Adventures In MN Driving

 Let's just start by saying yesterday was a bear, OK? I'd had Paul over the night before to shovel us out after several inches of accumulated snow/ice accumulation, plus everything the plow could shove across our access to the street. But I had a doctor's appointment, and needed to be on the road by noon. Paul had left the car for me to do, and considering how cold that night was, and how much he'd shoveled, it seemed the sensible decision.

I started dressing for the job and was outside by 11. He had made sure the doors to the car were not iced shut, so I could get in to access the scraper and the jug of super-purple, super-deicer to -25 stuff for the windshield squirters. They often freeze solid with the plain blue stuff you get topped up during your oil change. Minnesota is tougher than that. He had put some purple in the week before for me, but I'd never get anywhere with that little a dose. I planned to slosh it over the outside of all the windows while I left the car running to warm up.

It helped a tiny bit, but there was so much ice on the windows and wipers and everywhere else that it did not do much good. So I wound up with the broom and the scraper doing what I could in the half hour it took my idling engine to produce enough heat to start to affect the windows.  Yep, that's right, me and my shoulders. Stretching and pushing. "Fun." Two weeks out till surgery, and that's still best possible case. Oh yeah, and one morning Tylenol, because that's my limit on pain control. Except by the time I finally got the car legal to drive, I needed to head back in for both a hot shower and another Tylenol.

Of course when I got back to the car, I had to run it again because what had been clear had iced over again. We were getting freezing rain. OK maybe just freezing drizzle, but it sure accumulated back on the windows fast, and on the wiper blades, and kept me working them and the squirters the rest of the day until suppertime. I had more errands to run, non-negotiable ones, because I'd been keeping inside for days, and both a needed medication and some live culture yogurt, also needed, had run out. 

By the time I got out of the doctor's office, which included a stop at the lab for blood tests, the freezing deposits on all the windows had started the scraping process all over again. Uff da! I had a 15 mile leg to my next stop, and that included both up and down a steep river valley. I turned the car on again to get heat, and grabbed my scraper. Lucky for me, the lady in the next car had time before her appointment, and stepped out with a monster scraper and made quick work of the accumulation, though she was shocked to find it had all built up in a mere hour. (I guess she had left from a garage to get here.) My shoulders and I thanked her profusely, and we both went on our ways.

Back on the highway, with a lowered 50 mph speed limit, I waited for a long pause between cars  - never to happen during evening rush hour with commuters returning!!! - and pulled out to do 40... then 35... then 30. The plow and salt trucks had been by because I'd seen one on my drive to the doc, the side of the road I was now on. Going through the next town, I slowed from limit of 30 to 20 on those messy streets, and once I hit the limit of 45 signs I advanced to 30 and kept to that till the next town. A couple SUVs passed me at about 45, thoroughly expected. I kept noting a large truck well behind me and waited for the driver to close the gap and exert mental pressure for me to please-lady-for-gods-sake-hurry-the hell-up-I-have-to-get-moving-here!  But the driver stayed way back. Nobody passed him in order to pass me either. Bends in the road showed a long tail of cars collecting behind the truck, but he kept his distance. Some of them pulled off to go elsewhere at the roundabout, but the rest stayed in line as we went down the steep valley, where I did have a few moments to appreciate the lovely but very heavy accumulation of snow/ice on every tree branch along the road. Exquisite!

I wondered how many of those would be broken come spring. All that snow and now more ice coming? 

A bit further, before the town where I turn to cross the river, I saw lots of colored flashing lights, red, yellow, and blue. I slowed down to pull way over to the shoulder to pass both the stopped snow plow and the oncoming traffic which had to detour into my lane a bit to pass safely. Note on my way back nearly an hour later it was still there, but with another plow on either side of it, front and back, working on some kind of maintenance issue. Then I was the one edging into the oncoming lane and those drivers were on the shoulder.

Even when  everybody was slowing down and the end of the line behind was out of sight behind curves, the truck was still keeping a good distance. I marveled at the driver's patience and good sense. Up ahead was the turn to cross into Wisconsin, and the highway grew to four lanes. I always pull into the right lane there and keep to the speed limit while everybody rushes on their way. Cars passed, and more cars passed. The truck was still keeping a distance to let people pass, but when the crowds left us behind, with now well-salted roads,  I was still doing just under the limit and it slowly climbed the hill and finally passed me.

I waved a salute he'd never see as it passed, especially as I finally read the identity of the freight it was hauling written in huge black letters on the back end of the tank: OXYGEN.

Oh you betcha! Thanks, whoever you were! Much was suddenly explained. If I had a clue who you worked for, specifically, I'd be on the phone singing your praises.  Have the happiest of new Years!

I carefully returned home at suppertime, climbing the hill to finally find the ice had stopped accumulating and the pavement was good for much closer to the limit. By the time the car was emptied and I was sitting down, I was exhausted.  No hauling the garbage bins to the curb - let them wait a week. Nothing was going to stink in this weather and there was room in them for more. I asked Steve to cut the drumsticks off the roasted chicken for me that I'd brought home, too tired even for that. I  had realized that I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and somehow made it through some good ol' Minnesota icy driving, the first like that since we'd moved back north, since last winter was easy.

That bedtime Tylenol couldn't come soon enough.

Binging Hallmark Movies, But......

We only do it this time of year.  So many regular programs are either off the air or repeats. BORING!

Yes, the movies are pretty schlockey, but these days we're up for some romance and happy endings. You don't get to criticize.  11 1/2 months of the year it's cooking shows and bass fishing tournaments for Steve, and news and crime dramas for me plus a bunch of informational things on PBS. And of course we both watch All Creatures there this time of the year too. It's the only season they air it. In addition, since Netflix started airing West Wing, Steve's watching it through for about his 7th time. We had the CD set but that was played so often it got glitchy. For that matter, what they're showing on Netflix is a bit glitchy too.

While I enjoy some of the Hallmark movies during this season, I'm not above being critical of a very badly made one. Last night's was so bad in one way I spent some time online this morning fact checking. The movie is "Christmas Under Wraps." If you can tolerate a bunch of physical impossibilities and a predictable ending - not just the romance part - it's OK. Nobody's going for Oscars here, so just OK. It's about a woman doctor who doesn't get her first/only choice of surgical fellowships, and "settles" for an opening as the only GP in a small Alaska town, 300 miles north of Anchorage. Over Christmas.

If you've never been in cold weather, you might miss the first flaw, not having the visible breath actors exhale turn white as its moisture freezes. I do applaud the very rare movie or show that gets that part right, and of course people's faces turn a bit red along with that. Can't spoil the pretty actress's face and makeup, I guess, so almost NOBODY gets that part right.

Coming from somebody who was driving through St. Paul when Jingle All The Way was being filmed there years ago - in summer - and saw the cotton batting they laid out for snow along sidewalks to cover grass and on top of the green hedges next to the city's library, and almost had an accident from laughing about it, you might not be too critical of the part in this movie where white stuff hung in long fuzzy streamers from green branches. In fact, there was green everywhere in any outside shot, with really bad snow imitations  tossed all around. I'm not talking conifers here, I'm talking fresh green leaves all over the place. However the conifers had their own problems with their coloring. While they do stay green in winter it's not such an electric green as the ones portrayed in this film, and the bark on them isn't the spitting image of a fat poplar tree either, but dark brown and irregular. 

The part of the movie that really drove me nuts was when the Doc's alarm clock went off in the morning and there was full sunshine pouring in through her windows. Now she had to be in the hospital by 8 AM, and she arrived nicely dressed, spiffy clean, hair and makeup done to perfection. We'll presume she had breakfast too, and even had time to stop in at a local shop for coffee and a chat about what kind of milk she needed in hers. So the alarm went off easily more than an hour ahead of her arrival - walking - at work. Yet, full sun. In Alaska. Around winter solstice. 300 miles north of Anchorage.

So I googled the closest town to 300 miles north of Anchorage, went to Weather Underground, and looked up their list for sunrise and set times, in all of 4 categories. They're very thorough. Yes, 300 miles north of Anchorage is still below the Arctic circle where there is a period of no sun (now) and one of no dark. But today the sun would be rising some time around 11, though there would be enough light to see with, about the time this Doc walked into work.

Heck, even here in Minnesota, some few miles north of an imaginary line through the north metro's extended area, so just over 45 degrees north, we almost get a peek of sun just before 8 AM and only on days with no clouds, which incidentally would be our coldest. I'm still waiting for one of those mornings. The clouds have been relentless lately. Yes, light enough to see where the car is, but no sunshine pouring in the windows this early this time of year. Try us in March.

Meanwhile, guys, please don't make such stupid mistakes with your movies. It's put me off Hallmark movies now for a very long time. Maybe even past next holiday season.

I Parked Where?

Steve's new real glasses were finally ready. We're not talking "cheaters" here, but prescription bifocals. He already had 5 cheaters of more or less quality (guess which?) scattered around the house and in the car. Since his cataract surgery a few years ago, when he chose distance vision for his new lenses, he's needed them for reading. He does a lot of reading. Oddly enough with that many pairs, any particular one is not particularly noted when it is set down and where. So of course, they're always "lost", at least long enough to be annoying.

Somewhere in the logic is the assurance that adding three more pairs to the list, being "real" ones, means they will be better kept track of. At any rate, he was approaching the end of the year with insurance money to spend on vision needs. His eye exam was a couple weeks back. It cost less than it might have, leaving a nice pile of insurance funds to spend on glasses before year end. He picked out three frames, each with a different kind of lens. One is for indoor use, clear glass. A second has transition lenses, where he can wear them inside and the minute he steps outside they darken into shades, and back again. The issue with those is they are triggered by UV rays, which auto glass filters out. They always disappointed me when I thought they'd be useful for driving. The third pair was sun glasses in RayBans  frames, great for while in the car and nicely fashionable to boot. When it's not your own money you're spending, and nowhere else it can be spent, it's nice to splurge a bit to look good.

He actually got the notice they were ready for him to come pick up over a week ago. The problem was winter. I mean snow, ice, cold temperatures, my reluctance to poke my head outside with my cold not improving and my need to stay as healthy as possible in order to not delay surgery. Of course there were the seat belts to make usable as well. We almost picked out one day to go the next morning but that turned into my dental appointment. 

We had to be choosy and be sure to get there in early morning. This store is notorious for having a tiny number of motorized shopping cart/scooters. Back when I had to use them to pick up my Dad's medications, before my knees were replaced, there were only two. I had to walk. And of course complain. Now this store has a whole four. It's still hard to arrive any time after ten and plan to find one available and charged. Since they have one entrance on one end of the building and the vision center on the far other end, Steve needs a scooter.

We arrived by 8:30 despite the vision center not opening till 9. Better not to take chances on them being already in use. I usually pull up to the front door, let Steve out and go park in handicap parking which he qualifies for. In good weather he'll scoot out to the car and I'll drive it back into the store. Winter is an issue we've avoided pretty much. Despite it being deep into the x-mas shopping last minute rush, the parking lot wasn't too full when we arrived, and Steve pointed out a really close parking spot, right behind the wide curb on the other side of the road separating parking from driving, so I aimed for that spot. That was the first mistake.

 One of the flaws with my low seat in my car is the vision on the passenger side to where the car aligns with the stripes. I tend to park nearer the passenger side than the driver's side in any given parking spot. Mostly it's not a problem as I'm usually alone in the car. I get plenty of room that way, though occasionally I need to back out a bit and move over. I had that feeling when I'd pulled forward, and asked Steve how I was lined up.

He pronounced my position to be perfect. That was another mistake.

After he stepped out, he shut the door but not completely. Turning back to the car, he reopened the door, shut it harder, and next thing I knew my car felt like somebody had just bumped it with their car! A quick look showed nothing out the rear mirrors, and the truth dawned on me. Steve wasn't showing either! He'd fallen, between the curb and the bottom of the car!

I got out as fast as I could, no thought to me of bad shoulders or how hard I stepped while needing refreshed arch supports, knowing only that two men were directly across from us in the opposing handicap spaces, and  were possibly heading into the store and away from us. The door was barely opened before I was yelling, "Help!" One of the two had seen the fall, and the other's attention was drawn as we converged at the front of the car to see Steve lying on the pavement, wedged between bumper and vehicle.

One pulled out his phone to call 911 as soon as I said he'd need help getting up. (Yes, we'd done this fallling thing before, just not so dramatically. Both of us need an informed lift.) The store staff were the first to emerge, as numerous shoppers went in to sound the alarm there. In that short amount of time we all saw the 8" patch of ice covering the pavement from the bottom of the bumper to the wheels.  Steve had been right when he claimed he had room to get out, just not room to move from that. Neither of us had seen the ice. He didn't have a chance, especially once he'd turned to slam the door harder.

The crowd was growing as we waited for assistance that would do more good than harm. We both informed the gathering crowd that he could not get up on his knees, period. The police were early arrivals, asking where he'd been hurt. At the moment he could pinpoint that he'd hit his head, hard, on that curb bumper. Later he was able to notice one knee was hurting, and the next day noted an injury to his forearm. He was a bit dizzy and the mention of his head made everybody extra cautious in moving him. The ambulance siren was audible in the distance and everybody deferred to them, waiting for them to actually find us and pull up.

The real problem was, as I saw it, not so much that he'd slipped on ice, or even hit his head, but that as the minutes passed he was stuck lying on the icy pavement... the still very cold icy pavement. It wasn't 9AM yet. 

 There was a throw blanket on the back seat of the car, and I brought it out for the police to cover him with, which did nothing for all that heat seeping out of him into the pavement. Or was it the cold creeping up into him from the ground? 

Once the paramedics arrived, it was finally decided he needed to be up off the ground. I needed to back the car out without driving over him. (Ya think?) A combination of people pulled the blanket under him and over him so both sides of it pulled together would snug him up on his side to that bumper. Note they didn't lift him another 5 inches and off the ice. I was directed by a cop exactly how far to crimp my front wheel and when to back out and how far. It was executed safely, and with everybody avoiding the ice now with dry places to plant themselves, got him safely sitting up on the slightly higher ground. Feet still on ice of course, to be fixed later.

Meanwhile, after the same cop said for me to park and never mind where I left the car,  I jockeyed myself into the neighboring spot, this time right along the space separating handicapped parking spaces so he'd have ample space to get into the car without ice, either with or without heading into the store to complete picking up his glasses. It hadn't been decided yet if he needed medical care, especially with the head bump. Everything he was saying indicated he was going to turn down a ride to the hospital and get his glasses, so I started asking the last store employee, who was still hanging around to see how it resolved, if she could possibly head into the store and see if there was an empty, fully charged scooter for him to make his trip in. She brought one out shortly before all the official helpers dispersed. I had to give them his name and phone number before they let us both go. I was (warned?) that somebody might call us later to check on how he was and whether letting him loose was the proper call. I understand their concern. Nobody wants to find out later a subdural hematoma was overlooked with subsequent damage.

I sat in the car with it running, working to keep it warm for Steve to climb back into after his chill. One of the men who'd been across from where I parked returned from his shopping, and detoured over to me concerned that Steve had left in the ambulance. I reassured him he was inside shopping, and thanked him for his help earlier. The man was ten years older than Steve and had his own experience with falls. We   briefly compared our particular needs when getting vertical again. None of us are independent.

About a minute later Steve's scooter emerged from the doors of the store. He sat there and waved, and I didn't blame him. I pulled out and maneuvered the car over to the entrance so he could climb in as easily as possible. Once he was belted in and settled, we both decided we'd go back to dropping him and picking him up at the door in the future. At least while I could drive, anyway, so maybe we just stay away from that store, say, after my shoulder prevents me driving while it heals. This store was mandated by his insurance. The new year is a different pharmacy, and that store now lets us pick them up at the drive-up with our grocery orders.

Once home our primary concerns were getting him warmed through and how much did each part hurt? There are three points of impact. The head hurt more the first day, but the surface was a very minor abrasion, no bruise showing even now. Still, poke it at your peril. The second, and only other obvious point through the first day was one knee. It's a larger abrasion, and more tender bruise. He doctored it with adhesive heat patches and Tylenol. The third and weirdest point is on a forearm, where there is a black spot on his skin. I had never noticed them, and his docs always said they were/are nothing to be concerned about. Only now, one looks like a vein is trying to push up from below, a prominent thin bulge about two inches long and deeply black. This is the most painful for him, and being peculiar, the most worrisome. It's the reason three days later he's still taking Tylenol. We'll be keeping an eye on it, hopefully to watch it disappear.

By the way, for those wondering, Steve loves his three new pairs of bifocals.  (I still love my 3-year-old original one pair of trifocals, but then I'm the one paying for mine.)

Merry What-mas?

My mouth wasn't healing as I thought it should after the dental work. In fact, it was hurting more every day. They thought all the infection was contained in the extracted tooth, but I had my doubts, increasing in levels keeping pace with the throbbing after a week. I called and asked for an antibiotic. To my surprise, the pharmacy called me within an hour saying it was ready. Normal prescriptions take up to 4 days to fill. The roads were clear for a change, so no time like the present to head out and pick it up.

You know the store, one of those big boxes that does its best to fill all needs in one stop. My insurance requires that I use them because the prices are about as low as it gets. I've dealt with them for years. and for several years they had the same glitch, charging a small amount too much at the beginning of the year and winding up mailing me a check to make up for it. They run somewhere under $2 a check. Not exciting, but.... Procedure has been to spend them in the store, and within 180 days of the check date. Some years I've had two to deal with. I'd recently changed out my pocketbooks, and noticed a folded piece of paper tucked away, forgotten. It was one of those checks. Time was running out, and the day I was in the store my calculations said I had 3 days left to spend it or forget it.

But important stuff first. I picked up my antibiotic, and had a chat with the pharmacist since I hadn't used one for ages. Turns out it's another thing on my ever increasing list of things that messes with my gut, like every single thing that eases cold symptoms, still nasty since the first of the month. I need to get live culture yogurt to go with it, twice a day as long as the pills last and then several days after.  Since that's already a recent staple in my diet, for whatever imaginary good it seems to do, I knew exactly what I needed and where in the store it is. May as well get milk too, and a couple other things, and while there remember to use that check. That means no self checkout but find a line with a cashier. I'd figured a Monday morning would be easy checking out. 

I forgot how close to Christmas it was.

After my long wait in checkout, I handed the check to the cashier. She was puzzled. I explained why I had it and what I'd done in previous years. So she asked for my drivers license and started plugging in numbers and numbers and...  REJECTED!  Say what?

She now needed a regular card, finished the transaction,  and pointed me over to customer service. If I hadn't already had proof of the holiday rush, there it was.  The line was long enough that they'd set out portable stanchions and straps making a corridor to funnel customers through so nobody could butt in line. At the counter was a single employee. The line stretched beyond the stanchions long enough to block the restrooms, so we did our best to allow spaces.

By the time I got near the counter a second employee stepped in to assist and the line moved faster. There were only three behind me when it was my turn. I handed the check over and explained - since they had no clue - why I had it, noting it had a few days left, that previously I'd just used them to to start paying for a purchase, but this time it had been denied and nobody knew why. They had a conference, looked up something on their machines, and told me they couldn't just cash (which wasn't what I'd tried to do, just spend it on their merch) it as it would cost me $4 to do so and it wasn't worth half of that. I tried to ask when and why their policy had changed.  They had no information on that, but told me I should take it to my bank and deposit it.

I didn't bother explaining that my bank is so far from there that my car would use about 4 gallons of gas on the trip, even worse than their $4 charge. I had groceries to put in the fridge, pills to start taking ASAP, was exhausted by this time, and had no inclination to follow their suggestion. They didn't need to know all that. I just said I couldn't go to the bank right then. They repeated it like I hadn't heard them or something. I repeated that I couldn't go to the bank. I wondered aloud when they'd changed their policy and why they hadn't passed on the information, both puzzled and frustrated, ready to head out of there and give up, maybe sending the company a scathing but useless email. (Yes, I do understand the "useless" part of that plan.)

That's when the second cashier pulled a couple ones out of his pocket, slightly wadded up, thrust them in my hand, and complete with attitude oozing "get out of here!" and a loud voice, said "Merry Christmas"! 

It was more than the check, and not his job to pay me, but the message was clear. I replied with a genuinely surprised "thank you" and my own "Merry Christmas" before I left. I actually meant mine.

Next year when they send another check, I'll try to remember I have it, and when I'm near the bank, make a point of depositing it. I'm sure there will be another one. Whatever is causing the overcharge, they haven't figured it out in 4 years. Why should I expect change?

Is It A Solution? Or Just A New Problem?

I can answer this both ways.

We got the new seat belt extenders in the mail for the front of our car. I could no longer connect or disconnect mine. Solutions ranged from a thousand dollar install of a new pair, to we aren't allowed to help you because reasons, to buy a new car. Hogwash, all. I went online, found a site that matched my need to my exact make/model/seat locations. The price was reasonable, shipping cheap and speedy. Today Steve went out and installed them both, easy peasy. A bit later I drove to the store and back, and they were smooth as silk... though much sturdier, of course. I'll be able to drive alone both now and as soon after surgery as I'm allowed to bend my arm in that direction.

Verdict: definite solution.

While I'm getting ready for surgery, there is a long list of doctors to see, tests to have run. Yesterday was number 3 on my list, a trip to the dentist to be cleared, meaning no infections in my mouth. Except I knew I had one, a minor annoyance. The result was three hours of care, removal of a bridge before removal of a tooth which was abscessed, replacement of the bridge after changing it from a 4-tooth one hooked into two pieces, to a two-tooth bridge and separate 1 tooth (now) crown. The bill got more interesting with every new discovery, starting of course with full x-rays,  ending with grinding down the surfaces of the replaced crowns so I could close my mouth completely again. The numbing cocktail was very effective, so mostly I felt pulling, and thunking as they hammered the bridge loose, not pain. But there was a bunch of hard labor on the part of the dentist to extract that one tooth, enough that a second one had to be called in to assist.

By evening, the cocktail had worn off. OY! I'd been verbally cleared of infection once they had examined the bad tooth as well as the hole left behind. But apparently there is a lot of bruising, both tissue and bone, from all the forcing, pulling, pushing, tugging, yanking. By bedtime I was on maximum Tylenol. Repeated this morning, and early afternoon, and now at bedtime. It almost helps. I find myself wondering if some infection slipped the leash and is making a new home, or if this is just how bruised bone feels. The pain is a kind I've felt before, difficult to locate without knowing exactly which tooth is involved since it wraps around to both bottom and top, making one side of the face throb. No antibiotic was prescribed for just-in-case, and in a couple more days if there is no change, I'll be calling and asking. I know my immune system is still struggling after the pancreatitis with the lingering cold, and I need to be completely clear next mid-month, or they postpone and reschedule.

Right now this solution feels like a new problem rather than clearing an old one.

I recall a record I bought when my kids were little, Marlo Thomas singing "Free To Be You And Me". A song on that was about helping each other. One kid baked a pie and the other kid ate it. "Some kinds of help are the kinds of help that helping's all about. And some kinds of help are the kinds of help we all can do without!"

"I'll Have What She's Having'"

 RIP to the Reiners. May their family find as much peace as is possible in such a situation.

And may Donald Trump keep his poisoned mind and words out of your view and awareness.

I don't usually say RIP to famous people. I never knew them, only heard what got publicized if it was totally unavoidable since I don't follow that kind of breathless news. Who dates whom? Divorces ahead? Plastic surgery mistakes? Irrelevant! Will never change my life. Even when they die, I might miss whatever they created, like certain folk singers from back in the Viet Nam war era whose music I grew up with, formed opinions from, miss what a different future extending their creativity may have given us all... who were paying attention. That's about the time I started paying attention beyond myselfwe all , started growing.

By now I'm sure everybody has heard something about the murders of the Reiners. If you've listened long enough, what you heard may have changed, with all the jockeying for recognition for being the "firstest with the mostest" news. Depending on your age, you are likely aware of at least some of the creativity coming from decades of the brain of Rob, from Meathead on"All In The Family" on TV to the wide variety of movies he directed and produced. Look up the list if you haven't been hearing it repeated every couple hours in somebody's latest update.

My most memorable moment comes from "When Harry Met Sally" in the restaurant. You know it of course, when Sally publicly shows Harry just how easy it is for a woman to fake a hu-u-u-u-uge orgasm. Rob had the brainstorm to put his mother in the scene, watching the demonstration, after which she deadpans to the waiter, "I'll have what she's having!" It has to be one of, if not the single most famous quoted line from any movie. 

(Wouldn't we all like that to be real for us?)

What I absolutely won't have is the sh#t the current resident of the White house thought it appropriate to say about the Reiners, particularly Rob, since a wife apparently deserves little acknowledgment beyond a name. He made the entire comment about himself, claiming the murders were  ...  "reportedly due to the anger he caused others through his massive, unyielding, and incurable affliction with a mind crippling disease known as TRUMP DERANGEMENT SYNDROME..."  He continued on, spewing his sick venom to anybody who'd read it and fall for it. You may feel free to go look it up if you care. I won't make it easy for you by providing a link. 

Just know nobody deserves that kind of send-off, with the possible exception of those who find it appropriate to denigrate others they know/fear they are unequal to and think they have to tear them down in order to put themselves above. The tragedy is not that he wrote it, because he always does. The tragedy will be those influenced in any way to believe a single word of it.

Reiner family, I wish you well in this terrible time. Your loss is our loss. We grieve with you. No sane human would wish to have what you're having, and we all wish we could take it away from you. May you all somehow find your way to peace.

"Mortification", a guest post by Steve Brundy

 As I get older, I become surer that everyone has those times. You know the ones I mean, the ones between being slightly embarrassed and totally mortified. This story is about the time I was absolutely, positively the most publicly mortified.

It was a long time ago. Thanksgiving day, 1962 to be exact. The Greeley High School marching band had been asked to perform at the Denver Broncos half time show, playing against the New York Titans.

For this appearance I had been assigned to play sousaphone. I was my band teacher’s utility brass man, playing trumpet, baritone, french horn, valve trombone, and even flugelhorn. It was a matter of pride that he had chosen me to be his utility man. It took a lot of work to achieve this status.

Our uniforms were tuxedos with white overlays and tar bucket hats, brand new that year and a source of great pride to us.

The day was extremely windy, as only the wind can be, roaring off the front range of the Rockies.

We marched out onto the field and got into our formation. When we were called to attention, I raised my sousaphone and knocked my hat off! Being at attention meant I could not move, at risk of incurring my band director’s wrath,  so the wind caught my hat and blew it away. I could only watch, mortified.

This was a long time ago, and the TV networks did not cut away for commercials as they do now. Instead, a cameraman, seeing my hat blowing down the field, followed it and kept shooting. So my hat blowing down the field made national TV. The cameraman was nice enough that after the halftime show when we were back in the bleachers, he caught up with my hat and returned it to me, being kind enough not to laugh too hard. Our band teacher was cool enough not to embarrass me any further.


By the way, and just as a side note, did you know the bell of a sousaphone is a great place to keep a bottle of Seagram’s Seven?