Duncan's Blog

Who determines for whom we mourn?

When my father passed away and I had to cross the country to reach my family someone (who didn't know who had died) asked me, "Was this someone you were close to."

I said, "No."

Conversation continued and the person finally learned that the deceased was my father.

"What? I asked you if it was someone close!"

He was close to me if you are looking at the ancestral tree. But I hadn't spoken to him in over a decade. We had nothing in common, and he was difficult to communicate with. Always angry. Always critical. Always ready to pick a fight or to remind me that I was subordinate. So, I learned to live without. I left the family home while I was still in college and somehow managed to pay bills, work part time, and do without. I never felt the absence.

Years later I had developed friendships. Some were men and some were women. Two of my oldest and dearest friends became my plus-one. Both of them are no longer in my life because they have gone to the great beyond. Neither has been replaced. These days, there aren't many parties to which I am invited wherein I would need a plus-one.

Before xMas of last year (2024) a friend of mine in Ohio died. He had internal bleeding and--I guess--he bled out. He was what would clinically be referred to as 'One Great Big Hot Mess!' I wanted to help save him, but he never quite felt comfortable with or around me. I never judged. Well, he knew that drugs weren't allowed around me... maybe that was judgment to him.

Truth be told, I would have said Kaddish for him. He wasn't Jewish. It's the only Mourner's Prayer I know. When I think about it, why should we have to wait for someone who is ancestrally or legally close to us to die before we pray in 13th century Aramaic about the virtues of the King of Kings?

I miss my friends. I sometimes wish we could still talk. Who even knows if our spirits will meet in the hereafter?

Well, at least I have my earthly memories.

RIP, FDR, Dear Friend!

I celebrate all April long. It allows those folks who couldn't be with me on the actual birth DAY to still participate in the festivity.
I don't do much that would be considered exciting. Generally, I eat a meal out or go on a road trip. The trips lately have been to San Francisco (my second hometown). This year I went to two Hawaiian Islands; Oahu and Kauai. luggage and accommodations. I also paid for parking at the airport and for a car rental on Kauai. In Honolulu I stayed at a hostel that was right across the street from the zoo. Hawaii Hostel in Honolulu, Oahu | Waikiki Beachside Hostel
It was money well-spent. Had the lower bunk of a bunkbed and access to a full kitchen and large refrigerator. It was co-ed and the women had a separate room with a locked door. We were mostly out. The room had lockers (like from a gym) so a simple lock with key or combination would secure most things.
I was there for three days. Then I went to Oahu and stayed at the Tip Top Motel, Cafe and Bakery in Lihue (right near the airport) Cafe - Tip Top Motel, Cafe, & Bakery
It's the Garden Island. Had a super fun time. and would recommend it to anyone!

There have been times in my life when I have come in contact with people from my past. We make eye contact or exchange pleasantries. Sometimes they remember me. Sometimes they do not.
I have had cause to contact people on behalf of others.
My soulmate was in the hospital. She was dying of an incurable cancer. She was in constant pain and her only relief was when she was sleeping. I made a call to a former customer of her (someone who wore the wigs that this woman wore).
"Linda R. Linda R. That name sounds familiar."
I spoke to this woman in another language and said, "She was the girl who made you look beautiful with those wigs you wear."
"Oh!"
Sometimes I have had chance meetings with folks. A teacher or professor, a couple who ran an animal rescue, a friend's nephew who waits tables at a nearby restaurant. I would make contact and try to develop something that might lead to something further. At times things develop. At other times... well... the interest never was strong enough to become reciprocal.
I am sometimes to blame as much as the other. Demands upon me for the continuation of a friendship might be too great for me to handle. Trust might have been broken along the way. Or perhaps I simply say to myself, "I just don't feel good when I am in your company."
...
There were four men in my life who I thought might be the one.
Stephen from Baltimore.
Michael from Detroit.
David from Somerset, NJ
and Karl/Jean from Pikesville, MD

Each left me for some reason or other. Michael and I are still in contact, but I could never truly trust him. And during our last contact (a road trip), he refused to stop the car for rest breaks. And I have a weak bladder. So pulled out a urinal that I keep in my knapsack, and I told him that I was not always good with my aim. And I swore from that day onward that I would never travel with him again.

Dictionary

let oneself go
phrase

1. act in an unrestrained or uninhibited way.
   "you need to unwind and let yourself go"
   
   
2. become careless or untidy in one's habits or appearance.
   "he's really let himself go since my mother died"

Teaching English or American idioms to people who don't speak English as natives can be challenging. Idioms also need to be presented in context. Idioms may also change over time.

I used this expression not too long ago in describing my g*dson's ex-wife. She's been on the lookout for a new husband. She also grew big. "Boy, she really let herself go!" I said to the woman's ex-mother-in-law (my primary friend).

"What's that supposed to mean?" my friend asked.

"You have to ask? She got fat!"

I suppose one could be more discreet or diplomatic. My Mother used to say, "Well, she's got a good appetite," or "She looks like she's a good eater!"

Oh well... I remember studying other languages and having to learn such phrases. What a challenge!

English idioms are not always self-evident.

Moonstruck - What the hell happened to you?

The idiom was used in Moonstruck. It is going down the toilet. When something goes down the toilet, it sounds a lot worse than circling the drain. Circling the drain could be the residual dishwater from cleaning your dishes, utensils, pots, and/or pans with your favorite dishwashing liquid. The water circles clockwise in a nice, neat motion and sometimes even slurps along the way. The sink is than scrubbed with scouring powder and a sponge or wiped with a Mr Clean magic sponge and it shines once again like the top of the Chrysler Building.

Going down the toilet is quite another matter. Toilet ingredients are a combination of #1, #2, and TP. In rare occasions, it might also include emesis... or blood. And we all know what happens when the content doesn't go down upon first flush. (My home is over 100 years old). Sometimes these things can't be controlled. Do you, for example, use the toilet in sessions? Make a little BM, flush, return to the process of elimination? I don't think so. Even dogs do it at one time (unlike their practice of micturition).

Sometimes I am so thankful that I speak English as a first language. I would hate to have to learn this cr*p without years of context.

It all began when I returned home from the Hawaiian vacation.

Good things

* Ate my last meal in Kauai at the same diner where I had my first one.
- Kauai Diner (ate there because the motel's diner was closed when I arrived)
* Got to the airport with plenty of time to spare
- I had a rental car and was always getting lost. I got there three hours early
* Flights were on time
* Baggage was waiting for me when I arrived home
* Shuttle to the long-term parking took me to the garage without incident

Bad things

* I wanted to get a sandwich at a favorite 24-hour deli
- I followed the signs to the street where the deli was located (I made a wrong turn in the wrong direction)
* While driving on a freeway (at 11pm) my car was struck by a driver who changed lanes
- His vehicle hit my passenger side
- I tried speeding up to follow him but was obstructed. He was adept at evasion
* Maaco was closed over the weekend; I'd have to wait 'til Monday (two days)
* I have gas
* I have hemorrhoids
* My undergarments are staining
* I have sour stomach
* I gained over 8 pounds on this trip
...

It's been nearly a week and a half since my return. The car has been repaired and touched up with paint. There are no signs of damage with the exception of the hubcap (now called the tire's rim). Maaco wouldn't paint it and I'm not sure how easy it would be to replace. Since the car is not for (re-)sale, I will let it slide for now.

Getting struck while behind the wheel has had its toll on me. I have become hypersensitive to any and all other bad motorist habits I observe throughout my driving day. In Southern California, there is a plethora of horrible driving by entitled a**h*les. People dart out of nowhere and fail to recognize the right-of-way rules. Or they move along at a snail's pace and fail to turn on their directional signal. This might cause me to wait unnecessarily at an intersection or into an entrance of a store because I am waiting for the person to continue straight ahead.

I'm not unmindful of my own faults and flaws. I have been known to speed through the amber light (even when amber turns red). And I have crossed the double yellow line to get into driveways or easements on the other side of the street (a driveway or easement that should not be accessed from the opposite side of the street).

This brings up a subject that I am loathe to ponder. At 66, am I too old to continue driving? I love to drive. I love not having to deal with strangers on public transportation or to touch dirty poles or to sit on seats where someone's filthy soiled shoes had been placed to rest. The public can be pretty gross when it's on the bus, train, or rail.

My tiny Italian car is like a sanctuary or a nest. Sometimes when I arrive home, I will drop the seat flat and take a nap in it rather than simply abandon it and continue life inside the house. Is it a crime.

I hate to think of unfortunate accidents as bad luck. Bad luck gives the notion that a person/body is cursed. And I am simply too blessed for that b*llsh*t !

April is my birth month and as part of the month-long celebration of having been born, I try to go somewhere out-of-town. I usually pick somewhere in the western part of the country; San Francisco, Las Vegas, San Diego. Last year I went to New Orléans. This year I went to Oahu and Kauai.
I'm not much of an outdoor person, but I do try to do something outdoorsy once a year or so to verify that indeed the way I am is still the way I am.
Paliku (Donkey) Beach on Kauai's East Side - Local Getaways ... I liked the common name given to Paliku Beach. It was not a disappointment. I stripped to my boxers and T-shirt and I covered my eyes and forehead with my pants. I tuned into a stream of comedy and stuff that gets fed to me via Youtube feeds. I stuck it out for an hour. Enjoyed my stay and said to myself, "Self! That's more than enough for the year!"


East Shore
Donkey Beach

Donkey Beach or in Hawaiian, Paliku Beach is on the East Side of Kauai about 1.5 miles from Kealia Beach. It’s a great beach for sunbathing, offering plenty of sand and some shade trees.

Donkey Beach used to be one of the best nudist or topless or clothing optional beaches on the island. The secluded location made it a perfect spot for nudist or clothing optional beach goers. However, the beach has never been great for swimming. As Donkey Beach's fame grew surrounding land owners rallied for enforcement of anti-nudity laws. So you won’t see many nude sunbathers now.

Today, Donkey Beach continues to be visited as a good beach for sunbathing. It is not excellent for swimming or snorkeling since the water is choppy and rough. When conditions are good, surfers and bodyboarders can be seen at the beach. Because of its popularity, Donkey Beach is no longer as secluded as it had been years ago.

The beach has been referred to as Donkey Beach for a long time. The official name is Paliku, however it is also called Kuna Beach and Kumukumu Beach. It was nicknamed Donkey Beach after the mules that were present in a pasture nearby used for hauling cane (some claim there were never any Donkey’s near the beach, just mules).

To get to the beach requires about a 15-minute walk from the parking area.

I lived in San Francisco for four years and before that, I spent about four or five summers there. It is still the most beautiful city I have ever visited, and I consider it one of my hometowns. One of the mystiques is the city's world-famous sourdough bread.
Artificial intelligence argues that it is not the bacteria of the environment that makes the sourdough what it is, but rather the method by which the bread is prepared. I cannot argue for or against since I have ZERO interest in the life of something on its cellular level.
For those who are anal retentive about measurements and timing and temperatures, sourdough videos can feed your need to the max. One such video even encourages the future home baker to possess a digital scale or suffer the consequences.
I don't eat that much bread anymore. (My carbohydrate of choice has changed to white rice). But there were times when I used to have a starter in the fridge and I do remember making sourdough English muffins, sourdough Pullman loaf, sourdough rolls.
There is a cuisine that features sourdough. It's Ethiopian.

The sourdough pancake-like flatbread is called injera. The grain (cereal) used for preparation is teff. It is a deliciousness that defies explanation, and I am truly saddened whenever I meet someone who proclaims to hate Ethiopian food and blames the main culprit as being the injera. At a table, the first morsel of injera is made by tearing it and then scooping up some vegetables, grains, pulses, or salad. It is then used to handfeed the man of the table. It is a sign of love and respect. My eyes well up when I think of such things. Food = Love.
Alas, one who diets and dreams of ideal weight should not be spending this much time romanticizing sourdough starters!