A Brief Pause Here

I'm in tax mode for a few more days as I gather materials and upload them to Tax Caddy:

Temporarily on comment moderation.

Back soon!

Musical Interlude

(For politics, please scroll down)

My best friend of some 53 years died on February 9; circumstances were such that I didn't find out until February 22. There was no better friend in the world than Carolyn! I have a terrible void in my life now. 

The selection below accurately reflects my frame of mind right now....

Arvo Pärt's elegiac meditation Cantus in memoriam Benjamin Britten:

[about Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten]

About mRNA Vaccines

Specifically, about the trial data:

A few comments made to the above video:

@salimnaufal1779 

Thank you Dr. Campbell for sharing that information. The terrifying part is the fact that you have to choose carefully your words to convey a real threat to people's health in order not to be blocked by YouTube. There is no doubt in my mind that there are huge conflicts of interests of people in charge of our health and big pharma. Really sad!

@joeswinny7686 

I suspect a large % of adverse events have never been evaluated. My own being one of them. We live in dangerous times and not because of Pandemics.

Who is John Campbell, the man speaking in the video posted above? See this short video.  And HERE is his YouTube channel.

As one who has reacted to my first-and-only COVID "vaccine" (It appears to have triggered my childhood asthma to the point that my primary care physician will not now recommend even the annual flu vaccine!), I find myself doing research on the COVID "vaccines" and apparent reactions thereto.  The picture emerging is disturbing. To say the least!

Musical Interlude For Christmas Day — And Beyond

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

If you love excellent choral music, cue up the video below and play this 1991 recording as you enjoy Christmas Day and the remainder of this Holy Season. If you have a Smart TV with a sound bar, as Warren and I do, even better!

The Choral Arts Society of Washington has been a choir of the top order, both nationally and internationally, since 1965.  Members of the choir are not paid!  If approved by a grueling audition (fewer than one in four pass the test), these "amateur" musicians sing because they so love music.

(Personal note: I had the privilege of being in the alto section of the Choral Arts Society of Washington from its founding under the baton of Maestro Norman Scribner, until the spring of 1968, when I resigned so that I could prepare to go to college.  I'll be ever grateful to Maestro Scribner on taking a chance on a child of thirteen to be join a choir of adult singers.  Oh, the training I received!)

00:00 JOY TO THE WORLD for brass 00:57 OF THE FATHER'S LOVE BEGOTTEN 04:11 JAUCHZET, FROHLOCKET! | Bach 12:20 TOMORROW SHALL BE MY DANCING DAY | Rutter 15:23 I SAW THREE SHIPS | Vaughn Williams 16:54 THE HOLLY AND THE IVY | Rutter 19:48 FANTASIA ON ‘GREENSLEEVES’ | Vaughn Williams 24:32 IN DULCI JUBILO for organ | Bach 25:46 NOEL NOUVELET 29:12 BOGORODITSE DEVO, RADUYSA | Rachmaninoff 32:14 WELCOME, ALL WONDERS | Dirksen 39:13 VOLTE | Praetorius 39:58 INTONATION for organ | Gabrieli/IN DULCI JUBILO | Scheidt 44:41 O COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL | Willcocks 48:11 DECK THE HALLS | Shaw-Parker 49:21 MARY HAD A BABY | Dawson 52:35 CANDLELIGHT CAROL | Rutter 56:51 STILLE NACHT | Gruber 59:44 ZITHER CAROL | Sargent 1:01:32 BRING A TORCH | Shaw-Parker 1:03:01 WILLIE, TAKE YOUR LITTLE DRUM | Hall 1:04:37 CANTIQUE DE NOEL | Adams 1:08:55 SHEDRYK 1:10:06 A MERRY CHRISTMAS | Warrell 1:11:30 HARK! THE HERALD ANGELS SING | Willocks

Warren's A Christmas Visitor: A Christmas Tradition Here At This Blog

Posted by Warren

(Originally posted on "Longrange" for Christmas 2004)

4:00 am 12/24/04

There was a knock on my front door which startled me awake. My dogs were barking which required my dire threats to quieten them as I answered the door.

Maybe you have heard of our weather and the unusually cold temperatures and large amount of snow that has fallen in the last 24 hours. I live just south of Interstate 64 in Southern Indiana and you may have seen the news about the closed Interstate and stranded motorists on the national news.

A man in his early fifties, about my own age, stood at the door. He was wearing tennis shoes, jeans, a field jacket and sock hat. His glasses were frosted and his pale white hands and reddened knuckles gave witness that he wore no gloves.

He told me he was lost and asked for directions to a certain address. I told him that he missed his mark by a mile and a half and asked him where his car was. He said he was walking.

I invited him in and sat a chair for him by the warm air from the furnace vent. He was shivering uncontrollably and a faint whiff of alcohol was on his breath. I asked if I could fix him something to eat but he refused and accepted a hot cup of coffee.

My wife talked to him as he warmed himself and I could hear him speaking as I prepared his fresh coffee.

My son heard his voice and came into the living room to sit and listen, and to watch, just in case.

His story unfolded.

He was homeless veteran, he had been sleeping in a box, under a bridge over the Ohio river, several miles to the West. He had decided that it was too cold and he might freeze to death if he didn't find safe shelter with more than a cardboard box to keep him warm. About midnight, he had left his meager possessions and headed for his sisters home, a mile or so from my own home. He had walked past in the blowing snow and the dark but continued walking. He was lost, confused and probably somewhat drunk. Hypothermia can add confusion to even the sober mind.

As he spoke, I realized that he had mental problems as do many of the homeless.

There are places that provide refuge for the indigent, I'm sure he knew, but they don't accept anyone who is intoxicated, which I'm also sure he knew.

He drank his coffee then asked me if I would drive him to his sisters home. He then offered me two dollars. Of course I refused the money but offered to take him where he wanted to go.

I intended to take measures to see after him and he seemed anxious to leave.

As I drove, he told me that his sister was out of town but he had permission to use her house in an emergency. I was worried that he was just lying for reasons of his own but I was determined to see the thing through, even if I had to call the police to ensure his well-being through this cold weather.

As we drove up to the house, there was a porch light on and smoke coming from the chimney vent. Even so, it was apparent that there was no one home, the snow around the house was undisturbed.

I asked him if he was sure he could get in, he said, "Yes, she (his sister) told me where the key is." He reached out his hand, as if for a hand shake, and when I offered mine, pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it saying, "God bless you".

I was profoundly embarrassed but stayed long enough to see him dig around in the snow and find a key, unlock the door and wave goodbye.

I drove home, my thoughts disturbed, by the events that had taken place.

My wife was relieved as I returned and I started preparing food (very early,) for Christmas Eve. As I cut up fruit for salad and prepared the turkey for baking, my son came up behind me, hugged me and kissing my head, said, "Dad, you did a good thing."

Again, I was embarrassed, not by my son's hug and kiss but by his praise.

It was the right thing to do.

My son told me that he tries to help the homeless ones that hang around his place of employment. We spoke of how little we can actually do for them and I was proud of my son for being a good man and doing the right thing.

As I continued to prepare food for Christmas Eve, my thoughts drifted to a couple seeking shelter in Bethlehem and the birth of the Lamb of the New Covenant, and I felt God's Peace.

May God's Peace and blessings be with you all!
Merry Christmas.

Warren

Post Note:

First, please watch "Mary, Did You Know?" as performed by the Pentatonix, an a capella group. I hope that you love it as much as I do:

====

Eighteen years ago, I first posted this true story -yes it actually happened- and I am always asked to brush the cobwebs off and re-post it for Christmas. The post note is changed to reflect my feelings and events.

"Mary, Did You Know?" by the Pentatonix, is my favorite Christmas Carol. If you haven't heard this version before or if you would like to hear it again, I urge you to put on your headphones or good speakers and have a listen. 

Maybe below you could tell me your favorite Carol.
This year, I'm spending Christmas with my new bride, AOW, in our new home. It has been a year of many happy changes.

Christmas Eve, we shall celebrate with one of my brothers and my son and daughter-in-law.

Once again, and to all my friends -and you know who you are!-
Merry Christmas!
Warren

Merry Christmas to all who stop by this site. Be blest!

Musical Interlude: One Year Ago Today

(For politics, please scroll down)

I was in the midst of the final days of packing up the last family homestead in preparation for an early-September move when Warren and I decided to  get married.

 Warren and I had been planning to go to the justice of the peace. 

 But no! 

 At my cousins' insistence, the farewell party for me became a perfect garden wedding for Warren and me. 

 All I had to do that day was show up with my hair washed and my nice shoes, and step into the wedding dress. Somehow, in the midst of all the packing, Warren and I found time to go shopping for a suit and shirt for him. Everything else for our wedding was taken care of by my cousins, two of whom walked me down the path and gave me away.

Not a dry eye anywhere in the assembly or at the altar when Warren and I took our vows!

PS: One of the aforementioned cousins was in my first wedding as a flower girl—way back in 1972. The second time around, her eight-year-old granddaughter was our flower girl.

.

The very first song that Warren and I ever danced to:

School Hiring Today?

Is this what we've come to?  Is it any wonder that our schools are failing in their primary task, that of teaching an academic program of studies?  

Social engineering rules the day!

Personal anecdote....

Back in the Stone Age (1973 A.D.), when I was fresh out of college and certified to teach Spanish at the secondary-school level, I interviewed for my first teaching position, a job in the local public-schools system; at that time, the director of personnel interviewed all applicants who had made the first cut. 

I very nearly didn't get the job because I had graduated summa cum laude from the university and had a background as a private-school student. I was told of those two failings in no uncertain terms. I responded, "So, you want to hire teachers who have an inferior knowledge of the subject matter?"

The interview promptly ended.  No job for me.

I went home in angry tears, my mind racing: 

Why had I bothered to work so hard during my four years at the university? 

During my time as a student teacher, why had I bothered to show that I could generate lesson plans which spoke to both the excellent and the below-average? 

How would I ever get a job in my chosen field? 

At that time, no private school in Northern Virginia would hire any new teachers without at least one full year of previous teaching experience, and that experience had to come from having taught in a public-schools system.

I was devastated.

But all's well that ends well.

My mother happened to know the county superintendent of public schools, who had previously been the director at a very prominent private school in Northern Virginia. As such, he had always stood for excellence in education and he continued to do so as the county superintendent of public schools.

Mom made the call. 

He was stunned and infuriated that the director of personnel had taken hiring new teachers to the lowest common denominator! The big push at that time on the part of the county superintendent of public schools was a program called "Commitment to Education," an overall goal promoting both excellence of character and academic achievement.  All in all, it was a good program.

Needless to say, the county superintendent of public schools intervened on my behalf, and I got the job.  I went on to teach for the county for five years.  Why I gave up that position is another story for another time.

All of the above said, I am not in the least bit surprised that today's hiring of teachers has sunk to the lowest common denominator of our day: the hiring of outspoken, proselytizing sexual deviants.

Related reading: NYC taxpayers paying for ‘Drag Story Hour’ for drag queen to interact with children (August 5, 2022).

Musical Interlude

(For politics, please scroll down)

Music to fit my mood lately (the 2021 political and social scenarios — and a major flare up of my ongoing-since-2016 neuropathic pain, aka "the suicide disease"): 

[about Henrik Ibsen's play Peer Gynt]

Another Pandemic Coming?

(hat tip to The Misinformation Spreaders Gazette for the Twitter embed below)

According to Joe Biden, another pandemic looms, and more money is needed:

BIDEN: “We need more money. We don't just need more money for vaccines for children, we need more money to plan for the second pandemic. There's gonna be another pandemic.”pic.twitter.com/THFuFIKss6

— Benny Johnson (@bennyjohnson) June 21, 2022

And that money is needed to vaccinate young children and adults, too — never mind the contraindications for doing so. See THIS and THIS, for example.***** 

 Personal observation: I am one of those individuals suffering long-term respiratory problems apparently caused by just one J&J injection. When I mentioned these problems to my primary care doctor yesterday, he did not dispute what I said but, instead, nodded his head. Hmmmmm....

Father's Day

My father (June 19, 1911-January 30, 1998).  Auto Mechanic Extraordinaire and Best Dad in the World, today is your 111th birthday!

Dad in his twenties

Dad, in his sixties, is on the left.

Dad's personal appearance changed little at all since he reached0 his sixties, never mind that he lived to be over 86 years old.  And because Mom died over 10 years before Dad did, I got to know my father so well.  Overall, those 10 years were wonderful years.

I miss you, Dad — even though these words so apply to our relationship: 

"Men like my father cannot die. They are with me still -- real in memory as they were in flesh, loving and beloved forever" (from How Green Was My Valley).

 I don't know what Dad's favorite song was, but I do know that the award-winning 1941 movie How Green Was My Valley was his favorite film. When Dad and Mom were dating, this film was the one movie which he took her to see at the cinema when the film was re-released to theaters in 1950:

 

Is This Time Different?

My neighbor from 1978-2013 was born in Canada but in the 1980s became a naturalized American citizen.  He is now in his late seventies.  His wife is politically conservative. Their two children are on opposite sides of the political spectrum. 

All these political conflicts made for interesting discussions at the dinner table for thirty years. Truly, though, there no animosity on any side. Discussions were both lively and friendly.

Then came the 2008 General Election, after which point my leftwing neighbor was, overnight, intolerable of other points of view. It was an ugly transformation! That year, he stormed away from the dinner table in a fury when I asked for evidence for one of his discussion points. Gone was his pacifism of so many years.

And so it has remained between us. The dinner invitations ceased, too, of course.  

Now to the present day....

In the wake of the May 24, 2022 massacre in Uvalde, Texas, my former neighbor posted the following at his Facebook page:

I just unfriended a follower. He/she insists that guns are not a problem. What a pile of b/s. If you own a gun and believe that even minimal gun control is not necessary, then you are borderline scum. Every other western country has people with mental problems, but no other country is awash in guns like the US. No other country has had over 200 mass killings since the beginning of the year. Why in blazes does the US lead the world in this god-awful statistic? And we have a group of politicians, read Ted Cruz and his ilk, who won’t do a thing about it. Disgraceful!!

and

Some other things to ponder....America: where last year 52 percent of adults supported stricter gun control, according to Gallup, leaving nearly half who want either less strict laws or the status quo. America: where residents own more guns per 100 residents than any other country in the world: 120.5, which is more than twice as many as the next highest country, which is Yemen.

America: where there are more guns than humans.

and

[W]hy in blazes does anyone need 10 guns?

Of course, along came many of my former neighbor's Facebook friends to affirm what he had spewed.

I recall a time, in the 1980s, that my former neighbor summoned Mr. AOW and me — and our guns — to investigate something in their carport, be that something two-legged or four-legged.  Our former neighbor, for whatever reason, had gotten no response from the police and had become more and more fearful for the safety of his family and the security of the valuable antiques he was refinishing in that carport.

Today, my former neighbor and his wife live way west of Northern, out on a long, often impassable, dirt road in the boonies and surrounded by trees and acres of land, in a beautiful, custom-made mansion laden with valuables galore.  Yet, apparently, they see no reason to have any firearms as personal protection.

Right now, a lot of people are opining almost identically as my former neighbor.  Will the noise be loud enough that our Congress critters impose more gun-control measures?  And what good would such measures do if the problem is, as I believe, our society's moral rot?

Some uncomfortable facts along with the only question that really matters:

The Uvalde Massacre (with addendum)

A few thoughts....

As of this writing, nineteen dead students and two dead teachers.  All massacred by an eighteen-year-old monster, with malice aforethought.

Most of you know me as a teacher of high school students.  I have been a teacher in that role since February 1998, when I started teaching classes of homeschool students, most of the students in Grades 8-12. 

Before 1998, however, I taught elementary school students in a private school, from 1978-1997.  Furthermore, in that private school, I taught Grades 2-4 from 1978-1986.  I know first-hand that students in that age group are "babies," as Judge Jeanine Pirro called them yesterday on The Five.  As a former teacher of the same student age group as that of Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, when the story broke yesterday, I felt as if I'd been punched in the stomach.  

The story of the massacre also took me back to a period of my life some thirty years ago.

I well remember when the school where I worked had to "harden the target" from spring to the close of school that year — because of the maniacal estranged husband of one of our teachers.  He was threatening, in his words in a phone call to the school's office, to "shoot up the school."  All of a sudden, within only a few minutes, we had armed guards to protect us and could not allow our classes to have free-play time outside; neither could students wait outside for their carpools without armed guards posted.

I still recall the youngest students' terrified faces.  The bogeyman under the bed had suddenly become very real for them.

The situation was so strained even weeks after the initial threat that the teacher with the maniacal estranged husband resigned her position to protect the school's students in future school terms.  What's more, she herself had to go into hiding to save herself.  She lost her teaching career — and she was a fine teacher.  

And the school where I worked did indeed lose considerable enrollment for the next few years.  Understandable, in my view.

Frankly, I don't have a positive view of "hardening the target" by fencing in a school and by having armed patrols in a school, particularly in a school with students as young as those in Robb Elementary School.  Maybe "hardening the target" is what we must do to protect students and teachers.  But the impact on education under those circumstances is not a good one for the promotion of learning.  I've seen and lived that impact myself.

Here's what I know for a fact about the aftereffects of the Uvalde Massacre....

The parents affiliated with Robb Elementary School will never be the same.  Neither will the surviving students.  Neither will the surviving teachers.  And the change will not be a good one.  Lord, have mercy!

Addendum

I found something quite interesting at the WaPo, and this might "explain" why Ramos attacked Robb Elementary School: 

...Uvalde High School school [seniors] had visited Robb Elementary School just a day before the massacre, wearing their graduation robes and high-fiving the grade-schoolers, who lined up in the hallways — a community tradition....

See this Tweet, dated Monday, May 23, the day before the massacre.

Salvador Ramos was not on track to graduate with his class this year.

Mother's Day

(For politics, please scroll down)

Happy Mother's Day, Mom and Wawa.  I miss you both every day.

Family photos below....

Unfortunately, I don't have any photographs of the women on my father's side, probably because they came from the Church of the Brethren.  I do, however, have quite a few photos of the women on my mother's side.

Mom's grandmother, aka "Ma" (circa 1860-circa 1945), whom I never met.  She gave life birth to five sons and two daughters:

Mom's mother, whom my and subsequent generations called "Wawa"(1898-1981). Wawa was a mathematical and computer genius, with only an 8th grade education back in the hills of East Tennessee; she was a master seamstress, as well.  After she no longer care-gave Ma, Wawa went to Washington, D.C., for employment toward the end of World War 2.  Because of her intuition about how to keep those big-frame computers running as efficiently as possible, IBM trained her—never mind her age.  A redhead, she was a force to be reckoned with everywhere she went. Example: Wawa held off the power company at rifle point in Northern Virginia because the power company wanted to put high-tension power lines over her cow barn. Because of what we today call bad optics, the lines got moved elsewhere!

Mom (1916-1987). She went to Washington, D.C., to get a job during the Great Depression. A whiz at mathematics, she took various accounting courses and became a statistician for the federal government. She loved her job at the Federal Trade Commission, but kept getting bumped back to the Internal Revenue Service, a place that she hated to work. She met Dad on December 24, 1950, when she was thirty-four, and fell in love with him at first sight. Mom was never in good health during my lifetime; she had serious heart and kidney problems, and had a series of eight heart attacks between 1960-1964. Mom was the most patient person I've ever known! The photo below was taken a few years before Mom met Dad:

Four generations on Mother's Day, circa 1979. Left to right: my dearest cousin, the daughter of Mom's brother's son (1942-1992), at age 12; yours truly at age 27; Mom at age 63; Wawa at age 81.  This photo was taken in the living room of my maternal family's last "homeplace," which I sold in 2021: 

PS: I still have that loveseat and that side table!

The COVID "Vaccines"

Over and over again, we hear that the COVID vaccines — not really vaccines in the traditional sense — prevent severe illness, hospitalization, or worse.   Statements so laudatory of the COVID vaccines are not based on science, however. Rather, they are merely feel-good statements based on emotion or perhaps a  manifestation of magical thinking.

Whatever,  

If you got the COVID vaccines and had no ill effects, good for you!  No sarcasm implied or intended.  

My situation is different.

You see, prior to the arrival of COVID, I already had a history of two severe reactions to live vaccines: (1) after a live vaccine at 6 months of age, I had febrile seizures, followed by over a week in pediatric intensive care; (2) after a live vaccine for chickenpox at age 64, I developed a problem with my renal system, to the point that I required surgery. Because of the latter development, a neurologist, a urologist, and a primary-care doctor all stated, independently of each other: "No more live vaccines for you!"  Not a single one of the aforementioned doctors is an anti-vaxxer.   

 

Then along came COVID-19. In March of 2021, my primary-care doctor ruled out my having any mRNA vaccine. In his words: "MRNA vaccines are not exactly live, but they are close to that. Considering your history with vaccines, let's go with the J&J shot."  A risk-benefit analysis. 

My significant reaction to the COVID vaccine didn't set in until about 3 weeks later, and I've yet to fully recover from the respiratory issues that arose.  When I informed my doctor as to the negative effects I was experiencing, he said: "Worse than many, but not as bad as some."  Of course, followed by "Call 911 if you need to."  

Hmmmmm. Maybe I should have stuck with social-distancing only.  

So far, I haven't needed medical intervention. 

Now, with the passage over a year, we are hearing more and more that there are indeed people who have had severe problems with the COVID-19 vaccines. Consider the following information (only two samples of many I could have chosen):

and, albeit over 10 minutes long;

 

Full disclosure: some sources have discredited the above and have deemed it "misinformation" or "disinformation."  Is it, though?

The fact remains that we don't know what we don't know.  Furthermore, that little bit of information about FDA's wanting to put a 75-year lock on certain information related to COVID vaccines does not promote confidence in Big Pharma's products.  See this article.   

Whatever the truth about COVID-19 vaccines, all of us should be able to see that experts are contradicting experts — and sometimes experts contradict themselves within as little as 48 hours!  "The science is evolving."  Or something.

I can't advise you as to what to do about these vaccines for yourself or for your children (or grandchildren).  But I know that I'll have to think long and hard about getting any kind of booster.

I'll close this post with the following, relevant to more than vaccinations per se....

In 1901, Churchill wrote to H.G. Wells: 

Nothing would be more fatal than for the government of states to get into the hands of the experts. Expert knowledge is limited knowledge: and the unlimited ignorance of the plain man who knows only what hurts is a safer guide, than any vigorous direction of a specialised character. Why should you assume that all except doctors, engineers, etc. are drones or worse?

Poetry Interlude

(For politics, please scroll down) 

As a result of seeing I saw this particular 1981 episode of The Tonight Show live, I had Mr. AOW get a signed copy of Jimmy Stewart and His Poems on September 19, 1989, while I was at work (no personal leave at the private school where I was working):

 

Recently, I reread the little volume Jimmy Stewart and His Poems by Jimmy Stewart—as good now as when I first got the book.  

As of September 3, 2020, after decades of having only cats as household pets, I have a dog named Callie, pictured left.  To my chagrin, she is as disobedient as Jimmy Stewart's Beau.  But she's a pretty face—and a crazy clown!

Musical Interlude

(For politics, please scroll down)

I first heard this song in June of 1992, played on a boom box, at my favorite cousin's best friends' funeral for their only son, who died at the same age as Eric Clapton's son Conor (Clapton's only son, too). 

Two weeks later, my beloved cousin Jack died suddenly and unexpectedly — massive heart attack at the age of 49, and I was the first notified.  I was the one who had to break the news to Jack's daughter and mother.  I heard an instrumental version this song once again at Jack's funeral. 

The story behind "Tears In Heaven," written as part of a father's grieving process:

"Tears in Heaven" is a ballad written by Eric Clapton and Will Jennings about the pain Clapton felt following the death of his four-year-old son, Conor, who fell from a window of the 53rd-floor New York apartment of his mother's friend, on March 20, 1991. Clapton...arrived at the apartment shortly after the accident....

Irony: Eric Clapton had been sober for several years when his son died.

[video: The whole story of Conor Clapton]

[the first time Eric Clapton played "Tears in Heaven" in public]

Musical Interlude

(For politics, please scroll down)

YouTube blurb for the video in this blog post:

Soundtrack from the 1990 Penny Marshall film "Awakenings" with Robert De Niro, Robin Williams, Julie Kavner, Penelope Ann Miller & John Heard. Based on the true story of Dr. Oliver Sacks who, in a Bronx hospital in 1969, used a new drug in order to revive patients who had been catatonic for decades.

Such poignant movie music, especially if you know the compelling story:

 

Personal story....

My father's sister, only seven years old, died of "the aftereffects" of the Great Influenza of 1918-1920 — even though flu deaths in her age group were quite rare.  Therefore, long before COVID-19 came along, I've had great interest in the award-winning film Awakenings, which depicts part of the story of  institution-confined patients suffering from the 1915-1927 epidemic of encephalitis lethargica, one of the aftereffects believed by some scientists to have been caused by the Great Influenza. 

My family never discussed exactly the specific "aftereffects" that killed Dad's sister, and I've always wondered if she, too, had encephalitis lethargica.  Perhaps Dad's didn't know; after all, he was only eight or nine years old when his sister died.

The family story I heard several times was limited to Dad's unforgettable and blunt words: 

"Because of the flu outbreak, the undertaker came to the house to embalm Chrissy — and dumped the blood behind the barn."  

I have always wondered if Chrissy slipped into a Parkinsonian-like catatonia similar to that shown in the film Awakenings, one of those rare films better than the book. 

Musical Interlude & Valentine's Day: First Dance

(For politics, please scroll down) 

I chose this song for the first dance at our wedding on August 28, 2021. Music didn't get played that day, however, because the man with the audio material had a caregiving crisis of his own. Still, Warren and I consider "Lay Down Beside Me" as our first-dance song.  And this song is perfect for Valentine's Day 2022. 

The lyrics for "Lay Down Beside Me" are so personal for Warren and me! Those of you who know our situations will understand the personal meaning without further explanation: 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Protecting Myself

A pictorial depiction of my soul as I read and watch the daily news.  A 21st Century variation on Oscar Wilde's Gothic novel The Picture of Dorian Gray: 

In my view, our republic has reached critical mass on so many fronts! One such front is that of higher education.  But one example of our higher education system having gone off the rails: University assignment has students record themselves accusing someone of racism or homophobia.  How bizarre is that?

Do not continue reading this blog post until you have thoroughly read the above link from Campus Reform! 

So how am I protecting myself — both my mental and physical health? See my recent comment at Politics Rewritten.  The complete content of my comment is below the fold.

Musical Interlude

(For politics, please scroll down)

First, a little bit about the song posted below:

[Songwriter Stuart] Hamblen was supposedly out on a hunting expedition when he and his fellow hunter, actor John Wayne, came across a hut in the mountains. Inside was the body of a man, and the man's dog was still there, guarding the building. This inspired Hamblen to write "This Ole House". The lyric picks up a standard Gospel theme of the "old house" – the mortal body – being left behind when the soul of the believer goes to "meet the saints."

Enjoy this toe tapper:

Personal story....

When I was two and a half years old, I fell in love with "This Ole House," especially that ragtime piano, in October 1954, when we were on vacation in West Virginia. Hurricane Hazel forced us to shelter in place at a diner with a juke box. The diner's owner finally set the tune to play over and over again while I danced next to the juke box.  

To this day, I still love "This Ole House" and ragtime piano.  And I still stand up and dance to this tune.  I never tire of "This Ole House.  And I still have the 78 rpm record — and the Victrola to play it on.