I’m 56 — but yesterday a dental technician from Russia told me I looked MUCH younger and didn’t believe me until I showed her my drivers license.
Uh huh.
When I was 22 or so, my mother noted reddened areas on the backs of my arms which I hesitantly explained were rug burns (the result of extensive fooling around in my girlfriend’s individual office) and looked at me and said “Joel, do you know how to get a girl pregnant?”
I said “Yes.”
She said “Don’t.”
And that was the entirety of my “birds and bees” lecture.
In my school system — in a college town located in a rural area — only female students got sex ed. Males did not. My mother, in fact, paid for my sisters to take a private sex ed course offered through an external organization, probably because what little the school system proper offered was hopelessly out of date. My school health textbooks had been published during the Eisenhower administration and we were using them in 1983.
And even with such a minimal exposure to biological reproductive concepts, I was probably still better off than most students who are home schooled or who attend school in states whose education systems are controlled by the local theocracy. In many cases, what is taught is blatantly wrong (“Birth control causes cancer”, and so on).
Did you know that only 18 states actually require sex ed to be medically accurate?
https://www.guttmacher.org/state-policy/explore/sex-and-hiv-education
From time to time I find myself thinking how grateful I am that Carole and I don’t have children. We are rapidly heading toward the world depicted in Idiocracy.
Little things that pop into one’s head unbidden department: the heavyset Russian guy with the diamond pinky rings who wound up sharing a hot tub with us on our first (Western Caribbean) cruise in 2004. He did not appear to speak any English and we certainly didn’t speak Russian and we didn’t know him from Adam’s off ox, but he pointed at another guy standing attentively nearby (we thought of him as “the minion”) and made a circling motion in the air taking in everyone in the hot tub, and sent the guy off for drinks. I don’t recall what the drinks turned out to be; I mean, classically one would have expected double shots of vodka but it was probably something more Caribbean-y.
Neither Carole nor I had any idea if we were supposed to return the favor and get the next round, so we didn’t, and that appears to have been the correct course of action. Perhaps he would have been insulted if we’d tried to match his largesse. In any event, we raised our glasses to him and smiled appreciatively and he nodded back at us, and that was the extent of it.
Random thoughts about depression:
I suffer from major depression. I have for most of my life, dating back to middle school at the very least.
Depression causes me to have difficulty doing things I need to do. I procrastinate significantly more and I don’t have the energy to do things I enjoy.
Something a lot of people don’t understand about depression — it’s not necessarily (or at all) linked to “feeling bad about something”, though one hallmark of major depression is that one’s brain goes looking for things to be depressed about and then points to those things as the “cause” du jour. Depression is an expression of biochemistry, life experience, stress, and so on.
I imagine that I would probably have been very depressed even if I had led the absolute perfect life. My father had undiagnosed major depression. My mom’s mom was institutionalized for most of her life due to symptoms that sound an awful lot like major depression. (The state of medical care in rural Florida was not always what one would have liked it to have been.) You can’t ignore the role genetics plays in mental health.
What helps? Talk therapy (working with counselors) does not really help me. Medicine helps somewhat, but is not helping much with my latest bout of black moods. I’ve gone through extensive DBT (dialectial behavior therapy) training and am familiar with skills like radical acceptance, distress tolerance, and emotion regulation. It’s just that sometimes those skills can only do so much.
I would probably feel better if I started getting intense regular exercise. I’ve been pretty sessile for the last year — partly because of my having been chair of my local Selectboard and always had things to do (and had a lot of stress as well), partly because it rained nonstop last summer, and partly because I made a ton of excuses all fall and winter. I have hopes that as the weather continues to warm I’ll find it easier to get outdoors and get going for walks again.
I’m heading to Bermuda on Saturday for a week’s vacation and am, unfortunately, stressing about that. Our flight leaves BTV at 5:20 am — that’s leaves, not boards. Carole is not a morning person to begin with and will probably have been up late Friday night packing (she has depression too and she’s terrible at tasks that require organizational skills like, oh, packing). Once we’re actually on the plane and in the air heading to our connection in Charlotte, I expect I’ll feel better.
At some point, in a bout of what turned out to be utter foolishness, I gave my cell phone number to ActBlue, which promptly resold it or shared it with every Democratic candidate from the candidate for the Billings, Montana dog-catcher race to the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee. I get at least one text every day asking for donations from various candidates (or, to put it another way, from whichever fundraising firm they’ve hired), and some days it’s more on the order of four or five.
I reflexively type “STOP” and send it off every time, and these do get acknowledged — that particular campaign won’t text me again. But it has no effect on the glut of other texts from other campaigns.
(I looked on the ActBlue site to see if there was an option to turn off the flood and other than deleting my account, there wasn’t — and deleting my account had no effect whatsoever on the volume.)
Until now, the texts have always been from moderate-to-liberal candidates. However, this weekend I got a text from the Nikki Haley campaign, formatted and styled just like all the texts from the Democrats.
I think it’s about to be time to change phone numbers. Imagine the hell I’d wind up in if the number finds its way next to Donald Trump.
From today’s “I Has A Sad” Department: Mojo Nixon has passed away at the age of 66. Mojo, real name Neill Kirby McMillan Jr., died of a cardiac event on February 7 while on an Outlaw Country cruise where he was a featured performer and entertainer. Mojo is survived by his wife Adaire and their two sons, Ruben and Rafe, as well as a granddaughter. My condolences to his family. He will be missed.
When I was in college at the University of Georgia (1985-1988) Mojo got a decent amount of airplay on WUOG 90.5 FM and showed up late at night on MTV in strange commercials with his bandmate Skid Roper. He was known for songs such as “Elvis is Everywhere“, “Don Henley Must Die” and “Debbie Gibson Is Pregnant With My Two-Headed Love Child.” All are worth a listen, and FWIW, the video for “Debbie Gibson” starred the actual Winona Ryder playing Debbie Gibson.
My favorite bit of Mojo trivia: he was performing “Don Henley Must Die” in 1992 in a small club in Austin, Texas called the “Hole In The Wall” when Don Henley himself jumped onstage and sang along with him. Mojo, stunned, said “Is Debbie Gibson here too?” Henley was a very good sport about the whole thing — props to him.
My favorite memory of him is from a time (circa 1994 or 1995) I went to see him perform at a club on Hillsborough St in Raleigh near NCSU. I forget which club it was, but that’s not important. It wasn’t the best show — he played a lot of stuff off his not-so-good later albums and, other than Elvis is Everywhere, didn’t play much from my college years. Also, he and his backup musicians were drinking Jägermeister shots between every song.
By the break, he was three sheets to the wind. When they did take a break, he leapt off the stage and headed toward what I assume he thought was the door to the men’s room, or backstage, or something. What he actually did was run straight into me, started to fall down, grabbed at my jacket and clothing to hold himself up, and scrabbled at my chest gibbering something incoherent. Then he got his balance back and headed off in another equally random direction, ping-ponging his way through the audience. (The second half of the show was blessedly short; I’m not 100% sure he knew which end of a guitar to hold by that point.)
I told people later that I would never wash the clothes I had on again; they were wet with Mojo’s sweat and I considered them a holy relic.
Rolling Stone’s obituary: https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/mojo-nixon-dead-obituary-1234964257/
LA Times: https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/music/story/2024-02-08/mojo-nixon-obit
Rest in peace, Mojo. Or give them hell. Whichever suits your fancy. Say “Hi” to Elvis up there in heaven for us all.
My father, Glenn Stoops, passed away on September 7, 2023. I thought I would share the obituary that ran on the Dayton (Ohio) Daily News website and on sites such as legacy.com. We will be holding a memorial service in Dayton on October 21. All who knew him are welcome to attend.
Glenn Allen Stoops, 82, of Oakwood (Dayton), Ohio, passed away suddenly but peacefully on September 7, 2023, at home.
Glenn was born in Butler, Pennsylvania, the first child of the late Rosmer Glenn Stoops and Ethel Edna (Elder) Stoops (known to their friends and family as R. Glenn and Teddy), on August 21, 1941. Young Glenn A. started school in Kittanning, where he dazzled his teachers, skipping two grades; he graduated from North Allegheny Senior High School (Pittsburgh) and entered MIT at the age of sixteen. He received a BS and MS in Electrical Engineering from MIT, then entered a PhD program in Mathematics at Rice University in Houston. There he met Anne Wilkins Odum, his future wife. They married in 1965 and were married for 52 years until Anne’s death in 2017.
After Glenn received his PhD, the couple moved to Carmel, California, where children Glenn B. and Carole were born. A few years later, Glenn’s career took the family to Dayton, where Glenn and Anne lived for the rest of their lives. They purchased a house in Oakwood, right next to the Oakwood YMCA pool (now the Oakwood Community Center). The pool was a recreational center for the entire family, and Glenn was a daily presence there for the rest of his life.
Glenn was very involved in Christ United Methodist Church (Kettering), where he was a lifelong choir and bell choir member. He was an avid cyclist, riding on every fair day, and rode in the Huffman Hundred, a cycle tour held every May in southern Ohio, many times. Glenn had a major bicycle accident in 1979, requiring surgery, and afterward he was inspired to become a blood donor. He donated at every opportunity for the rest of his life, and gave over 400 units.
In retirement, Glenn and Anne began taking courses at Wright State University in whatever caught their fancy. Glenn continued taking math courses up to the end, and he tutored members of the basketball team. He always enjoyed sharing his love of mathematics.
After Anne’s death, Glenn had a new period of adventure. He took several international trips with Glenn B., to South America, Europe, and Australia. He continued his bicycling, joining Glenn B. for the 4-Borough Century (100-mile ride) in New York City in 2019. He also spent many hours cycling with Theo Hale, a young man who had met him at the pool as a boy, who found Glenn to be a role model in cycling and in blood donation, and who became his “honorary grandson.” Theo led Glenn on a bicycle ride in the Colorado Rockies in 2022.
Glenn was predeceased by his wife Anne in 2017. He is survived by son Glenn Bardwell Stoops of Queens, New York, and daughter Carole Elaine (Stoops) Furr and her husband Jay of Richmond, Vermont. He is survived by his sister Ann Stoops Thomas and husband Ron of Tempe, Arizona; his brother Harry and wife Debbie of Corinth, New York; and was predeceased by his brother Paul, whose widow, Cheryl, survives him, in Hailey, Idaho. He is survived by brother-in-law Charles Odum and wife Gloria of Lewisville, Texas; sister-in-law Margaret Odum Frindell and husband Wayne of San Antonio, Texas; and sister-in-law Jeanne Odum Cain of Coppell, Texas. Survivors also include honorary grandson Theo Hale; many cousins, nieces, nephews, and their children; and many good friends at Christ Church, at the pool, in the neighborhood, at the blood bank, and everywhere else he went.
A memorial service and celebration of life will be held at Christ United Methodist Church, Kettering, Ohio, on October 21, 2023, at 2 PM, followed by a reception in the same place. Glenn would be honored by your donations to the Community Blood Center of Dayton (now Solvita), to Dayton Public Radio, or to your favorite public radio station.
Carole in the courtyard of the Vatican Museums in Vatican City, at the “Sphere Within a Sphere” sculpture. She is posing with Theodore, aka “Adventure Moose”.
We just got back from a two and a half week trip to Europe. We flew to Bilbao, Spain (in the Basque country) and hung out there for two days, then boarded the Norwegian Gem for an 11-stop cruise that began in Bilbao and ended in Rome. After three days in Rome we flew home. A kind fellow tourist (identity unknown) managed to give us both Covid-19 toward the end of the trip — our last full day in Rome and our travel day home were both miserable, and we tested positive as soon as we got to our house. (We did wear masks the whole way home, our diagnoses unconfirmed but strongly suspected.)
Other than one “sea day” as we sailed from Bilbao to our first stop in Lisbon, Portugal, we had a different stop in a different city every day, winding up visiting a total of six countries:
We are not inveterate cruisers — this is our fifth cruise, ever:
What made this one different, other than the length (the others were not as long) was that I bid for a room upgrade weeks prior to embarkation, not knowing if my bid amount would be enough to beat out others bidding for the same upgrades. Apparently it was, because we were upgraded; it was to a two-bedroom (a master bedroom and a smaller kids’ bedroom) “penthouse” suite that was the size of two regular staterooms and which came with butler service — daily treats and fresh ice deliveries multiple times per day, stuff like that, with our morning scheduled room service delivered *exactly* at the specified time each day, and other little lagniappes of elegance. We were also entitled to priority debarkation each day and we got to have breakfast each day in one of the specialty restaurants rather than fending for ourselves in the main buffet. It was nice. It will be hard to go back to a regular sized stateroom if we cruise again in the future. (Note: it was not a “Haven” suite — NCL has a whole deck at the very top of the ship for the people who really want to lay out some cash; you can’t even get to that floor without a special keycard. We did not spend that much.)
Would we do it again? Yes. It was fun. But as I said, we are not inveterate cruisers; we’re averaging one every 5.2 years.
What was our favorite part? Carole really liked Granada and the forests around the Alhambra. I liked Cadiz a lot — it was a bustling small city with lots of color and life and beautiful views. We both would have enjoyed having much more time in Barcelona, but that stop was annoyingly short. We were allowed off the ship at 9 am or so after arriving from Palma in the Balearic Islands and we had to be back on the ship at 4:30 pm so we could sail on to St. Tropez in France. We saw Park Guell and the Sagrada Familia in a whirlwind of rush-rush-rush… and that was it. Carole says in addition to the above, she really liked Gibraltar — there was an actual zoo with macaques and lemurs and other interesting things down in the city, and then of course there were the views from atop the Rock and all the Barbary apes.
Least favorite? Well, other than the stop where we caught Covid … 🤒 The one stop neither of us had much good to say about was Lisbon, as we found it a somewhat shabby, rundown city with uncollected trash everywhere — everywhere we were taken on our two-hour “Panoramic Drive through Lisbon” tour took us past slums and rundown buildings. I’m sure there are nice areas, but we didn’t see them on what was meant to be a quick trip to the really cool stuff. (Our Baltic trip taught us the folly of booking nine-hour “See Every Damn Thing There Is To See” city tours; they left us exhausted and mentally wiped out.)
We’ll be sharing some photos and anecdotes, but please don’t feel compelled to pay any attention to them whatsoever. Other than being made to look at someone else’s baby photos (and I grant you that there are even people who enjoy doing that) I think having someone else show you endless snaps of fun places they went while you were at home punching a timeclock is at the top of a lot of people’s “No, thanks” lists. 🌍
P.S. Do not touch the apes.