Happy 4th of July - Make It a Safe One

Happy 100th Birthday, Palm Beach County!

Palm Beach County celebrates its centennial today, though most of the 'official' celebrations will take place this weekend with many 4th of July festivities. When Palm Beach County was carved out of Dade County, its county lines extended into parts of what is now known as St. Lucie County to the north; parts of Broward County to the south, and most of Okeechobee County to the west. Although Palm Beach County is not as large in area now, the entire states of Rhode Island or Delaware could fit in today's county boundaries.

Almost 18% of Palm Beach County is comprised of water (lakes, canals, intracoastal waterwaterways) and the fact that many people do not learn how to swim contributes to many unnecessary deaths here. According to the Florida Department of Health, Florida ranks 1st in drowning fatalities in the U.S. and Palm Beach County ranks 2nd in Florida (Broward County is 1st). The FLDOH also notes that over 80% of drowning deaths in Florida are Florida residents. 4th of July weekends have high rates of drowning deaths in Florida, so I hope everyone is watching out for the children and those who cannot swim.

This day also marks the beginning of many reforms in Florida:

• cigarette tax increases bring the price of a pack of cigarettes to well over five dollars
• law enforcement can now pull over drivers suspected of not wearing a seat belt without having to cite the driver for another violation
• Citizens Insurance (our state property insurance) can now increase its premiums (as if $4800+/year average isn't enough) up to 10% annually for the next five years.
• telephone service providers are no longer regulated by the Public Service Commission, and can increase cost of services by 10% annually without oversight (oh, goodie) - if you are a Florida resident and you think this one doesn't effect you because you use Comcast or Vonage or because you use a cellular carrier, think again - these companies are all also considered phone service providers.

Currently Reading: on deck this week

Tyrants: Stories (Norton, 2008) by Marshall N. Klimasewiski
Guess Again: Short Stories (Simon & Schuster, 2006) by Bernard Cooper

This Nest, Swift Passerine (Tupelo, 2009) by Dan Beachy-Quick
Apology for the Book of Creatures (Ahsahta, 2008) by Dan Beachy-Quick
Spell (Ahsahta, 2004) by Dan Beachy-Quick

[Note: if not obvious, I am currently infatuated with the work of Dan Beachy-Quick]

Perpetual Care (Elixir, 2009) by Katie Cappello
The Empty Bed (Wesleyan, 1995) by Rachel Hadas
The Shunt (palm, 2009) by David Buuck
The Character (Beacon, 1999) by Jena Osman

Two of My Generation's Icons Gone Today

My cousin Mark and I and my younger brother spent years of our childhood at our grandmother's house. As the children of working (and, at times, divorced-and-looking-again) sisters, our homebound great grandmother was in charge of our care after school. My mother once threatened to get rid of the television because her what-did-you-kids-do-today questions were so often answered with, "We played [Charlie's Angels, Bionic Man/Woman, Incredible Hulk]," or "we got (recorded) 3 good songs today." If it rained, we spent our afternoons trying to make 'perfect' recordings of popular songs from the radio to cassette tapes. We had at least 8 bad recordings of "Ring My Bell," and we once got in trouble for calling in requests for "Convoy." 'Perfect' meant you recorded the song from beginning to end without background noise (my younger brother, noisy trucks passing by the open jalousie windows, thunder, Nana bugging us about the volume, the phone ringing, a bit of commercial or commentary). Pressing the 'play' and 'record' buttons simultaneously and recognizing a song within a few notes were crucial. We listened to Y-100 on a radio (I happen to own now) my grandmother probably acquired by trading in S & H Green Stamps. I recall we were particularly proud to be the first kids we knew with a 'good' recording of Michael Jackson's "Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)." Today, when I heard of Michael Jackson's death at the age of 50 from cardiac arrest, I immediately conjured the image of Mark and I sprawled across my grandmother's Florida room taking turns hovering our fingers over the tape recorder.

When weather and Nana permitted, Mark and I acted out our interpretations of popular television shows in grandma's back yard. If my brother got bored burning bugs and starting fires with Nana's magnifying glass, we had to make up a part for him - but not if we played Charlie's Angels. Because "Charlie never does anything" and he didn't want "to be a girl," we convinced my brother that our version permitted him to be the 'new boy angel'. Mark always played Jill Munroe, justified by logic only 10 or 11-year-old children have: he was blonde - like Farrah. Farrah Fawcett was the type of celebrity who didn't need a last name - and even children knew the actress' name behind the character she played. Fawcett's death was only surprising because her long-time love, Ryan O'Neal had announced earlier this week that the two would finally marry. I suppose the assumption that she was well enough to marry (or agree to marry) seemed to mask how close she was to losing her very public battle with cancer. In Farrah's Story, the documentary that aired about one month ago, Fawcett (62), was a bit thin and frail with only wisps of bangs, but somehow still radiant, (almost desperately) positive, and mesmorizingly beautiful.

The Kitty Ate My (Students') Papers

Anyone who has seen my home office is usually surprised by the amount of crap I can cram into a 12x10 room and have the room still appear somewhat organized. Inheriting a cat has put a wrench into any progress toward organization or neatness lately, and here's why:

While on my desk, the cat has pulled rubberbands off of stacks of papers and then rolled around on the papers. In an attempt to leap from a bookcase to my desk, she's dumped my PC speakers into the garbage. She gives the papers coming out of my printer some kind of face-smoothing massage. She looms over my keyboard and mouse like Snoopy on his doghouse. She's an office menace.

Indiana (the dog) curls up and naps under the desk or table, but Tabitha (the kitty) has no fear, no shame, no boundaries. I thought the windowsills were enough play space for her, but I was wrong. I guess I'm going to have to move a kitty condo into my office and place a few books on it so she feels like she has some space of her own.

Project Master Bath: Almost Finished

Back in March, I mentioned the massive renovations I'm working on; in particular, the master suite. Well, the closet is done, the bathroom is nearly complete (I have to refinish the curtain rod and put some stuff on the walls), and the bedroom just needs window treatments and some finishing decor.

The bathroom, once torn down to the studs and concrete block,

is now a roomy bathroom, with a much wider entry door (went from 26" to 36"), a 42"-wide whirlpool tub and lots of towel rods

...and a desk-style vanity in addition to the sink vanity.

All the tile is Spanish, including the listella border in the shower, and continues with the two-tone bordered floor and onto the half-wall. The woodwork is all custom and the wood panel in front of the tub can be easily removed for access to the whirlpool motor / plumbing; the metal (including the toilet flush lever) has satin nickel finishing.


I didn't budget to have major plumbing moved. If I had, this bathroom would look a lot different. The pics and lack of wall decor make it look a little bland, but I am pleased with the results.

Favorite Things: Mmmm-ushrooms

Pic source: epicurious.com

I rarely read popular magazines, but time spent in my doctor's waiting room drove me to the February 2009 issue of Allure, wherein I discovered a little piece by Erin McGraw, who wrote about how her mother loved a particular fragrance and her descriptions of scent varieties were keen. I can never describe scents. I cannot identify, in particular, most floral scents. I am, however, able to identify distinct flavors of mushrooms.

I often order/cook certain meals for the excuse of eating mushrooms. I am particularly fond of grilled baby portabella mushrooms / criminis. Tonight I made a tomato sauce with good old button mushrooms I crusted with garlic and declared myself brilliant. I could have just eaten the mushrooms for dinner. Tomorrow, I might just do that and someday I will find a way to describe the tasty goodness of these mushrooms.

According to The Pennsylvania State University, mushroom farming includes some fairly intricate, scientifically proven methodologies. After reviewing these processes, I am sure I will not become a mushroom farmer - though these agricultural artisans now have more of my admiration and I will no longer gasp at the price of mushrooms.

Simultaneous Inspiration: Current Reading

I am currently re-reading Melville's Moby-Dick alongside Dan Beachy-Quick's A Whaler's Dictionary. I am often torn away from Melville's text to revisit Beachy-Quick's. The inspired is rapidly stealing my attention from the inspired's inspiration. Beachy-Quick (in his definition of 'Inscribe') writes:

Writing threatens the very world it attempts to express [...] Language seems to offer us this profound comfort: what you cannot know, what you cannot experience, what you cannot recall is known, experienced, remembered in it. Language says: I'll remember for you (p. 137).

Marrying Derrida, Melville, and the experience of reading (again, from Beachy-Quick's A Whaler's Dictionary):

Language seems alive - but we forget it breathes by virtue of our own lungs' breath. We forget language lives by our lending life to it, our expressive intent, our attentive reception. And we often stumble into a terrible reversal, thinking we take from language our life on loan. We substitute reading for experience when we do not read with enough actual attention to read-as-experience (p.137).

A Whaler's Dictionary has been such an inspiring experience, I may spend more hours just re-reading portions of it. The book is labeled as 'essay/criticism', but Beachy-Quick's prose is so lyrical with interpretation and philosophically poetic that 'criticism' and 'essay' don't seem appropriate, though the relationship is apparent.

Ahhhh... Reading. Again.

Summer television programming sucks and if a new season of HBO's True Blood wasn't starting up soon, I'd probably cancel the cable TV service through September (I still might, and should). Stacked all over the house, I've got piles of books I've been wanting to read. Every week, I randomly relocate a portion of those stacks to reading tables (bedside or library), and I'm slowly working through some of the poetry, shorter fiction and magazines. I'm saving the nonfiction and novels as hurricane supplies.

RECENTLY READ
Song and Dance: Poems by Alan Shapiro (Mariner, 2004)
The Ledge: Poems by Michael Collier (Mariner, 2002)

CURRENTLY READING

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway (Scribner)

ON DECK
Burn and Dodge by Sharon Dolin (U Pitt, 2008)
All Odd and Splendid by Hilda Raz (Wesleyan, 2008)
Mississippi Review
Kenyon Review
Property by Julie Agoos (Ausable, 2008)
Installations by Joe Bonomo (Penguin, 2008)

Patience Test: The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)

I'd heard a few jokes relating the length of this film's title to its viewing length, but decided to watch The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford anyway. If you squirm during a normal (2-hour) feature film, AJJCRF might not be something you can sit through. Not only is the film almost three hours long, the slow plot progression makes the film feel closer to four hours.

One of the reasons I decided to test my patience with this film was Casey Affleck's Academy Award nomination for best supporting actor. As a whole, I'm not impressed with the Affleck family's performances, but Gone Baby Gone (2007) was not bad as flicks go and it starred one Affleck (Casey) directed by another (Ben). The elder Affleck's best acting might be as George Reeves (who played the first Superman) in the forensically biographic Hollywoodland (2006). A note on Hollywoodland: this film convinced me that Adrian Brody might be the best working actor for looking gaunt and beaten (see Summer of Sam, The Pianist).

So, what's impressive about The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford?

1) Cinematography. Watch the shadows - lots of strong images leaving lasting impressions.

2) Brad Pitt. Although nominated at several film festivals as 'best actor' for this film, I think Pitt was passed up in the big show because Casey Affleck and Sam Rockwell are so watchable, and frankly, Pitt's Jesse James reminded me a bit of his Twelve Monkeys character, Jeffrey Goines. However, Pitt's bit is well done and believable.

3) Sam Rockwell. Just as Charley Ford's role in the assassination is a bit misleading and understated, so is Rockwell's credit for what may be the best performance in this film.

4) Focus and Perspective. The film's timeline focuses upon the events leading to James's assassination and the years following the event. The story is as much (if not more so) Robert Ford's as it is Jesse James's, but we learn a bit about the infamous bandit's family life and how he 'laid low in plain sight'. If you don't know anything about the James brothers' crimes, you don't need research. Some key milemarkers are brought up throughout the film's narration.

5) Gunfights. Films have left us a bit numb to gunshot wounds (for a refresher, watch Three Kings), particularly in the case of gunfights in westerns. Shooter A gets hit by Shooter B. Shooter A grabs his wounded appendage, but manages to keep shooting. Shooter B gets shot by Shooter A (or C, or D) and so on. In AJJCRF, the 'gunfights' are personal. Almost every shooter knows the target as a friend. Trust is an issue in this circle of thieves and the trust issues are played out very well. After all, when everyone is toting a lethal weapon, no one is trustworthy and the tension is high. Few of the gunslingers are sure shots. In one scene, at least 12 rounds are shot at very close range (about 4 feet) with only one bullet hitting a target. Gunfight scenes occur just about anywhere in AJJCRF; none sport the chivalrous, organized battles of one side facing another, counting down, pacing. For the most part, the gunfights are one-on-one and acts of sportsmanship are rare.

6) Well written narrative voice overs.

If you have the patience, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford might be worth about three hours of your time, particularly if you appreciate something a bit different.

The 'C' Word

Cancer. The word is heart-stopping. When we hear the word, many of us immediately see a particular relationship: cancer = death.

Maybe the association is due to ignorance or lack of exposure to those dealing with cancer. After all, I have not known anyone who has died from 'cancer'; instead, most of the young people I grew up with have died as the result of accidents (car, motorcycle, train), suicides, drug overdoses, drownings, gunshots, and stabbings. My goldfish died from overeating. I consider it negligent homicide. I killed him with food. Those I've known in adulthood have died from addiction, diabetes, heart failure (usually in old age), and the complications of AIDS.

Only two people in my family (to my knowledge) have dealt with the dreaded 'c' word: my mother had a brief scare with skin cancer and my uncle has battled prostate cancer. Both saw the signs and got treated early. One of my neighbors has been dealing with leukemia for 20 years. My mother used to say he was too tenacious to let cancer take him.

A few weeks ago, my mother's best friend, Pat, called to tell me she'd been diagnosed with stage 4 cervical cancer. 'Stage 4'. I'd heard that one before. Only 10 days before my mother's death I'd heard 'stage 4' linked to 'liver failure'. Another equation: stage 4 = death.

My response was to immediately question the doctor's diagnosis and practices: "Wouldn't 'stage 4' mean she didn't catch something in last year's annual exam?"

"It would," Pat answered, "if I'd had an exam last year."

Her answer left me silent. And then she laughed, "if I'd had an exam in the last 10 years."

I couldn't believe what I'd heard. Pat has been a role model for me in many ways. When I was young and just out of rehab, she took a chance on me by helping me get my first real office job with her at a local car dealership. My job was to look up part numbers on microfiche to enter in warranty forms and perform other menial general office tasks. She had a work ethic rivaling my mother's and I learned the importance of organization, protocol, process, and consistent practices by working with her those few months.

She was habitual in nature. Every morning, she had the same routine in setting up her workday and every afternoon, the same routine in leaving, including covering all the machines with plastic covers. In those days, you could smoke in office buildings, and she smoked all day long - often lighting up one cigarette after just butting out another. At the end of every day, she would empty the ashtray into the garbage can and pour the last of her coffee or water over the mess.

She taught me how to read automobile VINs, meticulous recordkeeping, and the meaning of 'CYA'. As a Detroit native, she knew a lot about the automobile industry, which surprised me at the time because I'd always known her as the 'paint store lady'. She and her husband had owned several small paint stores throughout Palm Beach County. Before I was born and for a time after, my father worked for them part-time because being a fireman didn't pay well, and my mother worked there sometimes to fill in for my father.

In one of my first nonfiction workshops, we were prompted to write about one of our first job experiences. My piece ended up focusing upon Pat and how a few special women influenced me during my childhood. I was told the piece was "well written, but lacked focus on you." Well, if the readers of the piece would have paid attention to more than the language, I had addressed that issue:

"As a widow and small business owner, Pat had little time for frivolous activities, but she managed to volunteer and attend mass regularly. She taught me that no matter what horrible things were going on in my life, there were others in the world that had it worse. She would say things like, 'If young people would just pay attention, you'd see everything isn't all about you.'"

Just after her diagnosis, Pat and I went shopping to replace her recliner. She joked about only needing it for a few months (she'd been told she'd have 3 months without treatment). She's asked me if I would take her books and if I still have pierced ears (yes, yes). She's mentioned that someone is willing to take her cat and that her cousin will inherit her house. I remind her that she's thinking too far ahead. She's asked me if I've updated my will since my mother's death (no, but now I have an appointment to do so). I've asked her why she's not focusing upon herself. She's mentioned what she needs to get rid of, donate, or give away. I've reminded her it's too soon to think that way and ask her if she would be going through all that now if she wasn't dealing with the 'c' word (no). She tells me she needs to shred her photos. I scold her for thinking no one would want the old pics. She assures me that no one will (I will, but I don't say it aloud). She reminices about how I ended all my childhood tales, "And then they died," and asks me if I remember doing that (yes). She asked me if I remember seeing Lady and the Tramp (yes - my favorite romance on film) at the old Dolphin Theatre. I tell her stories about my brother. She tells me it's evident that I miss him (yes). She knows that I will be alone when she's gone. She's preparing me for the worst despite my best efforts to make her see a future. She calls me out on being idealistic, obsessive, and 'too liberal'. Cancer = honesty.

Last week Pat had her first three days of chemo. In three weeks, she'll have three more consecutive days of chemo. So far, no radiation and no surgery. I accompanied Pat to several doctor appointments to learn what to expect and what I could help her deal with. I attended her first chemo session to make sure she could handle driving herself to and from the next two. I looked around the room for telltale signs of the 'c' word: hairlessness, nausea, signs of death. Sure, a few of the women in the waiting room were clearly wearing wigs and other head covers, and most of the mens' haircuts were close to the scalp, but (as I learned from previous visits and talks with the doctor) signs of the 'c' word can be less obvious. Cancer = mysterious, silent.

Maybe I would see more evidence of Pat's future in the infusion room: doom and gloom, hopelessness, stagnation, and mystery. Instead, I found just the opposite. The infusion room nurses were forthright and knowledgeable. Not a single patient or nurse said words like 'if this doesn't work' or 'hospice'. I was surprised at the ratio of male to female patients (6:1) and how many of the patients were my age. The next morning I scheduled an appointment with a new OB/GYN. Cancer = wake-up call.

After Months of Drought...

... maybe my lawn will green again after 5 days of rain.

Semi-retirement / sabbatical / recuperation

After working full-time (often 2 or 3 jobs simultaneously) for 25 years, I am going into semi-retirement in August.

I was a little anxious about this transition, but the moment I resigned my current position, I felt 50 pounds lighter with a permissive sense of relief.

I justify this selfish act as the accumulated reward of 20 years without a 'vacation' (20 years x 2 weeks/year = 40 weeks), so my plan is to take a year 'off' to finish major projects. I like to consider this 'extended vacation' as well-deserved time to devote to the one work-in-progress I have ignored for 25 years: me.

Wish me luck.

No April Fool High Temps: 92 yesterday; 72 today

Yesterday, West Palm Beach hit a record high of 92/93 degrees. Tonight, we may hit a record low of 48 degrees. I'm not complaining.

Hurricane season starts soon and Colorado State University's Atlantic hurricane forecast has been updated to 12 named tropical storms with a projected 6 becoming hurricanes in 2009 and 2 of those 6 hurricanes classified as 'major' (cat 3 or higher) (Reuters, 2009). Yippy.

Renovations keeping me off the grid

Renovating the master suite has been fun, fun, fun. The following pics are post-demo.

bathroom

bathroom

bedroom

In the third pic you can see the patchwork drywall put up when this addition was built. At the time, my job (at eleven years old) was to measure all the bits of drywall we had and write the measurements on each piece so we could finish the only wall of the bedroom that would have drywall in the end. The rest of the room was covered in paneling nailed to the studs. No wonder we always had a spider problem in that room.

Speaking of spiders, this one caught my eye on the front porch wind chime. It moved so gracefully from chime to chime. The whole thing was like a strange action-adventure ballet.