Unwelcome reminders of my past

Oh, the unwanted calls and texts we receive in this age of uninterrupted connectivity.  It has gotten to the point that, during working hours, my mobile phone is set to ignore alerts from all except a few selected parties: co-workers, family members, and a few close friends.

 

There have been a number of entities who have disrupted my peace of mind.  For example, over the past 20 years, I have received occasional messages from someone with whom I had a minor friendship back in the 1980s.  During the period when I lived in New England, I was the assistant manager, and then the manager, of the bookstore at a small liberal arts college.  He was a student there and used to hang out at the store because he fancied himself a budding literary genius.  In reality, he was one of many self-absorbed, unfocused young people who made up the student body.  My clearest recollection was that he had a propensity for dressing in all-black clothing, leading a friend of mine to dub him “Johnny Cash.” 

 

At one point, he was dating an unattractive young woman of uncertain sexuality who, through a series of unfortunate events, briefly became my roommate.  During that period, she told me and others her father had died when he was very much alive, declared herself a lesbian, broke up with her boyfriend (the annoyer in question), then threatened to “retaliate” against said ex-boyfriend by cutting off his penis because he had the temerity to date someone else a few months after they had broken up.  Then, she proceeded to rack up a phone bill in the amount of $537 by calling lesbian sex lines – as the phone was in my name, I got stuck with it when she suddenly moved out.

 

In other words, these two were examples of immaturity, self-absorption, and unnecessary drama.  

 

The female and I have thankfully had no contact in well over 30 years.  The male pops up now and then.  About 20 years ago, I was driving to work when I suddenly heard his voice on the local NPR station being interviewed about a local art exhibition he was promoting.  I told an artist friend of mine about it, and he cackled “That show is a big joke.”  Occasionally, he has submitted comments on this very blog.  These interactions briefly entered and swiftly exited my conscious life.  Then, during business hours on September 19, his call went directly to my voicemail and was followed by a text – both unseen by me until my work day was over.  “Him, again?”  I took advantage of modern technology and blocked his number.  Hopefully, he will take the hint this time.  If not, then he may recognize himself in this blog entry.  

Brownie, Daniel, and me – a balancing act

Daniel and I have been a couple for over 18 years and married for nearly 14 years.  With time we have gained perspective on our needs and how we think – both as individuals and collectively.  What I have learned during my previous relationships, and even more in this one, is that for the relationship to succeed both parties must be aware of the other person’s needs and how one’s own actions affect the other person.  Truly, this applies not just to romantic relationships, but to professional relationships and friendships.

Anyone who believes that either Danny or I “wears the pants” in our relationship is sorely mistaken.  We both wear the pants both figuratively and literally – in fact, we’ve even accidentally worn each other’s pants.  Over the last few years, we have agreed to extend to each other mutual and reciprocal veto power.  It’s a power we each use sparingly.  I sometimes wish I’d vetoed a trip we took a couple years ago that led to a period of stress which is still impacting us.  But hindsight is seldom actually 20/20, so it’s difficult to know what our lives would be like if we hadn’t taken the trip in question. 

I recently reminded Danny that he had veto power and should use it if he thought necessary.  Early this month, I saw a post on Next Door from a woman who needed to rehome her eight-month old puppy.  It was a fairly typical scenario: she had a dog, adopted another partly to keep that dog company, but between the two dogs and two children, it became too much.  The resemblance between this dog, Brownie, and our dog Mason, was so striking that it took my breath away.  I told Daniel about it and he was skeptical about adopting another dog – especially a youngster who would need training, further vaccinations, neutering and microchipping.  I countered that, as we were making more money than when we adopted Mason and had recently paid off our mortgage, we had the income.  So, Daniel reluctantly said we could at least meet Brownie. 

The next day, we met with Brownie in a neutral setting.  I immediately noticed how well he got along with the other dog, a Pomeranian.  He was very friendly, and typical of many puppies, has yet to learn not to jump on new human acquaintances.  After a few minutes, I pulled Daniel aside.  As we discussed whether to adopt Brownie, I advised him that if he wanted to veto getting a dog, then there would be no hard feelings on my part.  He thought about it for a moment, then gave his consent.  I spoke to the lady and agreed to adopt Brownie and pay the modest rehoming fee she wanted, provided she would share his medical records.  She agreed, texted me the records, and offered his crate as well. 

Top: Mason. Bottom: Brownie. 

The resemblance is striking.

Since then, Brownie has become accustomed to the two of us and we to him.  The first week was a litany of accidents.  But he learned the rules of the house and by the end of that week, we even took him camping with us.  Since then, we've taken him to a restaurant with an outdoor patio and a family member's birthday party.  For a pup of his age, he’s very well socialized.  He had his first visit with our local veterinarian where, after the usual lab tests, he was pronounced “perfect.”   Brownie does not have the confidence that Mason had at his age and he suffers from separation anxiety.  But he’s learning the rules of the house, has dramatically improved on his potty training, and is learning the usual commands of “sit,” “lay down,” and leash manners.  Most important, the bond between Brownie his two humans is strengthening with each day – at times you can feel the Oxytocin flowing.    

Brownie at home with us.

Brownie partying with Daniel's family.

There are the usual stresses with introducing a new element into the household.  But Danny & I communicate our needs with each other, support each other’s quest to continually improve ourselves, check ourselves and each other for shortcomings.  Our mutual and reciprocal veto power is coupled with the wisdom to use it sparingly and only when absolutely necessary. 

Anyone who tries to come between us, who tries to play one of us against the other, does to at their own peril.  Brownie is already learning that lesson.  Spart pup.

2023 in review

2023 was an active year which included adventures, challenges, and triumphs.

I continued with my quest for fitness and, although I still have a bit of a belly, my weight is at its lowest level since the late 1990s and my waist is six inches smaller than in 2020.   I've also become a bit more muscular although I have no desire to become overly pumped.  

Since 2020, my life has been increasingly centered at home, as I’ve been a remote worker since then.  Daniel and I celebrated 17 years as a couple and 15 years in our South Euclid home.  What we’ve learned in the last decade and a half is that the work on our 83-year-old house never ends.  This year we had new storm windows installed – the previous ones were probably about 50 years old and rattled whenever a large truck or music blasting car drove by.  Our primary reason for replacing the storm windows was for better protection from the extremes of hot and cold one encounters in our region.  It will take several more months before we can gauge the impact on our utility bills, but the reduction in street noise was immediately noticeable and most welcome.

A new storm window being installed.

The storm windows held up well against the massive storm that struck in August, which left us without electricity for 86 hours.    

No review of 2023 in Northeast Ohio is complete without the state’s voters resounding endorsement of Issues 1 and 2, which guaranteed reproductive rights and allowed recreational cannabis, respectively.  Although Issue 1 is a constitutional amendment, Issue 2 was a ballot issue and state Republicans have been trying to restrict its impact.  It will be interesting to see how Ohio voters react to political interference in 2024.    

Sadly, 2023 also saw the resurgence of the odious Donald Trump, to which I can only respond: Have the American people forgotten the non-stop issuance of virtual diarrhea during the four years he was in the White House?  Have they forgotten how badly he mishandled COVID?  How the economy suffered?  How the Federal deficit exploded?  How he enabled and even encouraged the most flagrant racism and even insurrection?  How many times must people hit their own heads with a hammer before they realize that they’d feel better if they stopped?  Sure, the last two years have had a few challenges, mostly due to the emergence from the COVID crisis and the revival of our supply lines.  The biggest challenge was inflation, which slowed throughout 2023.  The economy is strong, unemployment is low, and the Fed has indicated they are about to start cutting interest rates.  Life is not perfect, but it’s arguably better.  Even the problems at our Southern border are largely because America is the land of hope and opportunity – and it would be even better if right-wing obstructionists would just get out of the way.  

Cleveland’s Classical music scene has now fully recovered from COVID, and in some ways is even stronger than before 2020.  The Cleveland Orchestra continued with its savvy programming approach which included plenty of newer and unfamiliar older music alongside Classical favorites.  I went to too many concerts to go into detail here, but a highlight included Michael Sachs playing Wynton Marsalis’ new Concerto for Trumpet.   

Local business developments included the long overdue demolition of the Richmond Mall, to be replaced by Belle Oaks, a mixed-use development. 

Danny and I traveled to Palm Springs in the winter and New Mexico in the autumn, along with quick trips to Saugatuck in the spring and New England over Labor Day weekend.  The New Mexico trip was in part to scope out a potential winter home for when we retire, but the more I travel, the more I feel centered in Cleveland.  Life is so affordable here; everything we need – high culture, sports, cuisine, medical care – is within easy access; even the winters are becoming easier to manage.

Enjoying Maple Creemees in Vermont

I also made four solo trips: one trip to London which was, to be honest, not very enjoyable; and three trips to see family members from which I brought home happy memories.

In Florida with my niece and her son

With my sister and her husband.

This year also saw the continued evolution of a meaningful relationship with someone who had been in the periphery of my life until about two years ago.  We had some ups and downs in 2023, but the year ended on a high note and my friendship with this person has had a profound impact on my life – and I hope it has a positive impact on this person’s life.

On to 2024!

Farewell, Richmond Mall

Like many locals I have numerous memories of Richmond Mall.

The first was from not long after my family moved to the area in the early 1970s. My father and I went to Woolworth, which was near the center of the mall. I wanted to explore the toy area. My dad consented but warned me to stay there while he went to get whatever he was looking for. Soon I became bored and wandered Woolworth looking for my dad. Failing to see him there, I stepped outside the store and saw him, with his back to me, talking with someone else. I walked over to him and grabbed his hand. He turned around and asked me “How can I help you, little boy?” It was NOT my dad. I screamed bloody murder.  My dad, who had been looking for me, heard my scream and retrieved me.

Despite my misadventure, I made regular trips to the mall, with my parents or sister at first, and later on my own with my high school friends. Richmond Mall seemed to have everything. A small second level near the mall’s center included a magic shop which I found fascinating.  I saw King Kong at the theater there - the mural outside the theater was more memorable than the movie. My grandmother and I frequently dined at a fancy restaurant there. I bought my first suit at Diamond’s men’s store. Shortly before graduating high school, I got a job at the Waldenbooks there.

The central fountain at Richmond Mall

Until I was about ten, there were two local malls: Severance Center and Richmond Mall. They were separate and distinct entities with different stores, restaurants, and cinemas. Initially, Severance was the more upscale of the two, boasting Higbee’s and Halle’s as anchors, while Richmond Mall had Sears and JCPenney.  Severance was my mother’s mall of choice, Richmond Mall was my father’s preference.

The Geranium room at Halle's

From Severance I remember Halle’s, which had a restaurant called the Geranium Room where my mother would buy me lunch as a reward for not misbehaving as she did her clothes shopping. There was also a small deli near the mall’s center, where my mom would get us sandwiches, and we would sit near the fountain and watch the water show as we enjoyed our food. When I was ten, I saw Star Wars three times at one of the two theaters at Severance. After graduating from high school, I worked at The Music Box - a classical and jazz record store recently relocated from Shaker Square.  I left Cleveland shortly thereafter.  Returning in the mid-1990s, I was struck by the deterioration both at Severance and Richmond Mall.

The west entrance to Richmond Mall.  

This striking architectural feature was removed 

when Macy's was added as a third anchor in the 1990s.

Richmond Mall underwent a major remodel in the late 1990s, being rebranded as Richmond Town Square.  But the traffic never returned to the levels it enjoyed during its heyday of the 1960s and 70s and the stores became increasingly generic.  Mall rents were simply too high for the independent retailers that were there before.  Once the Barnes & Noble there closed, I had little reason to goto Richmond Mall.  B&N became a Planet Fitness which Daniel went to until a new branch opened at Cedar Center.  

Shortly before the turn of the millennium, Severance was essentially turned inside out and reopened as Severance Town Center, with entirely new stores: Borders, Home Depot, Walmart, a grocery store, a Bally’s gym.  Again, generic stuff you could find anywhere else.  Borders died during the Great Recession and the Bally’s location became another gym.  Walmart moved to Oakwood Commons in 2013.  Severance Town Center suffers from low occupancy, with some of the outlying buildings, including the former IHOP, shuttered.  Somehow, it continues to limp along despite poorly maintained and nearly empty parking areas.

A certain type of person will blame the demise of Richmond Mall as the result of “urban” culture ruining the shopping experience. Others will blame online shopping.  I won’t wallow in nostalgia for an era that was not objectively “better.”  Both Richmond and Severance both started going downhill after Randall Park Mall (claimed to be the world’s largest shopping mall when opened, now torn down and replaced by an Amazon warehouse) and Beachwood Place opened. By the 1980s, I noticed the carpeting along Richmond Mall’s long corridors was looking frayed.  This was, obviously, long before online shopping became an option.  Truth be told, there are only so many shopping centers that can be supported in an area with a declining population.

This begs the question: should older, out of date shopping centers like Severance and Richmond Mall be somehow protected when newer and arguably better shopping centers like Legacy Village and Pinecrest are serving the area’s consumers?  I believe not.

As Terence Mann (played by James Earl Jones) said in Field of Dreams: “America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again.”  That is what is happening near the northeast corner of Richmond and Wilson Mills Roads.  The new development, Belle Oaks, is arguably the best use for this parcel of land.  After years of delays, I look forward to seeing the finished product. 

 

*Photos courtesy Cleveland Historical Society and Cleveland Memory

86 hours without electricity

In August of 2003, while working as a piano store manager, I saw the lights dim for about 30 seconds, then flicker, finally failing entirely, unaware that I was experiencing the first moments of a blackout that covered much of the northeastern United States and parts of Canada.  The area on the west side of Cleveland where I was living and working saw its power restored within 24 hours.  Many others experienced a far longer period without electricity.

Almost exactly 20 years later, just after midnight on Friday, August 25, 2023, I was awakened by a howling noise outside our home in South Euclid, Ohio.  Noticing my electricity was out, I looked out my bedroom window and saw branches on the two large oak trees on our front lawn bending with the wind in a manner I did not know was possible.  Unaware that tornado warnings had been issued locally, I took no special precautions, but went back to bed, confident that power would be restored in short order. 

When I awoke again shortly before 5:00am, I looked out my window again and saw darkness.  Grabbing a flashlight and stepping outdoors, I spotted our recycling bin upended on my neighbor’s property.  I gathered the scattered recyclables, returned them to the bin, then returned the bin to its proper resting place.  Branches of varying sizes were scattered throughout the property.  I heard a work crew nearby.  Following the sounds, I saw they were dealing with a fallen tree one block over.  Walking back to my own street, I saw a tree leaning on a power line. 

Clearly, this was no ordinary storm. The Cleveland area received a record number of tornado warnings within a short space of time – with several touching down and one causing extensive damage in Cleveland’s Midtown district.  Our area is used to winter challenges, summer heat, and seasonal thunderstorms – multiple tornadoes, not so much.  As I wrote in an email to a young relative: Some people will just say “Oh, the climate has always been this way.”  But I am more and more inclined to believe that Mother Earth is pissed-off at us humans, and I don’t blame her.  Beyond a doubt, we are the primary cause of climate change.  Tornado warnings were almost unknown in our area – but we’ve had several in the last 10 years, last night’s caused a lot of damage, and the number of severe storms has increased exponentially.

After Dan left for his job, I headed to my employer’s campus to work (I’ve been largely working from home since the early days of COVID).  As information came in about the extent of the storm and blackouts, I decided to book a hotel for Friday night.  But I was hopeful, as the total number of customers lacking power had gone from over 224,000 without power at 8:00am to 160,000 by 4:00pm.  After work and before heading to the hotel, Dan & I spent about an hour cleaning up the yard.  Fortunately, there was no damage to the house – including to our new storm windows.  A few days before, a major rainstorm confirmed that our street’s newly refurbished water runoff inlets were functioning well, with none of the flooding on our street we’d become accustomed to after even small rainfalls. 

After awakening in our hotel room Saturday morning, Dan & I headed back home to see power was not restored, largely as I expected given that I was following the outages listed on First Energy’s website.  I took advantage of the relative quiet on our street to make some piano recordings – fortunately, my old Mason & Hamlin upright does not require electricity.  

Piano by candlelight

We spent the rest of the weekend seeking out places to go where we could pass the time in relative comfort: walking in some parks, dining at restaurants, seeing a film – while periodically checking to see if power was restored.  While driving around, we saw the damage in Midtown.

Damage at the Dunham Tavern Museum

  

I also perused social media, posting information where useful, and observing posts and comments from various people.  A long-held belief of mine was confirmed: An appallingly high percentage of people have no idea how the world around them works.  I saw posts blaming the mayor of my municipality and those of other municipalities for everything from the time they were without power to the presence of flooding.  In our area, the Northeast Ohio Regional Sewer District is responsible for maintaining the sewers; if your street floods, contact them.  If your local creek floods, well, that’s what creeks do when it rains, and if you made the decision to live next to a creek, that’s on you.  If your power hasn’t been restored yet, the mayor has no control over that.  For what it’s worth, I will comment that the South Euclid services department was at work clearing branches as soon as the weather had cleared; further, the city advised that people could come to city hall if they needed to charge their devices.   

I have no complaints about the line workers from First Energy who worked long hours to get power back online – to say nothing of the many workers who came from outside of Ohio to help.  They worked their butts off.  The problem, as it often is, stems with poor management, from the CEO on down – which puts profit over providing a service which people rely on.  They did not prepare, and their communications were poor.  For example, I signed up to their automated system so I could be informed when my power was restored.  Within a few hours, I received multiple communications giving conflicting information.  First, I received a text that power would be restored by 2:00pm Monday; a half hour later, another text stated the power would be restored by 8:00pm Wednesday – followed by an automated phone call stating the same; 40 minutes later a further text stated that power would be restored by 4:00pm Monday, followed by another text 20 minutes later that power had been restored.  It had been out for 86 hours.

Make up your mind.

Here are some lessons learned from the past week’s experience:

Northeast Ohio’s tree canopy needs to be better managed, especially in more densely populated communities.  Our tree canopy is a wonderful thing – relatives and friends who have moved out of state have told me how much they miss it.  The two oak trees on my property, which I spend plenty of money to keep trimmed, provide enough shade to keep my electric bills at a reasonable level.  But in communities such as South Euclid, trees should not be permitted to grow without a plan for management – especially those trees which are near homes or power structures.  The repair of our localized loss of power was delayed because a large tree fell onto an unoccupied house, taking down several power lines and a transformer with it.  

Tree damage at a nearby house

The other item is something I’ve believed for years: The United States should embark on program to upgrade, modernize, and protect our energy grid from hazards including weather events and hacking.  Wherever possible, utility lines should be moved underground.  A colleague of mine did not lose power, largely because her community is newer and their power lines are underground.  Those of us who live in older communities, and who pay the same for electricity, should enjoy the same reliability.  The nationwide migration of utilities underground would be a massive undertaking, but no more than the building of the Interstate Highway system or the infrastructure created during the New Deal.  It would require cooperative efforts from Federal, State, and Local governments along with utility providers.  The biggest obstacle is the lack of leadership in both parties to lower the hammer and make it happen – because an effort of this magnitude would require at least partial public funding, which would require a tax increase on the wealthy.  So, a project such as this, which would have the added benefit of greatly improving aesthetics in our neighborhoods and commercial districts, will likely not happen in my lifetime. 

As I said in the email to my young relative: Our climate is changing.  We’re not going to be able to conserve our way out of the climate crisis.  We need to be prepared.

2022 in Review

2022 saw a continuation of the return to normalcy that began in 2021.  I continued my quest to get into better shape that began with my COVID vaccination and return to working out in 2021.  Since May of that year, I have lost over 30 pounds through a combination of diet and exercise – mostly the former.  I didn’t do anything radical: just reduced carbohydrates and sugar, which in turn reduced cravings for food.  That, along with just 30 minutes of exercise six times a week brought my weight down to its lowest point since 2006.  Although I remain overweight, I feel much better and, without wanting to boast, I look better as well.  Being able to work from home, only occasionally going to my employer’s campus, has been a great help to me in my fitness quest: not having to commute saves me over 40 minutes of each day.

Daniel and I continued our travel adventures with an autumn trip to Canada and New England in place of an originally planned trip to Europe.  Travelling by car enabled us to avoid the air travel meltdown that continues to plague North America and Europe, and we saw much that we would have missed. 

On the musical front, after tentatively dipping our toes back into the musical waters of Cleveland in 2021, Daniel and I began regularly attending concerts again.  There were too many concerts to mention comprehensively, but standouts were  Behzod Abduraimov’s fearless performance of Prokofiev’s Second Piano Concerto and Igor Levit’s effervescent Brahms Second Concerto. 

 

Aside from that, my musical activities have mostly been focused on composing several short works for piano and administrating my Vladimir Horowitz Facebook group.

 

Speaking of COVID, I experienced it in late-May.  At first, it seemed like an ordinary sinus infection, which is common for me as summer approaches.  Then my palms and the soles of my feet turned beet red, prompting me to get tested.  As I had been vaccinated, the symptoms were mild and I lost only one day of work – although it would have been more if I didn’t work from home.  I felt better in short order, but two weeks later the skin on my palms and feet suddenly began peeling off – evidently rejected by my immune system.   

 

In the wider world, Vladimir Putin’s chest-thumping led to Russian’s brutal and illegal occupation of the sovereign nation of Ukraine.  The war has not gone as Putin has expected, thanks to fearless Ukrainian soldiers assisted by weapons from the West, especially the United States.  Further, Western sanctions have nearly crippled the Russian economy, leading to domestic unrest.  I’ve been doing my small part to help but won’t disclose exactly how on this blog.

 

Democrats performed better than expected in the 2022 midterm elections.  They would have held the House if not for aggressive gerrymandering in Republican led states, including Ohio.  Also, too many Americans have become spoiled, entitled brats who decided to whine about inflation while forgetting that the economy was at a dead standstill just two short years ago.  The inflation of the last year is not the result of Democratic or Biden Administration policies, it’s due to the law of supply and demand which is the centerpiece of capitalism: coming out of COVID, there was a sharp increase in demand without the resources to meet those demands due, in part, to a lack of imports from China.  The increased desire for both road and air travel drove fuel prices, which drove up prices for everything else.  Instead of taking logical actions, like driving less or getting more fuel efficient cars, too many Americans decided to crab about it while ignoring our own history: The economic situation in 2021-22 has a parallel with that of 1946-1947, where the conversion from a wartime to a peacetime economy and a generation of servicemen returning home to start families drove not only inflation but a housing shortage.  But while countries like China and Russia are struggling economically, and while Europe and the UK struggle with inflation far more serious than occurred in the United States, the American economy remains relatively sturdy and resistant to attempts by the Federal Reserve Bank to slow it down.  At this point, it’s an open question as to whether President Biden should run again.  Personally, I think he should not.  Biden can decline another nomination and go down in history as among the most successful one-term Presidents, and having done his duty, retire like Cincinnatus, clearing the way for a new generation of leadership.  But anyone who doubts that we’re much better off than we were two years ago needs a reminder of the lockdowns, how hospitals were overrun, and stores and restaurants were closed – and President Biden’s steady leadership is a major factor in changing that. 

 

On a very personal note, 2022 saw the blossoming of a friendship with a person whom I’d known peripherally for years.  The result has been a new perspective on the arc of my life, a renewed sense of purpose, and the slow opening of a heart that’s closed for all but those truly close to me.  My greatest hope is that this friendship continues for as long as I do. 

The American Revolution was not just about taxes

 

On being vaccinated against COVID-19

Today I observed the 90^th anniversary of Leonard Nimoy’s birth by doing the logical thing and getting vaccinated against COVID-19.  The timing was coincidental.  After spending hours refreshing pages at the Ohio Department of Health website, only to find local appointments already filled, I opted to head downtown to the mass vaccination site at the Wolstein Center.  Setting up the appointment was a snap.

This site is being run by the Ohio National Guard, and I can only say it was a model of efficiency, run like a well-tooled machine at every step in the process.  I can’t imagine a better or more compassionate use of our tax dollars than sites like these - in patriotism filled not with jingoistic chest-thumping, but in the spirit of service and concern for one's fellow Americans.

Parking was readily available, the lot I was directed to only about 1/4^th filled.  Noticing signs admonishing against taking photographs, I was directed to tents near the designated entrance, was asked if I had any symptoms of illness, and handed three pages of information about COVID and the vaccine to be administered: Pfizer.  I then entered the building, was temperature scanned, and directed toward an admittance table where my information was taken.  Then I was directed to the site on the main floor, the very surface on which I’d seen Cleveland State athletes and the Cleveland Crunch, and sent to one of the many carefully distanced chairs that had been set up there.  National Guard personnel then proceeded down each lane of chairs taking information: Had I received any vaccinations within the last two weeks?  Have I ever experienced a reaction from being vaccinated?  Do I have any allergies?  And so forth.  This information was entered into a pad.  Then I was asked when I wanted my next appointment, selected a time, and before I’d had a chance to write myself a reminder note, I received a text notification with my next date.  This was followed in a few minutes by a second Guardsman with a cart on wheels – rather like the carts flight-attendants use to deliver snacks – who handed me my vaccination card and administered the shot. 

Most recipients were happy to be able to receive their poke.  The exception was someone near me who was obviously in a state of anxiety.  The Guardsman who had taken my information summoned some counselors who came by and calmed this person’s fears.  Another thing I noticed about the recipients was that they were overwhelmingly white.  This is very concerning in a majority-minority city like Cleveland.   A better job needs to be done in getting vaccines to those without internet access and addressing understandable concerns in minority communities about the vaccine (many, quite reasonably, have not forgotten the Tuskegee Syphilis experiment).

Within ten minutes of my entering the building, I had been vaccinated.  I then waited in the same chair for the designated 15 minutes to ensure I had no allergic reactions.  I spent that time reflecting on the fine young people who volunteered to protect the United States from “all enemies, foreign and domestic” and serve their country.  It also occurred to me that, despite the xenophobic comments by some, there is no such thing as a “foreign” or a “domestic” virus.  Viruses do not have passports and the spread of disease is the inevitable result of our modern world where international travel is so speedy and so accessible to so many.  There will be more novel viruses in the future, and how we react to them will determine whether we have learned lessons from the disaster known as 2020.  At that point, another Guardsman asked me how I was feeling.  I replied that I felt great and thanked him for being there.  Something then occurred to me, and I told him “You’re probably going to tell your grandkids about this.”  He nodded and mentioned to me this was the second time he had been involved in such an operation – the first was in Africa during the Ebola epidemic.  Then a fourth Guardsman addressed the crowd and asked to let him know if there was anything the Guard could do better – noting that some had already suggested a beer truck outside.  He also mentioned something that I wish to pass along: if there are any who are reluctant to get the vaccine for religious reasons related to personal modesty, the guard has provided several curtained off areas where the recipient will have privacy and be vaccinated by someone of the same gender.  Those of us remaining applauded as he left.  At that point, it was time for me to go, and the procedure for leaving was even easier than it had been for admission.   I drove home with a smile on my face.  But when I got home, I wept.  Tears of joy, tears of pride for my country, tears of relief and hope that this will soon be over.

Vaccines and sanitation are the two primary reasons why average life-expectancy increased so dramatically during the 20^th Century.  Over the past few years, that trend has started to reverse in the United States, and part of the reason is anti-vaccine sentiment led by anti-science hysteria and at least one misleading – and now discredited – study.  It is time for a return to sanity and respect for earned expertise. 

Get the shot.

2020 in Review

There are years which linger in memory for all the wrong reasons.  1980, the year of my parents’ divorce and my abduction to California, is one.  2005 is another, for reasons I won’t enumerate here.  In many ways, 2020 will eclipse them all.  Certainly, 2020 was the most challenging year Americans have faced since 1968, with consequences even more devastating.  For me, it was a year of personal disruption and concern for friends, for family, for nation, and for our world.

2020 marked the passing of a member of my extended family, with other members of Dan’s and my family facing profound medical challenges, which occupy a large portion of our thoughts.

But for me the most personally devastating event of 2020 was the death of my dog Mason.  At the beginning of 2020, he seemed healthy and vigorous, and I hoped he might make it to the age of 15.  But he began to slow down in the spring and deteriorated further in the summer – dying just short of his 12^th birthday.  I still think of Mason every day, feel a pang in my gut from missing him.  Daniel and I have considered getting another dog (or two) but have decided to hold off until the pandemic is under control and life returns to relative normal.  With me working at home full time, a sudden return to onsite work might be distressing for a dog.    

Now he's with the angels.

Just as there are those who shared with their grandchildren their experience of combat in World War II, or where they were when President Kennedy was assassinated, or how they watched the first moon landing, there are those today who will tell younger generations of how we sheltered in our homes, avoided restaurants except for take-out, and wore masks during the year of COVID-19. And we will tell tales of the willfully ignorant who laughed at the very real threat COVID poised, refused to wear masks, making asses of themselves while bringing danger to themselves and others – and how a number of them faced a fatal comeuppance.  Those fools will go down in history alongside those who protested against school integration and civil rights.  Those who lost loved ones to COVID – without even being able to properly say “goodbye” – will have the most poignant stories of all.  And we will, hopefully, remember and speak of the lessons we learned at a frightful cost: Listen to the scientists, not the political propagandists.  Put the needs of your community above your own convenience.

Working from home, which will likely continue for me until summer 2021, has been a mixed bag.  On the plus side, not having to commute to work gives me back about an hour of my day and saves the cost of commuting and buying lunch (I’m too lazy to brown bag it).  On the other hand, my home utility bills have increased due to additional usage.  Most of all, I miss my work friends.

Home offices have their advantages

The pandemic has created ripples that extend far beyond the sick and dying.  Public events from concerts to sports were cancelled or moved online.  Who among us will forget the bizarre experience of watching baseball players in an empty stadium, with a cardboard cutout crowd and recorded cheers?  After over a century, the art form of cinema is likely near an end – at least as far as groups of strangers purchasing tickets and overpriced food to crowd into a closed room with often sticky floors and stare at a screen.  I’ve enjoyed the shared experience of movie theatres since I was a child, but the writing has been on the wall for a decade and is now crystal clear: streaming is replacing movie theatres.  I am hopeful this will not be the case for live performances, which are ephemeral and can’t be fully captured by a screen of any size or home speakers of even the finest quality.  That hope is backed up by the fact that whenever Daniel and I have gone to Severance Hall and especially Playhouse Square, the house has been well filled – which was rarely the case with cinema before the pandemic.    

We will also likely tell subsequent generations about the anxious, fraught week following the November election – undoubtedly the most consequential our nation has faced since 1940 – and the weeks of disinformation emanating from Donald Trump and his enablers, their pathetic posturing, and futile legal efforts to thwart the clear will of the American people. 

The Trump era has been a difficult one for Daniel and me, and we seriously considered becoming expatriates should Trump get a second term.  As it is, even with Trump’s defeat we have reexamined our future priorities and relationship to my home state of Ohio.  Most of my formative years were spent here, and I returned age 27 after nine years in Massachusetts to care for my maternal grandmother after the death of my mother.  But it’s clear to me that Ohio has changed over the past decades, and not for the better.  With each passing year, it becomes less and less likely we will remain here past retirement and we may leave even before then.  I will miss Cleveland’s rich cultural landscape, but as my hearing continues to slowly deteriorate, will likely not derive as much pleasure as I have from the Cleveland Orchestra or Playhouse Square over the past decades.  Nor is it likely we will move to Florida, even though I have family there – unless that state’s political landscape changes drastically for the better. 

The above opens a dilemma for me.  Where to live my last years?  A blue oasis in a deep red state is something I’ve experienced in Cleveland and likely would in Tampa.  Many blue states, on the other hand, are beyond my reach financially.  A relative of mine who is known neither for her wit nor her sagacity ranted that “liberals” are why California is so expensive to live in.  But the reality is that even in the most left-wing locations, including the West Coast, capitalism drives the market.  More and more, New Mexico is looking promising – there are suburbs of Santa Fe that are affordable, and the city offers the kind of cultural amenities usually seen in much larger metropolises.   

For those who believe I am obsessing over something that is over a decade away, planning for the future has always been a way to help me navigate through a difficult present. 

Meanwhile, I am using time alone to work on myself.  One such effort is to correct an issue that’s been unresolved since my teenage years: my teeth.  I never had braces even though I needed them.  In November, I began the process of correcting the issue via aligners.  There has been some minor discomfort, but this is both expected and manageable.

1968, a traumatic year, ended on a hopeful note with Apollo 8’s orbit of the moon, allowing humans their first opportunity to see their planet as one organism.  

2020 is ending with vaccines against COVID-19 that appear to be over 90% affective, and the disintegration of the Trump Administration, despite the disgraced soon to be ex-President’s attempts at a coup.  But the more things change, the more they stay the same.  It seems inevitable that our societal divisions, driven by gun zealotry, religious fundamentalism, and Randian Objectivism, will continue.  

I hope the lessons of 2020 will not be forgotten.

Mason: 2008-2020

Mason adopting a regal pose - 2016

Mason, our dog, has passed away.  A chapter closes on the best pet I ever had or could hope to have. 

Born in September of 2008, Mason was a happy accident, one of a litter of seven - the result of a dog getting away from her owner while she was in heat.  We never tested his DNA, but by physical features and temperament, he appeared to be a Retriever/Collie mix.  We adopted him in November of that year, and Daniel held him as Mason whined all the way to his, and our, new home.  We put the tiny puppy on a pet bed we had just purchased, and he was quickly napping – exhausted from the trip.  The day after we adopted him, I playfully rested my head on Mason’s bed, and he used his tiny paw to push my head off – this was now his bed.  

Yes, Mason was assertive at times, and not always calmly submissive.  But his assertiveness always had a purpose: whether reminding me it was time to wake up, time for his walk, or reminding others that when I had the floor, they should not interrupt (he would silence them by mounting the offender’s leg).  Mason was very strong: when he was about a year old, he spotted a rabbit in the yard and took off after it, nearly pulling my arm out of its socket as his running snapped his leash in half.  But with time Mason became highly disciplined: accidents were exceedingly rare – he had an iron bladder and was housetrained within a few weeks.  And he was always on the alert to warn us of nearby deer or the postal carrier.  Mason learned the standard repertoire of tricks: sitting on command, laying down, grabbing treats from my mouth, staying in place until he was released by a snap of my fingers, and shaking my hand.  He never mastered rolling over, but made up for it by being able to chase his tail on command.  Mason was sharper than any dog I’ve ever known: He assimilated to the rhythms of our day within a few weeks and knew how to read my every mood.  Every morning, he would race down the stairs to the kitchen and would happily sniff the aroma of brewing coffee.  After his morning walk, he would go to his downstairs “spot” and await his breakfast treat.   As time for work approached, he would bark to remind us not to be late.  When I got home, he would stand in the kitchen while I was three steps below in the back hallway, he would then jump up, place his paws on my shoulders, and greet me with a hug.  I would offer him a dog biscuit, which he would take out of my mouth.  Then he would patiently await dinner.  He would not touch his dinner until we had eaten, not even when it was waiting in his bowl – and he never begged us for food but willingly took any morsels we offered.  He figured out when TV programs and films were finished, and would get up and remind us that it was time for his evening walk.  Just before bedtime, I would give him a final treat.  Then he would walk the perimeter of the first floor, checking the windows for intruders, bound upstairs, and hop into bed.    

Mason also knew when things were off kilter.  In 2009, I had a bad flu and spent several days in bed.  Mason stayed in bed with me, often sitting up and watching me carefully.  Around that time, I cut my finger and, seeing it, Mason held it in place with one paw while applying healing saliva.  Eight years later, as I recovered from hernia surgery, Mason was careful not to pull on the leash when I took him outside. 

As recently as early Spring of this year, Mason was consistently rambunctious and engaged.  Even a few months ago, people would see him while on his twice daily constitutional and ask “Is he a puppy?”  They would be amazed when I told them Mason was a senior dog.  Then I began to notice changes.  He seemed uninterested in the deer or rabbits that occasionally grace our yard, and even ignored them during his walks, but would still pull on the leash and bark when encountering an unauthorized dog or his worst enemy: skateboarders.  Then, about a month before he passed, he would no longer jump up to grab a waiting treat from my mouth, began to have trouble with the stairs, and I noticed his gait became awkward.  I chalked these things up to age.  But when he forgot his repertoire of tricks, didn’t respond to ordinary commands like “come”, and seemed to not recognize me, I knew the end was near.   In the last week he lost his appetite and began to have accidents – which had never been a problem before.  Soon he had to be helped outside.  When he stopped accepting water, we used a dropper to keep him hydrated.  On Mason’s last day and night, we lay on the floor with him, comforting him as best we could as his breathing grew shallow and his eyes glassy.  We did not want to prolong his suffering, so we contacted an at-home euthanasia service.  I mention these facts not in grief, but with gratitude that Mason’s decline was so quick.  Would that we were all so lucky.

In our mourning, Dan and I remember that Mason had a fuller life than most canines.  He travelled extensively: from Vermont in the northeast all the way down to the Gulf Coast of Florida; he partook of dog friendly towns like Savannah, Georgia; visited several outdoor memorials in Washington, DC;  Mason walked the sand dunes of Indiana, rode through Chicago, and went as far west as Waukesha, Wisconsin.  He made many friends along the way, canine and human.   My one regret is that he never met my father, a fellow dog lover.  But they conferenced on Skype several times before my dad died in 2016. 

For all but the first two weeks after we moved into our home, we shared it with Mason.  The house seems awfully empty without him.  No doubt, we will eventually adopt a new puppy – and if he’s half as wonderful as Mason was, we will be doubly blessed.  But Mason will always hold a special place in our hearts.

Our first picture of Mason, aged eight weeks.

Mason about to remind me that I was on his bed.

From an early age Mason was always up for a cuddle or a kiss.

But he liked his time in the yard too - especially in snow.

Trying to pose for 2008 Christmas photos.

Christmas day, 2008

May, 2009

Playing with a friend at South Euclid's dog park. 

Christmas day, 2010.

Dan & Mason in Burlington, VT - 2012

At the entrance to the FDR Memorial - 2013

In the FDR Memorial's 3rd Term room - Mason tried to sniff Fala statue's butt.

At the Martin Luther King Memorial.

Mason playing tug o' War, 2015 - he won.

By 2019 Mason had taken on a wizened appearance.

At Minooka Park, Waukesha, WI.

At Indiana Dunes National Park, early 2020.

As recently as June of 2020, Mason was eager to adopt a dignified pose.