2022 is THE WORST

 Dear John,

It started with my uncle - but I wasn't too surprised when Covid got him.

Then, you - obviously devastating.

Then, my gynecologist - he was my favorite doctor ever.  He actually listened to things I said.  It is believed that he also took his life, due to unbearable back pain, even after surgery.  He was buried the same day you were.

Then, one of the guys from your hometown - M was good friends with him.

Then, this weekend, the nephew of one of my blogger friends.  Only 17 - I'm so sorry, Lori

I hope that's all 2022 has in store.  I've had enough, thanks.

Love, 

A

The coroner

 Dear John,

The police called the coroner to the house to investigate your death.  I didn't have the will to make everyone take their shoes off.  Now that we've got dogs, I wonder if it's worth it for anyone.  I'll have to ponder that.  We were ready for new carpet last year.  Maybe I'll actually get some soon.

I didn't look around much when I got home that day.  I just saw you, grabbed our daughter, and waited for the police.  They also brought EMTs who tried to revive you.  The coroner brought a chaplain and called the funeral home.  When they took you out, the chaplain took our girl into her room...and then sat on her bed.  For the first time in forever (you may recognize that as a lyric from a song from Frozen), your child was happy to change her sheets.  We may have let her develop a bit of germophobia.

Anyway, as people were milling around, I was pacing and trying to stay out of the way.  As I was wandering the kitchen, I saw the beer bottles by the fridge.  They're still there, by the way, 4 months later.  I can't bring myself to put them in the recycle bin, but I will get there.  Then I paced some more, and noticed all the pill bottles.  Anything you had in the way of painkillers was there and empty.  

I feel responsible, since I had suggested to you that there were some drugs that could help with anxiety.  You asked the VA psychiatrist for some valium and he sent it to you.  You took the whole bottle.  I had 15 year old leftover drugs (percocet?) from my c-section.  I had 10 year old leftover drugs from my hernia operation.  You had migraine medication.  You took all of that.  And probably smoked some weed - the kid said she smelled it.

It took 6 weeks for the toxicology report to come back - for some reason, they sent it to Pennsylvania.  They called and confirmed that all of those things were in your system.  But then, they wanted to know where you got the vicodin that was also there.  I was irritated because...what did it matter?  I failed to remember that they wouldn't have known that you weren't out and about buying drugs.  I told the investigator that it was probably from one of my surgeries and that you had just combined bottles.  She wanted to inquire further, I think, but I changed the topic.

The police took your note.  Once the coroner completed your death certificate, I called to get it back.  And then I promptly forgot about arranging to pick it up.  I showed up 3 days late.  I've been having lots of memory issues since you left.  It's starting to get better, bit by bit.  

Since I've had your death certificate, I've been able to manage most of the paperwork.  I still have to go and change the deed on the house.  I did go to the bank, where Barb was so angry and sad.  She said her brother had also taken his life about 10 years ago.  If she had known, she would have helped.  I told her that you only showed what you wanted people to see.  I wish you had known that she cared about you.  I also need to get your stock options from that contracting company that you worked for - it has been, without a doubt, the largest pain in my ass of all the paperwork I've had to file.  

One of the new people at work interned at the coroner's office.  She said your favorite neighbor said something racist in front of the only black employee at the coroner's office.  I told her about the spite berm that you built.  All the trees are still alive and blocking the neighbors out nicely.  Those people put a sympathy card in the mailbox 3 months after the fact.  Maybe they think that I'll let bygones be bygones, but everyone underestimates me and my grudge-holding ability.  

Speaking of grudge-holding, your sister K invited us to a family gathering in August.  Not sure yet if we'll go, and if we do...will I warn her that they might feel awkward when I refuse to acknowledge the existence of S and her family?  Hmmm, we shall see.

Love,

A

Let's talk about sex, baby

 Dear John,

It's Saturday night.  Saturday was the day we usually had sex.  It freaks me out a bit to think that we will never do that again.  And that I may never do that again.  

My grandmother was widowed in her 40s.  My mom was widowed around the same age I am.  My grandmother never dated again, but she apparently wanted to be a nun before my grandfather talked her into marriage.  My mom dated someone after my dad died.  He was 20 years older than her, which was not that weird - may dad was 17 years older.  But it made things weird as he was farther along in aging. 

I can't imagine dating.  I will never marry again - that was a one-time only deal.  Not only do I not want to be married to anyone else, the financial impact would be significant.  I doubt I will date either.  I don't have the energy to contemplate it.  First, by the time I would be ready to date...I would be in my mid-50s.  At least.  Second, I would have to move - I'm in a land full of Trumpers, and there's no one less likely for me to want to date.  But it's scary to think that in just a few years, I will be alone as my girl goes off to college.  That was not the plan.  It was supposed to be us, fighting with each other, forever.

Love,

A

A musical interlude

 Dear John,

The radio was playing The Fray's "How To Save A Life" as I was driving home today.  The chorus hit me pretty hard:

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

I should have known something was wrong when you were holding my hand while I was sleeping, Monday and Tuesday nights.  I woke up to it and squeezed back just a little.  You never liked to hold hands, but you did it a few times this year on our walks.  I guess you were trying to hold on and stay with us, when you had sort of already decided to go.  

I also wish I had stayed up with you all night - but you knew that was impossible.  When I decided it was bed time, I got in bed and went to sleep.  Unlike you, who would walk around and check the house, adjust the temperature, do a few minor tasks, check the kid, and an hour later finally go to bed, I would say "I'm going to bed" and then be in bed within 10 minutes and asleep within 20.  When you were able to get in bed at the same time...or if you were already there when I got there...you always wanted to talk.  I just wanted to go to sleep, so you would talk, and I would try to listen, and then I would fall asleep.  I'd usually wake up after a few minutes, usually when you had gotten everything off your chest.  You didn't really need me to listen; you just needed to talk.  I called it your lullaby. It put me to sleep every time. But that last night...when you asked if I had heard what you said...I suspect I missed something very important.  I don't know whether you were disappointed or relieved.  I do think you had decided to go through with taking your own life (depending on what the stock market did the next day), and were sort of looking for me to talk you down.  But you didn't give me your usual signals.  And I fell asleep and I think I missed your statement of intent.  I did feel you hold my hand and I wish I could have held on tighter.  I wish it hadn't been a Tuesday, when I was at work for 13 hours and thoroughly exhausted.  I wish you had talked to me earlier.  I wish you could have made different choices and stopped doing the things that made you feel so terribly bad about yourself when you were already anxious and depressed.  I wish a lot of things. 

I also can't get that Glass Animals "Heat Waves" song out of my head - of course, it's on repeat on the radio, but also:

Sometimes all I think about is you
Late nights in the middle of June
Heat waves been faking me out
Can't make you happier now

and

I just wonder what you're dreaming of
When you sleep and smile so comfortable
I just wish that I could give you that
That look that's perfectly un-sad

You were the music afficionado.  You were always on YouTube, looking for songs, complaining about the ads.  I just listen to what's on the radio - I don't usually seek out particular songs.  But these, and some of the lines in Juice Wrld's "Lucid Dreams" are playing in my head a lot lately.  I wish the iPod that you used all the time could tell me what you listened to the most.  Of course, those weren't your favorite songs necessarily; they were just whatever could drown out the ringing in your head.  I hope you have some pleasant silence, and can access music solely for enjoyment now.  

We did listen to what I have always thought of as "our song" on our recent
trip.  "Shake the Disease" by Depeche Mode - your daughter thought it was a good song.  I'm glad she agrees.  

Love,

A

An obvious play for sympathy

 Dear John,

Your family has been...your family.  C has been in contact with me the most.  She texts me whenever she needs comfort.  Your SIL reaches out, but I haven't spoken to your brother since the day you died.  K has some regrets, I think, but is her usual self.  Unless you're directly in front of her, you don't really matter.  E has expressed some sorrow that there was distance between you.  I have completely blocked S, and will never speak to her again.

There was, as usual, a clear division of my family vs yours at the funeral.  Not one of your siblings spoke to any of my family.  My family would have been receptive, if cool.  My sisters told their kids to surround our girl and make sure she was never without one of them.  She and I sat with your mom.  The rest of your family sat together on the opposite side of the aisle.  I know you didn't want a funeral.  And I wouldn't have done it at all, but I felt bad for your mom for a minute.  She needed a ritual to say goodbye - I think our daughter sort of did too, even though she hasn't been raised in church.  It rained so hard that day until everything was done - I said it was you expressing your disapproval of the proceedings.  On the plus side, I applied for, and received, additional burial benefits from the VA, so it brought down the cost of the proceedings.  Your mom paid for the mass and the musicians - I didn't offer to do that.

So, why am I never speaking to S again?  I stopped by your mom's a day or two after the funeral to drop off some cards.  S was there and they were asking me questions about you.  I told them that you had been struggling for a long time.  I didn't want to violate your privacy, but I thought they needed to know that I had mentioned your issues.  Your mom saw it as me making an excuse for your behavior rather than as a signal that she needed to get closer to you and try to help.  That may seem like a harsh judgement on her, but I think it's true.  Anyway, later, S texted me for more information.  I gave her a slightly longer version of how you had withdrawn from everyone.  It was a fairly neutral response - I am not here to absolve anyone of their guilt, but I wasn't blaming either.  She replied with the following:    

    "He did speak to M and D the weekend before.  No one noticed anything unusual.  I know John is         private but I can't believe you wouldn't want to tell us that he was suicidal.  He's our brother &             you're his wife.  If you cared, you would have told somebody, that he was talking about it, even if         he didn't want you to"

Let me tell you, I was HEATED when I read that.  I replied very coolly, though, reminding her that her actions were a main factor for why you were distant from your family.  I told her that saying anything to her or anyone else would have been a major violation of your trust.  I told her, more or less, that I didn't owe her anything, and she should not pursue that line of thought with me.  So, of course, she doubled down and told me that other people were hurting too.  BLOCKED.  She's still on the family group text, but I don't see what she says.

In true (Your Family) style, though, I have sent a few passive aggressive messages out.  I may have married in, but I have the name and I will use some of the traits when it suits me.  To E, I send an occasional picture of the many drawings or notes she sent you when she was younger.  Am I deliberately reminding her that you adored her and were very hurt when she pushed you away?  Yes.  Yes, I am.  I send C photos of you and her and D having fun - a little reminder that she also withdrew from you.  I'm mostly avoiding your mom - still waiting for her to follow up on her idea to come up here to see us.  I think it's going to be a long wait.

Your daughter has inherited the worst of us, though, as far as grudges go.  She has no interest in seeing any of her aunts/uncles, cousins, or grandmother.  I think she was really hurt that your mom forgot her both for her last birthday and for Christmas.  So, now, as far as she's concerned, they don't really exist for her.  When I mention any of them, she sort of sneers.  I can't blame her.  I will probably try to attend some sort of family gathering and drag her along.  She may need that connection someday.  We shall see.  We did go to see A when we were in Chicago.  She continues to be a delightful person.  Cousin K had a major faceplant bike accident and did some serious damage to his cranium.  I sent him some Legos for entertainment, because he has to take it easy for a while.  D had surgery for Deep Vein Thrombosis - that's kind of scary.  C says he's doing well, but has to wear his compression socks all the time.  E just posted something very curious on FB, that appeared to be an ad for an orthodontist.  Weird.  That's all I know for now.

Love,

A

Taxes

 Dear John,

Your stock trading made our taxes so complicated.  I did the easy parts, and left the investment stuff to you.  I always assumed you were not doing them properly.  We hadn't yet filed when you died, so the first thing I did was file for an extension and then send all the info off to my sister's friend, who is an accountant.

I am just the tiniest bit irritated today to find out that the accountant is going to do the taxes the exact same way you did them.  He said that the people who usually do that kind of filing work for companies with accountants who track that stuff.  I don't know how much I'm paying him for this yet, but I guess it's worth it, since I don't have to be the one to answer correspondence from the IRS this time.  Sigh.

In other news, I went to visit your grave today.  The VA finally got your headstone done properly.  They have the correct rank this time.  I still don't know what Arcom is, but I guess it's not important.  They did not mention anything about your service in Enduring Freedom - they left it as Persian Gulf.  That's probably where many of your problems started, so I guess it's fine.  You're between an Army guy and an Air Force guy.  Most of the graves around you are WWII vets, but the Air Force guy served in Vietnam.  I suppose you would probably give him a break on all the grief you would usually heap on Air Force vets, since Vietnam was difficult on everyone.  I left you some roses - I was hoping for a colorful bouquet from Aldi, but red roses were all they had.  I think those were your favorite flowers to receive anyway, and the red ones are for love, so it was most appropriate.  I'll take the kid back soon - we'll find something else, and maybe get a container to put them in.  

I was going to get gas while on that side of the river, but that's a state with an abortion ban, so I'm trying to limit my spending there.  Plus, the gas isn't any cheaper there than at home, for some reason.  I'm going to make the kid fill up the car, though, as you had intended for her to do with her first paycheck.  It's way past that, but I will get it done.

Love,

A

Sales

 Dear John,

Today has been hard.  I'm having a garage sale to pare down some of the stuff in the house.  I've got a bunch of your clothes and shoes and military stuff for sale.  The military stuff is selling well, but as usual, not much else is.

It's so difficult to give up your stuff.  I don't want it here any more, but it feels like letting you go too soon.  You don't need the stuff, and you would definitely be in favor of getting rid of it.  But it makes me cry.  You hardly wore anything but sweatpants and sweatshirts (or t-shirts and shorts, depending on the weather) the last 10 years, but I look at your clothes and remember times when you wore them to work, or for family celebrations.  You wore those corduroy pants all the time.  I'm keeping your cashmere sweater, obviously.  It will complement my collection, since I didn't have a chocolate brown one.  

I'm glad to get rid of your military stuff.  I don't know if I resent the Army for making you the way you were or for not figuring out how to keep all the veterans with suicidal thoughts alive.  But I don't need the 5 American flags, assorted uniforms, random specialty pieces, or anything else.  I know you were proud of your service, and very harsh when talking about anyone who hadn't served who wanted to determine US policy.  I'm just sort of indifferent to it all now.  I'm sure I will be angry later.

I got into an argument with your daughter, as John Jr. decided to tell me how to do something that I was already in the middle of doing.  🙄🙄🙄  She left me to do all the work for the garage sale.  Little does she know that she's on duty tomorrow.  Maybe she will also inherit your ability to sell stuff along with your annoying habit of assuming I'm incompetent.

I still have all the baseball cards, tractors, and pocket watches.  That's going to take a while longer to disperse.  I'm more than a little irritated that I have to deal with all that stuff.  It's very distressing to have a bunch of things that you want to get rid of, but can't just give away because you know they're worth money.  So, thanks for that.  

I did sell that stupid vacuum you chose.  Sure, it was only $60, and it worked well enough, but the hose came off every time I tried to vacuum.  I'm hoping the new one I ordered will make it easy to vacuum the stairs and keep the dog hair under control.  It also claims that it won't get hair wound up in it.  That will save us a lot of trouble.  It will (supposedly) also vacuum the bare floors with ease, so maybe I can get rid of the other vacuum too.  Why do we have 4 vacuums, anyway?  

As I type "supposedly," I suddenly miss hearing you say "supposably" even though it drove me up a wall every time you said it.  

Love,

A

I did what I said I would

 Dear John,

We got a dog a couple weeks after you left us.  I always said I would do it, but it turns out that the shelter got a dog that we weren't allergic to on the day of your funeral.  His owner died, and the family didn't want him.  I saw him the Sunday when he became available, and brought him home the same day.  Our girl tried to get him to sleep with her but he started following me around immediately.  Plus...he's 9.5 years old.  He used to cry when I left, but he's better now.  He sleeps with me, loves walks and car rides, and wishes he had access to food all the time.  He's also partly the same breed as one of the dogs I had when we were first dating.

Since he loved me so much (or, you know, had shared trauma), our girl wanted her own dog.  So I looked around for a puppy for her.  I found one near where my sister lives - we went to visit them for my niece's graduation and picked up the dog then.  He was an adorable black mop - the same breed that your oldest sister has.  Hers is white, and our little guy seems to be slowly turning white.  He's hilarious and pounces on his toys.

We took them to my other sister's house for our annual visit.  There were a few fights, but mostly everyone got along pretty well.

I wish you would have agreed to get a dog.  Old man would have followed you around instead of me.  Little man would have snuggled up to you and made you laugh.  They would have got you out and about going for walks.  They also have made messes and cost me lots of money.  But it's worth it.

The floors are holding up OK.  Maybe there are some scratches.  And Old man scratched up the bathroom door when I left him locked in.  I painted most of what he tore up, so you can't even see it.  Little man keeps destroying clothing - mostly underwear.  But they're both so worth it.

Love,

A

Pride

 Dear John,

You would be so proud of your girl today.  She is attending something she calls "manager camp" because her boss decided to promote her to assistant manager already.  I'm glad you got to see her start her first job.  She is so much like you when it comes to working.  She loves getting paid and watching her bank balance grow.  She's so reliable and hard-working that after 3 months, her boss decided to let her, a 15 year old with no previous work experience, be responsible for helping run 2 different venues.  

Of course, you would not have let her work as much as I have.  You would have complained about driving back and forth.  You would have bemoaned the price of gas.  You would have said she needed more down time, though she doesn't really have anything else to do.  You would have been really irritated by the fact that she often gets out so much earlier than she's scheduled.  But you would still have been impressed with her work ethic and enjoyment of being employed.

She has made a few frivolous purchases so far - she got her iPhone.  That one is kind of funny, since she got a job to buy her own phone and pay for her own plan so you couldn't take her phone away from her again.  Too bad she didn't realize her plan would never have worked.  The thing is...she's not on it as much as you assumed she would be.  But she also succumbed to peer pressure and then found that her peers still criticized her for getting a phone that was too fancy.   She also paid ridiculous amounts of money for a pair of shoes.  

I wish you understood how your anxiety fed her anxiety, and that's why she rejected your offer to drive her to work that Saturday.  She didn't know where to go, and when you expected people to know something and they didn't, you would get upset.  She knew that, and didn't want you to be upset or have to manage that when she was already nervous.  It wasn't a rejection of you, just of your reactions to things.

We miss you every day.  She's in therapy to talk about you, but she's also there complaining about her friends and classmates.  There's a boy who seems to be trying to date her, but she's very suspicious of his motives.  You'd be proud of that, too.

Love,

A

Background

I met my husband at work.  We shared an office, but that is a story for another day.  In addition to our profession, my husband was also an Army Reservist.  He was deployed multiple times, including to the First Gulf War (Desert Storm) and to Uzbekistan/Afghanistan (Operation Enduring Freedom).  Due to his experiences there, he experienced a variety of physical and mental issues that caused him to be completely disabled 9 years ago.  He was frequently obsessive, entertained many conspiracy theories, was too anxious to leave the house (although he managed a few 3 day vacations over the years), and didn't like to go anywhere new.  This was quite a change from when I met him - 25 years ago, he was adventurous, silly, appreciative of life, and always trying to be positive.  We got married upon his return from Afghanistan.  I sometimes think he wasn't sure I would wait for him, since his deployment was almost a year long. Over time, he became joyless, relentlessly negative, and very much down on himself.  I operated as his therapist, because he didn't trust the medical systems to treat him properly (with good reason).  Our daughter was his only source of happiness and that happiness was fleeting.  As she became a teenager, he had a more difficult time navigating a relationship with her.  He wanted discipline and respect, but he also wanted to act like the sibling she never had.  She found that incomprehensible and unpredictable, and so they would butt heads a lot.  

My husband was an amazing man.  He could figure out how to do almost anything.  It would drive me a little crazy when he would call for estimates for projects and then decide he could do it himself.  He built our house.  Sure, he was the general contractor, but he also helped the framers build, assisted with the siding, worked with a friend to do the roof, installed the hardwood floors on his own, made me help with the insulation and painting (and the tray ceiling in our bedroom that was completed after much swearing), helped his friend do all the wiring, and completed any repairs necessary.  He would also figure out how to fix anything by YouTube video.  And once he qualified for disability, he stayed home and kept the house clean, delivered the kid to school, and generally made my life so easy that I couldn't even believe it.  In the pandemic years, he also started experimenting with cooking.

He was really excellent at buying and selling things for a profit.  He had a great head for numbers and a good eye for things he could buy cheap and sell for more money.  It started in his teens with cars and motorcycles.  But over the past years, he took up collecting, repairing, and selling antique pocket watches.  But he was also obsessed with the stock market, which was a huge source of stress and misery for him, and was one of the main reasons he decided that he could not live any longer.  

I miss him every day.

I decided against the really inappropriate title that first came to mind

 A few months ago, my husband died by suicide.  He died on the 9th anniversary of my mom's death.  Our 15 year old daughter found him.  While she is seeing a counselor, that's not the right thing for me.  It occurred to me that I could write what I'm thinking about, so I have decided to dust off ye olde blog.  I'll be changing the name - I think it will mostly be like writing letters to my husband, so I am going to rename this space to Dear John.  (Let me tell you, Are You Kidding Me? still fits very well, because this was definitely not supposed to happen.  But there are things I want to tell him, and saying them in my head seems inadequate.)

#Microblog Monday (on Tuesday)

Things in my house that will not act right:

My daughter (all noise, all the time?  Really?  And what's with the backtalk?)

My husband (I knew that when I married him, so that's on me)

My dishwasher (annoying but still mostly functional)

My patio door (Phew!  Still baaaarely under warranty!)

My DVD player (Oh, wait - No.  It would be too easy and cheap to replace, therefore...)

My TV (ALL of the HDMI connections had to fail?  How will I watch movies?  To the basement with  you!  The Xbox needs a new TV.)

My water heater (the sudden appearance of blazing hot water is EXTREMELY suspicious - you didn't even work this well when you were new.  If you weren't electric, I'd suspect imminent explosion.)

My other TV (Well, we had about 5 more years than we thought we'd get out of you.  At least we can be sure you won't be turning yourself on randomly any more.  And yet my other, other TV - the tube one from 1999?  That one has no problems)

On the plus side, I guess I know what we'll be getting for Christmas - or maybe we'll just use that small one from my mom's house.

Microblog Monday - A Poem

Rain brings a change
from summer to fall.
There's something about the weather.

Temperate days
Cooler nights
A brown leaf floats like a feather

The meteorologists warned us
for over a week now.
And this time it wasn't a con.

So, neighbors, please tell me,
do you not have TV?
Why are your automatic sprinklers still on?

(Seriously.  You're wasting water.  Turn 'em off.  The three of you.)

GRABook Club: The Hunger Games

I read The Hunger Games 2 years ago, while on a flight to Wyoming.  I was so enthralled that I couldn't stop reading but I didn't want the story to end.  I loved the complexity of the characters and the tension of the story. 

My husband always talks about the day when society will fall apart, and how I'm far too soft to survive in a post-apocalyptic world.  I don't like to be outside.  I hate bugs and snakes.  My eyesight is abysmal.  I don't like to eat game.  I am allergic to everything.  I burn when I spend any time in the sun.  I refuse to camp.  In other words, Katniss would be almost exactly my opposite.  However, I am quite good at flying below the radar, so I might have a chance in The Hunger Games.

There were several things I wondered about the story, but I think the largest question I had was:  How did people end up in the various Districts...especially those who lived in the Capital?  Was it simply locational?  Was it socio-economic?  Was it plain old luck?  What do you think?

I assume that there was money involved for the residents of the Capital, but everyone else just got stuck where they grew up.  But that theory doesn't necessarily make sense in terms of a war.

The Hunger Games is the best of the trilogy (well, according to me, anyway), but Catching Fire and Mockingjay are also well worth reading.

After you answer my question, please click over to read the rest of the book club questions for The Hunger Games.  You can get your own copy of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins at bookstores including Amazon.

It's Book Club Time Again! This time - To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

I think this is my all-time favorite book.  I grew up in an in-between era.  I was born after the Civil Rights movement but with people who were still unaware of their racism and prejudices.  It took a long time, and many corrections, for my mother to stop referring to "her black friend."  I think To Kill A Mockingbird really exemplifies things that are still wrong with society today - where skin color makes a difference in every facet of life...but no one will admit it.  Much of our society likes to think we are in a post-racial society, but we're not.  Not really.

How do I know this?  Well, I belong to a political discussion group on FB - it's comprised of a mixture of people with different ages, races, education and income levels, and views.  Mostly we keep things cordial, but discussions about race come up a lot. When you have Ivy League educated professionals discussing how race still affects their everyday lives, we are not post-racial.

In recent days, there have apparently been some interesting trending topics on Twitter - one is #SolidarityIsForWhiteWomen - and is in regards to the way the feminist movement excludes women of color.  Here's the story if you're interested.  A related topic is #blackpowerisforblackmen which outlines the misogyny and racism within the black community itself.  I'm not a user of Twitter, but this sort of thing appeals - you can join in the stream of conversation.  Or you can, after the heat of the moment has passed, return to the conversation and see if you see yourself there.   Either way, I think these topics started some conversations, and that's progress.

But back to the book.  In addition to just being a good story with really well-written characters who feel like family, there are so many different messages in To Kill A Mockingbird.  There is the obvious racial theme.  There is the theme of white privilege.  There is the theme of the underdog.  There is the theme of familial abuse.  There is the theme of familial love and loyalty.  There is the theme of living an unconventional life.

 For me, I think the most important theme. the one that has stuck with me, is the theme of standing up for what's right, no matter the personal cost.  Most days, I'm not sure that I have the strength of character to always do what's right.  Other days, I'm confronted with the choice, and fortunately, so far, I've mostly chosen the right path, rather than the easy one.

I guess that's my question, then - which theme/message stuck with you the most, and why?

 After you answer my question, please click over to read the rest of the book club questions for To Kill a Mockingbird.  You can get your own copy of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee at bookstores including Amazon.

*Side note:  Because I transferred high schools between my sophomore and junior years, I was able to use To Kill A Mockingbird for class assignments 3 years running.  Maybe that's why I love the book so much.

The Workaround

I work for state government.  This means that when you have a problem, no one will actually let you take the steps necessary to solve the problem.  They will only tell you how to work around the problem.  I encountered this recently when I called attention to a photography issue with one of the people involved in directing our policies.  I raised a philosophical question and got a workaround in response.  (However, since I am not generally satisfied with glib answers, I responded and got a half-hearted assurance that the issue is something we really should discuss in more detail.  If nothing else, I am excellent at starting arguments!)

I thought that out in the real world, people actually attempted to solve problems instead of just working around them.  But I was amused to find not one,but two, examples of the workaround in my inbox this morning.

Google's new tab-based system for their email is...mildly annoying.  Some people find it helpful, but I don't have hundreds of emails to sort through on a daily basis.  Therefore, it's more trouble than it's worth for me to have to sort through the tabs to see what's new in my inbox.  I would probably appreciate it more if I could make the tabs, rename them, and sort accordingly, but it's not a very customizable system.  Basically, Google does an auto-sort of things it thinks are personal, things it thinks are related to social media (G+, Facebook, YouTube, Blogger, etc) and things it thinks are non-spam promotional emails.  This would probably be more useful for me if I didn't take the coupons/discounts/deals bloggers advice and create a separate email account for all that crap.

This morning, however, the two emails were sent to ask me to put their emails into the primary (personal) tab in gmail.  Both are companies who were auto-sorted into the Promotions tab.  Well, that was fun, Google, but they've found the workaround to being shuffled off to the Ignore Me folder!

I wonder what the thinking behind the promotions tab was, anyway.  Companies want to show up on the front page, no matter what the circumstances are.  I also wonder if companies are pulling advertising in protest of being sidelined in their email marketing.  I look forward to Google next pulling the plug on Blogger, because it seems that they're trying to rid themselves of people who aren't paying them for something or another.  Irritating customers seems to be their current business model.

I'm also about halfway through Mr. Penumbra's 24 Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan, in which Google has a strong background role.  This may be affecting my attitude, because the book, at least thus far, is about a conflict between books and the digital age.  I'm a fan of books. 

Meanwhile, over at Yahoo, if they switch their logo one more time, I'm going to lose my mind!  I've seen about 3 different ones in the last couple days.  I liked the old one.  Maybe they'll hit on a new one that works, but the ones I've seen have been less than spectacular.  I'm not sure what the workaround to a new logo is, though.  Cached pages or something?   

Well, there you have it.  My internet complaints for the day...

GRAB(ook) Club: The Fault In Our Stars

I read this book several months ago, and didn't get a chance to reread it.  But I loved the book - it made me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time.  It has made me a huge fan of John Green - I think I've read all of his books now.  Some are good, some are great.  This is my favorite, because the emotions he evokes seem so accurate to me.

So, a question:  What do you think about the roles (or lack thereof) of the parents in this book?

I've lived with someone who was dying.  My father had rheumatoid arthritis and the circulation in his legs gradually faded because of it.  He developed a sore that wouldn't heal, which became a gaping hole in his leg.  I didn't know what would become of that, but I knew it was not going to get better.  But still the doctors threw seaweed wraps on it and tried skin grafts and sent physical and occupational therapists - because they didn't know what else to do and they couldn't do nothing.  And so I could identify with the parents lack of real presence in this book...because there was little that I could do for my dad but sit back and watch.  To pretend that things were as normal as possible, so he didn't have to feel like I was responsible for his care, when it was still his job to watch over me (I was 22 when he died).

I believe that John Green minimized the parents as characters because it was a realistic way to portray them.  I believe that parents would have to go on with their daily lives, that they would attempt to let their children live their lives to the fullest, knowing that they wouldn't get as long a time to do so as most people.  He captured their sorrow and their frustration, but made them into great parents who knew that it wasn't about them, even though the cancer was happening to them too.

Do you think expanding the roles of the parents would have made the book better/worse/the same?

FYI, in case you cared, my preference for the rest of John Green's books are as follows:  Will Grayson Will Grayson, Looking for Alaska, Paper Towns, and An Abundance of Katherines.  And he's pretty entertaining on Mental Floss.

After you answer my question, please click over to read the rest of the book club questions for The Fault in Our Stars.  You can get your own copy of The Fault in Our Stars by John Green at bookstores including Amazon.

Now That It's Completely Useless To Anyone

I have tried a bunch of different readers, since Google will be depriving me of my favorite tomorrow.  :(

I'm using Feedly at work with Firefox.  It's OK.  I don't like that it doesn't seem to automatically update - I have to refresh it. 

I'm using Bloglovin on my phone.  That's mostly because it's the only one that seems to work with an ancient (4 years old!) Blackberry.  I would like to get a new phone, but my husband refuses to pay an activation fee and additional money for data services just because the cell phone company feels like charging for it.  So, until there are no more Blackberries available on eBay...I will be stuck with an ancient phone. 

At home, I'm still deciding.  I like Netvibes, but it was very complex to import everything.  However, it does have an advantage over the other two choices.  Any site I follow with multiple pages (like The Pioneer Woman) or feeds is not showing up in Feedly or Bloglovin.  For Netvibes, they seem to be working just fine.  It's probably just a setting I haven't discovered yet, but I don't have the energy to figure it out.

Note: for all of these services I am only using the FREE option.  I'm not a fan of paying for things if I can possibly avoid it.  I'm getting used to repeating this philosophy on a daily basis, as my daughter complains that I won't let her have Club Penguin memberships or buy boosts/lives for games on Facebook.

None of these are ideal.  And I'm curious to see how they'll all work once Reader is deactivated.  But at least I have some options to make sure I keep up with things in Blogland.

What are you using?

GRAB(ook) club and Measure of Love

My first online book club!  I really enjoyed Measure of Love.  It was both a light read and a book that made me think about the characters beyond the bounds of the story.  I related to some of Rachel's issues, while at the same time she was annoying me with her dithering.  I'm looking forward to reading Arianna's story in the next book.

Now, I have to think of a question about the book...hmmm...well, how about some creative interpretation/write your own addendum to the story:

Adam is sort of a minor character in the story. We don't get to see many of his reactions, but he seems fairly perceptive (at least at this stage of the game).  While Rachel was going through all of her issues, how do you think he was processing all of her insecurities and assumptions?  I mean, they had to be somewhat evident, right?  Was he suffering his own doubts, or was he just oblivious?

After you answer my question, please click over to read the rest of the book club questions for Measure of Love (http://www.stirrup-queens.com/2013/06/grabook-club-discusses-measure-of-love/).  You can get your own copy of Measure of Love by Melissa Ford at bookstores including Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Measure-of-Love-ebook/dp/B00C7Y1Y8E/).


And if you read it, don't forget to leave a review!

Trying to do my part

It's National Infertility Awareness Week.  I've never really fit into the Infertility Crowd (except, of course, age-related secondary infertility...fertilization is easy!  Creating viable embryos and housing them properly is beyond my capabilities.  Except for that one time.).  So, my efforts to do something for NIAW will have to be unconventional also.

I was reading an article about an interview with Michael Pollan - I'm sure everyone but me has read his books on our food culture.  If you haven't, you probably should - all my friends seem to be big fans.  Anyway, as I read his interview responses, one sentence struck me and I couldn't let it go.  Normally, I'm pretty good about flushing the stuff I read on the internet pretty quickly, but this one sentence inspired me to find some contact information for Michael Pollan, so I could send him a little piece of my mind.  Here's what I wrote through the FB messaging system:

Mr. Pollan,
I just read an excerpt of your interview from Lucky Peach Magazine in The Daily Beast, and a part of it struck me. I'm sure it was a somewhat off the cuff remark, but it's definitely a trigger for many people. Perhaps you are unaware of the so-called Mommy Wars, in which women who do not or cannot breastfeed are made to feel inadequate. You have given ammunition for those kinds of attacks with this remark:

"But we still can’t make formula as good as breast milk. There’s still that mystery X-factor because babies raised on formula simply don’t do as well... It’s human arrogance to think we can outwit nature."

As someone who has a nephew who was failing to thrive because my sister couldn't produce enough breastmilk, and whose own daughter required supplementation with formula, I object to your assertion that babies raised on formula simply don't do as well. To me, alive and thriving is better than dead from starvation. While I agree that breastfeeding is the best option, it should not be implied that it should be the only option. Formula is a life-saver (quite literally) for many children.

Based on your words, I suspect you have not had a great deal of exposure to women who have had trouble breastfeeding. I'm sure, as an author, you know the value of choosing your words carefully. So, this is simply an attempt to let you know that this might not be an example that you want to use in the future. Certainly, formula cannot match the benefits of breastmilk, but since, for some, it's the only option, it would be better to measure your words on this topic.

Very Respectfully,

Are You Kidding Me? (I actually used my real name since it was through FB anyway, but this would have been a more amusing close.)
 
P.S. I found the rest of the article quite interesting, and look forward to reading your books - several friends have recommended them.

So while I don't have anything useful to say about infertility, I have tried to do my part to raise awareness of at least one women's issue.  If you have a hard time making a child, the last thing anyone should do is make you feel badly about feeding that child if you have the good fortune to get it here.