correctly by the chapter author. The galleys go back to the publisher and once corrections are made, page proofs are submitted back to the editor and author. The author doublechecks his work, returns it to the editor (moi) who finalizes the page proofs and returns them to the publisher. The next time I saw any of those chapters, they were in book form.

Volume II was published in 1974, and Dr. Ruch (should have been Dr. Patton) graciously wrote, “To Paula, secretary-editorialist without whose help this book wouldn’t have even got started.”

A little aside here because I always found it amusing. W.B. Saunders sent one of their agents to meet with Drs. Ruch and Patton. He also wanted to meet with me and proposed I have dinner with him at the Four Seasons (his hotel). I was happy to do so, but almost immediately realized he had two agendas. One was to make sure the textbook was proceeding on schedule. The second was to have a “good time.”

When we were seated, rather than sitting by myself on the comfortable bench behind the table, he joined me there so we were both facing out into the restaurant. I don’t know if you remember just how short dresses and skirts were in the early ‘70s, but I was wearing a suit that was a knit dress with a matching long jacket. Both were short. My thighs were pretty exposed. This nasty old (and he was old) agent thought he could just put his hand on my thigh. I kept removing it over and over again and scrunching as far away as I could get. 

Dinner, however, was delicious and so was the wine he ordered. I had never tasted wine that was so delightful and could have easily drunk the entire bottle on my own. I knew, however, that would be a horrendous mistake, taking into consideration that agent’s busy hand, so limited myself to one glass. There was also caviar on my salad…this wonderful gentleman ordered for us both. Dinner over, reassurances given about how the textbook was proceeding, I prepared to take my leave.

Wouldn’t I love to go to his room for a nightcap? I knew it was coming and I was ready. Oh, thank you so much, but my husband is taking care of my son. I really need to get home. I shook that restless hand and headed for the garage and my car. Dinner and wine so good, though, that it was actually worth my removing his hand from my thigh numerous times.

 The final Volume I, The Brain and Neural Function was totally Dr. Ruch’s responsibility, plus he had the majority of chapters. It was finally published in 1979 and Dr. Ruch sent me a copy with a notation thanking me for my help and patience. I had left my position some time in 1973, maybe 1974 because that’s when John and I were going to start a commune. So, I didn’t get to the page proofs, but I did do a lot of work on the galley proofs. In fact, the professor in Physiology and Biophysics of whom I had been so afraid, begged me to stay because he believed Volume I would never be finished if I left. Well, it took years, but it was finished and published.

Which brings me back to visualizing that Aleve coursing through my body. Those three volumes totaled 1,692 pages of physiological and biophysical information. Much of it I read numerous times. Amazingly, almost 50 years later, that wonderous brain of mine still retains some of that information. I do have to admit that the retention of that data has been most helpful all my life. It’s helped me converse with various doctors about various family health issues, to know when to push, and to know when to follow up. Sometimes, I’m sure those medical practioners would have preferred I know a lot less. As I said in the beginning…I know just enough to make me dangerous.

AFTER ONLY 34 YEARS

          It was a rather great weekend don’t you think. The rain came Friday night and left the air smelling wonderful. I didn’t do anything outside on Saturday, but Sunday, I got myself together and finished weeding the south side of the house. I still need to do the flowerbed on that side, transplant a rhubarb plant and dig up and divide the dahlias already sprouting on that side. So, I definitely have a to do list.

          Today (Monday), I also accomplished something that’s been in the works for 34 years. John bought a 1957 Chevy pickup not too long after we married. He drove it for years, and then it had the place of honor in the driveway. For AJ’s 16^th birthday, John gave him that Chevy pickup. For AJ’s birthday, he received a bunch of parts, i.e., spark plugs, hoses, etc., so the pickup would run again. 

          

          AJ’s birthday is mid-September and the truck and its new parts all sat around. The end of October, I told John AJ was very disappointed in him. He wanted to know why. I told him it was because AJ had been 16 with a driver’s license for going on two months and the truck wasn’t running.

          John worked for himself and hadn’t taken any days off since AJ’s birthday. So, the upcoming weekend, John took off and together they worked on the pickup.

All the new parts got installed and things looked great until they put gas in the gas tank. John had put water in the gas tank and it hadn’t leaked, so he figured it was okay. Well, gas has different properties and the tank leaked. It wasn’t drivable until that was fixed.

          So, John had me sell my little orange bug to AJ so he’d have something to drive. AJ ordered a license plate for it that said, SWTORNG which stood for Sweet Orange…his dad always referred to it as Sweaty Orange. That meant I had to go find myself another car. I went looking. At the time, Volvos were the in car and everyone who had one thought they were the absolute best. I found a great Toyota downtown. I also found a Volvo in Edmonds. Well, John was far too busy to go hither, thither and yon, so he bought the Volvo. That car was the absolute worst car I’ve ever had in my life. I should have insisted on returning it the morning after it came home. One of the neighbors called and said lights were on. I don’t remember now what the problem was, but it was only the beginning.

          That lauded by friends Volvo ended up costing me a ton of money having this fixed and that fixed. I don’t know about now, but then, the only parts that fit a Volvo were Volvo parts, so you had to purchase and pay whatever they wanted. I know I ended up putting in a new transmission, a new drive cable (that’s probably not the right terminology) and my mind refuses to recall any of the other problems.

          John’s dad had a drinking problem and had purchased a 1989 Ford Mustang Hatchback. I think it had been one of the demonstration vehicles at the Ford dealership. In any case, being an ex-policeman, he was cut some slack when he was stopped for driving erratically. Eventually, it came to the point where he could no longer drive. He gave that mustang to John, who gave it to me to drive.

          That meant I could finally eliminate the Volvo. It was in the process of developing a new problem…the starter was dying. I found a buyer who was willing to give me the $5,000 I was asking for it. He wanted me to drop the price, but I was honest and told him I’d ask even more if I had the starter problem fixed before I sold it. I’m selling it as is. He bought it anyway.

          The afternoon the purchaser brought me a cashier’s check, I stood in the dining room with my fingers crossed, chanting, “Please start, please start, please start.” It did and drove away, never to be seen by me again. As it disappeared over the hill, I danced around the house and waving that check. I drove the mustang until the end of 2003 when I bought my first Toyota Rav4. That purchase really annoyed John because when they brought the paperwork to us, it was in my name only. About damn time…I was only 58 then.

          Anyway, to return to the 1957 Chevy pickup. John drove it to AJ's house around 2004, so it ran, but barely. The '57 lived in his garage until he was ready to spend some time and a bit of money. Initially, it looked as though AJ might give it to Haley for her 16^th birthday.  Instead he found a great Toyota pickup with BIG tires which was just what she wanted. Actually, she wants some fancy Dodge pickup that is even bigger. With the Toyota, Nana almost needs a stepstool to get inside.

AJ and Haley worked on the ‘57 together doing all kinds of stuff, i.e., a tune up, new brake system including wheel cylinders and master cylinder, new gas tank, and exhaust system. It took them three tries to get the right carburetor installed. My granddaughter climbed under that truck with her dad and knows the difference in various wrenches and tools…something I never knew or will know. Amazingly, they got it running and actually drove it around the block. John got to see a video of it being driven, but never again got the chance to ride in it.

          It’s been a few years now since John gave AJ the title to the truck. John did not, however, sign the title. Oh yeah, at some point, they’d go transfer the title. It never happened and AJ asked me last fall if I’d be willing to transfer the title to him. My response was affirmative. And, that’s what we did this morning. We met at the licensing place in Mountlake Terrace and got all the paperwork completed. For a mere $197.00, AJ got the title transferred and ordered collector plates for that 1957 Chevy pickup. He’s finally the proud and legal owner. Congratulations son!!! 

1957 TODAY

JUST A NEW SET OF SHEETS???

         Does anyone remember the bed sheets of their childhood? I do and I have tried repeatedly to find sheets like that. They didn’t have elastic corners or ends and the top and bottom were both flat sheets. Of course, I’d still want the bottom sheet to have elastic…I’m not a total dummy. Does anyone remember the mangle which one used to iron those sheets? My mother never had one, only people with more money than us had those kinds of appliances. Besides it was big and took up a lot of space. It also wasn’t much good for ironing anything that wasn’t flat. 

          Anyway, back to the sheets. I would like to find sheets that are crisp, but not scratchy. I bought a new set in January and it was like sleeping between two pieces of sandpaper. I sent them back. I don’t want 10,000 thread count sheets that are as soft as a baby’s bum. I would like sheets that have some heft to them, that almost but not quite, could benefit from the use of a mangle.

          I also need sheets that are twin extra-long, because that’s the kind of mattress I have. My mattress is also thick. I bought a second set of sheets the end of February and returned it as well because my mattress was too thick. I gathered from the individual at the Bed, Bath and Beyond store that extra long twin sheets are easy to purchase in August and September because of all the kids going off to college. Perhaps I’ll need to wait until then in order to find a set of sheets that’s not too soft and not too scratchy.

          This just occurred to me this very second. What I really ought to do is clean out John’s bedroom and move myself in there. That’s going to be a lot of work, however because of all the stuff in there. I’d also need to paint the walls, purchase new blinds; and, of course new bedding. His (our) bed is a California King. I wonder if I’d have any better luck at finding crisp sheets for that bed. Maybe I need to eliminate that bed and get a double bed instead. Unless I had the doggies come sleep with me, the current bed would be much too big. On the plus side, I’d only ever have to make one side because I’d never move around enough to disturb three-quarters of the rest of the bed.

          Then, there’s the fact I really like my own room. I’ve decorated it with the various pictures, glass and a wide variety of jewelry mounted on black velvet in shadow box frames. Of course, I could take those down and mount them on the walls across the hall. It could actually be fun to eliminate all the stuff in there, although I’m not sure where I could move it to. And then to paint the entire room, including the closet (John never painted the closets). And, new frilly female-type bedding with lots of color. I think John’s favorite colors were brown and beige.

          I’m going to have to seriously think about changing rooms. I’m going to have to research and find out how much a new double bed would cost. If I buy one, will they take the old bed away? And then bedding. I’d need to decide on bedding before I decided on paint. Can I actually go to Home Depot or Lowes and look at paint chips at this point in time? I’m sure I could find a bed and bedding on line, but could I really pick out a wall paint color on line?

          I’m wondering if I’ve gone a little nuts to even consider doing this. What would be the point if I turn around and sell the house a few months or even a year after doing all that work. I’m sure whoever were to purchase the house would want to paint things in their own colors. And, moving a double bed would be more difficult than a twin. But, for the first time in a while, I feel a bit excited about having a project. I’m going to have to give it some more thought. Maybe all I really need is a new set of extra-long twin sheets in a color I like. That would certainly take a lot less effort, time and money…but, it certainly doesn’t sound as exciting as redoing an entire room.