Writings From the Past / 2003

From a blog I wrote in 2003...

December 8th, 2003

Time is short now. It’s Monday already, and cuz’n Ron and his wife Betty will be driving up from Florida on Wednesday, so I’ve hustled today to get things done. Washed the bathroom and kitchen, vacuumed, put stuff away. My house still looks like the place the Beverly Hillbillies moved from. 

I’ve got a special treat for cuz’n Ron and Betty. I’m gonna plug the fuse back into the electric water heater circuit. Because I know how married women get ... spoiled. And the guys who live with them for any length of time ... spoiled. Just a hint that they might bathe in cold water and it’s whine, whine, whine. Heck, when those married guys were 15 they would go camping and bathe in a mountain stream, which is basically melted snow, and they’d hop around and holler and have a good time. But now, the mere suggestion that the shower nozzle emits ice water and it’s ... you guessed it ... whine, whine, whine. People are getting soft.

So I plugged the fuse back into the water heater circuit. I’m trying to keep people happy here. 

---

December 9th, 2003

My concern today is food, ‘cause I know Ron and Betty aren’t going to want to drive 800 miles to visit me and then spend their time buying groceries and cooking meals. Of course, I could give them a choice - buy groceries and cook food ... or ... don’t eat for five days, take your pick. But I will admit that five days is a bit of a stretch. When I do it I run out of energy after three days. Of course I, being a single guy, just scrounge food wherever. Usually, my kitchen holds enough food for maybe two meals, one of those meals being peanut butter.

I don’t cook. Never have, never will. But I can “cook” simple things ... meals so simple that what you’re really doing is more “heating up” than “cooking”. So tonight I decided to prepare their first meal in advance. Beans. Yes sir. Betcha that was a big surprise. But these won’t be any ordinary beans, no sir. These beans are gonna be sweet-'n’-sour beans. These beans are gonna be tasty beans. These beans are gonna be great beans.

I had a little trouble finding enough bacon grease for the beans. There’s only so much grease in a pound of bacon. I hope it will be enough.

In The Beginning

Before the universe … I almost said “was created”, but that would be jumping to a conclusion … before the universe existed, there was nothing. There was a void: no space, no time, no matter, no energy. Nothing. Nada. Zip. You may reasonably think that before the Big Bang, there was just empty space, and the Big Bang was an incredible explosion that took place at a point in this empty space. But that is not the case. Before the Big Bang, space did not exist. Hence the term void. The Big Bang was the event that created SpaceTime and all the matter and energy in it.

While the void was empty of space and time, and empty of matter and energy, it was not without its own properties.  We know this because something happened in it (or to it): the Big Bang happened. Before the Big Bang, the universe did not exist but the void existed. It was empty but it was something.  It was not Nothing. Even if it was only some kind of purely mathematical space, it existed and it had properties. Perhaps it was a thought generated by a non-material mind.  Perhaps the void was Potential.

From the instant of the Big Bang, something else seems to have come into existence. Something besides time and space and energy. That something was all the laws of physics, and all the laws of mathematics, and all the laws of geometry, Plank’s constant, the speed of light, quantum mechanics, and all the rest.

Where did these laws come from? Why should there even be any laws?  We think of these laws as governing the behavior and interactions of sub-atomic particles, or the way those particles interact with other kinds of energy. But perhaps the particles and the energies created by the Big Bang are what define and give rise to physical laws. (Certainly the characteristics of SpaceTime gave rise to the laws of Euclidian geometry. Humans can think of alternate (non-Euclidean) geometries that don’t exist in our universe but which are internally self-consistent. Perhaps those geometries exist elsewhere.) If the void had existed for eternity without spawning a universe, then why should our universe have suddenly popped into existence 13.7 billion years ago? Why did the Big Bang happen at that particular moment? Why did it happen at all?

The properties of the void made the Big Bang possible. Perhaps when the Big Bang occurred, a subset of the void’s properties crystallized out of an infinity of Potential and became our universe.

And now, theorists theorize that there may be many universes … perhaps an infinite number of them. This collection of universes is called the multiverse. The laws of physics may be different in each universe. In many universes, the laws of physics are such that matter could not form … or stars could not form … or life could not develop. In our universe, the laws of physics turned out perfectly for us. We live in the rare “Goldilocks Universe” where all the laws of physics are finely tuned for us to be here. That’s not a very satisfying explanation for why the universe is so finely tuned for matter to exist, for stars to form, for life to be possible. Instead of invoking deity, science invokes the multiverse. But if we can’t prove the multiverse exists, we might as well say it was magic.

Alice

Alice was 29 years old when I was born. She was 34 when my brother, Kenneth, was born. When Alice was 35, she and my father, Durward, moved into the house on Lafayette Avenue. I started school that year. When Alice was 47, I graduated from high school. When she was 52, I graduated from college. Alice still lived in the house on Lafayette. She had lived there for 17 years.

After 5 years and suffering from a severe anxiety disorder with panic attacks, I left my job and moved to another city.  Alice was 57. For a short while I traveled the country in a van with my dog Shadow. My anxiety and panic attacks made it impossible to work and nearly impossible to do anything normal, so I moved back home to the house on Lafayette. I stayed there for 12 years. While I was there Alice retired. She was 65 and had lived in the house on Lafayette for 30 years. Eventually a friend who knew about my anxiety problem offered me a job. It was win-win. I had an income and he had a less expensive employee than he could otherwise have hired. I moved to take the job. Alice was 69. She had been living in the house on Lafayette for 34 years.

Eight years later her husband of 50 years, my father, died. Alice was 77 years old and had been living in the house on Lafayette for 42 years. She lived there alone for another nine years until she died at age 86. By then she had lived in the house on Lafayette Avenue for 51 years.

She always hated the tiny kitchen.

Rudimental

The song of the day is Waiting All Night by English band Rudimental. 

I wrote about this song in a previous post that was also titled Rudimental. That post contained Rudimental's Waiting All Night soundtrack, but the video was about the true-life injury and recovery of BMX champion and actor Kurt Yaeger. The soundtrack to that video was Waiting All Night and it is Rudimental's performance of that song that is shown in this video.

Immigration

My partner Nuria had a meeting with USCIS (U.S. Customs & Immigration) in Norfolk, Va, yesterday. I drove her to the USCIS office. There was a line at the door because they only admit one person, or a couple, at a time. We waited outside for about 30 minutes (it was cold) and finally they admitted us. Nuria was called to an office almost immediately, while I waited in a room with the hardest chair seats I have ever sat upon. 

The meeting lasted about 40 minutes. Nuria had been hoping that at the end of the meeting, the interviewer would say, "Welcome to America. We will mail you your green card." The words she least wanted to hear were, "We'll mail you our decision." But those words were exactly what she was told.

The interviewer went into great detail, questioning Nuria about an incident that happened in 2010. At that time, Nuria was living in Roanoke, Va, and one day she received a letter asking her to come to the courthouse on a certain date for jury duty. So Nuria followed the instructions and went to the courthouse. She waited a long time while other potential jurors were interviewed. Finally it was Nuria's turn to be interviewed. 

The trial involved a person who robbed a BB&T bank in Roanoke, Va. At that time, Nuria worked for BB&T bank, though at a different branch. Nuria knew the woman who was robbed. That caused the judge to excuse her from participating in the trial.

Later, she received a $30 check in the mail and a thank you letter from the Court. The USCIS interviewer asked Nuria if she considered the $30 a "payment." Nuria told her "No," and that she considered it a reimbursement of expensives (gasoline, missed pay, etc.) that Nuria may have incurred as a result of going to court for jury duty. But the USCIS lady was very intrigued over this incident and asked Nuria many questions. At the end of the interview, she told Nuria that USCIS would mail their decision to Nuria.

Nuria is a fine person. She is a blood donor and a plasma donor. She participates in community activities such as picking up litter from the streets. She has filled out hundreds of pages of forms and questionaires about herself and her life history for the USCIS. And yet while putting Nuria under a microscope, this country appears to allow entry of millions of illegal aliens about whom we know little or nothing—including their whereabouts after they've entered. I'm sure that most of them are decent people who deserve some kind of refuge, but there seems to be a double standard at play.

It reminds me of the Mariel boatlift in which over 125,000 Cubans entered Florida in 1980. Many of them were convicts, as Fidel Castro emptied his prisons and mixed those people among the other Cuban refugees. Except what is happening on our southern border is so much larger and longer lasting than the boatlift. And Nuria, a small, elderly lady who loves America, is scrutinized by Immigration as if she were a Mafia member. It's an upside-down world sometimes.

Shoe Battle

Fashion shoemaker Christian Louboutin is well-known for their line of red sole women's shoes. In fact, the red sole is trademarked by Louboutin.

Trademarks are important. They have value and are considered to be part of a company's assets. So when fashion house Yves Saint Laurent brought out a line of shoes of various colors, including red, that were the same color all over the shoe, including the sole, Louboutin filed a lawsuit against their competitor. Louboutin claimed that by making a red shoe with a red sole, Yves Saint Laurent was infringing upon Louboutin's trademarked red sole.

A district court in New York gave an opinion that agreed with Louboutin. But on appeal, an appellate court's opinion was that a shoe may have a red sole if the remainder of the shoe, inside and outside, is also red. Louboutin's trademark relied on the fact that the red sole versus a different color on the shoe's "upper" is distinctive and thereby worthy of a trademark. But the appellate court decided that Yves Saint Laurent's line of shoes having the same color all over was also distinctive and trademark-worthy.

Enter Donald Trump, hawking his own brand of sneakers. The sneakers are gold-color and have red soles. Of course. With all the colors of the rainbow available to him, Trump chose red for the soles. 

I see another lawsuit on the horizon.

Kavinsky

The song of the day is 2012's Nightcall by French musician, producer, DJ, and actor Kavinsky (real name: Vincent Pierre Claude Belorgey).

And God Said

Nothing has been happening lately. I have to drive Nuria to the USCIS field office in Norfolk, VA on Thursday next week. I think I may have a small hole in my left rear tire. I pumped it up to 35 pounds and I'll be checking it from day to day to see how long it takes to leak down. I plan to buy a can of Fix-a-Flat to take with me. I'll also be taking my tire inflator, which I always have in the back of my Jeep. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Other than getting ready for that trip, nothing has been happening to me. Oh, there was one thing. God visited me while I was lying in bed. I couldn't sleep, as usual, and then God appeared. I was alone in bed. Suddenly God stood beside my bed. He was very glowy. 

"Are you God?" I asked.

"I AM," God said.

"I think I just pooped in my underpants," I said.

"Don't worry. I will magically clean them when I leave."

"What brings you here tonight? Are you always with me?"

"I am. Always."

"Were you with me when I fell off the pier in Hickory?"

"Yes. You swam back to the pier, and you don't know how to swim. Remember? That's why you're alive today."

"Were you with me when I got swept out to sea off the coast of Nags Head?"

"Yes. I showed you how to slip into the water and kick while holding onto the inner tube. That's why you're still alive."

"Were you with me when..."

God interrupted. "What part of  'I am always with you' are you having trouble understanding?"

"You have me there. But so much bad stuff has happened in my life, that I have doubts that you were always with me."

"I understand. You had bad times. But remember, those times could have been much worse. You never got killed or killed another person with your car when you drove recklessly as a teenager. You did so many reckless things and skated through them without a scratch. I was with you."

"Will you be with me until I die?"

"I will be with you for long after your body dies."

"Thanks, God." 

"You're welcome. Good night."

I went to sleep immediately, which was strange, because I usually have insomnia all night.

Nuria Homeward Bound

My partner, Nuria, is flying back from Costa Rica to Richmond, VA, today. Her plane left Juan Santamaria International airport at 1:21PM CST and is due into Fort Lauderdale International airport at 5:30PM EST. Her next flight leaves at 10:05PM and takes her to Orlando, FL at 11:22PM. Then she gets on a flight at 9:10AM tomorrow morning and arrives in Richmond at 11:33AM.

After all that traveling and spending two days awake, I know she'll be tired. I hope, when she arrives here, she has enough energy left to go to the grocery store, buy food, then come home and cook a meal, clean the house, change the sheets on the bed, and wash and dry the laundry.

I know what you're thinking. Why don't I do some of those things? The answer is: because I'm a man, and men don't know how to do any of that stuff.

The odd thing is, before Nuria moved in with me, I used to do all those things. Come to think of it, I mostly ate frozen dinners, I didn't clean the house, but I did wash and dry the laundry. The washing machine and the clothes dryer did most of the work, but I did have to push a button and turn a dial. Cooking a meal usually involved pushing a button or turning a dial, too. That's my strong suit: pushing buttons and turning dials. If Nuria can carry the dirty clothes to the cellar and put them into the washer and add soap, I can handle the rest. "Hey Nuria, where do you set the dial on the washing machine?" After she answers me, I can handle the rest. And people say cooking and cleaning is a lot of work!

The truth is, Nuria is very old-fashioned in some ways. She feels certain things are her job, and everything else is my job. I mow the yard. I call a roofer to fix a leak (I don't climb on roofs any longer). I call a technician to clean the boiler every year. I keep the oil tank filled with #2 heating oil. I paid to replace ten windows on the ground floor ($8300). I paid for a new sliding patio door ($2430). I paid for a new garage door ($1900). If you're a homeowner, you know the list goes on and on. I'm glad that Nuria wants to cook and clean. I just hope she doesn't read this blog post and get some new ideas.

5:30PM:  

Nuria just landed at Fort Lauderdale. She sent me this photo as the jet was arriving. Next leg of the flight: 10:05PM to 11:22PM. It will, of course, be dark, so probably no photo.

Winter Monday

It's a beautiful winter day in central Virginia. At 3PM the sun is shining brightly and the temperature is 54°F. I just went out to the garage and cranked up the lawn rocket. I mean, the lawn tractor. (Sometimes when I'm driving it, it's a lawn rocket. That's when I'm flying across the yard, with the uneven earth bumping my butt up and down on the seat.) The tractor's battery still works. So I put a charger on the battery and in an hour I'll go out and remove the charger. I try to boost the charge every week instead of letting the battery sit dormant through the winter as I usually do, so that maybe, when spring and grass-mowing season arrive, the battery will still start the tractor. The battery usually lasts for two seasons, but with periodic charging and luck, I may get a third season out of this battery. 

In six days my partner Nuria will return. She left to fly to Costa Rica on January 9, but it feels like she's been gone six months. I wonder how it feels to her. She's with her family, and she's been visiting her doctors and her banker and she took a two-day trip to a beach with one of her family members—daughter, or sister, or both—and I'm glad she's getting some fun. I'm sure it makes living with me more tolerable.

I'm charging Nuria's Garmin. I gifted her with it a couple years ago. Bad idea. She's never used it. I've never used it. I've tried to use it, but it's too difficult. I used to have a Tom Tom and it was easy to use. I thought a Garmin would be similarly easy, but I was wrong. If I need a GPS on the road, I use Waze on my phone. It's easy to use and is a very handy program. It is not without the occasional error that sends me in a circle, but those are easy to figure out and get out of. In times gone by, I've driven all over the United States, from Atlantic Coast to Pacific Coast, from Montana to Texas, with nothing more than a paper road map, and I never got lost. I didn't care if I did get lost—it would simply have made the adventure more interesting.

It's almost 4PM. In other words, it's time for breakfast. Breakfast is the first meal of the day, regardless of when it's eaten. It is the meal that breaks the fast of not eating since the previous day. Hence the name "break-fast". I haven't eaten anything today and at 4PM I'm becoming mildly hungry. Until next time, stay safe.