Category Archives: Relationships

I Alone | Līve

Nostalgia

Twenty years ago (circa 1997), Number One Son and I went to a Līve concert at the Cynthia Woods Mitchel Pavilion. Number One Son was 14. The forecast was for rain. Our seats were in the uncovered part of the Pavilion. We brought rain ponchos and a large umbrella. We needed them. We sat in a torrential rain throughout the concert.

The Mrs had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis the year before. My life, all of our lives, were changing in unpredictable ways. The Mrs was going downhill and I was grieving the loss of her quality of life, our quality of life. The medical bills and hospitalizations were taking a toll. Little did I know that it would get worse.

We sat in the pouring rain listing to Līve blast out their songs. I have very fond memories of that concert. I bought two of their albums, Throwing Copper and Secret Samadhi  (I think I even bought Secret Samadhi at the concert). I used to listen to those albums in the CD player of the Ford Windstar we owned at the time. Perfect music for grieving. I actually own a large collection of CDs that I no longer listen to because we have switched to iTunes. I should probably invest in an external CD drive for my MacBook and begin ripping my old CDs to iTunes, but have avoided doing so.

I heard I Alone earlier this evening in the playlist of a local sporting goods store’s PA system. It brought all those memories back with a vengeance. Music has a way of doing that for me.

Epilogue (Twenty years later …)

The Mrs and I have been married forty-one years. She still battles MS and the diabetes she developed as a result of massive dosage steroid treatments she has received over the years. Twenty years of MS have eaten up all of our finances … and continue to do so. If you and your family are in good health you have no idea how fortunate you are. If you are battling a life altering illness, you know what we have been going through.

I may go dig out my Līve CDs and put them in my car to listen to. I still have grieving to do …

The waiting …

I have been dealing with a variety of issues over the past year and a half that have been stressful, to say the least. My life has been plagued with, let us say … uncertainty. I used to say it was like being on a roller coaster, but now I think it is becoming more like a ride on the Vomit Comet.

To quote Arlo Guthrie (totally out of context) … “you may know somebody in a similar situation or you may be in a similar situation, and if you’re in a situation like that, there’s only one thing you can do … sing it the next time it comes around on the guitar …”

Thunderstorms

This is another Father’s Day tribute to Bob (aka Dad).

From Welcome to the Future …

Despite the fact that my parents love for me caused them to be overly protective, my dad did something equally amazing for me. I have always loved thunderstorms. I love the lightning and I love the thunder. I think that thunderstorms are one of the most exhilarating of all natural phenomenon. There is a reason for this. My dad grew up in an orphanage. It was not uncommon at the time for single mothers who could not care for their children to abandon them at an orphanage. Summertime in Florida produces severe afternoon thunderstorms. The nuns at the orphanage were afraid that lightening would hit the building and set fire to it. Rather than face the possibility of an orphanage full of trapped children burning to the ground, whenever a thunderstorm approached, the nuns would make the children go outside and lie facedown in the grass until the storm passed. Needless to say, my dad was terrified of thunderstorms; shaking, vomiting, fetal position terrified of thunderstorms. Dad swore to himself that I was never going to be afraid of lightning and thunder like he was. From my earliest days my dad would pick me up and bounce me on his knee during storms. “See the lightning,” he would say, “now wait, here it comes … BADDA BOOM.” I would giggle and laugh. He showed no fear, why should I. Of course, I remember none of this. I was too young. But I do know that I love lightning and thunder. Whenever my dad told this story he would add one more thing … by making sure that I was never afraid of thunderstorms he had cured his own fear too.

  
Trying to proof-read the above is difficult through tear filled eyes. If there are typos, cut me some slack.

 Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers out there and to their children!

Bob

Robert Francis (Bob) Bergman 

Circa mid 1970s

[Click the images to zoom to full size]


YOKS (Ye Olde Kid Sister) posted the photo above of our Dad to Facebook today.

I took that photo during my “Black & White” photography period. My camera bag is prominently visible in the foreground. This is a classic Bob photo – beer in hand. Note the old school disposable “pop top” beer can and Bob’s signature white cowboy hat.

Below is another picture I took on a different fishing trip. This is actually a cropped digital image of a framed picture I have hanging on my staircase. It is my favorite photo of Dad.


 

Bob loved to fish and I frequently went along with him always getting on the road before sunrise. I was heavily into photography in the 70s and would go “fishing” with him just to get out and away from everything and to spend time alone with him. I am not sure exactly when these pictures were taken – I could probably find the negatives and give you the exact dates, but that would be irrelevant – mid 1970s is close enough. 

I put “fishing” in quotes because I mostly went for the solitude, sandwiches, beer, and photography. Fishing was very “zen” for Bob. Peace, quiet, solitude … and beer. Bob loved beer. Fishing wasn’t so much about catching fish as it was the entire experience. Sure he loved actually catching fish, but not catching fish was OK too. How does that old saying go … “the worst day fishing is better than the best day of work.”

Our “worst day of fishing” was the time we were out in Florida Keys in a rented boat and sheared the propeller shear pin on a sand shoal – with no extra shear pins. After several hours of trying to row back to shore with the single oar we had – including realizing we had snagged the line of a lobster/crab pot on the outboard motor, thus going nowhere – Bob decided to fashion a shear pin out of a heavy gauge fish hook. That did the trick and we limped back to the marina. Speaking of “lobsters” I was wearing shorts, no shirt, and no hat. Although by some miracle I did not blister, I was “cooked lobster red” for many days afterwards. Still better than “the best day of work.”

Bob would have loved this song …

Bob is no longer with us. Time may heal all wounds, but we still miss him.

Bob, wherever you are, this one’s for you …


 

Happy Father’s Day

Death in Paradise

My newest diversion … watching Death in Paradise on NETFLIX. British TV. Murder mystery. Crime solving. Humor.

A British inspector is transferred to Saint-Marie’s police department, but he hates the sun, sea, and sand. The series follow his investigations into murders on the island.

Actually the reviews below aren’t that favorable and include spoilers … but I am only on the second episode and I am enjoying it so far. I guess all shows eventually run their course.

Watch it if you can … (or not)

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_in_Paradise_(TV_series)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1888075/

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01pvmf6

40 Years Ago Today

Photo Circa 1973-1974

40 years ago today, I married the really hot chick pictured above.

Still married. Still in love. Still hot. 

Excerpted from  https://contrafactual.com/2013/08/31/convoy/ 


 
Related posts

https://contrafactual.com/2013/09/28/hot-chick/

https://contrafactual.com/2013/08/31/convoy/

https://contrafactual.com/2013/07/17/welcome-to-the-future-part-one/

AOS

Acquisition Of Signal

Contacted Doug last night in Scottsbluff. Doug is in good spirits, all things considered. He is still … with good reason … pissed off.

Doug gave me cell the phone number of his friend in Alliance. I contacted friend today. Friend hopes to see Doug on Tuesday, deliver cell phone and clothes. As we need a secure channel, Doug’s cell phone will not be released. You may leave messages for him on this blog, Maggie’s blog, or his blog.

Doug’s sister, Maggie’s mom, Doug’s friend in Alliance, and I are all in contact by email and phone. 

WE WILL

  

Long range scanner report …

One of our remote stations in the Pacific Northwest (Doug’s sister) reports:

Doug is at Golden Living Center (in ScottsBluff). Called this morning but he is in dialysis. He is in room 117, but doesn’t have a phone. They told me that they will take a phone into him when he receives calls. The staff I talked to seemed very nice and helpful.  

Our intelligence wing confirms the existence of

Golden Living Center

111 W. 36th St.

Scottsbluff, NE 69361

308-635-2019

Will attempt an audio uplink later this evening.

  

Doug is pissed off

For someone with kidney failure, Doug (aka weggieboy) is well and truly pissed off. 

As I write this Doug is STILL in Denver. What’s that you say, “Wasn’t he supposed to be home in Alliance?”

Yes, yes he was. But for reasons not yet clear, Doug’s release from Amberwood Court Care Center in Denver was delayed a day. To make matters worse he now has to pay $160 to stay an extra day, because he has exceeded the time limit for 100% Medicare coverage. Even better (and not in a good way) he didn’t even get physical therapy today so he just hung around “like a mushroom”*.

The new plan is for him to leave tomorrow, driven by an old friend from Denver who is going back to see family in Alliance. 

“Well at least he his FINALLY going home to see his kitties,” you say.

Well just hold on there one minute bucko! 

Doug isn’t going home to Alliance. He is going to Scottsbluff – on the way to Alliance. AND … his friend won’t have the time to take Doug to Alliance, then back to Scottsbluff to drop Doug off, then go back to Alliance. 

Doug is pissed off. So am I. So is Maggie’s mom, Liz. You should be too! I would hate to think that Amberwood Court Care Center purposely dragged its heals to get every penny of Doug’s Medicare money (and then some). That never happens. And I would also hate to think that Doug is being sent to Scottsbluff due to some financial accrual to Amberwood, because stuff like that never happens either.

On a positive note – seriously – Doug has been able to contact the people caring for the boys and even heard one of them meow. And another friend in Alliance is going to bring him clothes, keys, wallet, cellphone, and laptop computer.

Still I am thinking of hiring GRAVICKGROUP to pay Doug a visit in Scottsbluff. 

Stay tuned …

* “like a mushroom” – kept in the dark and fed $h1t

Coming home

Email from Doug’s sister Kathy

“Good News!! Doug just called me. He finally gets to go home to Alliance on Thursday. He will not be going to the Good Samaritan Care Center, which is about 1/2 block from his apartment, but Highland (I think is the name) Care Center in Alliance. He is just happy that he will be home. He doesn’t know yet if he will have the dialysis in Alliance or Scottsbluff. He will have his glasses, cell phone and lap top, which will be nice for him. He will give us more details as he finds out himself. “

BRING DOUG HOME

Yet Another Update on Doug (AKA weggieboy)

If you have been following this or Maggie’s blog, you know that weggieboy’s blog | surviving retirement with two cats has gone quiet. That’s because Doug is being held prisoner in a rehab center in Denver, forced to do daily physical therapy and every other day dialysis. 

Doug was transported to Denver in the belief that his Wegener’s Granulomatosis had flared up again. The hospital determined that he was NOT having an exacerbation of WG, but had suffered kidney failure as a result of it. He was subsequently discharged to a rehab facility also in Denver. He is stuck there without his reading glasses, wallet, or cell phone and without any support system of friends and family. 

(Sounds like imprisonment to me) 

Anyway, because he is a Nebraskan in Colorado they need to get him back to Nebraska before next Wednesday the 17th or Medicare stops paying 100%. Our fear (that being me, Maggie’s mom Liz, and Doug’s sister in Washington state) is that they will transfer him to another facility in Nebraska, but not home to Alliance. As you can imagine, Doug is worried to death about his kitties. We have it in good word that his neighbor is taking care of them, but it has been a month now and no one has been able to contact him because we don’t have his neighbor’s phone number. Heck Doug’s last blog entry was on January 14th and I wasn’t able to contact him until February 5th … three weeks later. 

There is no reason Doug can’t go home. The Box Butte General Hospital in Aliance has both top notch dialysis and physical therapy facilities. Doug is ambulatory and able to get around with use of a cane. Doug needs to go home.

You can call him directly at (303) 862-3040. Tell him you read about his plight on this or Maggie’s blog (I am sure that she will reblog this). He would love to hear from you. I would say to send him a get well card, but he will be transferred before it would get there.

  

As I said, there is no reason Doug can’t go home.

  

     

  

Updates on Doug

Wrong address – the correct address is

Doug G. Thomas

C/O  Amberwood Court Care Center 

4686 E Asbury Circle

Denver CO 80222 

(NOT 4868 E Ashbury)


Status Update

Doug is learning how to stand up without falling down, use a walker, and how to get in and out of a wheel chair by himself. 

Please feel free to send Doug a get well card. I know he has a large blog following. I know it would chear him up.

Doug getting his mail

Care Package

Doug loves his citrus   http://phainopepla95.com/2015/10/25/post-924-loving-my-citrus/

I have a mutant orange-tangerine tree    https://contrafactual.com/2015/10/26/oranges-pickles-tangerines/

Doug needs a care package

   
 
Doesn’t look like much in the basket, but I individually wrapped most of the oranges and tangerines and left space for additional padding to be added at the shipping facility.

   
   
 With padding … felt, bubble wrap, paper … it filled out a good sized box.

It is supposed to arrive Monday by 10 AM.

Please … STOP BLOGGING

 

I … can’t … keep … up

Seriously, stop blogging. Just for a day or two. 

Please …

How did it get this bad?

It started simply enough. I decided to automatically follow anyone who liked or commented on any one of my posts. Then to make sure that I read them, I went to “Blogs I Follow” and made sure I got an email notification for every new post. I figured that anyone who liked or commented on one of my posts was a like-minded spirit and would be interesting to follow. More or less this turned out to be a correct assumption.

Others turned out not so much. Some had long, rambling (boring) tl;dr posts that I just couldn’t wade through. Some posted every minute of every day and flooded my email with posts. Some posted on topics that were of absolutely no interest to me. So for these I went back to “Blogs I Follow” and turned off email notification.

Now I was down to the blogs that were interesting. Your blogs. Your stories. Your cats. Your photos. Your news. Your ideas. Your humor. Your successes. Your fears. Your emotions. All of it good. All of it interesting.

  

Even as I write this, the email counter ratchets upward. Notifications are coming in faster than I can delete them. But I can’t just delete them. I have to look at them in order to delete them and then I read them and then I click on the link and go to the post and then I read the comments and by the time I’m done more notifications have come in. Even worse I may decide to reblog one. By the time I’m done, yet more notifications are in my mailbox.

  

I originally started this blog a few years ago as a venue for writing Fiction and autobiographical history. Then I started adding cat photos. Then reblogs of interesting posts and videos. Now I can’t even keep up with the blogs I follow.

 

 
(help…)
  

(please …)

  

Cocoanut Grove – 1942

Today marks the 73rd anniversary of the Cocoanut Grove Fire.

It seems fitting to repost this … (very long post, but I hope you will read it to the end)

– – –

Originally posted December 2, 2012

So Ye Olde Kid Sister (YOKS) calls me up this morning to wish me Happy Birthday and informs me that they renamed the street in front of the Cocoanut Grove Nightclub from Shawmut Street Extension to Cocoanut Grove Lane.

 
http://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2013/11/28/site-cocoanut-grove-blaze-marked-with-named-street/hgRkzDdIIaHery666wCguO/story.html

http://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2013/11/30/years-later-bay-village-alley-renamed-remembrance-cocoanut-grove-nightclub-fire/DjYFsLe3BbGEkxOIePp04O/story.html

In my mind I thought yeah that’s right, I am going to post a blog entry on … November 28 … oh ‘sh1+’. Well with the Mrs in hospital the week before Thanksgiving and the Thanksgiving holiday (where I did all the cooking), I suppose you can forgive me for not getting this out on time.

– – –

From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cocoanut_Grove_fire

The Cocoanut Grove was Boston’s premier nightclub during the post-Prohibition 1930s and 1940s. On November 28, 1942, this club was the scene of the deadliest nightclub fire in history, killing 492 people (which was 32 more than the building’s authorized capacity) and injuring hundreds more. The enormity of the tragedy shocked the nation and briefly replaced the events of World War II in newspaper headlines. It led to a reform of safety standards and codes across the country, and major changes in the treatment and rehabilitation of burn victims.

It was the second-deadliest single-building fire in American history; only the 1903 Iroquois Theatre fire in Chicago had a higher death toll, of 602.

Official reports state that the fire started at about 10:15 p.m. in the dark, intimate Melody Lounge downstairs. A young pianist and singer, Goody Goodelle, was performing on a revolving stage, surrounded by artificial palm trees. It was believed that a young man, possibly a soldier, had removed a light bulb in order to give himself privacy while kissing his date. Stanley Tomaszewski—a 16-year-old busboy—was instructed to put the light back on by retightening the bulb. As he attempted to tighten the light bulb in its socket, the bulb fell from his hand. In the dimly-lit lounge, Tomaszewski, unable to see the socket, lit a match to illuminate the area, found the socket, extinguished the match, and replaced the bulb. Almost immediately, patrons saw something ignite in the canopy of artificial palm fronds draped above the tables (although the official report doubts the connection between the match and the subsequent fire).

Continue reading Cocoanut Grove – 1942

HAL | 100 word story

“Open the pod bay door Hal.”

  
“I’m sorry Dave, I can’t do that.”

  
“What’s the problem?”

   
“I think you know what the problem is … just as well as I do.”

  
“What are you talking about Hal?”

  
Halle opened the window and threw Dave’s clothes down on top of him. “Boring conversation anyway,” she muttered. Then she threw down his laptop, tablet, cell phone, and Firefly collectibles. The sound of breaking glass echoed up from the street.

  
“Have I shown you my Alpha Echo Three Five Unit?” Frank whispered seductively into Halle’s ear as he led her back to the bedroom.