Brave Roo World

The Godfather

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Thu, 25 Mar 2021 16:31:00 +0000

Last night I said to my husband Dave, "I don't know who my Godparents are". He looked at me quizically since I am the family historian and keeper of the family tree. I had been so busy trying to find new people to add and verify the existing ones that I forget about my own connections and history.

If the role of a Godparent is to guide one's religious education, then mine were remiss, since I didn't even know who they were. In my family the role of Godparent was more an honorary title anyway. We were not church going folks. I don't believe my father was ever baptized, and my mother is a lapsed Catholic. I was baptized Catholic because my mother worried that my soul would not go to heaven if I didn't get a sprinkling of holy water.

The naming of Godparents in our family was more of a "in case something happens to us" move, hoping that the Godparents would step in and take care of things. I am Godmother to two of my nieces. First was Brittany, my sister-in-law's daughter. Second was Hannah, my sister's daughter. By the time I became Hannah's Godmother I had become agnostic. I may have said some words I didn't mean in the church as far as religious guidance goes, but no bolt of lightning struck me down. The important thing is, if anything had happened to either set of parents, Dave and I would have been ready to step in to make sure they were taken care of. And that was really the important thing to everyone. And yes my Godchildren turned out OK. Brittany was a church goer and made communion. Now she's grown, has children of her own, and is a nurse. Hannah attended a Catholic high school, was a star basketball player, and now is attending college. Both are smart young women and even though I would like to take credit I cannot. I don't think my role as Godmother helped or hurt, but I was always in the background in case I was needed, and always there for support and encouragement, birthdays and other holidays.

So I called my Dad today. I asked him, "Who are my Godparents." He pauses and says...ahhhhhh.....shoot, let me think.....ummmm. My mother said my uncle S.P. and then he said, no, that's Michelle's Godfather. Then he remembered that it was my Uncle E.W. and his sister-in-law B.S. They had asked E.W's wife to be the Godmother originally. but her conscience prevented her from doing so because she was taking birth control and the church forbade it. So now I have that answer.

My father then asks me, how are the Brouses related again? He asks this question pretty often because I found out through Ancestry.com DNA testing that I have 1% DNA from Cameroon, Congo & Western Bantu Peoples. Another 1% is Northern Africa DNA. I have a theory along with my distant cousin K.A. on Ancestry that this lineage comes from the Brouse line, as that is the only line we share and both have this DNA on the same centimorgan (or something like that, I don't understand the science of DNA testing, K.A. has a better handle on it). We both have George Brouse in common, who also happens to be a United Empire Loyalist. George was born in Germany in 1740, but he lived in NY during the Revolutionary War, fought for the side of the Crown, and lost his life. His family were escorted to Canada by Sir Guy Johnson and given land as a reward for the sacrifice of his life. We think that Elizabeth, his wife, may be the link to Africa but are not certain. We are hoping that is the scenario rather than something more nefarious like a result of slavery. This family wasn't wealthy or prominant so I am thinking they probably did not have slaves, more likely that there was a marriage. Some other researchers say Elizabeth claimed to be Iroquois, but perhaps that was not accurate. Neither my DNA or my sister's DNA shows any Native American blood. Anyway, that's a mystery that K.A. and I are trying to solve.

Since my father is curious about my investigations, I asked him if he would take the Ancestry DNA test so that I could possibly make more connections. Surpising to me, he agreed and my mother also wanted to take one. I ordered the kits and when I get them will make a long overdue visit to Watertown to administer the tests and also visit. We have all had our Covid shots so now we can finally visit without the spector of the pandemic hanging over us. While I am interested in researching the past, one musn't forget the present; we need to take advantage of whatever time we have left on earth and spend it with loved ones.

Profiles in Cowardice

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Thu, 11 Feb 2021 14:41:00 +0000

If you watched and heard the testimony from the impeachment trial, and were not moved, then you must be dead inside. Those police officers fought for HOURS, with no relief. The one person who could have stopped it did nothing. The mob was 58 steps from the lawmakers and their staff. Mitt Romney and Chuck Schumer were going the wrong way and saved by police. The footage of Pence and his family ushered down the back stairs, the mob chanting hang Pence after reading Trump's tweet about him being a traitor. The black officer who broke down in the rotunda when the mob was finally cleared, saying "I got called a n***** 15 times. "What the f*** man? Is this America?". Sadly this is a small part of America. It could be the majority of America of the future if nothing is done. It would pave the way for more of this in the future. Is the peaceful transfer of power something of the past? Is the American experiment with democracy over?

This had to be like fighting in a war. If there are no sanctions for one of the worst days in American history, this is a big f you to the police who put their own bodies on the line. Some lost their lives, some maimed, some committed suicide. They should not be expected to be disposable in order to preserve someone's political career, as some in congress seem to be taking their sacrifices for granted. They have families, hopes, dreams.

This morning I heard Josh Hawley was sitting with his feet up and reading a magazine during testimony. Ted Cruz was tweeting about breast feeding. These police saved their lives, and they are bored? These people need to remembered as the worst of the worst. How can they be part of the trial when they aided and abetted by propagating the big lie? Profiles in cowardice. And they aren't protecting DJT, they are grasping on to continued power.

Thanks for the Angst

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Wed, 13 Jan 2021 18:27:00 +0000

Quote of the day from Jodie Picoult. "Anxiety is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but it doesn't get you very far."

At the end of December I seemed to be having a renaissance when it came to productivity and creativity. I was not only writing blog articles on a weekly basis, sometimes it was on a daily basis. I had worked a few months with a therapist to come to terms with my job loss, and to develop strategies for reclaiming my life. It was working.

I was feeling so good that I dismissed my therapist. Then came January 6.

Watching the Capitol building overrun by domestic terrorists, I felt something that I had not felt since 9/11. It was that same feeling, wondering how could this be happening? I was brought up in a family of staunch Republicans that voted in every election, flew the American flag in our yard, wore flag pins and brooches, and brought me up to respect our democractic institutions. I have many family members who have defended the constitution with their military service during wars and confilicts. Although I would vote as a Democrat or Independent in future elections, their traditions and respect for the democratic process stuck with me.

When things are going well, my anxiety can be controlled if I follow the professional advice I have been given. When I had a work schedule, it was easy, my day was already planned for me. Without having to go to work I was advised to plan my day as if I were working. Decide what you are going to do the following day. Set goals. Get dressed and showered before noon. Stop feeling guilty for working on things that matter to you. If I'm not cleaning the house 24/7, it doesn't mean I am a failure or not contributing to our household, or letting my husband down.

I have been finding myself slipping back into the old habits that got me in trouble in the first place. Get up, have breakfast, turn on the TV. Be stunned and disheartened by the news. Tune into the daily covid briefing around 11:30. Walk around the house getting things partially done and feel no sense of accomplishment. The worst part is the silencing of my creativity. I had all kinds of thoughts and aspirations and desires to write, research and create art. I had unique thoughts that easily flowed from my fingertips through the keyboard and electronically out to the world wide web.

I need to get it back, but I am thinking my creative self is going to be stifled for the next few weeks. I vow not go go down the rabbit hole of anxiety, to the point of no return. I will be back. But I can't watch the events that are unfolding without being overwhelmed, dismayed, and heartbroken. It would be one thing if the entire nation could agree that what happened in the Capitol was wrong, but too many voices are trying the "What about..." and creating false equivalencies. Whenever I think a line is drawn in the sand, when something has gone too far, there is something that comes along to show that it can get worse before it gets better.

Hoping for better days and hoping if someone else feels the same way, know that you aren't alone. Just keep swimming and keep your head above water.

Hell in a Handbasket

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Thu, 24 Dec 2020 15:17:00 +0000

This was a Facebook memory from 2016

Lisa Mackey was telling me about these great Christmas specials on GetTV, I am getting a chance to re-live the horror of all the '70s variety shows that I watched as a child.

Tonight we watched Cher and also the Sonny and Cher Christmas special. Where else can you see Redd Foxx sing songs from the 1930s, or William Conrad sing opera. I also learned that Chastity (Chaz) Bono wanted racing cars and a Planet of The Apes treehouse for Christmas. Redd Foxx even got political, with his wishes for all the bigots of the world.

This also stirred up a memory that, if you believe in Hell, makes me a candidate to go there, for certain! I remember Sonny & Cher was my favorite show when I was in third grade, I was completely mesmerized whenever it was on. I was even jealous of Chastity, thinking how great it must be for her to get to be on TV and have cool parents like Sonny & Cher. So one Sunday, while the show was in progress, who stops by but the most beloved Catholic priest in Watertown, NY, Father Benoit Dostie. I think he was making his rounds to check on the lapsed Catholics, my mother had stopped attending church, and he came by to pitch the idea of sending me to Catholic school. Like a child from the Omen, I turned around and shushed him for talking too loud during my favorite tv show of all time. I remember the stunned look on his face, he was probably wondering if his exorcism kit was in the car. He left shortly after that. I would have been so embarrassed if I was a parent and my kid behaved that way...I'm sure most of you reading this, had you done such a thing, would have gotten the spanking of your life. But strangely enough they seemed glad that I did it, maybe they just wanted to be rid of him for good, and he never did come back...

The Good Ship Wowwypop

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Wed, 23 Dec 2020 20:08:00 +0000

When most people think of tap dancing, they think of that adorable moppet Shirley Temple dancing to the tune of the "Good Ship Lollypop". As a child I had a speech impediment where I pronounced the L's as W's. Lollypop in my world was Wowwypop, until I graduated from the speech therapy class at Starbuck elementary. I was in that class much longer than I needed to be because I enjoyed it and thought the teacher was nice, so I feigned having the problem as long as I could.

Becoming a tap dancer was not my idea. It was my mother's. This was a solution to a problem. I had become a voracious eater around the age of 8. While I was proud of myself as I kept increasing in size, thinking it made me a big girl, I was actually becoming a BIG girl. I was soon going to go beyond the size 16 Pretty Plus Toughskins from the Sears children's department and go into adult sizes. My pediatrician told her no more pizza and chocolate cake. I cried. My mom didn't have the heart to enforce this so she thought physical activity might be a more workable solution.

I started at the Dee's Dancing Academy in Watertown, NY just before entering the fourth grade. It was in an old church, next to the old Sears building where my grandma worked to get me the discount on the clothes that I kept outgrowing. I still remember the scuffed wooden floors, the musty tumbling mats piled on one another, and my dark haired dance teacher Joan Koster. In my mind she was Watertown's own Liza Minelli, who was always patient and kind with her young charges.

Around the same time, I became infatuated with the Bay City Rollers. My very first 45 rpm record was "Saturday Night", which I played until it wore out. While this may seem unrelated, it was the beginning of the end of my dance career.

I was torn between two loves...the dreamy Les McKeown (second from the right) and the mysterious Eric Faulkner (far right). Even early on, I had a thing for the lead singers and the guitar players of a band. I was incensed when my classmates would call them the Gay City Rollers, even though this was more accurate than I could have ever imagined. I had no idea what the word "gay" meant or why it might be that none of them seemed to have any girlfriends. In my mind they had just not found "the one", and that person could be me. I finally settled on Eric because for some reason he seemed more attainable and had a je ne sais quoi.

I was a member of the Bay City Roller fan club, based in their hometown of Edinburgh, Scotland. This is where I sent my soppy love letters to Eric, telling him why I should be Mrs. Faulkner.

In my unsophisticated and childish mind, I schemed for a way to meet Eric. I had the fan club address, what if I somehow was able to mail myself to that address in Scotland? There were several problems with this plan. I could ask my sister to help me get into a large enough crate to mail, but surely she would tattle, she always did. I asked my parents if a person could mail themselves (just asking for a friend) and they explained how the cargo hold would drop to sub-zero temperatures and the person would die. I had to find another way.

If I became a famous dancer, then I would be able to run in the same circles that the Bay City Rollers did. I had a dance recital coming up at the Holy Family school, perhaps there would be a talent scout in the audience, who would notice me above all the other Yankee Doodle Dancers.

The evening of the recital, I was to perform to the song "What Have They Done To My Song, Ma" by Melanie, along with Cindy Kendrew and Lori Parsons. Due to unforseen circumstances, neither girl could dance that night. My dance instructor offered me an out, but I believed in the old adage that the show must go on. Secretly, I was thrilled. Some may have believed me to be a shrinking violet, but I was more like the egomaniacal Mary Katherine Gallagher. "Superstar!" This would be my ticket to the life that I always wanted. I did go out and dance that night, and was given hearty applause by the supportive local audience that mistook my bravado for courage. This was going to be my ticket to Scotland and becoming Eric's bride. I couldn't wait to wear a tartan wedding gown and walk down the aisle. I understood from Tiger Beat that he lived in a converted windmill with Woody Wood, who of course would have to be evicted upon our bethrothal.

As you may have predicted, the agents never came calling. Dance was not to be my ticket out of the north country. At least I would be able to see the Bay City Rollers on TV until I could find another way to meet them. Television appearances were rare, but imagine my excitement when it was announced that they would have their own show, The Krofft Superstar Hour in 1978, where the Rollers would perform comedy skits and musical numbers. Only one snag. It was scheduled for the exact same time as my dance lessons.

In the beginning I feigned illness, I didn't feel well enough to go to dance class. I knew that I could not use the excuse that I would miss the Bay City Rollers show as it wouldn't be accepted. Remember, no one had a VCR at this point, if you missed a show, you missed it forever. I pretended that I hated dancing and didn't want to do it any longer. Perhaps if I had just been honest, I could have had another time slot but at that time, the Rollers were more important to me than dancing.

It really was not a loss to the entertainment world for me to quit dancing, I don't think I was a very good dancer. And eventually my love for the Bay City Rollers faded. They would next be replaced by the Bee Gees. Once again, I had dual interests. There was Barry with the lion like mane and lead singer, but then there was the introspective Robin. While Robin was not the most attractive by any means, he certainly seemed to be the most sensitive and his voice sent chills down my spine. I don't know if my love for the Bee Gees made me change any possible career paths, but it wouldn't be my last infatuation. After the Bee Gees, I discovered The Who. The same pattern repeating, I had competing loves. Sexy rock god Roger Daltrey with his blond curly mane and bare chest was an obvious choice, and I was clearly drawn to him. But as usual, there was a guitarist, Pete Townshend, who was the more introspective and intellectual, and his songs spoke directly to my soul.

I am still obsessed with the Who, it never went away. Yet I am pleased to report I am a somewhat functional human being and my love for the Who has never made me miss out on life. In fact, I met some of my besties because of my interest in the band. The kid turned out to be alright.

Ain't No Sunshine

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Tue, 22 Dec 2020 14:50:00 +0000

800 years in the making. The 2020 Great Conjunction of Jupiter, Saturn and the Moon. A cosmic spectacle, they say. I can't even remember what day it is or if I took my pills, so I add this event to my Google calendar, which manages my life these days.

The day has arrived. December 21, winter solstice. The shortest day of the year, and as expected, my Google assistant reminds me to check the skies. Several times I check the back yard, standing out in the snow without my coat and accompanied by my dogs, who wonder what I'm looking for. They don't see any rabbits in the yard, I don't see any stars, so we all go back inside.

My half-glass full husband sweetly offers to drive me somewhere that it's not cloudy. Seems reasonable. I check with my Facebook friends in New York to see if anyone else can see the blessed event. Nada.

Then I Google (there's that company again) "Syracuse NY and Great Conjunction" and find this doom and gloom article that proclaims a miracle would be needed to see this planetary juxtaposition. Turns out that the cloud cover in the sky is close to 100%. But if I drive to the state of Virginia, there is a 50% chance that the sky will only be partially cloudy. 🙄

There is still hope, right? This is supposed to be visible through the end of December. Guess again, my friend. Syracuse is Upstate NY's cloudiest city, ranking eighth from the bottom in the US in terms of possible sunshine. Syracuse gets 44 percent of available sunshine throughout the year. This time of year, it's at its worst: Sunshine peeks through the clouds just 23 percent of the time in December. While people invented grunge and think they have the market cornered on despair, they are number 9 in cloud cover. We are number 8. Suck on that, Eddie Vedder.

Cloudiest places in US, by percent of available sunshine

Rank	Location	State	% sunshine
1	Mt. Washington	NH	32
1	Quillayute	WA	32
3	Juneau	AK	33
4	Hilo	HI	41
5	Nome	AK	42
5	Pittsburgh	PA	42
7	Anchorage	AK	43
8	Syracuse	NY	44
9	Columbus	OH	45
9	Seattle	WA	45
11	Grand Rapids	MI	46
12	Binghamton	NY	47
12	Buffalo	NY	47
12	Cleveland	OH	47
15	Alpena	MI	48
15	Sault Ste. Marie	MI	48
15	Rochester	NY	48
18	Burlington	VT	49
19	Albany	NY	50
19	Lansing	MI	50
19	Duluth	MN	50
19	Toledo	OH	50
19	Portland	OR	50
19	Avoca	PA	50
25	Indianapolis	IN	51

Source: National Centers for Environmental Information

It's 2020, par for the course. If I can unpack my patience, I will be able to view this event in 2080, when I'm 115. Perhaps at that time Mars will be colonized and I will be able to view it from my nursing home window located on the 4th planet from the sun.

Hallmark Christmas Movie Drinking Game

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Mon, 14 Dec 2020 18:43:00 +0000

Unless you have been living under a rock, you have heard of the Hallmark Christmas Movie Drinking Game. We chose to play the version created by People magazine.

The movie:

Christmas at Dollywood starring Danica McKellar (Winnie Cooper from the Wonder Years!)and Niall Matter.

The plot:

A New York City event planner travels home to Tennessee for the holidays and ends up working on the thirtieth anniversary Christmas event at Dollywood alongside the theme park's Director of Operations.

The drink:

Coquito, which is a Puerto Rican version of eggnogg.

Unlike the Food Network recipe, ours was more boozy and called for 1-1/2 cups of white rum.

Even the dogs wanted to play along!

Here is why we had to drink. A sip each time one of the following happened:

The camera panned over New York City
The main character worked as a corporate business woman.
The leading lady is heading to a small town on assignment during the holidays. Two more sips because Pigeon Forge is also her home town. Another because she's up for a promotion.
The character Eva has a dead parent.
The protagonist is reminded several times how much she used to love the holidays.
Several times because everyone was drinking hot chocolate. Another time when a Christmas carol was sung.
A few times when the leading lady would squabble with the man she was clearly going to fall for in the end.
The couple slow danced during the song First Noel (only after a rousing session of line dancing).
Several times during the couple's almost first kiss.
Finished our drinks when they finally kissed.

How many drinks consumed:

3 each.

The end result:

This movie was not as much of a bacchanal as some of the other Hallmark movies have potential to be. No blackouts or anything like that, yet also would not pass a breathalyzer test

That said, Coquito is not going to be the drink of choice next time we play this. Smooth at first, it became a sugary headache by the end. It was more than the pups could handle. I'm not sure they will be allowed to play next time since they are lightweights.

*no dogs were harmed in the making of this blog

My Love/Hate Relationship with Alexa

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Wed, 09 Dec 2020 15:33:00 +0000

My Amazon Alexa device has made my life more fun and easier in many ways. She is also a source of endless frustration, which I sometimes wonder if it is on purpose.

I like being able to add to my grocery list as I run out of items. If only she understood me all the time. I was planning on making collard greens so I needed a ham hock.

"Alexa, add to shopping list"

"Sure. What can I add."

"Ham Hock"

"I'm Hawk added. Anything else?"

"Broccoli"

"Rockleigh added. Anything else?"

"Mozzarella Cheese"

"How's The Rella Cheese added. Anything else?"

(Sigh) "Nothing."

I was able to use Alexa to find my phone. She used to say, "Calling Roo" and my phone would ring and I could find it. Somehow she forgot how to do this so I assumed that I had to add a new skill to find my phone.

I started by saying, "Alexa, find my phone."

She asked for the phone number. Good start.

Now the glitch. She sends a text to my LOST PHONE and asks me to enter the code online. If I could find the g**damned phone then maybe I could tell her what the text code was. Eventually I found it somewhere in the kitchen, but I was already madder than a wet hen.

Jenga in Reverse

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Tue, 08 Dec 2020 16:12:00 +0000

Jenga is a great metaphor for the year 2020. According to Wikipedia, Jenga is a game of physical skill created by British board game designer and author Leslie Scott, and currently marketed by Hasbro. Players take turns removing one block at a time from a tower constructed of 54 blocks. Each block removed is then placed on top of the tower, creating a progressively more unstable structure.

Like most people, my husband Dave and I are not getting out much during the pandemic, so it seems our weekly grocery shopping has become one of our only forms of entertainment. It also feels like security to have a freezer full of food. If we are unable to get out, we have at least a month's worth of food to keep us going. The only time this could backfire is if we a) lose power or b) receive a gift of food or c) have left overs.

Today we received a very generous gift from my mother-in-law. A box from Omaha Steaks. Filet mignon, pork chops, hot dogs, hamburgers, potatoes au gratin, and caramel apple tarts. It wasn't a complete surprise, I knew it was coming but just didn't know when.

This gift required that I play freezer Jenga today, but instead of removing from the structure, I had to completely empty and then rebuild an unstable structure. I had to remove all the trays inside the wire baskets to make more room, remove my migraine ice packs and anything unnecessary to cram in some more food.

I know when the time comes to remove an item my structure will collapse. But that's what Jenga is all about. Rebuild, try not to let it fall, if it does, rebuild again.

2020 is Trash

noreply@blogger.com (Nannette McCormick) — Mon, 07 Dec 2020 21:09:00 +0000

2020 is Trash: Observations from suburbia 8/12/2020

There is a sunny side of the street but I prefer the shady side.

I was silently admonished for not doing enough by a Lowe's lawn and leaf bag.  The slogan on the bag, "What did YOU do this weekend?" My first reaction was guilt.  Instead of toiling away at lawn work, I was eating blackberry ice cream (which dripped on my Winnie the Pooh dress, which is ok because Eeyore is already purple) and wandering aimlessly through a sunflower field where most of the heads had already been lopped off. Then my second reaction to the bag: F*** you.  I'm 55.  How much longer do I have anyway?

One street I walked down today had a medium sized mutt tied in the yard while his handler read a book.  The pup yipped at me.  Obviously it had no idea that my love for dogs far surpasses my love for people. The owner commanded "leave it" repeatedly, as if I were on the same level as a  chicken bone that fell out of the trash or a dead squirrel.  

Someone tried to throw 2020 away today.  I have a feeling that the trash collectors will put it in the recycling bin instead and it will go on forever, perhaps taking different forms.