I'm 50, Now What?

The new blog

2006-01-19T21:46:00.000-05:00

www.roderama.blogspot.com

The next step

2006-01-17T19:32:00.000-05:00

To paraphrase Sonny and Cher, the blog goes on. I've given a lot of thought to what I would like to name the new blog - everything from just my name to something completely nonsensical. what I've settled on may seem closer to the latter, but for those of you who will be in on it from the beginning, here is the name. Roderama Where does that come from? Well, since I have developed the penchant for writing about the adventures of rats, mice and other rodents, I looked up the latin root of the word "rodent." Turns out, it is rodere, that latin word for "to gnaw." And I thought, how appropriate, because that is exactly what I do here, gnaw on a few topics, including rodent adventures. And of course the "rama" part just reflects my free-for-all, retro inclinations. So, let me go and create that new space, and watch for the link here!

epilogue

2006-01-08T10:59:00.000-05:00

Now that this blog is done, I'll most likely be announcing a new blog and putting a link to it here. In the meantime, for those of you who want a permanent souvenir of the year I spent whining, complaining and blogging, "I'm 50 - Now What?" is now available in print at:

Noreen Braman's Books - Lulu.com

2005 Moves On

2005-12-29T11:51:00.000-05:00

As 2005 fades into the sunset, I look back over a blog that did what it was supposed to do - mainly, give me the opportunity to whine, complain and make comments about the world as seen through my newly-50-year-old eyes. It has been a year of gender debate, rodent experiments, floods on grand and local scales, hospital visits and personal epiphanies. Not at all what I expected when, in younger years, I envisioned the doddering, old crone I expected to be at 50. In fact, thanks to my more earth-spiritual friends, I've learned that the title "Crone" is one of respect, a crown of wisdom that can only be worn when one has lived a generous span of years.

And if there is one way I can sum up how I know feel about joining the AARP generation (although, let me say for the record, I have NOT actually joined the AARP - ok, I still have SOME hang-ups), it would be to describe myself in the borrowed words of a classified ad for a classic car:

"Classic 1955 model. May need some bodywork, but the engine runs like new."

Thanks to all of you who have taken this journey with me - watch this space for new developments!

The Reason for the Season

2005-12-18T10:46:00.000-05:00

As this year draws to a close, I find that some of the December traditions that have been part of my entire life are suddenly being questioned. The traditional greeting "Merry Christmas" and even the term "Christmas tree" have become phrases non-grata in our lexicon. Apparently, the very idea that some of the celebrations that take place at this time of year may have been based in religion has become something to hide. Perhaps as some sort of over-compensation for the rise in worldwide religion-based governments and the blurring of the line between religious belief and academic teachings, as well as corporate America's need to appear as unaffiliated as possible (except, of course, for the worship of money), Christmas has become a victim of its own ideals. We seem desperate to show our desire for "peace on earth" to everyone, but not the inspiration behind it.

When nativity scenes were banned from public places, I concurred, not so much for the separation of church and state, but more to keep the Holy Family from becoming nondenominational cartoon characters. Everyone can have Santa and Rudolph and Frosty with all their seasonal fun - but, to me, the scene at the manger belongs in front of a Church. This doesn't mean, however, that I see any sense in this recent banning of "Merry Christmas" from the public air.

I grew up in a Brooklyn neighborhood where we were one of only 3 or 4 families on the block with Christmas decorations. This didn't seem to offend our neighbors, who were unafraid to say "Merry Christmas" to us. Many years later, our family Christmas celebrations were joined yearly by Holocaust survivors who shared our Christmas Eve traditions, complete with the midnight placement of Jesus into the manger under the tree. When they were greeted with a hearty "Merry Christmas" they returned the greeting in kind, knowing full well that is was representative of the peace and love of the season, and not an indictment of their own beliefs.

It is amazing how, when asked, most members of the public don't feel that they are scarred for life by being exposed to Christmas greetings, Christmas decorations, or Christmas carols - even those who do not share the belief in the birth of Christ. But trying to dilute and hide what started this whole seasonal celebration by changing its very name is ridiculous and unnecessary. There is no doubt that the "de-religionizing" of Christmas will continue, it IS the way of things, after all, few think of St. Valentine on Valentine's Day. Should we now start saying "Happy Romance Day?"

If we changed or removed every word, reference or celebration that originated as some sort of religious observation or tradition, we would probably end up word-less, art-less, science-less and lifeless. So in the spirit (is that a religious word?) of the season, and the occasion that is the reason for all of it, I say, Merry Christmas to all, and to all who cannot, on principal, accept this greeting, I say, may God (however you conceive God to be, even if you conceive God as a non-existent superstition) bless you with more insight.

Personal Revelations at the Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton New Jersey

2005-12-04T15:37:00.000-05:00

December 3, 2005

I dropped off two photos of the Peace Form sculpture that is located across from the UN, at the Grounds for Sculpture at around 11 am today; with the hope they will be selected for an upcoming juried photography exhibit. Now, I am sitting in their cafe having some coffee and a brownie. This is the first time I have been here and I am already enchanted. It is windy and cold out, but I still want to try and get some photos here.

I am reminded of the sculpture garden at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin II in Arizona – it was much smaller and all the work of one person, but it ignited in me something I can't define, a longing to be where art is created, displayed and enjoyed. I remember I just wanted to sit there among the works... Of course it was a lot warmer there too!

I am watching the steady stream of photographers coming in to enter their work. Interestingly, most of those bringing in work are of a certain age bracket — that bracket that I have also entered this year. I find myself wondering if what has happened with these people is the same thing that has happened to me — a reawakening or renewal of interests and pursuits that perhaps had to be put aside earlier in order to take care of the necessities of life. I find comfort in this, knowing that I am perhaps among many “late—bloomers.” Previously, I had been mourning the time lost, but now I can see that it is more appropriate to know, and believe with all my heart, that this is the right time in my life for this — that had I tried this earlier I would perhaps have not had the eye that I have now— would not have had the appreciation for things of beauty, creativity and patience. It isn't to say that suddenly I have had some insight into modern art— it still mystifies me — but yet, now, I have an appreciation for form and composition that I didn't have before. I am no longer looking at that large, metal abstraction as just so much recycled trash (although I admit, I still see that on occasion) but now, I have a different eye, a different sensibility— is it an artist's eye? A photographer's eye? No I look beyond the "what the heck is that" reaction, looking deeper for shape form and color, and most importantly, the play of light and shadow. I am seeing that even those objects that are realistic representations tell a different story throughout the day as light, shadow and weather constantly shift and change. In fact, I am beginning to feel sorry for the pieces I have seen kept indoors— at least here in this building they are flooded with the light from massive windows — but what about those locked forever in windowless museums— subjected to only the steady, hard, shadow less glare of perfect museum lighting. How wonderful would it be to have an indoor room that simulated sunlight and different hours of the day — cloudiness, windiness — all those factors which make outdoor sculpture into living and breathing creatures. Certainly I am not the first to think of it. For all I know, it may be the most basic theory taught in art school. But for me, a person who has come to art sheerly through personal experience and self—taught means of expression, it is a revelation akin to those experienced by Old Testament prophets. And I see the definite connection to photography — the photographer capturing that fleeting interplay of light. Sure, we still need the standard, centered, “here is the sculpture” photo for the guidebooks — but what art could be created just by studying one outdoor sculpture for a day— a week — a year! (I am sure this has been done and somewhere someone is just rolling their eyes at me). But, to use an old cliché, if the real experience of art is truly the journey and not the destination — I have just turned down a different road, and no matter how well—worn the pathway, it is new to me. And I am going to move slowly and take lots of pictures.

here are some of them:DigitalDreams.dotPhoto.com - Welcome!

Scientists Again Outwitted by Small Furry Animals

2005-11-16T17:13:00.000-05:00

It hasn’t been a good couple of months for scientists involved with small, furry animals. First there was the trio of bubonic-plague-infected mice that disappeared from the lab in Newark, New Jersey. No one has been able to determine if there was a mouse accounting error, if other mice ate the missing ones, or if they have actually gotten out into urban New Jersey. Then, there were the scientists who were trying to find out how rats that suddenly appear on previously rat-free islands could be captured and eradicated. The one rat they let loose could not be tracked down for months, even with a radio collar on him. And now it is revealed that it is not only rats that are outwitting modern science. Apparently, other animals are rallying to the cause. No longer willing to be poked, prodded, chased and relocated, the animal kingdom is fighting back, and learning quickly, that in this battle of wits, their opponents are unarmed.

For quite a few years now, the federal government, as perhaps a sister project to the Witness Relocation Program, has been capturing otters who have the audacity to live in federally-declared otter-free zones and relocating them at a cost of $6,000 - $12,000 per otter. The point of this program was to move otters from their natural habitats to somewhere that scientists considered similar, in order to keep the otters (which had been previously hunted to near extinction) from bothering commercial fishermen. The otters, rebels that they are, manage to navigate themselves back, hundreds of miles, in as little as six months. They are re-captured, re-released, and the game goes on.

Now I know that not only are otters intelligent mammals, they are also very playful. I am sure they are enjoying this game immensely. If they knew how many millions of dollars had been spent on it, they would probably laugh themselves silly.

This week, according to an article on CNN.com – the government scientists are just about ready to admit defeat. The otters have won. Score another point to the small furry animal rebels! Now, let’s see if there is a lesson in here somewhere - how much better if those millions of federal dollars could be spent on developing fishing methods that are more environmentally friendly? Maybe we could hire the otters as consultants. Read the article: CNN.com - Otters winning battle of wits - Nov 16, 2005

Another Significant Personal Milestone for 2005

2005-11-15T14:41:00.001-05:00

During the month of November, I will “celebrate” the 13th anniversary of the radiating of my thyroid. Diagnosed in 1993 with Grave’s Disease, the method of choice to correct the problem was to expose it to enough radiation to calm it down, but hopefully not kill it completely. However, the phaser was set on “kill” not “stun” and within three months I had developed a bizarre constellation of symptoms that no one had prepared me for. At first I was just losing my mind, but then I began losing my hair, and finally my balance. The day that I walked down the hall in my house by pushing myself off one wall to the other, I knew something was really wrong.

My Christmas gift in 1993 was to find out that I would have to be placed on thyroid replacement hormones the rest of my life. Because figuring out just how much hormone is needed requires the trial and error method, and because giving too much too soon can cause a heart attack, this began a three year journey through hell to get the dosage up high enough to make me feel human again. My weight went up, my eyes had double vision, my hair fell out in handfuls and to top it all off, during all this I became aware of certain activities being pursued by my then-husband – activities that would lead to our eventual divorce when I got my head back on.

Since that time, I’ve educated myself about the condition I had and the treatment I received. I’ve left behind the first doctor who treated me because of his “take-a-pill-you’ll- be-fine” attitude. I’ve learned that coping with a radiated, non-functioning thyroid is a guessing game, and that the thyroid, the virtual thermostat of the body, controls many vital functions, including things you would never associate.

It turns out that the irritable bowel syndrome I have had since high school could have been an early sign. The fibromyalgia that I have developed in the past ten years is also most likely related. Within the last year, I began taking an additional form of thyroid hormone (T-3 for those of you keeping score) because of my intense fatigue, sleep disturbances, muscle spasms and pain. It turns out I have been suffering all these symptoms because endocrinologists and drug makers have been fighting for years over whether a thyroid patient needs both T-4 and T-3 replacements, and whether blood tests revealing thyroid hormone resistance should be considered part of the “protocol.”

So, this year, I celebrate lucky anniversary #13 still battling pain and fatigue, but hopefully there are no more surprise symptoms in store!

Just When you Thought I Was Getting Too Serious

2005-11-06T21:35:00.000-05:00

I got a perfect score in telling the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek. And was awarded this:

Today's Words of Wisdom on Aging

2005-11-06T16:22:00.000-05:00

Picked up this gem from one of the internet chain letters that landed in my mailbox, it bears repeating.

You don't stop laughing because you grow old,

You grow old because you stop laughing.

NaNoWriMo - am I crazy?

2005-11-04T11:22:00.000-05:00

Well, since this IS my monumental year to push myself places I have never been before, I have signed up for the craziness that it the National Novel Writing Month - writers getting together for the month of November and racing to complete 50,000 words of something that resembles a novel.

I've never written 50,000 words that went with each other in my life. I've just registered, so I am already 4 days behind. am I crazy. Absolutely. But, here is a good test if I can take on something new and stick to it, even with the demands of daily life. This will give me a hint as to if I am ready to forge a new path for myself as I travel down Route 50.

I'll keep you posted!
For info on this craziness, and to check on my progress, I'm registered as daylatedollarshort at the official site at: National Novel Writing Month - National Novel Writing Month

Stories of Strength is Released!

2005-11-03T10:31:00.000-05:00

Read inspiring stories and help victims of recent disasters! Click on the banner below.

It is Time to Value the Career of Child Rearing

2005-11-01T09:41:00.000-05:00

Recently, Ann Crittenden spoke at the Princeton YWCA about her writings and grassroots efforts in support of the economic value of those who raise the next generation. This is a career that still generally falls to women, and those who choose to pursue it- especially on a "full time" basis (meaning they have stepped out of the "employment" world) are being shortchanged. Not long ago, I wrote a column about this very same topic, in response to an article in TIME Magazine - an article that highlighted the fact that many women ARE jumping off the "corporate track" onto the "mommy track." Unfortunately, the article only dealt with upper income women and didn't delve into the economic reality that motherhood brings to most of us.
In response and support of Ann Crittenden's efforts, I republish that column here:

The Risky Business of Motherhood
By Noreen Braman

Here it is, nearly 22 years since the birth of my first child, and, incredibly, the lead story of TIME's March 22, 2004 issue was about why, "suddenly" women are choosing to step away from their jobs to stay home with their children. We are lead to believe that this is somehow a new phenomenon, and perhaps a type of backlash from latchkey kids who knew too well, the feeling of being a kid home alone. But, there are women who have been quietly doing this all along.

Twenty years ago, when I "stepped out" of the corporate world where I had spent ten years, I left behind a boss who told me I belonged at home, and female colleagues who considered me a traitor to the cause. Yet, I felt as if I was doing the right thing, and despite the financial hardship it imposed on the family, we somehow managed. Like others, I took part-time jobs that neither paid well, nor garnered me much respect. I bartered secretarial services for dance lessons for my children, only to have my husband consider that as my "leisure time" out of the house. Even when I began freelance writing and pulling in a decent part-time income, it was still difficult for anyone to think of me as "other than a mom" and that it was somehow demeaning rather than admirable. It was disheartening at times, yet, the rewards of being with my children seemed to far outweigh it.

As the three of them approached high school age, I finally went back to work fulltime, at a smaller salary than what I had been earning 14 years earlier. Yet, the income truly helped the family as expenses mounted. It was a satisfactory arrangement until I got divorced.

Suddenly, I went from being a part-time contributor to the main bread winner, with my salary and court-ordered child support adding up to less than half of what the family income had previously been. Within months of the divorce I was working two jobs to try and keep us afloat. This meant that my children came home from school to an empty house, made their own dinner and saw me for about 10 minutes as I flew in and out between jobs. I soon learned that my pre-teens and teenagers still wanted and needed a more available adult around, but I had to spend my time scrambling to make ends meet. Financial crisis after crisis followed, the end result was homelessness for about 5 months. All this time, I worked and worked, for low pay, and found in myself a growing resentment toward the time I had been a stay at home mom.

Often I tried to calculate the salary and position I would have had, if I had stayed with my pharmaceutical company job. I realized that I would be approaching my 25th anniversary, had I stayed. Pension and thrift plan benefits would have created a nice nest egg for retirement. I longed for the security that would have come with making that much money as a single parent. I reeled in anger that the 14 years I had given to raising children were so devalued by society - a fact driven home when my ex-husband declared in the divorce proceedings that he would pay what was ordered in support for the children, but not a penny for me. It was as if the years I had devoted to running the home were worth nothing.

Today, I am working at a better paying job, but still not earning what is considered the subsistence income for a family of 4 in my area of the country. I am involved in an expensive legal battle to try and get help from the children's father in paying their college tuition, while at the same time, facing the reality that the child support we rely on to maintain the roof over our heads, will soon stop. I find it interesting that debts I have incurred for the benefit of the children will be hanging around long after they are all out of college. I face the bitter reality of being forced out of yet another home and perhaps not even being able to afford an apartment rental in the state where I live.

So, while I applaud the women who are now choosing to stay home with their children, I offer them some words of warning - make sure you aren't cutting off your career and job opportunities completely. You may find yourself someday in the same position as I am - starting all over again in the workplace, with less time to "make it." Until a stay at home parent is given some financial reward, either in the form of a family income tax break, or other protection under the law for the years spent doing this job, "stopping out" to raise your children can be the best thing for them, but a great risk for you.

©2004 Noreen Braman

For more information about Ann Crittenden's writing see: http://www.anncrittenden.com/

World Record-Breaking Rat Makes Monkeys Out of Scientists

2005-10-23T16:11:00.000-05:00

For quite some time, I have been writing and warning the public about the rampant and dangerous experimentation being conducted on rats — supposedly because the results can somehow be correlated to human behavior. I’ve told you about studies about rat mothers being subjected to stress and female rats being “driven mad for sex” in the search for the perfect aphrodisiac, all leading me to feel guilty about evicting these creatures from the comfort of my home.

It doesn’t surprise me then, to find out that a single rat was able to confound a group of scientists for more than four months. In an attempt to find out how rats might be “eradicated” in areas they have recently migrated to, all these scientists learned is that one rat can evade capture by using only its rat-sized brain against brilliant and technically equipped humans.

Released on a 23 acre rat-free island, the rat and scientists began to role play the plot of “The Most Dangerous Game,” with the unarmed rat leading the heavily fortified scientists on an epic journey. The scientists tried traps, bait and even trailed the rat with dogs, to no avail. Even the rat’s radio collar was of no help. The rat evaded capture.

Whether this game became boring for the rat, or whether the rat began to pine for the company of other rats (who knows if this rat had previously been injected with that “mad for sex” potion), after 10 weeks the rat was tired of being a castaway. (I suspect he was told it was only going to be a three hour tour). Apparently possessed of not only super intelligence, our fugitive rat also must be quite the physical specimen. In a heroic attempt to gain freedom, he swam 400 meters of open sea, breaking all rat swimming records, to get to another island. An island that was, unfortunately, also rat-free. It was on this island that the rat was finally captured.

Personally, I think, unable to find any other rats in the area, he gave himself up. The scientists, obviously clueless as to how the rat outsmarted them, are still patting themselves on the back. “Our results may help in the design of conservative strategies to keep islands free of invasive rodents,” they bragged.

Somehow, I think that is a bit of stretch to conclude from this experiment.

Interesting to note: Not too long ago, three bubonic-plague-infected mice were reported “missing” by a lab in Newark, New Jersey. Despite the efforts of the FBI and various accountants, it could not be determined if the mice had actually escaped, if a mouse-counting error had occurred, or if other mice had eaten them. No trace of the missing mice has ever been found.

I say it again; we have to stop fooling around with rodents.

read it yourself: CNN.com - Cunning rat outsmarts scientists - Oct 21, 2005

Exciting News on the Writing Front

2005-10-21T13:54:00.000-05:00

My story "My Mother's Table" will be published in "Stories of Strength" an anthology to benefit recent disaster victims.
see: Stories of Strength

My column, "A Rat Too Far" has been selected as a finalist in the Humor Press monthly humor contest, and will be published in their upcoming anthology "America's Funniest Humor."
see: Humor Press

My column "Here's to Your Health (Insurance)" will be published in an anthology of medical experience essays. Details to be announced shortly!

Nothing Funny About Chest Pain At 50

2005-10-20T10:32:00.000-05:00

apartment flood update: after renting her own steam cleaner and cleaning the carpet, and the maintenance crew rehanging the doors and reassembling the baseboard heater, it appears that life can go back to normal for my daughter. Of course, that hardly means things have calmed down around here ...

After attending my nephew's birthday party on Saturday night, I went home, played with my dog a little, and then settled down to sleep. About an hour after drifting off, I was awakened by the most intense pressure, pain and burning in my chest that I have ever felt. My mind wavered between indigestion and heart attack - and knowing that my family heart history is not the best - I opted to call 911. Soon I was surrounded by police, rescue squad personel and paramedics. My blood pressure was uncharacteristically and abnormally high - so I was whisked off to the emergency room. Three nitro pills later, I was at least able to slow down my breathing. Morphine administered in the ER brought the pain down to an almost non-exsistent level.

There is no fooling around when a 50 year old woman goes to the hospital with chest pain. There is testing, monitoring, x-raying and blood drawing that happens instantaneously. I will never complain again about going to the ER with a sprain and waiting for attention. If the staff is attending to a heart patient the way they attended to me, I won't mind waiting. The immediate conclusion was that I wasn't having a heart atttack at that minute, but may have just had one, or was gearing up for one. What followed was four days of intense monitoring (during which time I did have more instances of pain), an echocardiogram, a stress test which showed that I might have an area of the heart not getting enough blood, and finally, heart catherization.

The idea of heart catherization has always filled me with fear. The idea of putting a tube up through my femoral artery to my heart to release contrast sounded like pain to me. I've never trusted the "we give you a local" line, or the "we give you something to relax you" line. Me, I want to be out like a light. My family laughs at me, how could someone who had 3 C-sections dread surgical procedures the way I do? Let's just say, I had general anesthesia for the sections, but was awake for a later liver biopsy. Guess which procedure made my scream like a banshee and curse like a sailor?

However, now that it has been done, I have to say, the doctor and staff who performed the catherization were friendly, reassuring and gentle. Nothing was done until it was certain that the area to be opened was numb, through and through (no one was that certain of numbness for my liver biopsy). Tranquilizers I had been given actually DID calm me, but left me with a nice awareness of what was going on. And, truthfully, once I saw my heart on the monitor, I was completely fascinated. The contrast showed my arteries, the interior of my heart, and how the blood pumps in and out. The only sensation I had was some warmth, which was warned about ahead of time. Actually, I'd like some of the blood-warming stuff in the middle of winter. Feeling it travel through my body made me aware, as I have never been, of how fast and efficiently the heart pumps blood through the body. The test was over quickly, the cathether removed, and a special dissolving plug inserted in my artery. I would need to lay flat and still for about three hours, and then, treat the area with care and cleanliness - just as any surgical site. So, I can't drive for three days, shouldn't bend or lift anything. Today, the day after, I have no pain in the area at all. But the best part of the test was hearing the cardiologist pronouce my arteries as "pristine." I felt like I had just been given the Pulitzer Prize for heart catherization results. And the pains, oh they are real enough, but are most likely related to something gastric - an area of my body that has always given me trouble. As long as I know my heart is healthy, I can deal with it.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the police, rescue squad and paramedics from Jamesburg, New Jersey as well as the staff of St. Peter's Hospital in New Brunswick, New Jersey, especially those in the ER, the Telemetry Unit and the Cardiac lab. You all made a very scary experience more bearable.

No news is NOT good news

2005-10-12T08:11:00.000-05:00

Don’t be fooled. Just because I didn’t blog yesterday it doesn’t mean that everything is fine at my daughter’s apartment. She continues to stay at a nearby hotel, and to this very moment, NO ONE of any official capacity has gotten back to her with a clean-up/repair plan or estimated date of completion.

Conversations with a neighbor have revealed that flooding has been an ongoing problem for this group of apartments, and the response from the apartment management has ranged from slow to non-existent. The neighbor mentioned an increase in her asthma symptoms triggered by the mold growing in the utility hallway.
Needless to say, my daughter has purchased a mold testing kit and will be presenting any findings to the apartment management. Her neighbor has decided to move out.

It seems to me, the apartment complex should offer the affected tenants the ability to move into other, dry apartments at the same rent for at least the duration of their leases. But so far, that kind of thinking seems a bit too difficult for people who can’t even respond in the first place.

Apartment Flood Update

2005-10-10T09:14:00.000-05:00

It is Monday, 10:15 AM. My daughter spent the night at a hotel, as her apartment is uninhabitable. No one from the apartment maintenance staff showed up all day to check out the damage or begin repairs. Late in the afternoon, a professional carpet cleaner arrived but was unable to do anything other than "prep work" because of the amount of water. He placed some fans and a dehumidifier in the room to try and get rid of some of the water. We are all appalled that no one from the apartment maintenance staff even arrived with a shop-vac to try and drain the water, but rather called a carpet cleaner as if my daughter had spilled something.

So, this morning, my daughter goes back to her apartment at 8 AM, as instructed, to meet the maintenance people who are supposed to be there to finally check out the damage. No one arrives. She waits. and waits. Finally, exasperated, she calls the corporate office of the apartment complex and relates the entire story. Five minutes after the call, two maintenance people finally show up at her door.

Are they there to do anything? Do they have any equipment to remove water? No. They are only there to "look" and then they have to report what they see to the office. The sopping carpet remains under water, the wall of my daughter's bedroom remains damaged - and they tell her they don't see getting back to do anything until it dries out (on its own apparently) which could be Thursday.

Today, I see on the news that there are pockets of unprecedented flooding all around the east coast, here in NJ and in New Hampshire. I hope to God that the people who are affected by these floods are dealing with more responsive bureaucracy than my daughter is encountering for one flooded apartment in Pennsylvania.

FEMA Deja Vu

2005-10-09T12:48:00.000-05:00

It is 1:50 PM on Sunday, and my daughter is still sitting in a flooded apartment, waiting for her apartment maintenance people to get off their butts and come investigate the problem. Apparently, her call last night went unrecorded, as the apartment managers claimed to have no knowledge of her situation. Their calls to the maintanence people went unanswered for hours, until someone finally called back and said they were waiting for the one guy who has the one machine that can suck up the water.

In the meantime, my daughter and her belongings remain in her living room, watching the wetness creep through the carpeting closer and closer. An investigation of the utility hallway from where the water was flowing has revealed a 2 foot high water mark, evidence of long standing and ongoing water damage, and walls covered with something black that really looks like mold. After some coughing and choking and fear of an asthma attack, my daughter is now wearing a surgical mask.

Her request for a temporary dry apartment was turned down, pending the maintenace people's evaluation of the habitability of the apartment - and they hope to arrive some time after 2 PM. So, 14 hours+ have passed since my daughter first reported this flooding. There are several other apartments that must also be flooded, however, the occupants seem to be away for the weekend.

If this is how one apartment complex thinks it is proper to respond to an emergency situation, it is no wonder that things went so horribly wrong in New Orleans. The fact that no one has even COME OUT TO LOOK AT WHAT IS GOING ON is deplorable.

I am sitting by the phone, with car keys nearby, ready to ride out there to Pennsylvania and knock some heads together.

Hasn't Katrina Taught Us Anything?

2005-10-08T23:23:00.000-05:00

I am just home from the long trip to Arizona, back to a state in which it has been raining for days, and is expected to continue raining. As I was getting ready to hit the hay this evening, I got a call from my daughter, who lives in an apartment complex in a suburb outside Philadelphia.

Her apartment, which is partially below ground level has begun to flood. The water appears to be coming in, not only underneath an emergency exit door in a utility hallway behind her apartment, but actually through adjacent cinderblock walls that seem to have pieces falling out of them. That sounds like an emergency situation to me - not only for her immediate apartment, but perhaps for the stability of the entire building.

She called her apartment maintenance, and was told by the person who answered the phone that there was nothing he could do now, that he would come over in the morning to check things, and maybe pull up her carpeting, to be replaced. In the meantime, he says, unplug everything. Nothing my daughter said could convince him to get out of his warm bed to come see the situation in the building that is his responsibility to maintain. Understandably, my daughter was quite upset, wondering that if she tried to spend the night in the still dry part of the apartment, would she wake to find herself floating, or worse, would the entire apartment building above her come crashing down on her because the water soaked wall gave way?

I told her quit fooling with an incompetent maintenance person who obviously hasn't had a bit of training as to what to do in a flooding situation. I told her not to even think about standing in water or on wet carpeting to try to unplug things. I told her to call 911 and let the police and fire department come out and check the situation.

My concern right now is for her health and safety - and I am waiting by the phone to hear what is happening.

But rest assured, once I know she is safe - there will be some people brought to task here for their lack of response.

Bon Voyage Concerns

2005-09-23T15:36:00.000-05:00

Concern #1 - Tomorrow, I am flying to Arizona, a flight that I expect will go right over the top of hurricane Rita, or somehow take a scenic route to circumvent it. I'm wondering if we will be delayed, and if the flight will be turbulent. I am really such a novice traveler, I have no idea what to expect.
Concern #2 - The plane I will be on is the same kind of plane that, just this week, had a fiery emergency landing because the front landing gear was twisted around and stuck like a shopping cart wheel. I found out this morning that there have been 7 such instances with these planes in recent time.
Concern #3, 4, 5, 6 - I am going to get horribly sunburned, bitten by a snake, stung by a scorpion or lacerated by a cactus.
Concern #7 - I am going to like Arizona so much, I won't want to come back!

I'll let you know when I return. :)

Talk Like a Pirate Day, and get your pirate name

2005-09-19T10:51:00.000-05:00

My pirate name is:

Captain Morgan Flint

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. Like the rock flint, you're hard and sharp. But, also like flint, you're easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

Getting Serious About Being Funny

2005-09-08T11:35:00.000-05:00

Deep in my heart, I have always known what Reader’s Digest has been proclaiming for years, that “laughter is the best medicine.” I’ve found validation in this belief in a book by Linda Richman (I’d Rather Laugh) and the works of Norman Cousins. I have often said that without laughter, I would have stuck my head in the oven a long time ago — and since I have an electric stove, all I would have gotten was a bad sunburn anyway.

This week, as I sit home, going out of my mind with the most godawful spreading skin rash coupled with a letter from my x-ray group that my mammogram is abnormal and I need more tests, I must say that I was hard pressed to find something to laugh about. Like most of us, I am also still stunned by what has happened in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I’ve pulled out the column I wrote after 9-11 to remind myself (see below) that we will laugh again.

As if in answer to my silent question, I stumbled upon an organization that knows exactly how serious this business of humor can be. The Association for Applied and Therapeutic Humor is headquarter almost in my backyard, in Princeton, New Jersey. Members include such well respected professionals as Dr. Patch Adams and someone whose presentation I have never forgotten, New Jersey’s Rosemarie Poverman. It didn’t take any thought on my part to sign up and join. I may not be a doctor or a therapist, but, I sure am a humorist and I look forward to doing whatever I can do to spread the work about the important, serious work of being funny. For more information on this group, go to their web page at www.aath.org.

And if you decide that this is an organization you want to join or support, let them know you heard it from me.

Below I’m reprinting my column written after 9-11, not only in observance of the 4th anniversary this week, but also to remind us, in this recent time of trouble, we will laugh again.

We Will Laugh Again

As I write this, October 2001 is spreading the golden crown of fall across most of America. A sense of change is in the air, as nature prepares herself for the long restful sleep of winter. And, deep within us, there is change too- not a seasonal change brought about by nature, but a violent upheaval that reverberates to the innermost depths of the soul. Our hearts have been slashed open by an insidious foe hiding behind a cowardly mask of self-serving ideology. Our pain is so great, we know we have been changed forever, and in our grief, in our mourning, in our righteous anger comes the feeling that will never smile again. Indeed those of us who have survived these horrific events, those of us who can hold our loved ones to our breasts are burdened by an overwhelming sense of guilt and a helplessness that is almost paralyzing.

But we have been asked to get back to business. We have been asked to prove that our way of life here in America is not something that cannot be snuffed out by those who place no value on life, have no sense of honor and seek only to destroy all who cannot feed into their megalomania. Indeed, they are depending on the very things that make us American - our compassion, our openness, our hands that we extend in friendship to those who love and hate us - to let them get to us, hurt us, kill us. But those hands have now closed into fists of anger and frustration, those hands have grasped the tools of rescue and rebuilding, those hands have raised the flag of freedom and justice, and those hands are reaching across the globe, to find the cowards where they hide, to drag them out into the light of day, where no evil thing can live.
And slowly, yes, slowly, our tears will dry. Our faces will wear the grim visages of determination; our eyes will focus on the task ahead. As one, we will rise like the Phoenix from the ashes, stronger and fiercer. And when the dust, dirt, debris and blood of the battle clears- we will stand, united and free still.

And yes, as time goes by, we will smile again, we will laugh again. The United States, the nation blessed and charged with standing as the shining example for all, will go on. But we shall never forget.

The End of the World As We Know It?

2005-09-01T12:50:00.000-05:00

Like many Americans, I am sitting helplessly by, watching the collapse of society as we know it in New Orleans. Aside from the loss of civil services, technology and power is the loss of human dignity. I am not talking about people being subjected to horrendous conditions which force them to break into stores in search of bread and water. I am talking about the seeming inability of those same people to properly assess their situation and try to help each other.

Why are people taking vacuum cleaners, televisions and electrical appliances? What will they possibly do with them in their flooded homes, in their condemned neighborhoods? And why steal the guns and ammo? Is it to hunt down the native wildlife for food, or to shoot at helicopters that are trying to save lives?

It will take years to analyze what has gone wrong here. Most importantly, why a city so vulnerable didn’t seem to have enough planning in place for the protection of its poorest citizens in the face of such a disaster. How could a city that exists only because of the strength of man-made barriers not be better prepared for their failure? And how long it will take to figure out how and why the citizens who found themselves in this devastation were unable to rally together to help each other, and instead, descended to the lowest level of barbarism?

New Orleans is not alone – this is the same question that came up when people in Iraq started to destroy their electrical infrastructures and oil refineries. Why would you destroy the very systems needed to sustain your own life? What drives human beings into acting in ways that are so contrary to survival?

I’ve been thinking back to the events of 9-11 and the tsunami, and cannot recall any stories of such lawlessness and disregard for others. Did it happen and we just didn’t see it?

And I wonder, as I watch events unfold, is this a warning to us all of how fragile our system of “civilization” is?

More Stupid Remarks by Someone Who Should Know Better

2005-08-25T07:58:00.000-05:00

It is comforting to see that even though all the rhetoric about women in science has died down, there is still legitimate research being conducted that continues to refute the remarks made by the still-in office President of Harvard. Apparently, there is still nothing g to support his claim that women have a lower aptitude for science and math.
http://www.cnn.com/2005/TECH/science/08/19/science.women.reut/index.html

This week, I must admit that Sommers' remarks paled in comparison to some made in the past by televangelist Pat Robertson. I missed them first time around, but have heard them repeated recently in reports about his call for the assassination of the president of Venezuela. Apparently, in a previous diatribe against feminism, Robertson claimed that it turns women against their husbands, makes them kill their children and indulge in witchcraft. Suddenly, I feel transported back to colonial Salem. Will he be suggesting burnings and drownings next?

While we are worried about Islamic fundamentalism denying the rights of women and using religion to subjugate half of the population around the world, we apparently have our own home grown extremist also using the shield of religion to spout his hateful views. I find the fact that this man still has a pulpit to preach from and followers who hang on his words even more frightening than the rise of religious fundamentalism in other countries. Especially given his constant penchant for running for office.

Here in the US, we are supposed to know better. Our whole reason for being a nation was because of religion being used for political purposes. Here in the US, we are supposed to know better than to give power to any religious fanatic. And yet, here we are, subjected to the very public rantings of someone who, quite clearly has left the realm of sanity a long time ago. Sure he has the right to free speech, but what is wrong with the people who continue to support his televised soapbox?

To use a sort-of religious cliché, it scares the bejesus out of me.