Do You Remember?

There was a post on Twitter … ahem … X today from the Phillies. It showed some kids holding up their cell phones at Bryce Harper, with the caption “Remember.” Which, of course, got me to thinking.

If we’re running around with our cell phones out, recording every possible encounter, are we remembering it later or just being reminded of it?  There is a huge difference.

When I was a kid - in the 1960s - we didn’t take a lot of family photos, and the only time dad’s movie camera came out was at Christmas, where he could blind me with the giant spotlights in my face.

The point is, I remember that stuff. All that stuff from my childhood. I remember it. I didn’t put it on YouTube or attach it to an Instagram story.  It happened to me, and it’s in my memory. That’s part of what remember means.

“Hey, you remember that time we did that thing?”

“Yeah - I got it all on video.”

But mostly they say “filming” which is odd, since we haven’t used film in decades, and most of the kids saying “I’m filming this” have NEVER used film. And yet, the expression survives. More odd behavior from the humans.

And, I wonder if most of the things I remember would look the same to me if I somehow could see them on video? I might be surprised at how differently I pictured it in my head years later. Memory tends to mask-out details and only leaves room for broad spectrum stuff. That’s what make memories fun, At least when they’re good memories.

We would all like to erase the bad ones.

Death and Dying

 I would have thought that going through the death of my mother would be just “another experience,” but as usual, my assumptions were incorrect.

She died almost a year ago - August - and the effects of watching her demise and ultimately watching her die have made irreparable impressions on me.

I was a child of nine years when my father died. He died at home, in our living room, and I watched it. The slow, impenetrable loss of life made an impression, but it wasn’t until many years later that it would make itself known.

As a kid, I had no understanding of death - what it was, how it happened, or what happens afterward. I remember feeling almost nothing, and later feeling like something had changed, but I wasn’t certain what. Eventually, it dawned on me that I no longer had a father, or a father-figure. Mom tried to replace that with friends and family, but I was already too shut-off from people that I couldn’t accept their gestures. I don’t know if they were awkward or if it was my reticence that made them eventually amount to zero.

From then until … well, now … I have had to live a life without a man to relate any feelings to or find a common ground about … well, now … being a man.  So, here I am as the person before you. Good or bad, it’s, as they say, the way it is.

Dad’s death was more of an eventual calamity than immediate. At least for me it was. Mom had a much harder time with it, losing her lover, her provider, and her rock.  Dad and I were as close as we could be, but there is nothing that compares with the love of a husband and wife - at least I hope so.

When  mom died last year, I thought I would - just as eventually - get over the idea that I no longer have her in my life. After all, she was 96 and, aren’t people supposed to feel as though they’ve lived a “full life” by then?  I don’t know.

What has happened instead, is that I struggle with my own mortality.   At the age of 64, I am most certainly on the back-nine of life. MAYBE I have a good 20 years left? Compared to the ones behind me, it’s a drip in the ocean.  Besides which, I haven’t exactly lived the “full life” as advertised.

Have any of us? Have we achieved any of the things that we sought?  At this point, I feel as though I have lived a mostly wasted life, and I’m contemplating what it is - exactly - that we’re supposed to be doing here.

Let me know when you figure it out.

The New Audio

If you’re old - like me, you remember buying stereo equipment. And, like me, you remember spending a lot of money on what looked like great stereo equipment, only to find that it was ... well ... mediocre stereo equipment.

In the 1970s, we knew what the “Good Stuff” was. McIntosh, Marantz, high-end Sony - the stuff that we saw in Stereo Review magazine. Those full-page ads with mouth-drooling stuff that we couldn’t afford if we took-out a small business loan.

All I can remember is seeing that stuff, and knowing that I couldn’t afford it, and going to a low-end stereo store (like at the Mall) and buying a rack of stuff by Panasonic that came in twelve boxes, with speakers that could have substituted as furniture. If I paid $400 (1976 dollars) for a giant rack system, I felt like a winner. That was substantially better than spending $1,000 for a McIntosh amp, where I’d still have to spend another $1,500 for qualified speakers and a Dual or Audio-Technica turntable. Somehow, that Panasonic turntable would have to make-do, even though it was probably gradually destroying my records every time I put them on the damned thing. Such was the life of a minimum-wage earner in the mid-1970s.

As it was, the Panasonic system that I bought (similar to the photo above) was QUADRAPHONIC, and as such, well above my pedestrian (although semi-sophisticated, since I read the magazines) skill level. The only quadrophonic album I owned was Mike Oldfield’s “Tubular Bells,” and since I didn’t have the requisite quadrophonic pre-amp (what the HELL was that?) I only had a pseudo-quad system, in that I had four speakers, but they were really two-channel stereo. Still, they took-up a quarter of my bedroom, so I guess the “quad” thing applied, somehow.

Over the years, I went through a couple of turntables. Grew from buying “needles” to “cartridges,” and learned the difference between sapphire and diamond, but never adapted to the noise and fragility of the vinyl record.

I also went through several different record-cleaning devices, eventually settling-on dish soap, warm water, and a terry cloth towel. All that futuristic crap of sprays, sponges, and cloths (that I also read about in the magazines) was pointless, and a waste of money that I could have spent on a better sound system.

And then ... like a beacon of light in the darkness, came the Compact Disc. Sure, we sacrificed the 12” x 12” album artwork, but hey - it was a COMPACT ... DISC. No scratches, no noise, no dish soap. Just a disc that I put in a player and it sounded the same EVERY TIME.

They were about four times the price of my old albums, and the player was another expense. I spent $125 for a single-disc CD player, and it was the cheapest one I could find. The first disc I bought was King Crimson’s “Larks Tongues in Aspic,” and I couldn’t wait to hear it noise-free through my $400 Panasonic semi-quadrophonic sound system. I was in sonic heaven.

I skipped-over the cassette tape and 8-track “revolution.” Cassette tapes were more of a convenience for cars, and were a major pain-in-the-ass to anyone trying to find the third song on an album. 8-track tapes were just stupid from the start. Mid-song, they would fade-out - make a loud clicking noise - and fade back in. We were supposed to enjoy that. I owned many cassette player/recorders, but never owned an 8-track player. I had my limits.

And so, here we are - in 2021. Vinyl records have made a comeback, even though I can put my entire record collection (vast as it is) on my iPhone. Noise-free, and with a simple $10 subscription to Apple Music, I can listen to anything with just a search and click. No more standing in line at the record store, waiting for the new releases to come out, only to come home and find that the record skipped, and I’d have to either deal with it (penny on the tone arm) or take it back.

Purists (whom I used to consider myself) would tell you that vinyl is “pure,” but people my age would tell you that the convenience and simplicity of electronic media is so much better, that I don’t give a crap about your purity.

Over the last 50 or so years, I have been through several forms of media. Records, tapes, CDs, mp3 ... and I have no idea what the next 50 years holds, but I’m happy to point-and-click and listen to whatever I want to hear without traveling to a record store or going through the agony of preserving the media and spending a small fortune on equipment.

So, go ahead and believe that vinyl is some sort of God-given path to music. For me, I’ll continue to appreciate the convenience that technology has given me, and never again have to go back to scratchy records and storage.

Sometimes, you have to go through the agony of the process to appreciate the convenience of technology.

My New Appreciation for Retail

I’ve been “retired” since July 2019. It’s been OK, although I thought I’d have time and money to do the things I’ve been wanting to do, like travel. Covid-19 did that in for me back in March. It cancelled my Phillies games, and my Philly bar visits. As a result, my days have been spent waiting for the gyms to open and searching for stuff to watch on TV. Kinda boring, as it is.

I persevered for about a year-and-a-half. Had it not been for Covid, I might have searched for work earlier. As it was, I waited for the perfect opportunity to return to the workforce. Since I’ve been collecting Social Security benefits, my prospects were slim. I can’t earn more than $1850 a month, or I’d have to give back some of my benefits, and that math is too difficult for me to work on.

The local CVS drug store moved-out of my neighboring complex a year ago, and I’ve been waiting to see who would move back into that space. Last month, the Dollar Tree sign went up and I jumped on the prospect.

On a Wednesday, I sent a resume and filled-out the employment questionnaire online for a part-time job. A few hours later, I got a reply, and later that day, I was hired. Shows ya what a great resume and highly-qualified person can accomplish in a short period of time!

The place is a five-minute walk from home, and the salary isn’t going to interfere with my Social Security, so it’s the perfect job for me. The only issue was that I was not experienced as a cashier - and that wouldn’t be my primary job. OK, so let’s re-invent myself, right?

I spent my first week stocking shelves and sorting things. Stuff comes-in in big boxes. We break them open and place them on shelves. It’s difficult but satisfying work. From empty shelves and racks comes full shelves for customers. Two weeks of work to make a store ready for opening is satisfying.

As it turns out, everybody who visits my store is happy to be there. After all, they’re paying a dollar for everything, and most carts are filled with stuff,

Initially, I was hesitant to work the register. I have heard stories about “Karens” who gave workers a hard time. Right? After a few days on the register, all of my (ALL OF MY) customers have been gracious and kind, and the register work has been a joy - although stressful. The stress has been on my end.

I worry that I’ll give-back the wrong change or that I’ll be too slow.  None of that has happened. My first day, I was 41 cents over. No clue how that happened. My last two days, I was one and two cents over, The store doesn’t care unless you’re $3 either way, but I care because I’m OCD. Even though the computer tells me how much to count, I count it out-loud, and obsess over the money because I know the consumers do.

Mostly, what I do (and like) is the small-talk during the transactions. And, the non-talk I do, which is more difficult,

One customer bought 41 pair of pruning shears. FORTY-ONE. I didn’t say a word - just rang it up. When he left, I said to the next customer, “Wow -  that’s a lot of pruning shears, right?” No response. OK.

We’re busy most of the time. As it turns out, consumers love dollar-store merchandise. One customer bought five pair of reading glasses for $5. He said, “I’ll be back in a month when I lose these.” They are happy to be getting bargains for items that would otherwise cost them more. Party supplies, greeting cards,  decorations, holiday stuff ... the dollar-store concept is HUGE.

Everybody that comes in talks about how much they love the new store. I’m enjoying my time with them, and enjoying how much they love getting bargains for things that would otherwise cost them much more at regular retail stores.

AND, it’s all next-door. Go figure how happy I’d be in retirement. Thanks, Dollar Tree.

Christmas Memories

1995. Nearly a century ago. I was married, and figuring that the end was near.  The wife had already “forgotten” my birthday in October, and I was half-heartedly shopping for a Christmas gift that would ultimately disappoint her.

I can’t recall what I bought - doesn’t matter, really - but I do remember what she had for me. It is forever etched in my memory, unlike so many other Christmas gifts past.

Our tradition (such as it was) was to open gifts on Christmas Eve, supposedly to save us the fuss of the Christmas morning ritual, I don’t know, really.  We had a tree. A real one, because she insisted, so OK, we went out and I cut down a tree. The reward was pine needles in our living room. That is beside the point.

Whatever I had gotten for her was brought out. I suspect it was a sweater or some other conservative, concealing article of clothing. I wouldn’t dare buy her anything suggestive like a negligee or anything from Victoria’s Secret. She had her own secret, which would become obvious as the years passed. But, that is beside the point.

Under my portion of the tree were four boxes, each identically shaped and sized. My suspicion turned-out to be realized - that they were four boxes of alcohol. Two bottles of vodka, a bottle of rum, and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.  Truth be known, she would have been better-off with four bottles of vodka. Puzzled, I thanked her (in my way) and went about my business.

Less than a week later, I was on my way home and I could see from the road that the light was on in our condo. Customarily, she would stop at her mother’s house after work, so seeing her at home before six was odd.  Nevertheless, I proceeded to my regular gym routine, not really thinking much of the light. At around six-thirty, I got home, and the lights were out. Hmm. That’s strange, right?

When you are accustomed to a certain environment, you know that something is wrong the second you walk in.  I could see through to our back room, and noticed that a framed photo that was on the wall was no longer there. Immediately, I noticed that several other things were not “as usual.”  After looking around a little, I saw a note on the bedroom dresser:

I know that I will never be able to fill your needs. Take care of the cat, He is very special. - Robin

So there it was. Perhaps the most cowardly way to exit. Obviously, she had faked going to work, and had instead spent the day packing-up and moving - bit by bit - back to her parents’ house. It must have taken at least until six o’clock, and I always wondered what would have happened if I had trusted my instincts and, instead of doing the gym thing, I had turned around and just went home. Spilled milk.

Back to the four bottles of alcohol. As we agreed, in order for her to agree to return, I would attend counseling sessions with her. We met with the counselor for an hour or so, and toward the end, the counselor said, “I don’t think you two should be married to each other.”  I found that odd, since (I thought) the counselor had only known us for an hour or so, but how can you argue with logic?

During the session, I brought-up the alcohol. I said, “I suspected that the reason she bought me four bottles of booze was that she knew she was leaving, and wanted to give me something to drown my sorrows.” The counselor turned to her, and she said, “Yes, that’s right.”

Little did I know, she had seen the counselor previously, on her own, but I didn’t know that until months later when I found a receipt for payment that was dated a month prior to my first meeting. Pre-meditated. And yes, she came back, but by March of 1996 she was gone again. This time, bravely in person, leaving me and the cat in her wake.

Prior to the Christmas of 1995, I wasn’t very excited about the holiday. The stress, and ultimately its anti-climax usually left me wanting.  I discovered that wanting was a wasted emotion. To this day, I’m not very good at accepting gifts or asking for help.  It’s part of my nature. But that Christmas soured me on it completely, irreparably and with nobody to struggle over buying a gift for, I was left orphaned from the holiday.  We never had children and I have had girlfriends over the years, but the last ten years (at least) have been bereft of physical or emotional contact. The holiday comes and goes. I don’t blame her, but she certainly did not contribute to my overall happiness. You can research this blog for the Amazing Stories of My Marriage.

But, I did take very good care of the cat.

Covid Says What?

OK, so here we are, almost four months into this Covid-19 thingy. Where am I? Precisely where I was before it started. Right here, in my living room.

Way back in March, we all thought, “It will be over soon. After all, HE said it would be done by Easter.” He, who? He. Him. The guy in the White House who still isn’t wearing a mask and has disbanded the Covid Task Force.

The same Task Force that is now being led by his Vice President, who told us to pray. Yeah, that’s right. We’re supposed to pray for this to be over. I guess, that’s because it’s all they have left. Thoughts and Prayers. In other words, nothing.

So, here I sit, burning citronella candles and staring at the Moon. It’s not a bad life, but it could be better.

Today, Governor Murphy said that the planned “indoor dining” option was suspended indefinitely. Primarily because other states have fucked it up, and he was afraid that New Jersey would further add to the issue.

I haven’t said much lately, since I don’t want to be “that guy,” but this Covid-19 thing seems to be more politically motivated than health motivated. After all, Democratic Governors have been slower to open states than Republicans. And, the mask-wearing public has been largely divided into “his” and “theirs.” You know what I mean.

It’s as if the virus can differentiate between Republicans and Democrats. It cannot - right?

And so, here we are, mired in an election-year standoff between a bunch of people who don’t want to see HIM re-elected and another bunch of people who think that politics is greater than the overall health of the general public.

Which side are you on?

Are We There Yet?

Friday was my last day as a regular employee at my job.  I’ve been there 28 years. Prior to that, I worked at a company for 15 years. Those were the only two jobs I ever had.  I’ve been working since I was 18 years old, and now -- I’m not.  They call it "retirement," but it feels more like I am being laid-off with benefits.  Those benefits include health care, and a small lump-sum of money that is just enough to make me feel like I would have been better-off staying. You get the point.

It’s a strange feeling. I have taken extended vacation time, but I always knew I was coming back to work. This time, the extended vacation is permanent.  I guess I should feel better about it, but I’m a firm believer that we shouldn’t tell people how to feel, and well - I don’t feel great about it.

I’ll turn 62 in October, and I don’t have enough money saved to put my feet up and relax.  I feel like it’s too early to file for Social Security, and my pension isn’t enough to do anything but pay most of my bills.  There is probably some regret involved, in that I never earned enough money to be able to save enough money - if that makes any sense to you.

I never made any decision in my life for money.  I never took a job or turned one down based on how much it paid.  Maybe that was a mistake, or maybe it made me happier?  I'll never know.  What I do know is that I did the best with what I had.  I went to college at 40, graduated at the top of my class, and what it got me was a lower-management job that paid me enough to think about how much more I could have earned if I had learned to play golf and kiss ass.

They say, on your deathbed, you never wish you spent more time at the office. But I will. Gotta be a lot better than a deathbed. I actually don't understand deathbeds. I mean, who would buy that?

- Michael Scott

I saved what I could, while allowing for "living my life" stuff, paying bills, and surviving day-to-day.  Along the way, I encountered some financial difficulties, not the least of which was a DUI violation in 2001 which wound up costing me about $13,000. I’m still paying for that.  Along the way, my wife and I divorced. That threw a monkey wrench (I always felt that a useful tool like a monkey wrench got a bad rep, but that is another story) into my plans.  I should be putting my feet up while my wife works another year or two, and then we could both be touring the country in an RV - but that is spilled milk. (Spilled milk gets exactly the reputation it deserves)

So, here I am, technically unemployed and frankly, tired of working for a living. Unfortunately, I am probably going to have to continue working for a living, at least for 3 or 4 more years.  There is some savings and retirement money, but I am only 61.  My deepest fear (other than dying alone, which seems likely) is running out of money, so I do not want to touch the savings until it is absolutely necessary - whenever that is.

One saving grace is that I am eligible for unemployment benefits. I paid-into it for 45 years, so I suppose I am entitled to get at least some of that back. I feel like I gave the state an interest-free loan and am just now collecting on it. It is a surprisingly generous sum of money, but as it is with all good things, it is temporary.  

Perhaps this feeling of worthlessness is temporary? Who knows? I suppose, if I had more to do I would feel better about not working for a living anymore. As it is, I have state-funded weekly earnings and the hope that nothing goes so completely wrong that I need money in a big hurry.  What in life is not temporary?  Marriage. Job. Health. Things. They all die and we have to either learn to live without them or find something to replace them

On my way out the door, some people told me that they were "jealous" of me.  I told them that I wouldn't be jealous of any aspect of my life or anything in my life.  What they need to do is make their own way and create their own path.  It's not about me or anyone else. It is about you.  Decide what you want and where you want to go.

It is all temporary.  There will be nobody to look after you other than you.