Happy Birthday, My Love

Today is The Wife’s birthday!

As is my usual tradition, below is the post that I reuse every year and keep adding to in really ungainly fashion. This post actually first lived on the old BlogSpot incarnation of this site and now it’s over here on WordPress…and I’m not using the old-school WordPress interface anymore, I use the one with “blocks”, and this post, as Dr. Cox might say, ruh-heellly does not work well in blocks, so if the formatting here is a bit “janky”, as the kids say, that’s why.

As I write this, she and I are approaching our 29th anniversary in May, with six years of dating before that…in fact, the 35th anniversary of our very first date was just four days ago, and six days before that was the 35th anniversary of the night in 1991 when she and I were in the same cluster of friends heading off to the local bar to celebrate my then-roommate’s birthday, a night when at some point she and I ended up sitting next to each other and I thought, “Huh, she’s cute….”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about memories, both specific and not, and how some dreams came true and some did not and how some that did are dreams that I didn’t know I had or maybe I didn’t have them at the time. I did dream about having someone whose hand I could hold during movies or go see the new Star Wars or James Bond with; and I did dream about someone who might hang out in art museums and libraries and cool shopping places. I dreamed about having someone to laugh with, someone to put up with my crap and cook for me and eat what I cooked. I dreamed about being with someone who would be willing to occasionally dispatch a pie into my face. I did not originally dream about having a family, and I certainly never dreamed about having dogs. I didn’t dream about flying with someone to Hawaii or standing on a sidewalk in New York City at 7am on Thanksgiving, waiting for the parade to start. But all those dreams came true. I’m hoping for many more years of dreams coming true, whether they’re dreams I have right now or not.

And now, the messiest post of every one I’ve ever put on this site…and I’m not ever going to clean it up. As always, new stuff is added toward the end of the list; also as always, I don’t edit what I’ve written before or revise anything that’s out of date. Think of some of that stuff as growth rings on a tree…part of the reason of this post is to preserve memories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday, my love!

 

 

 

 

 

The Wife and the Dee-oh-gee at Taughannock Falls. Aren't they beautiful! #wife #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound #taughannockfalls

 


Today is The Wife’s birthday! Onward and upward, as always!

 

A brief slideshow of photos (some of which are already on this post, but I like them and it’s my blog, so there they are again!) follows. The song is “Live Forever” by Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors, a wonderful band.

 

Birthday video for The Wife

 


And now, my annual list of memories and things from our years together. (New items on the list are appended to Number 97, alphabetically. I do this because I’m too lazy to renumber all the stuff after that one every year.)

 

Happy Valentines Day to my beautiful wife! This was taken last summer. We probably need a photo of us with the dee-oh-gee....

 

 

Wife and Dee-oh-gee on a nice Christmas walk! #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound #ChestnutRidge #OrchardPark #wny #winter

 

 

 

 

 

Santa, the Wife, and the dee-oh-gee! #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound

 

 

 

 

 

We took the dee-oh-gee for his first ice cream. #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound

 

 

 

 

 

Posing with Patience (or is it Fortitude?)

 

 

 

 

 

The Wife and I at the Erie County Fair!

 

 

 

 

/PHOTO_20151129_213848

 

 

The Wife and the dee-oh-gee in Buffalo Creek, West Seneca. #wny #westseneca

 

 

 

 

 

I am reasonably sure that I was a placeholder all these years for the eventual dog.

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday to Me! VI: The pies go in my face, Huzzah!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. Her hand fits perfectly into mine, as though our hands were fit for each other.

 

1a. That said, there’s a good chance that she prefers the dog to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. The first time she saw Star Wars was with me. And ET.

 

2a. The first time I saw Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty were with her.

 

3. She used to keep an aquarium before a bunch of moves made us give up the fish. Maybe we’ll do that again someday. But when we started dating, she had two fish, named Ken and Wanda, named after two memorable characters from A Fish Called Wanda. When Ken went belly-up, she called a friend and solemnly informed her, “K-k-k-ken d-d-d-died.” (One of the movie’s running gags is Ken’s stuttering.)

 

4. I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but I’ve converted her from someone who hated coffee into a regular coffee drinker.

 

5. For reasons passing understanding, she has always found Erik Estrada attractive. She and I used to have arguments over who could best the other in a fight: Agent Mulder from The X-Files or Ponch from Chips. (I think Mulder would have blinded Ponch with the beam from those giant blue-beamed flashlights he and Scully were always toting, and then beaten him into submission with his eternally-able-to-get-a-signal cell phone.)

 

6. One of the first things we cooked together was Spanish rice, which is to this day a comfort dish of ours. The first time we made it together was also the first time she’d ever cooked with actual bulb garlic, as opposed to garlic powder. The recipe called for a clove, but she thought the entire head was a clove, so into the rice the entire head of garlic went. That was the best Spanish rice ever.

 

7. A few years ago she baked a Bundt cake for The Daughter’s birthday, but the damned thing stuck in the pan, resulting not in a ring but a mound. So she just mounded it up, glopped the frosting right over the top, and called it a “Volcano Cake”. Now, every year at her birthday, The Daughter says, “Remember the Volcano Cake?”

 

8. Our first date was to see Edward Scissorhands. So, Johnny Depp’s been there since the beginning, from Edward all the way to Captain Jack Sparrow and beyond.

 

9. We used to go out for chicken wings and beer every Thursday night. We didn’t even miss our Thursday night wing night when The Daughter was born: her birth was on a Saturday, and we left the hospital on Tuesday, so at the tender age of five days, The Daughter entered a bar for the first time. This may have made us bad parents, but I don’t think so. A girl’s got to know how to handle herself in a bar, right?

 

9a. She’s not a huge fan of when I post photos of her sleeping.

 

Yes, I will get yelled at for this, but she's so cute when she sleeps...even when it's during her favorite teevee show!

 


10. She insisted on breastfeeding both The Daughter and Little Quinn, which in both cases required lots of pumping. Especially in Little Quinn’s case, since he was never able to eat by mouth. Every drop of breastmilk that entered his body went in via the G-tube, so for as long as her production held up, she pumped six times a day.

 

11. I’ll probably never completely understand how much of herself she sacrificed in fourteen months to keep Little Quinn alive and progressing. It seems, in retrospect, that every free day she had was given to him.

 

12. That same instinct in her kicked in again when Fiona was in danger. She didn’t question the necessity or possibility of spending months flat on her back with her feet inclined, if that was what it took. If commitment was all that was needed, Fiona would be here today. (Of course, if commitment was all that was needed, Little Quinn would be here and Fiona wouldn’t have happened.)

 

13. We used to associate certain teevee shows with the snack foods we’d eat while watching them. NYPDBlue was always chips-and-salsa. ER, when we still watched it, was often good ice cream. Now, good ice cream has been transposed to Grey’s Anatomy.

 

14. “Our” first teevee show was LA Law.

 

15. Subsequent teevee shows of “ours” included ERMad About YouThe PretenderProfilerCSIFirefly, and more.

 

16. On our first Internet account, we set up our combined e-mail identity after the two main characers on The Pretender. We were “Jarod and Miss Parker”. People familiar with the show wondered what that said about our relationship, since Jarod and Miss Parker aren’t allies. In fact, Miss Parker was initially a villain but as the show went on her character became much more complex.

 

17. She started roller blading, got me hooked, and then promptly stopped roller blading. Now she prefers biking.

 

18. It was almost without warning that I met her parents for the first time. We started dating late February 1991; a couple of weeks later was spring break, for a week, so I came home to Buffalo. At the end of that week I tried calling her, only to learn from the old lady she was renting a room from that she wasn’t home because of a death in her family. I remembered her saying something about a sick grandfather, and that’s what turned out to have happened; her grandfather had passed away from Lou Gehrig’s Disease. When I got back out to school, her entire family was there. So I met the future in-laws on the spot. Luckily, I seem to have made some kind of decent impression.

 

19. Our first long trip together was from Iowa to Idaho, to visit her family, a couple of weeks before school began in August of 1992. She had already graduated college, but I was in my senior year. While we were out there, the infamous Ruby Ridge Incident was taking place twenty miles down the road, so all week there were National Guard vehicles on the roads and helicopters overhead.

 

20. I am forever amazed at her ability to take some fabric and create a garment. This skill of hers looks like magic to me.

 

21. Her first pair of overalls were a gift from me. She thought the whole thing was goofy – maybe she still does! – but she wore them for years until at one point they became too small for her, and then a short while later they became too big for her. We didn’t start wearing overalls together until we’d been dating for about a year.

 

22. Back in the 90s, on two different occasions, we picked out Persian kittens. Both were wonderful cats, both are gone now, and we miss them both dearly. The first was a beautiful tortoiseshell Persian named Jasmine; the second was a red Persian named Simba. Both died in the year preceding this blog’s launch.

 

23. Adopting Lester and Julio was The Wife’s idea. I’m still unsold on these two giant lummox goofballs.

 

24. The Wife also took The Daughter to adopt Comet, when The Daughter was only two.

 

25. Shortly after The Wife moved to Western New York to be near me, she adopted a cat from the shelter she named Lilac. That cat never really liked me all that much. Lilac died a few months after Little Quinn passed.

 

25a. She is directly responsible for all the animals with whom we currently live.

 

Indulging Lester

 

 

Why they invented hotel rooms

 

 

Julio's favorite position

 

 

Cats and Wife. (And my left shoulder)

 

 

Snowmageddon '14, continued

 

 

Day 59: Clear wife, blurry dog. #100DaysOfHappiness #NewDog

 

 

The Wife is unimpressed with Julio's uninvited advances. (Notice Lester in the background.)
26. She loves to laugh, particularly at my expense. She is convinced I don’t think she’s funny, but that’s just not the case.

 

27. Things with which she has a deft touch include: a pair of scissors, a needle and thread, a kitchen knife, the mixer, bread dough, a screwdriver, a lug wrench, and a shot glass.

 

28. It irritates her that The Daughter has inherited my tolerance for sunlight — I tan, whereas The Wife burns.

 

29. The Wife likes to read, albeit not quite as much as I do. She always has a book going, and she reads every day.

 

30. She never used to use a bookmark, until I finally decided I was tired of watching her flip through a book looking for a passage that was familiar to her so she could find her place. I bought her a bookmark.

 

31. She loves nuts – except for walnuts and pecans, which I love. This makes it occasionally difficult find good brownies and similar items in bakeries, since many people default to putting pecans or walnuts in their brownies or other chocolate cookies.

 

32. When I first met her, she was a huge Anne Rice fan and read most of what Rice wrote until she decided that Rice’s output wasn’t interesting her much anymore. Since then she’s read a lot of other authors, including a lot of unfamiliar names whose books I’ve plucked from the stacks of offerings at library book sales over the years. Interesting how obscure even the bestsellers of yesteryear eventually become, huh? Currently she really loves Gregory Maguire, the Wicked guy.

 

33. When we first met, she was a Washington Redskins fan. So of course, the first Super Bowl we were together was the one where the Redskins knocked the Bills on their collective arse. Oh well, at least she hated the Cowboys.

 

34. She prefers her KFC “extra crispy”, where I’m an “Original Recipe” guy.

 

35. Movies that are particularly meaningful or nostalgic to us, in addition to Edward Scissorhands and Star Wars are Dances With WolvesTitanicThe Lord of the RingsSingin’ in the Rain, and the James Bond movies.

 

36. For some reason we didn’t take any pictures when we were on our honeymoon or when we were on our vacation to Disney a year later. I think we were between working cameras at those points…but lately I really wish we’d have addressed that at the time.

 

37. Things we did on our honeymoon to Cape Cod, Boston, and New Hampshire: road a boat out to sea to watch the whales; visited the New England Aquarium; ate dim sum in Boston’s Chinatown; bought lots of kitchenware at an outlet strip (don’t laugh, we still have some of that stuff); visited the Boston Science Museum. While doing two days in Boston we stayed at a hotel about forty miles out and road the train into town; on the second day, on the way back, we fell asleep on each other’s shoulders.

 

38. Our first argument as a couple resulted from a common misunderstanding between people when one is from Iowa and one is just living in Iowa for a while. I told her we’d meet for dinner, so she showed up at noon and got annoyed because I wasn’t there. Well, duh! I said “dinner”, not “lunch”. Except, remember, she’s a native Iowan, which means instead of eating breakfast, lunch and dinner like most (ahem) normal folks, she ate breakfast, dinner and supper. Thankfully, I’ve converted her since then. Whew!

 

39. Our first wedding anniversary saw us spending a week at Walt Disney World. What a wonderful time that was! Even if she managed to rip her toenail out two days into the trip, thus requiring me to push her around in a wheelchair the whole time after that.

 

40. She had long hair when we started dating, and I had short hair. Now we’ve reversed that.

 

41. Before we started dating, I had a beard. When I became interested in her, I shaved it so I’d look better. Then, I learned that she likes facial hair. So I grew the beard back a while later.

 

42. Foods I’ve tried because of her: asparagus, squash, rhubarb, grapefruit, and more that I don’t recall.

 

43. She loves George Carlin.

 

44. She bought me my first cell phone, and my second cell phone.

 

45. When we were at the Erie County Fair in 2001, she wandered off to look at the Bernina sewing machines. When I came by ten minutes or so later, she was in the process of buying a Bernina sewing machine. I didn’t complain; I just stood there, kind of looking shell-shocked.

 

46. Leading up to our wedding, she rigidly adhered to the notion that the groom should not see the bride in her wedding dress until she comes round the corner to walk down the aisle. So I didn’t see her until she came round the corner to walk down the aisle.

 

47. Starting a family was her idea. Not that I was against it; I figured we’d get there eventually. She just picked the “eventually”.

 

48. She picked The Daughter’s first name, so I got to pick her middle name.

 

48a. And now, this:

 

Old Photos of Little Quinn

 


49. Since Thanksgiving Break at college was only a four day weekend, I didn’t go home for T-giving my junior year; instead, I spent the weekend with her. We went to see her extended family out in Storm Lake, Iowa, which is on the other side of the state. Since she has family over there on both sides of the family, we ended up having two Thanksgiving dinners that day. Some part of me is still full from those two meals.

 

50. Iowa delicacies that The Wife and I share are pork tenderloin sandwiches and broasted chicken.

 

51. Some of our early dates were sufficiently cheap that we had to look for ATM machines that would dispense cash in five dollar denominations.

 

52. She bought Simba, the above-mentioned red Persian kitten, while we were on a shopping trip to Erie, PA. She fell in love with the kitten as soon as she saw him in the pet store; we then spent the rest of the day walking around the mall with me listening to her as she tried to talk herself out of buying him. (Persian kittens are pricey little buggers.) Finally, while we were at dinner at Red Lobster, she decided to pull the trigger.

 

53. Before Little Quinn, the most heartbroken I ever saw The Wife was the day we finally had to end Simba’s life. His kidneys were in failure.

 

54. Great gifts she’s bought me through the years: my current winter coat, a cupboard-full of drinking vessels of all types, candles, incense burners, the Star Wars original trilogy on DVD, my anniversary edition of The Lord of the Rings with paintings by Alan Lee, my star sapphire ring, my current wristwatch, and many more.

 

55. The first thing she ever gave me: a stuffed bear, around whose neck she tied a lavender ribbon. I think she doused it with perfume. I named that bear “Bertrand”, after philosopher Bertrand Russell.

 

56. The first thing I bought her: a little two-inch high figurine of a laughing Buddha. I think this confused her a bit.

 

57. Despite my best efforts for a while, she’s never much warmed to baseball. That used to bother me, but these days that doesn’t bug me much at all. I’m pretty cool to baseball myself now.

 

58. For a few years we went to Cedar Point each fall. We haven’t been there in a long time, but I always found being there with her in the fall, in the cool air, pretty romantic. I loved riding the Giant Wheel after dark, sitting up there with her hand in mine, looking out over Lake Erie.

 

59. At Cedar Point, she decided that she liked this one coaster that does loops, so I stayed on the ground while she rode it. I’m terrified of those things.

 

60. Why don’t we play mini golf more often? We both love mini golf. The Daughter loves mini golf. What gives?

 

61. One day in 1996, we were eating lunch in Buffalo when we had “The Discussion”. Any guy who’s ever been dating the same girl for a period of time measurable in years will know what “The Discussion” is. So I agreed, it was time for us to take the “next step”. Later on, while she was having her eyes examined at LensCrafters, I bopped over to Penney’s to buy her a ring. I chose a nice emerald one that looked really pretty. Sadly, they didn’t have it in her size, so they had to order it, which would take three weeks. So I figured, OK, I’ll get the ring in three weeks and make this thing official. Yay, Me!

 

62. The next day, she proposed to me.

 

63. Three weeks later I showed up to get the ring. They had it, but they couldn’t find the paperwork, so some poor guy at the pickup counter at Penney’s spent his entire lunch hour trying to find the paperwork so I could give my already-fiancee her engagement ring.

 

64. I don’t remember exactly when we picked out her wedding rings, but we each have an Irish wedding band, and each ring is set with the other person’s birthstone. So my ring is set with four amethysts, which is her birthstone; hers is set with four sapphires, which is mine.

 

65. For years I wore my ring incorrectly. Apparently there’s one way to wear an Irish wedding band that signifies being married, and another that signifies being single. I was wearing mine the “single” way. I was alerted to this by a guy I worked with at The Store; he said, “Yeah, you’re telling all the women that you’re available.” I replied, “Yeah, and I’m beating them off with a stick.”

 

66. On our honeymoon, it was important to her that she at least get to dip her toes in the Atlantic Ocean. So she did. The water was very cold, though.

 

66a. She replicated this moment years later when we took a trip to the Jersey Shore.

 

To the sea!

 


66b. We returned two years later.

 

The Wife enjoys a bit of quiet. #CapeMay

 


67. It always bugged her mother that she saw Niagara Falls before her mother did. Later we took her mother to Niagara when she was out for a visit.

 

68. During the summer of 1991, when I was at home and she was still in Iowa, she came to spend a week with me. I took her to Buffalo and to Toronto, on the way to which we stopped to see Niagara Falls for her first time.

 

69. She was really confused the first time a Japanese tourist asked her to take his picture in front of the Falls.

 

70. At the time our beer of choice was Labatt’s. It’s pronounced “la-BATS”, but we had a family friend at the time who liked to say it “LAB-uhts”, which is how I said it at college just for fun and habit. So when she visited me that summer, we went to the bar where this friend hung out, and he was so impressed when she ordered a “LAB-uhts”.

 

71. Our favorite mixed drink in college was the sloe gin fizz. A few years ago I tried making these again, discovering that her tastes had changed and she now found them sickeningly sweet. I like them still, but yeah, they’re sugary. (And pink. When I told a friend at work who knows everything about liquor that I’d bought some sloe gin, he laughed and said, “Oh good! Now you can make pink drinks!”)

 

72. She taught me the right way to do laundry.

 

73. I taught her the right way to crack open crab legs so as to not mangle the meat.

 

74. Our first major mistake of parenting was taking The Daughter to a fireworks display on the Fourth of July in 1999. The Daughter was all of fifteen days old. This was the big display in Lakewood, NY, which is right on the banks of Lake Chautauqua. The Daughter did not respond well to the fireworks detonating right over our heads; the sounds were bad and for years afterwards The Daughter was very scared of loud sounds.

 

75. We always say that we should go camping. We never actually do go camping. We need to do more camping.

 

76. Once for dinner I made some frozen cheese ravioli with sauce, a favorite meal of ours that we hadn’t had in a long time. She said that she was looking forward to “eating some cheesy goodness”. Unfortunately, the raviolis were a bit on the old and tough side, and the cheese never got nice and melty, so after the meal, she commented, “That wasn’t really cheesy goodness.”

 

77. She likes eggs over-easy. I’m not a big fan of those, but I try to make them for her when she’s getting over being sick.

 

78. She makes fun of my over-reliance on boxed mixes in the kitchen.

 

78a. I’m much better about this now. Her main kitchen complaint about me is that I make way too big a mess when I cook.

 

79. In 1993, when Cheers aired its final episode, she bought pizza for my roommate and I.

 

80. She only swears when she’s really annoyed.

 

81. She is not happy that her nine-year-old, fourth-grade daughter is now the same shoe size as she is.

 

82. A while back she had her hair colored a brighter shade of blond than is her natural color. It was awesome.

 

83. Before that she experimented with red. I’ve tried talking her into doing that again, but no dice.

 

84. When my aunt met her the night before our wedding, she made a comment to the effect that I was to be commended for adding blond hair and blue eyes to our gene pool.

 

85. The Daughter has blond hair and blue eyes. So did Little Quinn.

 

86. I’m not sure there’s a variety of seafood she dislikes.

 

87. I love the way she looks when she’s just come home from work and changed into her PJ’s.

 

88. Adopting Lester and Julio was her idea, but she claims the upper hand on that anyway because she was helping out my mother.

 

89. For some reason, The Daughter and I like to bring up at the dinner table the fact that The Wife, as a kid, had to help the family out on Chicken Butchering Day. I don’t know why.

 

90. She thinks Orlando Bloom is really attractive. I don’t see it, myself, but you can’t argue these things.

 

91. For my birthday in 1992 she drove me to Dyersville, IA so I could see the Field of Dreams.

 

92. If I want to spoil her, all I have to do is buy her blush wine, cashews, olives and chocolate. Cake helps, too.

 

93. She spoils me by looking the other way when I go to Borders; by making me waffles or French toast or Spanish rice; by cleaning the kitchen after I’ve messed it up; by indulging my love of pie; and a thousand other ways.

 

94. “You want me to hit you in the face with a pie?”
“Sure, it’ll be fun!”
“Kinda weird, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but still fun, right?”
“I dunno, let’s find out.”

It did take her a couple of attempts to nail down her technique, but she quickly realized she didn’t need to be super gentle with the pie. And really, folks, if you haven’t taken a pie in the face from the person you love, well…I’m not sure what you’re waiting for!

 

 

 

If you can't be ridiculously silly with the person you love, you're doing it wrong! Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!! #ValentinesDay #pieintheface #overalls #splat #SillinessIsAwesome

 

Splat! The meeting of Pie and Face

 

Patrick Starfish is surprised by my fate. #PatrickStarfish #pieintheface #overalls #splat

 

 

 

 

 

 

94a. We haven’t done this in a really long time. Hmmmm….


95. I know I’ve found the perfect girl for me when she describes our Thanksgiving in 2006 as being perfect because, after dinner, we went to see Casino Royale. In her words: “We had a big turkey dinner, and then we watched James Bond kill people.”

 

96. We both love laughing at David Caruso on CSI Miami.

 

96a. Sadly, CSI Miami is long gone, but now we thrill to the adventures of Team Machine on Person of Interest, of Castle and Beckett on Castle, and we enjoy Alton Brown’s delicious brand of pure evil on Cutthroat Kitchen.

 

97. One time when we were working out at the Y, and she got so engrossed in what she was doing that when I approached her, she didn’t recognize me at first.

 

97a. She loves lilacs.

 

Rochester Lilac Festival. #LilacFestival #Rochester

 


97b. She loves sushi, so for a while our Saturday night dinner tradition was I’d buy her sushi at The Store, and she’d eat that while I had a “charcuterie” plate of my own. (I think we can all agree that “charcuterie” is the fancy-schmancy word for “cheese and crackers,” yes? Kind of like how “grits” turned into “polenta” at some point and started commanding $15 a plate?) But she’d eye my cheese and ask for a bite or two. Over time this morphed into her and I both having the cheese plate.

 

But she still loves the sushi, and I still have to buy it for her! It just becomes her lunch at work on Mondays. No escape!

 

97c. While driving once:

 

ME: Huh.
HER: What?
ME: I know I’ve heard this piece but I don’t know what it is.
HER: [into phone] What is this song? [holds phone to speaker, then looks at phone] It’s the fourth movement of Mozart’s Eine kleine nachtmusik.
ME: Wow, I didn’t know your phone could do that.
HER: I’m pretty sure it’s standard now! Your phone can do it too!
ME: Whoa….

 

See? She teaches me things.

 

97d. For years she worked in the restaurant biz, which meant working just about all of the major holidays and struggling just to use her allotted vacation time. Now, she’s in banking, so not only does she get the holidays off, she gets off all of them, including the ones I don’t! (I have to work MLK Day, Presidents Day, and the other “lesser” holidays that are still “No mail and no banks” days. She gets ’em off now.) She is not shy about gloating about this.

 

97e. She continues to make fun of my previous claims that I “am not a dog person”. To my recollection I never made any claims along those lines, just that I was unfamiliar with dogs, not that I disliked dogs. She just shakes her head and keeps on being amused at how much Cane and Carla like me. What can I say!

 

97f. Her, a few years ago: “Hey, there’s this event where people who own greyhounds all meet up in the Finger Lakes and then we all tour around to wineries and taste wine and have fun with our dogs! Wanna go?” We just got back from our fourth time on that trip the day before yesterday.

 

 

 

97g. This last year has been different, I’ll say that. We’re eating out a lot and staying home and watching movies in bed and so on. Aside from our not being able to go out to eat or to see movies, and the cancellation of several of our favorite festival events, this crisis really hasn’t impacted our lifestyles much at all. I’m glad she’s the one I’m enduring the pandemic with!

97h. Exploring Oahu with her at my side was wonderful. We both kept getting amazed by the same things!

97i. Sometimes it’s hard to find a teevee show that she likes, but when I do find one, it’s a blast as references from those shows will creep into our vernacular.

97j. We tend to get mutually weepy over the more emotional reveals on The Repair Shop.

97k. This last year has had some difficulties of its own, over and above the COVID struggles, but we’ve weathered all of it and continue to weather it all.

97l. Our opinions differed wildly on No Time To Die. Hey, it happens! Kinda like her distaste for coconut. (Which is weird, let’s be honest.)

New for 2023! 97m. She’s had a couple of surgeries in recent years that led to some recovery time and bed-rest, which meant she watched a lot of streaming shows. I didn’t realize what kind of stuff she was streaming until one night we were watching Saturday Night Live and she started laughing knowingly at this sketch. I asked, “Are you watching a lot of murder shows these days?”

97n. On weekends I usually get up before she does, so I’ll come downstairs and make my coffee and get hers set up to go. My signal that she is getting up for good is when she actually opens the blinds in the bedroom; when I hear that, I’m to get up and turn on the coffee. (Sometimes I’m listening to music on my earbuds and I don’t hear the blinds and then she comes downstairs and gives me the “No coffee?!” look. Fellas, try to avoid the “No coffee?!” look.)

 

97o. No, it doesn’t bother me at all that Carla prefers to sit with her on the love seat when we’re watching teevee at night as opposed to sitting with me on the couch. Harumph.

 

97p. If I could go back in time and make exactly one change to our wedding day? Yup. We’re all doing the “Rock the Boat” dance made famous by Derry Girls.

 

97q: Related to 97n above, I’ve been up for 45 minutes while she was trying to doze a bit more. This was thwarted by our cats, who decided to have rompies all over the upstairs, including the bed with her in it. As I write this she has just come downstairs, called the cats assholes, and is now making her coffee.

 

97r: Stay tuned, but she has started the ball rolling for adopting another greyhound. Yes, I’m on board, but this one’s going to have some pretty big pawprints to fill. (This weekend is a little bittersweet because this is when we’d be on our annual greyhound-meetup excursion to the Finger Lakes wine country.)

 

97s. Maybe I mentioned this above someplace, I don’t know, but I love how she has chosen to approach her dietary restrictions with a sense of adventure and discovery. We have found more great places to eat and discovered more terrific foods to cook in the years since her celiac diagnosis than we did before, and it’s not like we were dull sticks-in-the-mud in the food department to begin with! She’s always loved trying new foods and spicing things up, which is a real blessing if you’re at all familiar with the Monument to Blandness that is the usual Iowa spice rack.

 

97t. I’ve come to really like coming home from work, looking up as I pull into the driveway, and seeing her in her home office. Sometimes there will be a dog looking back down at me, which is also cool.

 

97u. Apparently she takes some of the chocolate from the home supply that I maintain to her desk at work, and some of her coworkers know she has a chocolate stash, so sometimes that gets shared around. I do the “I’m not feeding all the kids in the neighborhood!” thing, you know, the one where your kid wants to grab a dozen freezy-pops from the freezer for all the friends on a hot summer day and despite your protest you let it happen. Because hey, it’s chocolate and that increases the net happiness in the world.

 

97v. Our last cinematic disagreement came after watching Top Gun: Maverick, which I really liked (despite my general lack of enthusiasm for the original movie). She was distracted by the impossibility of Tom Cruise having perfectly brown hair at this point in his life. I’m hoping this doesn’t hurt our enjoyment of the upcoming Mission: Impossible flicks….

 

97w. We have developed a way of simultaneously groaning wistfully whenever an unexpected reference to Hawaii shows up on teevee, like the Netflix show we’ve been watching about American street food, and at the end of one episode the preview for the next said, “Next time: Oahu!”, with a big shot of Waikiki.

 

97x. Bam! The future of rock and roll! (No, this has nothing at all to do with The Wife, but come on, now.)

 

NEW FOR 2024!!! 97y. This last year was a struggle…my mom’s last months of struggles which played out amidst The Wife’s own struggles. Are things getting better? Who knows…but I hope so.

 

97z. Regarding item 97r above: if you’ve been paying attention, you know there’s a new greyhound in town. Unfortunately, his entry into our home has not been without its own ongoing challenges. But again, we’re getting there!

 

97aa. I’m just now realizing that I took zero photos of The Wife this past year. This is a big sign of what a rough year it was. It’s time to start turning that shit around!

 

97ab. No, wait! I did get a lovely shot of her just last weekend! Amazing that I own this great new camera and I haven’t taken enough photos of her yet. But anyway:

 

 

 

 

2025!!!

97ac. Her birthday present this year? We’re going to see Raiders of the Lost Ark at Kleinhans Music Hall, with the Buffalo Philharmonic doing the music. Yay! But that’s not until May 2. I always feel a little weird giving tickets to something a few months after the gift-giving occasion for the gift-giving occasion, but it’s still a gift!

97ad. Note to self: Order the cake for this weekend.

97ae. See below for new photos with her and Hobbes. This post has become sufficiently unwieldy through multiple updates over the years, and multiple versions of WordPress, that it’s just easier.

97af. Accommodating her celiac needs is sometimes a challenge, but on the upside, I now know where to get a good breakfast sandwich pretty anywhere between Buffalo and Syracuse!

97ag. On work mornings we’re both often making our coffee at the same time. I usually let her use the creamer first. Yesterday she gets her coffee all dosed-up the way she wants it, and then she hands me the container, saying “It’s all yours.” There’s about a quarter-teaspoon left in there. She was amused by this.

97ah. For Christmas this past year I gave her the gift of warmth: a knitted cowl to wear around her neck, a plug-in seat-warmer for her car, and an electric blanket. I guess you reach a point where warmth is the best gift.

97ai. On a sad note…if I had to learn that my mother had died from someone, I’m glad it was her.

97aj. I guess in the end it’s all about relationships, and how the friends you surround yourself with help get you through the day–oh wait, sorry. I slipped into “J.D.’s episode-closing monologue” mode there. We just completed a re-watch of Scrubs last night. Next we’ll probably start a complete rewatch of Letterkenny. Pitter patter!

2026!!!!!

97ak. “I’d sit my bare ass on the Big Nickel just to have you flick some debris off my shirt, I swear to God I’d be so good to ya.” She’s my Laura Mohr. IYKYK.

97al. I guess when you’re with someone long enough, you get to the point when you’re driving them to their surgical procedures….

97am. I’m giving her a bottle of Veuve Clicquot! She knows by the time you are reading this.

97an. Since last year she bought a Subaru Forester. When we first started dating, her car was a Subaru. It’s like we’ve come full circle! (Only this one has seat warmers. That’s a thing we didn’t have when we were Two Yoots.)

97ao. Our new Sunday afternoon routine, when we’re at home: I make popcorn and then she eats some while she watches a Murder Show on the teevee. (I watch YouTube videos and stuff while I consume my share.)

97ap. Next month we’re going to a huge gluten-free food expo in Mississaugua, ON. This is the type of thing we do now, and it’s awesome.

97aq. She puts up with me when I dawdle and linger places because I’m taking photos.

97ar. When she works at home, lots of times Carla goes and hangs out with her. It’s very cute.

97as. We’ve discovered Indian food of late. Oh yeah. Why did we never eat Indian food until relatively recently? How do I know???

97at. A few months ago I saw that The Guns of Navarone was on Netflix, and it was my week to pick the movie, because I watched it years ago and it’s really good! A terrific and entertaining war thriller with good action and a pulse-pounding climax! Yay! Only…she didn’t like it, and she thought I was mad at her and picked a movie on purpose that we didn’t like. I was all, “Uhhh…I really didn’t think you’d hate it.” Oops. It happens.

97au. Her current greyhound, Hobbes, is admittedly a nice dog. He is also a giant booger who vocalizes in squeaks, wakes me up to pee every weekend morning no later than 7am, and when I go to give him food, runs for his crate to enjoy the treat. From The Wife, he will accept food wherever he is.

97av. She sends me dog videos. Cute ones, funny ones, cute and funny ones. This is a good thing and I hope it never stops.

98. Maybe this is a personal failing on my part, but I can’t bear it when she cries. It kills me inside. But I’m trying to get better at this, since as Gandalf said, “Not all tears are an evil.”

99. I wish we were living lives that didn’t include so many tears.

100. I love her more than I did last week at this time.

101. Number 100 on this list will be equally true next week at this time. And the week after. And so on.

102. She makes me happier than I thought possible.

103. She…oh, I guess that’s where I need to stop. I love you, honey!

Chilly morning at the Farmers Market. I had to buy The Wife a coffee. #wife #EastAurora #wny
Day 65: Tried taking a photo of my Beautiful Wife looking at Taughannock Falls, but she turned her head toward me at the last second! #100DaysOfHappiness

 

The Wife, with horse. #eriecountyfair #Wife

 

Pumpkinville: Happy wife, irritated Daughter

 

Erie County Fair: A couple

 

 

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Something for Thursday (Friday edition)

Regular posting still isn’t resuming (I just finished up an extremely busy work week, and now The Wife and I are getting out of town for a short getaway, and then next week has some other challenges forthcoming but we’ll get to those in good time), but hopefully next week we’ll start to settle down a bit…meantime, today we celebrate the anniversary of the birth of one of America’s greatest musical voices, George Gershwin, who was nice enough to be born exactly 73 years before I was, so that’s cool!

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“Any way the wind blows….”

Yesterday was Freddie Mercury’s birthday; he would have been 79. Sheila O’Malley has a great post about him, and you should go read it:

It’s his birthday today.

It’s hard for me to talk about my feelings for Freddie Mercury.

When Freddie Mercury moved, he cracked open the atmosphere. He’s almost frightening. When he walked across a stage, or threw his body into a note, or flung his head backwards, audiences were transfixed. In him, they saw freedom. Through him, they experienced catharsis. He went there FOR them. People talk about performers who go “into a zone.” Mercury’s zone was bigger than most.

I just got done typing a lengthy comment, and I actually want to preserve it here as well:

Way back when I regularly watched AMERICAN IDOL every season (I know, I know), there was a young contestant, probably 16 or 17 years old, a girl, who had an amazing voice but she was REALLY inexperienced. So every week out she comes to do some song someone much more famous had already done, and she would try to replicate THEIR performance, often with surprising fidelity, but also with lack of “soul” because that’s all she was doing: replicating. And she always picked songs where the original vocalists did tons of runs and melismatic stuff and vocal gymnastics. One judge (can’t remember who, might have been Simon, might not have been) started criticizing her for doing songs every week that relied on vocal fireworks. Well, one week she comes out and does a Queen song. No runs, no major musical fireworks, and one of the other judges, maybe Randy, maybe not, says to the first judge, “You should be happy now! She didn’t do a lot of runs!”

Talk about missing the point (I promise I’m getting to it!): she had come out and aped Freddie Mercury, a man whose voice was so astonishingly pure and who had such astonishingly perfect control of that instrument at ALL times, never needed to back into a grab-bag of vocal tricks and runs and who knows what else. That’s what I always think of when I listen to him singing, just the complete and utter control he had every time he stepped up to the mic, ANY mic. Studio, stage, giant stadium, small club, anywhere. He knew exactly what he wanted his voice to do, and more than that, he knew what he NEEDED his voice to do, and that’s what he did. He was the best kind of virtuoso: the one whose technique is SO perfect that you barely even noticed how perfect his technique WAS. Watching him sing was like watching, say, Vladimir Horowitz play piano: that guy barely moved, he didn’t flail around at the keyboard and rock back and forth in ecstasy, he just…played. (Not to say Freddie wasn’t a showman, because oh was he ever, but he just knew how to do it that made it look completely effortless.) There’s a reason Freddie Mercury is on my personal Mt. Rushmore of pop-rock singers (the other faces being Sam Cooke, Annie Lennox, and Ann Wilson).

Of course, I have to end a post like this with something featuring Freddie Mercury, don’t I? Well, why don’t I go back to the beginning? In 1980, there was a lot of Queen on the radio, but my first real sustained introduction came via the movies: the amazing and wonderful Flash Gordon, that gonzo space opera-planetary romance that paired comic-book imagery and earnest storytelling with a rock-and-roll soundtrack. To this day I don’t know how that movie worked, but work it did. Here’s how it began:

Somewhere in this world there walks a person who saw that and did not become a Queen fan on the spot. I’d rather not ever meet that person. Who needs that negativity!

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Happy Birthday Billy Shakes

My Shakespeare shelf. This is not all of my Shakespeare, by any means; I have several other Complete Works around the library, as well as some other ephemera here and there.

Today is the generally-observed “birthday” of William Shakespeare. The actual date he entered the world is not known, but April 26, 1564 is the best we have: that was his baptismal date. As babies typically weren’t baptized right at birth, the assumption seems to be that he was actually born a few days prior, and since his death date is known to be April 26, 1616, we’ve just gone ahead and assigned that date to his birth as well.

Shakespeare is an eternal “thing I need to learn more about”, no matter how much I learn about him and no matter how much I read him. I suspect he’s that way for people who know a great deal about Shakespeare! I find discussing him with people who know him well a bit intimidating, I must admit. This makes him a subject I generally don’t try too hard to bring up when my sister, a professional Shakespeare scholar, is in town.

I won’t make a long quote from Shakespeare here, because it’s late in the day and there are things to do and there’s a lot of places to get your Bard on out there. I will, though, note my single favorite line from all of Shakespeare! (All of him that I’ve read, actually. We’re not talking “encyclopedic knowledge” here.) It comes from Much Ado About Nothing, when Benedick says this to Beatrice when she has been summoned to her uncle:

Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.

I just love that. “My love for you includes all this…but also, the mundane.” The best part of love, after all, is the mundane, isn’t it?

Happy birthday, Will!

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A Belated Birthday Wish to The Lydster

The Lydster, if I am reading things correctly, is 20 now.

“Who?!” you may ask. A reasonable question, so I shall provide a reasonable answer: The Lydster is Roger Owen Green’s daughter Lydia. Roger has been chronicling her growth and her adventures thereof pretty consistently (and always delightfully) on his blog, and I would be highly remiss if I didn’t offer up a post of my own congratulating her on A Momentous Birthday On Which She Achieved a Round Number.

I don’t recall exactly when I found myself on The Lydster’s bandwagon, but it’s been a while…a “long and winding road”, you might say! And I think Roger would approve of that, since he’s a Beatles fan.

Happy birthday Lydia! (Belated, though, making my tagging of this post “Born on this date” a bit inaccurate. But I strive for “engaging” here, not “accurate”.)

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Happy Birthday, My Love

As I keep adding to this post every year, and with cross-posting it and importing it from my old blog to this one, I suppose it gets a bit more ungainly each year. Well, that’s just the way it is. Today is The Wife’s birthday, and I’m celebrating. As always, new stuff added at the end of the list; also as always, I don’t edit what I’ve written before or revise anything that’s out of date. Think of some of that stuff as growth rings on a tree…part of the reason of this post is to preserve memories.

 
Happy Birthday, my love!
The Wife and the Dee-oh-gee at Taughannock Falls. Aren't they beautiful! #wife #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound #taughannockfalls


Today is The Wife’s birthday! Onward and upward, as always!

A brief slideshow of photos (some of which are already on this post, but I like them and it’s my blog, so there they are again!) follows. The song is “Live Forever” by Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors, a wonderful band.

Birthday video for The Wife


And now, my annual list of memories and things from our years together. (New items on the list are appended to Number 97, alphabetically. I do this because I’m too lazy to renumber all the stuff after that one every year.)

Happy Valentines Day to my beautiful wife! This was taken last summer. We probably need a photo of us with the dee-oh-gee....
Wife and Dee-oh-gee on a nice Christmas walk! #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound #ChestnutRidge #OrchardPark #wny #winter

Santa, the Wife, and the dee-oh-gee! #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound

We took the dee-oh-gee for his first ice cream. #Cane #DogsOfInstagram #greyhound

Posing with Patience (or is it Fortitude?)

The Wife and I at the Erie County Fair!

/PHOTO_20151129_213848
The Wife and the dee-oh-gee in Buffalo Creek, West Seneca. #wny #westseneca

I am reasonably sure that I was a placeholder all these years for the eventual dog.

Happy Birthday to Me! VI: The pies go in my face, Huzzah!

1. Her hand fits perfectly into mine, as though our hands were fit for each other.

1a. That said, there’s a good chance that she prefers the dog to me.

2. The first time she saw Star Wars was with me. And ET.

2a. The first time I saw Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty were with her.

3. She used to keep an aquarium before a bunch of moves made us give up the fish. Maybe we’ll do that again someday. But when we started dating, she had two fish, named Ken and Wanda, named after two memorable characters from A Fish Called Wanda. When Ken went belly-up, she called a friend and solemnly informed her, “K-k-k-ken d-d-d-died.” (One of the movie’s running gags is Ken’s stuttering.)

4. I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but I’ve converted her from someone who hated coffee into a regular coffee drinker.

5. For reasons passing understanding, she has always found Erik Estrada attractive. She and I used to have arguments over who could best the other in a fight: Agent Mulder from The X-Files or Ponch from Chips. (I think Mulder would have blinded Ponch with the beam from those giant blue-beamed flashlights he and Scully were always toting, and then beaten him into submission with his eternally-able-to-get-a-signal cell phone.)

6. One of the first things we cooked together was Spanish rice, which is to this day a comfort dish of ours. The first time we made it together was also the first time she’d ever cooked with actual bulb garlic, as opposed to garlic powder. The recipe called for a clove, but she thought the entire head was a clove, so into the rice the entire head of garlic went. That was the best Spanish rice ever.

7. A few years ago she baked a Bundt cake for The Daughter’s birthday, but the damned thing stuck in the pan, resulting not in a ring but a mound. So she just mounded it up, glopped the frosting right over the top, and called it a “Volcano Cake”. Now, every year at her birthday, The Daughter says, “Remember the Volcano Cake?”

8. Our first date was to see Edward Scissorhands. So, Johnny Depp’s been there since the beginning, from Edward all the way to Captain Jack Sparrow and beyond.

9. We used to go out for chicken wings and beer every Thursday night. We didn’t even miss our Thursday night wing night when The Daughter was born: her birth was on a Saturday, and we left the hospital on Tuesday, so at the tender age of five days, The Daughter entered a bar for the first time. This may have made us bad parents, but I don’t think so. A girl’s got to know how to handle herself in a bar, right?

9a. She’s not a huge fan of when I post photos of her sleeping.

Yes, I will get yelled at for this, but she's so cute when she sleeps...even when it's during her favorite teevee show!


10. She insisted on breastfeeding both The Daughter and Little Quinn, which in both cases required lots of pumping. Especially in Little Quinn’s case, since he was never able to eat by mouth. Every drop of breastmilk that entered his body went in via the G-tube, so for as long as her production held up, she pumped six times a day.

11. I’ll probably never completely understand how much of herself she sacrificed in fourteen months to keep Little Quinn alive and progressing. It seems, in retrospect, that every free day she had was given to him.

12. That same instinct in her kicked in again when Fiona was in danger. She didn’t question the necessity or possibility of spending months flat on her back with her feet inclined, if that was what it took. If commitment was all that was needed, Fiona would be here today. (Of course, if commitment was all that was needed, Little Quinn would be here and Fiona wouldn’t have happened.)

13. We used to associate certain teevee shows with the snack foods we’d eat while watching them. NYPDBlue was always chips-and-salsa. ER, when we still watched it, was often good ice cream. Now, good ice cream has been transposed to Grey’s Anatomy.

14. “Our” first teevee show was LA Law.

15. Subsequent teevee shows of “ours” included ER, Mad About You, The Pretender, Profiler, CSI, Firefly, and more.

16. On our first Internet account, we set up our combined e-mail identity after the two main characers on The Pretender. We were “Jarod and Miss Parker”. People familiar with the show wondered what that said about our relationship, since Jarod and Miss Parker aren’t allies. In fact, Miss Parker was initially a villain but as the show went on her character became much more complex.

17. She started roller blading, got me hooked, and then promptly stopped roller blading. Now she prefers biking.

18. It was almost without warning that I met her parents for the first time. We started dating late February 1991; a couple of weeks later was spring break, for a week, so I came home to Buffalo. At the end of that week I tried calling her, only to learn from the old lady she was renting a room from that she wasn’t home because of a death in her family. I remembered her saying something about a sick grandfather, and that’s what turned out to have happened; her grandfather had passed away from Lou Gehrig’s Disease. When I got back out to school, her entire family was there. So I met the future in-laws on the spot. Luckily, I seem to have made some kind of decent impression.

19. Our first long trip together was from Iowa to Idaho, to visit her family, a couple of weeks before school began in August of 1992. She had already graduated college, but I was in my senior year. While we were out there, the infamous Ruby Ridge Incident was taking place twenty miles down the road, so all week there were National Guard vehicles on the roads and helicopters overhead.

20. I am forever amazed at her ability to take some fabric and create a garment. This skill of hers looks like magic to me.

21. Her first pair of overalls were a gift from me. She thought the whole thing was goofy – maybe she still does! – but she wore them for years until at one point they became too small for her, and then a short while later they became too big for her. We didn’t start wearing overalls together until we’d been dating for about a year.

22. Back in the 90s, on two different occasions, we picked out Persian kittens. Both were wonderful cats, both are gone now, and we miss them both dearly. The first was a beautiful tortoiseshell Persian named Jasmine; the second was a red Persian named Simba. Both died in the year preceding this blog’s launch.

23. Adopting Lester and Julio was The Wife’s idea. I’m still unsold on these two giant lummox goofballs.

24. The Wife also took The Daughter to adopt Comet, when The Daughter was only two.

25. Shortly after The Wife moved to Western New York to be near me, she adopted a cat from the shelter she named Lilac. That cat never really liked me all that much. Lilac died a few months after Little Quinn passed.

25a. She is directly responsible for all the animals with whom we currently live.

Indulging Lester
Why they invented hotel rooms
Julio's favorite position
Cats and Wife. (And my left shoulder)
Snowmageddon '14, continued
Day 59: Clear wife, blurry dog. #100DaysOfHappiness #NewDog

The Wife is unimpressed with Julio's uninvited advances. (Notice Lester in the background.)
26. She loves to laugh, particularly at my expense. She is convinced I don’t think she’s funny, but that’s just not the case.

27. Things with which she has a deft touch include: a pair of scissors, a needle and thread, a kitchen knife, the mixer, bread dough, a screwdriver, a lug wrench, and a shot glass.

28. It irritates her that The Daughter has inherited my tolerance for sunlight — I tan, whereas The Wife burns.

29. The Wife likes to read, albeit not quite as much as I do. She always has a book going, and she reads every day.

30. She never used to use a bookmark, until I finally decided I was tired of watching her flip through a book looking for a passage that was familiar to her so she could find her place. I bought her a bookmark.

31. She loves nuts – except for walnuts and pecans, which I love. This makes it occasionally difficult find good brownies and similar items in bakeries, since many people default to putting pecans or walnuts in their brownies or other chocolate cookies.

32. When I first met her, she was a huge Anne Rice fan and read most of what Rice wrote until she decided that Rice’s output wasn’t interesting her much anymore. Since then she’s read a lot of other authors, including a lot of unfamiliar names whose books I’ve plucked from the stacks of offerings at library book sales over the years. Interesting how obscure even the bestsellers of yesteryear eventually become, huh? Currently she really loves Gregory Maguire, the Wicked guy.

33. When we first met, she was a Washington Redskins fan. So of course, the first Super Bowl we were together was the one where the Redskins knocked the Bills on their collective arse. Oh well, at least she hated the Cowboys.

34. She prefers her KFC “extra crispy”, where I’m an “Original Recipe” guy.

35. Movies that are particularly meaningful or nostalgic to us, in addition to Edward Scissorhands and Star Wars are Dances With Wolves, Titanic, The Lord of the Rings, Singin’ in the Rain, and the James Bond movies.

36. For some reason we didn’t take any pictures when we were on our honeymoon or when we were on our vacation to Disney a year later. I think we were between working cameras at those points…but lately I really wish we’d have addressed that at the time.

37. Things we did on our honeymoon to Cape Cod, Boston, and New Hampshire: road a boat out to sea to watch the whales; visited the New England Aquarium; ate dim sum in Boston’s Chinatown; bought lots of kitchenware at an outlet strip (don’t laugh, we still have some of that stuff); visited the Boston Science Museum. While doing two days in Boston we stayed at a hotel about forty miles out and road the train into town; on the second day, on the way back, we fell asleep on each other’s shoulders.

38. Our first argument as a couple resulted from a common misunderstanding between people when one is from Iowa and one is just living in Iowa for a while. I told her we’d meet for dinner, so she showed up at noon and got annoyed because I wasn’t there. Well, duh! I said “dinner”, not “lunch”. Except, remember, she’s a native Iowan, which means instead of eating breakfast, lunch and dinner like most (ahem) normal folks, she ate breakfast, dinner and supper. Thankfully, I’ve converted her since then. Whew!

39. Our first wedding anniversary saw us spending a week at Walt Disney World. What a wonderful time that was! Even if she managed to rip her toenail out two days into the trip, thus requiring me to push her around in a wheelchair the whole time after that.

40. She had long hair when we started dating, and I had short hair. Now we’ve reversed that.

41. Before we started dating, I had a beard. When I became interested in her, I shaved it so I’d look better. Then, I learned that she likes facial hair. So I grew the beard back a while later.

42. Foods I’ve tried because of her: asparagus, squash, rhubarb, grapefruit, and more that I don’t recall.

43. She loves George Carlin.

44. She bought me my first cell phone, and my second cell phone.

45. When we were at the Erie County Fair in 2001, she wandered off to look at the Bernina sewing machines. When I came by ten minutes or so later, she was in the process of buying a Bernina sewing machine. I didn’t complain; I just stood there, kind of looking shell-shocked.

46. Leading up to our wedding, she rigidly adhered to the notion that the groom should not see the bride in her wedding dress until she comes round the corner to walk down the aisle. So I didn’t see her until she came round the corner to walk down the aisle.

47. Starting a family was her idea. Not that I was against it; I figured we’d get there eventually. She just picked the “eventually”.

48. She picked The Daughter’s first name, so I got to pick her middle name.

48a. And now, this:

Old Photos of Little Quinn


49. Since Thanksgiving Break at college was only a four day weekend, I didn’t go home for T-giving my junior year; instead, I spent the weekend with her. We went to see her extended family out in Storm Lake, Iowa, which is on the other side of the state. Since she has family over there on both sides of the family, we ended up having two Thanksgiving dinners that day. Some part of me is still full from those two meals.

50. Iowa delicacies that The Wife and I share are pork tenderloin sandwiches and broasted chicken.

51. Some of our early dates were sufficiently cheap that we had to look for ATM machines that would dispense cash in five dollar denominations.

52. She bought Simba, the above-mentioned red Persian kitten, while we were on a shopping trip to Erie, PA. She fell in love with the kitten as soon as she saw him in the pet store; we then spent the rest of the day walking around the mall with me listening to her as she tried to talk herself out of buying him. (Persian kittens are pricey little buggers.) Finally, while we were at dinner at Red Lobster, she decided to pull the trigger.

53. Before Little Quinn, the most heartbroken I ever saw The Wife was the day we finally had to end Simba’s life. His kidneys were in failure.

54. Great gifts she’s bought me through the years: my current winter coat, a cupboard-full of drinking vessels of all types, candles, incense burners, the Star Wars original trilogy on DVD, my anniversary edition of The Lord of the Rings with paintings by Alan Lee, my star sapphire ring, my current wristwatch, and many more.

55. The first thing she ever gave me: a stuffed bear, around whose neck she tied a lavender ribbon. I think she doused it with perfume. I named that bear “Bertrand”, after philosopher Bertrand Russell.

56. The first thing I bought her: a little two-inch high figurine of a laughing Buddha. I think this confused her a bit.

57. Despite my best efforts for a while, she’s never much warmed to baseball. That used to bother me, but these days that doesn’t bug me much at all. I’m pretty cool to baseball myself now.

58. For a few years we went to Cedar Point each fall. We haven’t been there in a long time, but I always found being there with her in the fall, in the cool air, pretty romantic. I loved riding the Giant Wheel after dark, sitting up there with her hand in mine, looking out over Lake Erie.

59. At Cedar Point, she decided that she liked this one coaster that does loops, so I stayed on the ground while she rode it. I’m terrified of those things.

60. Why don’t we play mini golf more often? We both love mini golf. The Daughter loves mini golf. What gives?

61. One day in 1996, we were eating lunch in Buffalo when we had “The Discussion”. Any guy who’s ever been dating the same girl for a period of time measurable in years will know what “The Discussion” is. So I agreed, it was time for us to take the “next step”. Later on, while she was having her eyes examined at LensCrafters, I bopped over to Penney’s to buy her a ring. I chose a nice emerald one that looked really pretty. Sadly, they didn’t have it in her size, so they had to order it, which would take three weeks. So I figured, OK, I’ll get the ring in three weeks and make this thing official. Yay, Me!

62. The next day, she proposed to me.

63. Three weeks later I showed up to get the ring. They had it, but they couldn’t find the paperwork, so some poor guy at the pickup counter at Penney’s spent his entire lunch hour trying to find the paperwork so I could give my already-fiancee her engagement ring.

64. I don’t remember exactly when we picked out her wedding rings, but we each have an Irish wedding band, and each ring is set with the other person’s birthstone. So my ring is set with four amethysts, which is her birthstone; hers is set with four sapphires, which is mine.

65. For years I wore my ring incorrectly. Apparently there’s one way to wear an Irish wedding band that signifies being married, and another that signifies being single. I was wearing mine the “single” way. I was alerted to this by a guy I worked with at The Store; he said, “Yeah, you’re telling all the women that you’re available.” I replied, “Yeah, and I’m beating them off with a stick.”

66. On our honeymoon, it was important to her that she at least get to dip her toes in the Atlantic Ocean. So she did. The water was very cold, though.

66a. She replicated this moment years later when we took a trip to the Jersey Shore.

To the sea!


66b. We returned two years later.

The Wife enjoys a bit of quiet. #CapeMay


67. It always bugged her mother that she saw Niagara Falls before her mother did. Later we took her mother to Niagara when she was out for a visit.

68. During the summer of 1991, when I was at home and she was still in Iowa, she came to spend a week with me. I took her to Buffalo and to Toronto, on the way to which we stopped to see Niagara Falls for her first time.

69. She was really confused the first time a Japanese tourist asked her to take his picture in front of the Falls.

70. At the time our beer of choice was Labatt’s. It’s pronounced “la-BATS”, but we had a family friend at the time who liked to say it “LAB-uhts”, which is how I said it at college just for fun and habit. So when she visited me that summer, we went to the bar where this friend hung out, and he was so impressed when she ordered a “LAB-uhts”.

71. Our favorite mixed drink in college was the sloe gin fizz. A few years ago I tried making these again, discovering that her tastes had changed and she now found them sickeningly sweet. I like them still, but yeah, they’re sugary. (And pink. When I told a friend at work who knows everything about liquor that I’d bought some sloe gin, he laughed and said, “Oh good! Now you can make pink drinks!”)

72. She taught me the right way to do laundry.

73. I taught her the right way to crack open crab legs so as to not mangle the meat.

74. Our first major mistake of parenting was taking The Daughter to a fireworks display on the Fourth of July in 1999. The Daughter was all of fifteen days old. This was the big display in Lakewood, NY, which is right on the banks of Lake Chautauqua. The Daughter did not respond well to the fireworks detonating right over our heads; the sounds were bad and for years afterwards The Daughter was very scared of loud sounds.

75. We always say that we should go camping. We never actually do go camping. We need to do more camping.

76. Once for dinner I made some frozen cheese ravioli with sauce, a favorite meal of ours that we hadn’t had in a long time. She said that she was looking forward to “eating some cheesy goodness”. Unfortunately, the raviolis were a bit on the old and tough side, and the cheese never got nice and melty, so after the meal, she commented, “That wasn’t really cheesy goodness.”

77. She likes eggs over-easy. I’m not a big fan of those, but I try to make them for her when she’s getting over being sick.

78. She makes fun of my over-reliance on boxed mixes in the kitchen.

78a. I’m much better about this now. Her main kitchen complaint about me is that I make way too big a mess when I cook.

79. In 1993, when Cheers aired its final episode, she bought pizza for my roommate and I.

80. She only swears when she’s really annoyed.

81. She is not happy that her nine-year-old, fourth-grade daughter is now the same shoe size as she is.

82. A while back she had her hair colored a brighter shade of blond than is her natural color. It was awesome.

83. Before that she experimented with red. I’ve tried talking her into doing that again, but no dice.

84. When my aunt met her the night before our wedding, she made a comment to the effect that I was to be commended for adding blond hair and blue eyes to our gene pool.

85. The Daughter has blond hair and blue eyes. So did Little Quinn.

86. I’m not sure there’s a variety of seafood she dislikes.

87. I love the way she looks when she’s just come home from work and changed into her PJ’s.

88. Adopting Lester and Julio was her idea, but she claims the upper hand on that anyway because she was helping out my mother.

89. For some reason, The Daughter and I like to bring up at the dinner table the fact that The Wife, as a kid, had to help the family out on Chicken Butchering Day. I don’t know why.

90. She thinks Orlando Bloom is really attractive. I don’t see it, myself, but you can’t argue these things.

91. For my birthday in 1992 she drove me to Dyersville, IA so I could see the Field of Dreams.

92. If I want to spoil her, all I have to do is buy her blush wine, cashews, olives and chocolate. Cake helps, too.

93. She spoils me by looking the other way when I go to Borders; by making me waffles or French toast or Spanish rice; by cleaning the kitchen after I’ve messed it up; by indulging my love of pie; and a thousand other ways.

94. “You want me to hit you in the face with a pie?”
“Sure, it’ll be fun!”
“Kinda weird, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but still fun, right?”
“I dunno, let’s find out.”

It did take her a couple of attempts to nail down her technique, but she quickly realized she didn’t need to be super gentle with the pie. And really, folks, if you haven’t taken a pie in the face from the person you love, well…I’m not sure what you’re waiting for!

If you can't be ridiculously silly with the person you love, you're doing it wrong! Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!! #ValentinesDay #pieintheface #overalls #splat #SillinessIsAwesome
Splat! The meeting of Pie and Face

Patrick Starfish is surprised by my fate. #PatrickStarfish #pieintheface #overalls #splat

This is one of my favorite “pie in the face aftermath” photos…perhaps because this particular pieing was one of our very first. Ahhh, the memories!


95. I know I’ve found the perfect girl for me when she describes our Thanksgiving in 2006 as being perfect because, after dinner, we went to see Casino Royale. In her words: “We had a big turkey dinner, and then we watched James Bond kill people.”

96. We both love laughing at David Caruso on CSI Miami.

96a. Sadly, CSI Miami is long gone, but now we thrill to the adventures of Team Machine on Person of Interest, of Castle and Beckett on Castle, and we enjoy Alton Brown’s delicious brand of pure evil on Cutthroat Kitchen.

97. One time when we were working out at the Y, and she got so engrossed in what she was doing that when I approached her, she didn’t recognize me at first.

97a. She loves lilacs.

Rochester Lilac Festival. #LilacFestival #Rochester


97b. She loves sushi, so for a while our Saturday night dinner tradition was I’d buy her sushi at The Store, and she’d eat that while I had a “charcuterie” plate of my own. (I think we can all agree that “charcuterie” is the fancy-schmancy word for “cheese and crackers,” yes? Kind of like how “grits” turned into “polenta” at some point and started commanding $15 a plate?) But she’d eye my cheese and ask for a bite or two. Over time this morphed into her and I both having the cheese plate.

But she still loves the sushi, and I still have to buy it for her! It just becomes her lunch at work on Mondays. No escape!

97c. While driving once:

ME: Huh.
HER: What?
ME: I know I’ve heard this piece but I don’t know what it is.
HER: [into phone] What is this song? [holds phone to speaker, then looks at phone] It’s the fourth movement of Mozart’s Eine kleine nachtmusik.
ME: Wow, I didn’t know your phone could do that.
HER: I’m pretty sure it’s standard now! Your phone can do it too!
ME: Whoa….

See? She teaches me things.

97d. For years she worked in the restaurant biz, which meant working just about all of the major holidays and struggling just to use her allotted vacation time. Now, she’s in banking, so not only does she get the holidays off, she gets off all of them, including the ones I don’t! (I have to work MLK Day, Presidents Day, and the other “lesser” holidays that are still “No mail and no banks” days. She gets ’em off now.) She is not shy about gloating about this.

97e. She continues to make fun of my previous claims that I “am not a dog person”. To my recollection I never made any claims along those lines, just that I was unfamiliar with dogs, not that I disliked dogs. She just shakes her head and keeps on being amused at how much Cane and Carla like me. What can I say!

97f. Her, a few years ago: “Hey, there’s this event where people who own greyhounds all meet up in the Finger Lakes and then we all tour around to wineries and taste wine and have fun with our dogs! Wanna go?” We just got back from our fourth time on that trip the day before yesterday.

 

97g. This last year has been different, I’ll say that. We’re eating out a lot and staying home and watching movies in bed and so on. Aside from our not being able to go out to eat or to see movies, and the cancellation of several of our favorite festival events, this crisis really hasn’t impacted our lifestyles much at all. I’m glad she’s the one I’m enduring the pandemic with!

97h. Exploring Oahu with her at my side was wonderful. We both kept getting amazed by the same things!

97i. Sometimes it’s hard to find a teevee show that she likes, but when I do find one, it’s a blast as references from those shows will creep into our vernacular.

97j. We tend to get mutually weepy over the more emotional reveals on The Repair Shop.

97k. This last year has had some difficulties of its own, over and above the COVID struggles, but we’ve weathered all of it and continue to weather it all.

97l. Our opinions differed wildly on No Time To Die. Hey, it happens! Kinda like her distaste for coconut. (Which is weird, let’s be honest.)

New for 2023! 97m. She’s had a couple of surgeries in recent years that led to some recovery time and bed-rest, which meant she watched a lot of streaming shows. I didn’t realize what kind of stuff she was streaming until one night we were watching Saturday Night Live and she started laughing knowingly at this sketch. I asked, “Are you watching a lot of murder shows these days?”

97n. On weekends I usually get up before she does, so I’ll come downstairs and make my coffee and get hers set up to go. My signal that she is getting up for good is when she actually opens the blinds in the bedroom; when I hear that, I’m to get up and turn on the coffee. (Sometimes I’m listening to music on my earbuds and I don’t hear the blinds and then she comes downstairs and gives me the “No coffee?!” look. Fellas, try to avoid the “No coffee?!” look.)

97o. No, it doesn’t bother me at all that Carla prefers to sit with her on the love seat when we’re watching teevee at night as opposed to sitting with me on the couch. Harumph.

97p. If I could go back in time and make exactly one change to our wedding day? Yup. We’re all doing the “Rock the Boat” dance made famous by Derry Girls.

97q: Related to 97n above, I’ve been up for 45 minutes while she was trying to doze a bit more. This was thwarted by our cats, who decided to have rompies all over the upstairs, including the bed with her in it. As I write this she has just come downstairs, called the cats assholes, and is now making her coffee.

97r: Stay tuned, but she has started the ball rolling for adopting another greyhound. Yes, I’m on board, but this one’s going to have some pretty big pawprints to fill. (This weekend is a little bittersweet because this is when we’d be on our annual greyhound-meetup excursion to the Finger Lakes wine country.)

97s. Maybe I mentioned this above someplace, I don’t know, but I love how she has chosen to approach her dietary restrictions with a sense of adventure and discovery. We have found more great places to eat and discovered more terrific foods to cook in the years since her celiac diagnosis than we did before, and it’s not like we were dull sticks-in-the-mud in the food department to begin with! She’s always loved trying new foods and spicing things up, which is a real blessing if you’re at all familiar with the Monument to Blandness that is the usual Iowa spice rack.

97t. I’ve come to really like coming home from work, looking up as I pull into the driveway, and seeing her in her home office. Sometimes there will be a dog looking back down at me, which is also cool.

97u. Apparently she takes some of the chocolate from the home supply that I maintain to her desk at work, and some of her coworkers know she has a chocolate stash, so sometimes that gets shared around. I do the “I’m not feeding all the kids in the neighborhood!” thing, you know, the one where your kid wants to grab a dozen freezy-pops from the freezer for all the friends on a hot summer day and despite your protest you let it happen. Because hey, it’s chocolate and that increases the net happiness in the world.

97v. Our last cinematic disagreement came after watching Top Gun: Maverick, which I really liked (despite my general lack of enthusiasm for the original movie). She was distracted by the impossibility of Tom Cruise having perfectly brown hair at this point in his life. I’m hoping this doesn’t hurt our enjoyment of the upcoming Mission: Impossible flicks….

97w. We have developed a way of simultaneously groaning wistfully whenever an unexpected reference to Hawaii shows up on teevee, like the Netflix show we’ve been watching about American street food, and at the end of one episode the preview for the next said, “Next time: Oahu!”, with a big shot of Waikiki.

97x. Bam! The future of rock and roll! (No, this has nothing at all to do with The Wife, but come on, now.)

NEW FOR 2024!!! 97y. This last year was a struggle…my mom’s last months of struggles which played out amidst The Wife’s own struggles. Are things getting better? Who knows…but I hope so.

97z. Regarding item 97r above: if you’ve been paying attention, you know there’s a new greyhound in town. Unfortunately, his entry into our home has not been without its own ongoing challenges. But again, we’re getting there!

97aa. I’m just now realizing that I took zero photos of The Wife this past year. This is a big sign of what a rough year it was. It’s time to start turning that shit around!

97ab. No, wait! I did get a lovely shot of her just last weekend! Amazing that I own this great new camera and I haven’t taken enough photos of her yet. But anyway:

98. Maybe this is a personal failing on my part, but I can’t bear it when she cries. It kills me inside. But I’m trying to get better at this, since as Gandalf said, “Not all tears are an evil.”

99. I wish we were living lives that didn’t include so many tears.

100. I love her more than I did last week at this time.

101. Number 100 on this list will be equally true next week at this time. And the week after. And so on.

102. She makes me happier than I thought possible.

103. She…oh, I guess that’s where I need to stop. I love you, honey!

Chilly morning at the Farmers Market. I had to buy The Wife a coffee. #wife #EastAurora #wny
Day 65: Tried taking a photo of my Beautiful Wife looking at Taughannock Falls, but she turned her head toward me at the last second! #100DaysOfHappiness

 

The Wife, with horse. #eriecountyfair #Wife

 

Pumpkinville: Happy wife, irritated Daughter

 

Erie County Fair: A couple

 

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Eddie

Edward Van Halen, in his signature pose: shredding while in mid-air.

Born this date: Edward Van Halen, in 1955. This is what I wrote when he died, in 2020–but I’d rather honor him on the day on which he was born.

It took me a while to start loving rock music. I heard a lot of it as a kid (benefits of having an older sister, which I did not appreciate at the time because there are things you need years to figure out, especially when you’re a not-terribly-smart nine-year-old), but for various reasons none of it really captured my attention until the early-to-mid 1980s. Part of it might have been a kind of peer-pressure, as I did tire of being the kid who had no idea what all of my friends were talking about when they started discussing music. Another part of it was the arrival of MTV, which even I, as a geeky kid, thought was pretty cool.

We didn’t have MTV at our house for a while, because it took several years before the cable company ran the lines out our road to where we lived. But I would watch a lot of MTV at a couple friends’ houses, when I did sleepovers and the like. There’s a lot of nostalgic hay to mine in the music videos of those first few years, but I’ll keep it to just one group here, for what are probably obvious reasons.

There was one very strange video I enjoyed in particular. It actually had a filmed introduction; the music didn’t start for a minute or two. Our opening scene has a spectacularly nerdy kid being put on the school bus by his mother. This dude is so nerdy that when his mother flattens his hair with her fingers, it squeaks. She’s giving him the standard spiel about making friends and having a good year and whatnot, but our boy–named “Waldo”–is not having in, replying to her in a voice that can’t possibly be his: “Awww, Mom, you know I’m not like the other guys! I’m nervous and my socks are too loose.” No dice; off to school goes Waldo, after discovering that the bus is loaded with what the 1980s held to be the standard “degenerate” types of kid.

Then our music starts, with some wild drums, and then the most blazing electric guitar work I had heard to that point in my life. And that guitar work remains the most blazing guitar work I’ve ever heard. The song, and video, were called “Hot For Teacher”, and the band was a hard rock group called “Van Halen”. That astonishing guitar playing? That was a guy named Eddie Van Halen.

That song, and the others from the album 1984 were my introduction to Van Halen. I would learn not long after that while I’d just discovered these guys, Van Halen had actually been around in a big way since the late 1970s after toiling in obscurity for several years before that, and that 1984 was their sixth studio album. Soon after that album came out, some internal drama happened with the band that led to their lead singer, a charismatic but troublesome guy named David Lee Roth, to leave the group; luckily there was another lead singer available by the name of Sammy Hagar who was between bands at the moment, so he slid right in and the band accommodated him, making new music in new styles to reflect the style of their new lead man, all the while maintaining the focus on the hard-but-fun rock.

And through all of that was the guitar work of Eddie Van Halen.

The music of Van Halen was a big part of my teen years, and I’ve never lost my love of it, though eventually I didn’t buy the albums anymore. 5150, the first Van Halen album with Hagar aboard, was the first rock album that I played almost literally to death, to the point where I knew each and every song on that album backward and forward. I’d quickly get up to speed on all of the Roth-era albums as well, each of which is full of great rock music (well, Diver Down is really kinda meh, isn’t it?), but I am probably one of the only people around who can honestly say that I don’t have a genuine preference between the DLR and Sammy eras…or, as some people phrase it, “Do you prefer Van Halen, of Van Hagar?”

In all honesty, though, if you put a gun to my head and said “Play the first Van Halen song that jumps into your head!” I will probably wind up selecting “Dreams” from 5150 or “Right Now” from For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge before I choose any DLR song. That might not be a “preference”, but there it is.

Of course, Van Halen’s history got even more convoluted later on, when I had kind-of moved on from listening to them on a regular basis. Hagar was out, Roth was back in; Roth was out, and a guy named Gary Cherrone was in (for one album, that most people speak of in the same hushed tones as the Star Wars Holiday Special). Hagar was back! Hagar was gone again! Roth was back! Roth was out! Roth was back again! And so on.

Eventually Eddie Van Halen’s years of hard living started catching up with him, with news and rumors of his various health troubles, winding up in the end with cancer…and that’s what finally took him away from the world, at the age of 65.

What to say about Eddie Van Halen’s guitar playing? Well…yes, he could play fast and he could do astonishing things with the guitar. But what always got me was the tone of his playing. There was often a sense of cheer behind it, of happiness, of warmth. A lot of great rock guitar playing often seems obsessed with speed for the sake of speed, and the electric guitar can sound almost angry and snarling in a lot of guitar solos, especially in 1980s-era “hair band” hard rock. Eddie’s tone was always clean and pure, and there was almost always melody there, even in the midst of his virtuosic displays of pure skill and talent. Eddie Van Halen made music with the guitar, and his solos always blend into the songs and seem a part of the song. Many guitar solos of the era sound like what they are: rhythmic cadenzas stuck in the middle of the song, where the singer stops singing but the bassist and drummer keep on going.

Eddie Van Halen made the guitar sing and laugh, and in a few songs he even made it seem like it was about to cry. The man wasn’t just a guitar god, he was a musician. Eddie Van Halen was to the guitar, for me, as Vladimir Horowitz was to the piano or as Hillary Hahn is to the violin or as Tine Thing Helseth is to the trumpet. In his best work, he isn’t just “shredding”, he’s making music. And that’s what I’m going to remember Eddie Van Halen for: the music.

Thanks for the music, Eddie. It was always good, and quite a lot of it was great.

A word about this last one, the live performance of “Best of Both Worlds”. My paternal grandmother died in 1986, when I was just about to turn 15. It was a deeply sad day; she was the first significant loss of my life. It was a Friday. After making the arrangements that morning, my father drove all the way home from Philadelphia, where Grammy lived, and then I remember my parents going out to hang out with their friends on what was a difficult night. I stayed home, as I typically did. Grammy’s passing didn’t really hit me until my father told me, after he got home, that she had remembered me during her brief hospital stay; apparently someone had said something that had triggered her memory of me. I lost it after that, and I remember being deeply sad for the next several hours, until I idly turned on the teevee and channel-flipped to MTV, which had the Video Music Awards (MTV’s big awards show–do they still have the VMAs anymore?), and not long after I tuned in, MTV went to a segment of none other than Van Halen, in New Haven, CT. (At the time I thought this was live, but it turns out that it was dropped-in filmed footage from a performance two months earlier, but did that matter? Not really.) They were on their big tour for the 5150 album, their first big tour with Sammy Hagar. This performance is the one to which MTV cut. Maybe it seems weird, but watching them do “Best of Both Worlds”–which is one of the best songs on that album–jolted me out of my funk. It was still a sad time, and Grammy’s death was just the start of what was a generally godawful sophomore year of high school for me, but…at least there was Van Halen. Always Van Halen. To this day, I can rely on Van Halen to cheer me up when I’m stuck in the mud.

So, yeah. Thanks again, Eddie. (And Sammy, and Dave, and Michael, and Alex. And heck, you too, Gary.)

UPDATE: I was remiss in not crediting the photo above.

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Something for Thursday

Eighty-nine years ago today, Carl Sagan was born.

Sagan is one of the true giants of my life, the people whose work shaped me into who I am today. A very large part of how I view the world comes from him and his commitment to skeptical rationalism always leavened with captivated wonder.

Listen to his words as he reflects on the image of Earth taken by one of the Voyager spacecraft, when it was so far away that it’s just another pinpoint of light in what looks like a starfield.

 

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Tone Poem Tuesday

Born this date, 125 years ago today: the great George Gershwin.

I was actually going to post this piece last week before I suddenly head an “Oh!” moment, one of those cliche moments when the sitcom person slaps their own forehead as they remember the obvious: Why post about Gershwin today, when his birthday is coming up?

So, here we are.

Gershwin was, of course, probably the first truly great American composer, because he was likely the first to really start to branch beyond the European influences and incorporate truly American forms and American sounds into his music, by bringing jazz and the melodic approach of the Tin Pan Alley songwriters into classical, or “serious”, music. He only got so far in this work–a brain tumor killed him when he was just 38 and starting to really plumb the depths of his compositional powers–and as he was still growing and attaining new heights of achievement at the time of his untimely death, Gershwin’s life stands as more of a tragic truncation of a great talent than does, say, that of Mozart.

Gershwin wrote for movies–he contributed all the songs and score to Shall We Dance, the seventh of the ten feature films Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made together–and for the stage, often partnered with his lyricist brother Ira. But he also wrote for the concert hall, starting with today’s work and progressing through works that were more and more structurally interesting in a compositional sense, and he seems to have been heading for the opera stage at the time of his death. Who knows what he would have done had Porgy and Bess been a beginning instead of an ending…but Gershwin’s work still stands as a monument to one of America’s greatest musical talents from a time when America was starting to burst with musical talent.

Leonard Bernstein was an astute critic and champion of Gershwin’s work; even as he made some of the finest recordings of Gershwin ever, he was still realistic about the limitations of Gershwin’s early work, which ultimately turned out to be his only work. He wrote about this in an essay that is collected in his brilliant book The Joy of Music, which I excerpt below. Bernstein’s essay is in the form of a dialog between himself and a “Professional Manager”, whom Bernstein describes as “the fellow who makes sure that the music his firm produces actually gets played.” The main thrust of the essay is about simplicity in songwriting; to P.M. Bernstein gives the main question, aimed at Bernstein himself: “Your new Broadway show is a big hit, but none of the songs are hits. What’s that about?” (I’m paraphrasing, obviously) From this rises a discussion, shaped by Bernstein’s knowledge of American music and classical music, that eventually arrives on the doorsteps of George Gershwin. Bernstein notes that Gershwin was a songwriter who shifted toward serious music, while Bernstein was a serious composer (“I wrote a symphony before I ever tried writing a song”) heading in the other direction.

And finally we arrive at this passage, which has shaped not just how I think about Gershwin but also how I think about approaching any work of art, even works we know have issues in the execution.

P.M.
(A star in his eye) If you had met him [Bernstein has just indicated that Gershwin died when Bernstein was a child in Boston] you would have known that George was every inch a serious composer. Why, look at the Rhapsody in Blue, the American in–

L.B.
Now, P.M., you know as well as I do that the Rhapsody is not a composition at all. It’s a string of separate paragraphs stuck together–with a thin paste of flour and water. Composing is a very different thing than writing tunes, after all. I find that the themes, or tunes, or whatever you want to call them, in the Rhapsody are terrific–inspired, God-given. At least four of them, which is a lot for a twelve-minute piece. They are perfectly harmonized, ideally proportioned, songful, clear, rich, moving. The rhythms are always right. The “quality” is always there, just as it is in his best show tunes. But you can’t just put four tunes together, God-given though they may be, and call them a composition. Composition means a putting together, yes, but a putting together of elements so that they add up to an organic whole. Compono, componere–

P.M.
Spare us the Latin. You can’t mean that the Rhapsody in Blue is not an organic work! Why, in its every bar it breathes the same thing, throughout all its variety and all its change of mood and tempo. It breathes America–the people, the urban society that George knew deeply, the pace, the nostalgia, the nervousness, the majesty, the–

L.B.
–the Chaikovsky [sic] sequences, the Debussy meanderings, the Lisztian piano-fireworks. It’s as American as you please while the themes are going on, but the minute a little thing called development is called for, America goes out the window and Chaikovsky and his friends march in the door. And the trouble is that a composition lives in its development.

P.M.
I think I need more coffee. Waiter!

L.B.
Me too. I didn’t mean to get started on all this, and I certainly don’t want to tread on your idol’s clay feet. He’s my idol too, remember. I don’t think there has been such an inspired melodist on the earth since Chaikovsky, if you want to know what I really feel. I rank him right up there with Schubert and the great ones. But if you want to speak of a composer, that’s another matter. Your Rhapsody in Blue is not a real composition in the sense that whatever happens in it must seem inevitable, or even pretty inevitable. You can cut parts of it without affecting the whole in any way except to make it shorter. You can remove any of these stuck-together sections, and the piece still goes on as bravely as before. You can even interchange these sections with one another, and no harm done. You can make cuts within a section, or add new cadenzas, or play it with any combination of instruments or on the piano alone; it can be a five-minute piece or a six-minute piece or a twelve-minute piece. And in fact all these things are being done to it every day. It’s still the Rhapsody in Blue.

P.M.
But look here. That sounds to me like the biggest argument yet in its favor. If a piece is so sturdy that whatever you do to it has no effect on its intrinsic nature, then it must be pretty healthy. There must be something there that resists pressure, something real and alive, wouldn’t you say?

L.B. 
Of course there is: those tunes. Those beautiful tunes. But they still don’t add up to a piece.

P.M. 
Perhaps you’re right in a way about the Rhapsody. It was an early work, after all–his first attempt to write in an extended form. He was only twenty-six or so, don’t forget; he couldn’t even orchestrate the piece when he wrote it. But how about the later works? What about the American in Paris? Now that is surely a well-knit, organic–

L.B. 
True, what you say. Each work got better as he went on, because he was an intelligent man and a serious student, and he worked hard. But the American in Paris is again a study in tunes, all of them beautiful, and all of them separate. He had by that time discovered certain tricks of composition, ways of linking themes up, of combining and developing motives, of making an orchestral fabric. But even here they still remain tricks, mechanisms borrowed from Strauss and Ravel and who knows where else. And when you add it all up together it is still a weak work because none of those tricks is his own. They don’t arise from the nature of the material; they are borrowed and applied to the material. Or rather appliqued to it, like beads on a dress. When you hear the piece you rejoice in the first theme, then sit and wait through the “filler” until the next one comes along. In this way you sit out about two-thirds of the composition. The remaining third is marvelous because it consists of the themes themselves; but where’s the composition?

P.M. 
(A bit craftily)
But you play it all the time, don’t you?

L.B. 
Yes.

P.M. 
And you’ve recorded it, haven’t you?

L.B. 
Yes.

P.M. 
Then you must like it a lot, mustn’t you?

L.B. 
I adore it. Ah, here’s the coffee.

P.M. 
(sighing) I don’t understand you. How can you adore something you riddle with holes? Can you adore a bad composition?

L.B. 
Each man kills the thing he loves. Yes, I guess you can love a bad composition. For non-compositional reasons. Sentiment. Association. Inner meaning. Spirit. But I think I like it most of all because it is so sincere. It is trying so hard to be good; it has only good intentions.

P.M. 
You mean you like it for its faults?

L.B. 
No, I don’t. But what’s good in it is so good that it’s irresistible. If you have to go along with some chaff in order to have the wheat, it’s worth it. And I love it because it shows, or begins to show, what Gershwin might have done if he had lived. Just look at the progress from the Rhapsody to the piano concerto, from the concerto to–

P.M. 
(glowing) Ah, the concerto is a masterpiece.

L.B. 
That’s your story. The concerto is the work of a young genius who is learning fast. But Porgy and Bess–there the real destiny of Gershwin begins to clear.

That’s where I’ll leave off…I probably should have trimmed that excerpt but I couldn’t decide where to do it, and Leonard Bernstein would almost certainly have been one of the great writers on music if he hadn’t been such a great writer and performer of music. But for me, the money quote is near the end there:

What’s good in it is so good that it’s irresistible.

I have invoked that phrase many, many times when discussing things I love that are still pretty flawed. It’s such an important concept that I think gets lost sometimes in today’s “All or nothing” environment: a flaw can, and probably should, be openly admitted and acknowledged, without discounting the strengths that exist in the work, any work, alongside those very flaws.

From all this it’s probably obvious what today’s tone poem is, so I’ll just get out of the way of the music now. Here’s Leonard Bernstein, playing the solo piano and conducting the Columbia Symphony Orchestra, in George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

And what the heck, here’s An American in Paris, from the same recording (this time, the New York Philharmonic):

I won’t feature it here because this post is getting too long as it is, but I have a higher view of the Concerto in F than Bernstein does–I consider it the finest piano concerto written in the 20th century not by a person named “Rachmaninoff”–but if you want to give the Concerto a listen, track down the recording made by Andre Previn and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. That’s one of the great recordings of all time, in my opinion.

And if you read this far, you should know that I share a birthday with Mr. Gershwin. Happy birthday to me!

 

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“Do you remember America?”

It’s July 4. A repost from one year ago:

“Do you remember America?” the curious person will ask one night, in a darkened tavern as they nurse their second or third drink. “The country tried to codify freedom and democracy? I mean, sure, at first it was only for a few of their citizens, but it was a start, right? They got better at it. And sure, getting better took a whole lot of spilled blood over a couple hundred years, and even when they said ‘Sure, fine, you’re free now,’ they came up with ways to keep you from really being free…but really, do you remember America? That country that tamed an entire wilderness! I mean, sure, they seized that wilderness from people already living there, but still. Do you remember America? The country that made polio a memory? I mean, sure, less than a hundred years later they tried to ignore a new disease, but that was pretty neat, right? And they went to the Moon! I mean, sure, that was so they could feel better about getting there first against a country that doesn’t exist anymore, and they never went again or did much about that, but still. Do you remember America?”

“I remember,” a voice will say, probably from the back of the tavern. A raspy voice, an old voice, unable to speak loudly much at all anymore. A hat drawn down over a haunted face, scarred and weathered by time. “I remember America.” And they will lift their whiskey to their mouth.

“What happened to it?” the curious person will ask.

And the person at the end of the bar will swallow their whiskey and look off into the distance, what little distance there is, and eventually they will shrug. “We did,” they’ll say. “We happened to America.”

And the person will drain their whiskey and leave out the back door. Those remaining who heard this exchange will puzzle over it for a bit, but eventually they’ll return their attention to whatever else is going on–a sporting event on the television, perhaps, or some story about what happened at work that day. You don’t often talk about fallen nations and collapsed empires at the tavern after work, you see.

But maybe the curious person won’t turn all their attention back to the dull conversation going on around them. Maybe some part of their imagination will linger there on the memory of a nation, born in fire and too much blood, a nation that aspired but fell short, a nation that rose higher and fell lower than it should have.

And they’ll wonder. Maybe.

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