Caleb, Martin, and Ove

I have a confession. The move from Parkesburg to Boothwyn took its toll on me. From the time we sold the house in August of last year until April of this year, I had not read or written anything. After the second stroke and until the sell, I had read six books written by Mitch Albom, and a trashy bathroom novel. Seven books in seven months - slowly but surely! Packing the home in Parkesburg, looking for a new home, moving, unpacking, celebrating Christmas, and three months of doing things other than reading and writing were sad distractions...and what a crime to abandon blogs and books (save the trashy one!) Now, I'm blogging again slowly, and I read three books slowly, after the hiatus.

I lived in Parkesburg for twenty-nine years. My children grew up there, I worked there, I churched there, I met many good people there that I call friends, and met even more good people that I call acquaintances. This young man is one of the latter, a funeral director from Parkesburg. He writes a blog called Confessions of a Funeral Director. The collection of blogs are unique in that the subject is death. I didn't really want to read about death, but some time ago I stumbled upon a humorous cartoon about death shared by George Takei on Facebook, and subsequently also shared by Caleb Wilde on his blog. I've read the blog often...because it is short and concise, intelligent, humorous and heartwarming. I have seen Caleb at a couple of funerals, then I introduced myself to him at the YMCA where my granddaughter was taking swimming lessons. I told him that I was a fan of the blogs. Another time, we were getting haircuts at the same time.  I told him again that I was a fan of the blogs. Lame on my part, but I wanted to tell him anyway. He humored me and was so cordial.

In May, after the break of reading, the first book read was by Caleb Wilde, Confessions of a Funeral Director: How the Businesss of Death Saved My Life. I had to return to reading. We bought the book, and I read slowly. I reread - slowly. For several weeks, more than a month, the author was my best friend as I slowly finished the book.

I connected to the book right away. In the first chapter there was a story about a family, two children and an aunt and uncle, that died tragically. I was working in the local elementary school where the children were schooled. We felt the impact of the incident. I connected right away with the story and with Caleb's anxiety because I suffered from anxiety throughout my life, most recently after my second stroke. Both of those connections were enough to carry on with my reading. I did not know the hours people like Caleb work. I did not know that he works with all phases of a funeral, from the call to get the deceased until he leaves the cemetery after the funeral. I had my phone next to me to look up words like trocar and how you use it. The morgue will not be visited by me any time soon! The personal stories from his childhood with his family in the funeral home, to the birth of his son: all were beautiful. The book is different than anything I've ever read. I think about death often: from my deceased family members to my own mortality, especially with my medical history. Caleb examines his confessions with humor, poignancy, warmth, and compassion.

A Man Called Ove was recommended to me after I revealed that I like stories that had a curmudgeon as the main character. I looked for it at the library to no avail, and forgot about it. Then, while I was reading Caleb's book, I stumbled upon the book at a church flea market. This was my next read. 

Ove was a curmudgeon. Nice! He was 59. Pretty close! He was a technological illiterate. Yup! Most of the time there was snow on the ground where he was. Humbug! He was always doing something. Yup! He was a little annoyed with the next generation with rules that are not followed. I understand! He is annoyed with his neighbors. Not always, but sometimes! His past is poignant. He had a wife who died, and we visit Ove's past to know what Sonja was like and what Ove thought of her.  Ove wanted to die. He wanted to be with her. He tried multiple times to die, but there was always something to foil his plans. This is a tale of life, love, living, and learning after death...Sonja's death. 

I wanted to read more every day to find the unraveling of the mind of a curmudgeon. This is my favorite fiction book to date! I pictured myself playing Ove in the movies. I love the musing and redemption that resulted in a less surly man. Netflix is playing the movie. I tried to view the trailer of the movie. It was Swedish with English subtitles...the difference in language was not my friend.  Netflix has been my friend with viewing English subtitles with English dialogue, but I didn't get through the trailer. I can see the scenery and the people in the trailer, and I think this will be a goal to read the subtitles faster and ultimate enjoy the movie.

Caleb and Ove have solidified the quest for reading for me. Now it was time to read I Must Say: My Life as a Humble Comedy Legend by Martin Short. I love comedy. The title alone would tell me that this 'humble comedy legend' has anecdotes for the years on television, Broadway, and the movies. But there was more. Martin Short has told the story of his life: his family beginnings, his famous funny friends, his wife and children and more.

Martin Short has told of his life, both the comedy and the tragedy, honestly and with grace. The friends and family members, especially his wife, that have died have, hit hard for Martin but their memory is still alive. Those who survive are cherished. Love, laughter, and being alive are the name of the game. 

I guess these guys have impacted my thinking, these authors and that character: Caleb, Martin, and Ove. I have been enriched. I've know that death can be terrible, but there is good, as this three works demonstrated.   I have enjoyed all of these titles. 

Picture this: a beautiful morning; a porch looking out at a yard that I don't have to mow; and a small forest beyond that; a good book; a cup of coffee; and a special bookmark given to me by my wife Jackie when my sister Janet passed away nine years ago. I have read...slowly! I have written...slowly!

I'm going to miss these works. I have grown fond of these guys. I know that the next author on tap, W. Bruce Cameron, has a curmudgeon within the story, A Dog's Purpose. I know that this will be as engaging as Caleb, Martin, and Ove! 

Technological Noisy Gadgets

I have a new Fitbit. 
Well, it's not really new. I got it for a gift from you know who last year on my sixtieth birthday. So, fourteen months later in April, I took it out of the box and registered it on Fitbit.com. It logs steps, sleep, heart rate, and more.

This thing is a little annoying. 
Sometimes it talks to me, but not vocally. I hear a little buzz on my wrist and a little note appears: It's step o'clock!; or Up for 151 steps?; or this desperate little ditty, Feed me!  Really?
It's a month since I started using it and I am getting used to the crying and whining. I'm thrilled with it.  
The thing gives me badge rewards for stepping. 'Boat Shoe' is where I step 5,000 steps in a day. Several of those have came me way. 'Marathon' is one that tells me that I stepped 26 miles...but not in a day. I got a badge and it took almost a month to complete.  And there is a 'Penguin March,' but I can't figure out what it is...but I got a badge for it too. Yay, me!

One time I decided it was rest time, so I sat comfortably until...Only 120 steps to go!  I ignore it when I need to.  
Wanna stroll? Really? While we're in church? I'll be in trouble! Maybe I'll skip out during the gospel, or better yet, the homily! It's gonna tell me that I Nailed it! or I'm Man of the hour! I think I'm gonna like this gadget!

Do you remember my new Android phone. 
You know who and her daughter (and mine) decided that I should get a better phone after a decade of dedicated service from my flip phones.

This new one takes pictures. Well don't ya know that my old flip phone did that!
I can text. Well don't ya know that my old flip phone did that?

I can call people and receive calls in the new phone. Well don't ya know that my old flip phone did that, too?
Now I have Google Maps! It talks to me, just like the Fitbit.
 You put the destination in and it knows where you are!
It will say something like Head South. 
What does that means? I know that South on a globe is down, and North is up. What the...? 

I drive. It tells me to turn around and go the other way.

Several blocks away the artificial voice tells me that Chichester Avenue is coming up. 
The voice says its a short i in Chichester. Chich-ester. Terrible! Chi-chester. That's better. Long i! 
How about Orange Street. The voice says Orange. O-range. Long a. Terrible! Orange with a schwa. It sounds like a short u. That's better! 
I'm remembering my reading assistant days fondly. But I think I need to teach the artificial voice a thing or two.

I got used Google Maps, finally. 
One day, there was no sound.. I was en route to see Jim, my brother-in-law, and his new place. My sister Lisa was visiting too. Everything was fine with the sound...except Google Maps. Usually the artificial voice would tell me to 'Turn here!' so I would turn. It didn't talk! I didn't turn! I missed several minutes of my journey. Terrible! When I got there, I studied the phone. Jim didn't know what happened with Google Maps. Lisa didn't know either. Finally, after a half hour, I found the problem. There is a little icon of a speaker crossed out on the map. I tapped it and cross went away. I tried a destination and - lo and behold - there was sound. Head northwest! Music to my ears! I'll find Northwest eventually, but its good to hear her annoying, artificial voice again!

I don't even want to talk about Bluetooth. 

Up until now, I thought that Bluetooth was a dental problem: a natural discolor of the teeth that needs dental attention. But NO! 

It is a wireless anything that can connect with something else. 

For Christmas I got a wireless speaker...a Bluetooth speaker! 

I could play music from my new Android!

Streaming. Music. Songs.  

Spotify? Amazon Music? Pandora? 

I tried all of them. 

I can't listen to an album in its entirety unless I want to pay. 

If I want to listen without paying there will be ads to listen to too.

My son John told me that I could get a little card and install it in my new Android and transfer my files of my cd's to it...so I did.

No streaming! My music! My albums! 

Back to the listening the way I want it to be!

I listened to streamed music with Bluetooth while playing Words With Friends. The dings and other sounds of my game made it impossible to listen to music without hearing the ticks and the dings of the game. I can still hear it with my music. 

I guess I can forego Words With Friends while I listen!

Noise, bad noise, good noise!

All in all, it's really good to get fit.

It's good to text faster.

It's good to go where I have to be.

It's good to have my music.

All in all, I like my noisy gadgets.

Good Gifts and a Lot of Trouble

I'm back, and I want to write again. It's still slow, but it feels good to finally put something down on the keyboard. I'd like to talk about gifts. I had another birthday since we talked. I am more than sixty now, and I have some nifty gifts, and a lot of trouble. So here's goes...

There was a celebration for my birthday and my daughter Karen's birthday. There was no time to bake a cake, so the boss ordered two cakes: one for Karen and one for me. She asked for writing on the cakes: one with 'Happy Birthday Karen' and one with 'Happy Birthday Joe'. Karen and I went to pick up the cakes. The line was very long. Finally, we approached the counter. There they were! Karen's was beautiful: Happy Birthday Karen! Mine said nothing. The cashier said that she didn't hear the second instruction, so only one cake was written on. We just wanted to get out of that bakery. We got home and the boss decided to write on the second cake. 'Happy Joe', and a exclamation point before my name! Woe is me...

My birthday has come and gone, and now I have a new hair trimmer from my son and his family - not the kind that you cut your hair with, but a little device that cleans up your nose and ear hair. SHOCK is the word that comes to mind when I turn it on and begin trimming. There is a bright light on the tip of the device that shows me everything, and it's a wasteland in there. I love my trimmer, but there is work to be done. See you in about an hour! 

I have a new gift - a tea towel with the Liberty Bell on it. I love the Liberty Bell. I hope I have a Stay-cation this year with Karen so I can see it again. I love the tea towel, too...but look at the tag! Girls Can Tell! ? I think I'm losing the tag before I lose my masculinity.

Sometimes I don't listen when someone talks. I don't mean to not listen, it just happens. I could say the strokes made me not listen, but I didn't listen before the strokes. So now, I have a gift - an appropriate new pair of socks. Selective Hearing Specialist - I have a new title, and I like it!

I love to spoil myself sometimes. It's a birthday gift to me to periodically check the cd's in Goodwill since they are a rarity these days. Sometimes I strike gold and other days its next to nothing. I found the album, 'Ray Charles - Genius Likes Company' for a dollar, and brought it to the cashier. He was pleasant enough as I put my find on the counter. Then he said, "I see you are a 'senior', so this will be eighty-five cents." You know me, and you know that I love a bargain, but you also know that I am NOT that old. I should have told him that sixty-five is the legal 'senior' age...the little dirtball!

There are many blessings coming my way. Seeing everyone gathering together makes me nostalgic. I remember the gatherings for my father on his birthday. I remember his face when we were all together. I smile. Good gifts, tangible or not, are a blessing...

...and a whole lot of trouble!