Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Mysterious Success
I am beginning to discover some issues of living alone that I assume are common knowledge to those who are well-familiar with the situation. One obvious trick is buying groceries. Getting the quantities aligned between the shelf-life of produce and the amount I consume in a span of time has become an important goal for me.
One thing that I didn’t anticipate needing to manage was the ice maker in our kitchen freezer. After Cyndie moved to Boston, the amount of ice being dispensed from the door of the refrigerator/freezer on a daily basis dropped dramatically. My ice use is very sporadic. It happens in spurts where I find myself filling a cup hourly when I enter a phase of habit to have ice chunks melting in my mouth. I don’t normally add ice to my drinking water, so when I’m not in that mode of sucking on ice, I don’t find myself using the ice in our freezer, at all.
After Cyndie had been gone for over a month, I discovered that the ice in the bucket inside the door of our freezer was so old it was becoming one solid block, instead of individual semi-spheres. Apparently, she used just enough ice to keep it from stagnating. Or, maybe she was dumping it out when it was getting old. I never needed to notice.
When I discovered the block of old ice, I removed the bucket and left it out to defrost. Being unfamiliar with the controls on this appliance, I assumed I would need to turn the ice maker off to prevent it from dumping a fresh batch of ice when the bucket had been removed. It has an infra-red sensor to detect when the bucket is full and stops dumping new ice.
The only control I could see, was on the infra-red sensor panel. I slid the paddle switch to the ‘off’ position. When the bucket was clean and dry, I re-installed it in the freezer door and moved the switch back to ‘on.’ After several days, the urge that had me seeking ice took me back to the freezer door. I received wonderfully fresh, clear half-moons of frozen goodness. One cup full. After that, nothing.
After a couple more days, it became obvious something had stopped working. I monkeyed with the switch. I felt all around the surfaces of the ice machine in search of some additional control switch, or for evidence of ice. Not wanting to start the search for a physical manual in our multitude of possible file locations, I went online for insight. I watched an entire video on how to replace parts on ice makers that were different from the one I have. I found a way to replace the infra-red sensor control board on the model that looked identical to mine. The information from that video revealed that the behavior observed from the red indicator on my machine meant it was working as designed. I opened that door about 15 times to look, poke, prod, grunt (I got my finger stuck one time), squeeze, and even just will the dang thing to work. I did nothing technically logical toward affecting the function of the device.
Shortly after that, I heard a valve click and water flowing for a few seconds. Later, I was startled by the loud sound of ice hitting the empty bucket. Then, again, and again. This morning there is over a half-bucket full.
Look at that. I fixed it!
Then This
Then there is this: Just as I toss out some thoughts in the direction of leaving town to join Cyndie in Boston, I receive that late-night phone call. It’s the one where the stunned voice of a daughter is heard on the other end. The one where a father’s heart skips a beat, and then speeds up to alarm-rate, bringing sweat to the brow.
Monday night, Elysa returned from a 2-day excursion to find her home had been burglarized. Shards from the glass that formerly sealed her front door were now tracked throughout the house, a result of the criminal’s traipsing, room to room, to ransack for valuables.
There is nothing quite like the awful feeling of violation brought on by nefarious individuals invading our sacred spaces.
Criminals suck.
This incident instantly ripped at a scab that barely covers the wound of my own episode of being victimized by a thief a few years back. An array of threatening scenarios automatically run through a victim’s mind; some, legitimate possibilities, many others, just fear-based imaginings. There are understandable questions about the “how’s” and “why’s” of what actually happened, but the reality is that most of these questions don’t get answered to the degree we expect from watching television crime dramas.
There was a very clear boot print on Elysa’s front door. Seems like it could be used to ID the thug. It doesn’t work that way. This type of crime doesn’t warrant that level of investigation. We find ourselves in the netherworld of being personally traumatized, yet, suffering no physical injury, unqualified for more than a brief visit from a pair of patrol officers and some paperwork to fill out.
I am so grateful to have been available to drive over and meet Julian at Elysa’s house to assist in cleaning up broken glass, to patch the hole in her front door, and to simply be present with her in her moment of distress. Happily, while we were there, Elysa finally discovered a missing cat, holed up deep inside the cushions of a recliner upstairs.
The whole experience sure would have been a lot different for me, if I had already moved to Boston.
Revisiting Visit
While Julian and I were visiting Cyndie in Boston for the Thanksgiving weekend, Julian took this shot of us up on the rooftop deck of Cyndie’s apartment with the view of downtown. It looks like I would fit right in, doesn’t it?
Fresh Take
What a difference a day makes. This morning, through the miracle of technology –in which I get to see and hear my wife on screen as if she were in the room with me– my loneliness is greatly reduced. Probably of most significance, is the tone of our visit. When Cyndie is going through a rough time and the difficult work she is doing takes up every minute of her day, it weighs on me heavily. There is so little I can actually do from here to help ease her burden. Conversely, when she reports glimmers of hope and a few successes along the way, I feel energized!
We are in a big adventure that will be a long journey to accomplish. I will probably write about the difficulties as much as I will write of the successes; maybe even more. I don’t want to try to hide from the challenges we are facing. It is a real part of the adventure. I am practicing the art of perceiving the sad parts of my story as a valid and valuable part of the whole.
Today feels refreshingly improved from yesterday, for me.
More Lyrics
I’m feelin’ lonesome. The novelty is wearing off. Rick Danko and The Band tell it so well in their song, “It Makes No Difference.”
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It makes no diff'rence where I turn I can't get over you and the flame still burns It makes no diff'rence, night or day The shadow never seems to fade away And the sun don't shine anymore And the rains fall down on my door Now there's no love As true as the love That dies untold But the clouds never hung so low before It makes no diff'rence how far I go Like a scar the hurt will always show It makes no diff'rence who I meet They're just a face in the crowd On a dead-end street And the sun don't shine anymore And the rains fall down on my door These old love letters Well, I just can't keep 'Cause like the gambler says Read 'em and weep And the dawn don't rescue me no more Without your love I'm nothing at all Like an empty hall it's a lonely fall Since you've gone it's a losing battle Stampeding cattle They rattle the walls And the sun don't shine anymore And the rains fall down on my door Well, I love you so much It's all I can do Just to keep myself from telling you That I never felt so alone before
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Composed by Robbie Robertson
Random Segues
Yesterday I walked in the door with the mail and found a $10 iTunes gift card I had ordered through exchanging points in my Recyclebank account.
I’d forgotten I ordered it, since it had been a couple weeks.
During the drive home from work, a song on the radio (that I was hearing for the first time) intrigued me enough to want to look it up when I got home.
That reminded me I had been meaning to search for a Levon Helm song I heard playing on the credits of a movie I recently bought.
Found Levon’s song, “A Train Robbery,” on the 2007 album, Dirt Farmer.
I listened to the samples for most of the songs on the album and liked them enough to want all of them.
Price of the album download on iTunes: $9.99.
Forgot about searching for the song I had heard on the radio.
For some entirely unknown reason, the Levon Helm songs brought to mind some Bob Dylan lyrics from his song, “When You Awake” that The Band performed.
Ollie told me I’m a fool. So I
walked on down the road a mile, Went to the house that brings a smile
Sat upon my grandpa’s knee, And what do you think he said to me?When You Awake you will remember ev’rything, You will be
hangin’ on a string from your… When you believe, You will relieve the only soul
That you were born with to grow old and never know.
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Snow’s gonna come and the frost gonna bite, My old car froze
up last night. Ain’t no reason to hang your head I could wake up in the
mornin’ dead. Oh! And
if I thought it would do any good, I’d stand on the rock where Moses stood..
That last line has rolled around in my head for as long as I’ve heard it, starting sometime in the 1970s.
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If I thought it would do any good, I’d stand on the rock where Moses stood.
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High Praise
One of the things that happens when people grow into responsible adulthood is that we amass a number of service providers that we like to identify as ‘our own.’ Children may be heard to say, ‘my teacher‘ or ‘my best friend,’ but adults will acquire, ‘my accountant,’ or ‘my plumber.’
Maybe it is my continued reluctance to actually grow up, but I haven’t quite accomplished enough of a relationship with service providers to feel I could call them my own, even in cases where I would really like that to be the case; with one noteworthy exception: ‘my‘ auto repair shop is World Auto Repair in Eden Prairie.
My father always fixed his own cars. He did everything himself. Somehow, I didn’t learn any of it. When I found myself responsible for my own vehicle, with Dad no longer available, I struggled to find an alternative that might somehow compare. I tried some small, independent shops, but had a bad experience at one, and didn’t trust that another would even exist by the time I next needed help. For a while, I gave in and used a dealership, but the return on that investment never really added up. It was sufficient, but never a bargain, and try as they might, they never made me feel like I was getting the personalized attention I desired.
Luckily, I didn’t give up on a quest to find what I truly longed for: a place that could take care of my cars like a dealership, yet made me feel as if I had someone like my Dad looking after my interests. The staff of World Auto Repair have never disappointed. My family has been relying on their expertise to maintain all of our cars for many years.
They have rescued us from disasters, large and small. We bring them routine oil changes, manufacturer-recommended scheduled maintenance, and projects like replacing a broken axle. When my car needed new tires, I asked for advice. I don’t know a thing about tires, except that they can be surprisingly expensive. After I answered a few simple questions, they assured me they could take care of it. It was an early landmark event that told me I had found what I was hoping for. The tires they ordered were on target for my budget, looked great for the car, and have performed flawlessly in all seasons.
The people of World Auto Repair always demonstrate the admirable standard of reasonably interpreting our situation and suggesting the most fitting solutions. I never fear being over-sold, and I have never felt neglected. I have lost count of the number of times they have accommodated our sometimes confused logistics by providing a ride to, or from, our home to pick up and drop off vehicles. One time, when Cyndie and I became confused over picking up a car, we ended up learning from them that they had already taken care of it with our son.
If there is any failure in our relationship with World Auto Repair, it is most likely on me, as a function of my feeling like they are part of the family now, and walking in their shop like I’m the only customer they have. However, they might also be partly responsible, for always providing service that makes it seem to me, I am their most important one.
No Respect
In regions where winter means shoveling snow, there are some unwritten rules that are almost sacred. Granted, I can be a little particular about clearing my driveway and the shovels I choose, but I am certainly not the only one that tries to shovel the snow off the driveway before any car tires pack down tracks.
We received our first truly shovel-worthy snowfall of the season Saturday. I first noticed it late in the day, when I went out to get the mail. At that time, it had already covered everything with enough depth that I knew I would need to shovel. With that in mind, being such a big fan of shoveling virgin snow off the driveway, I purposefully chose to walk a path to the mailbox that followed the very edge of the pavement.
Later, on my way to bed for the night, I peeked out the front door to check on the amount accumulating and discovered my driveway had been violated! Someone had the nerve to pull into my yet-to-be-shoveled driveway in order to turn around. Who would do such a thing!?
On Sunday, as I was clearing the snow from the drive, I decided to imagine the possibility that it was someone in a dire emergency, maybe even a police car, that needed to make that maneuver, in which case, I would be more than happy to suffer the inconvenience.
I had a chance to practice that mental exercise over and over, as the blade of the shovel repeatedly got stuck on the tracks with each pass I struggled to make.
A Letter
Dear Cyndie,
The experiment of living in two different cities, 1500 miles apart, is definitely revealing the adage, “You don’t know what you’ve got, till it’s gone.” I am sick with an annoying cold that has turned a night’s sleep into an epic drama, and held me home from work, bed-ridden yesterday.
I am distinctly aware of how, if you were home with me, you would make a special trip, even though I would tell you not to bother, and you would buy a variety of fruit juices and more medications than I could possibly use. You would bring them to my bedside and then cook me eggs or soup to feed me, allowing me to do nothing but rest while you provided every possible comfort.
I know I always thanked you for your tender loving care, but from the vantage point of not having you here to lavish support upon me now, I feel as though I never thanked you enough. You are a true angel.
Love,
John
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We had a great visit on FaceTime this morning where we talked about how the monumental scope of the work she is doing, difficult as it is, seems to align very much with the skill set she has developed, and the many years of experience she has gained. We also reminisced about the earliest years of our relationship, and the many times in which we were separated by thousands of miles, which just might have been creating a foundation for our ability to accomplish this current scenario we find ourselves in.
This is hard, but we think it is the right thing to do. It is something we are both equally interested in successfully accomplishing. I am definitely falling more in love with her as a result her absence from my life, proving one more well-known adage…
Same Wish
New year, same wish. With December upon us, I have resurrected a post from December of 2010.
December Wish
December has arrived. It is the time of year when requests are made for our wish lists. What do I wish for? I wish for world peace. I wish my neighbors would never, ever, ever use their leaf blowers. I wish it wasn’t possible to hear the sounds made by a human jaw chewing food in an otherwise silent room. I wish my lungs weren’t asthmatic. But those things aren’t what the circle of family who draw names for a Christmas gift-giving exchange would like to see on my list.
They want stuff that can be purchased.
I don’t mean to be difficult, …not that I haven’t been in the past. I did resist for a time and neglect to provide any such list. I also have listed items like: shirts, socks, and underwear. Who wouldn’t benefit by having new underwear? There has also been a period of time when I gave in and put some pretty significant treasures on the list that I wouldn’t buy for myself. Since something was going to be purchased, I figured it may as well be something that I would actually use.
I also took advantage of one of those online shopping sites that allow you to save a wish list to allow your family and friends to just click and purchase. It’s like registering for wedding gifts. Look at what we have allowed technology to do to us!
A while ago, I came across that site where I had created a list and noticed there were things still on it that I didn’t even remember selecting. I had obviously been living comfortably enough without the items. It occurred to me that the only reason the items made it on the list in the first place was because I saw them while searching the site.
That is like the phrase that I am guilty of using too often regarding food. “I am fond of see food.” See food, eat food.
I could look at any number of shopping sites and discover things to put on a wish list. Yet, if I didn’t see these things, I wouldn’t even know I wanted them. Making a list, in and of itself, engenders the wish. See things, want things.
I still haven’t gotten around to making full use of so many things I already have. I truly don’t need anything more. This year, I am seeking to UNDER-indulge. I’m choosing, see charity, give charity. I saw the invitation to “give a goat” on the 2009 video of the Christmas song, “Always in the Season” by Pomplamoose. Now, that is what I want on my wish list. I want people to choose a meaningful gift to give me and help children and families around the world receive training and animal gifts that help them become self-reliant.
My December wish this year is for people to consider Heifer International in their gift giving plans.
