Sunday - February 05, 2012

a personal thought

Some of you may not keep track of things of this nature and normally I don’t either.
It just so happens however, that for some odd reason I remembered Hitler’s birthday.
Not mind you that I celebrate the date.

The other birthday (my wife aside) that I have always remembered is the birthday of a woman who I had the longest crush on and used to call her Your Highness whenever we met.  That would be Loretta Lynn, April 14th.  I used to celebrate that date.
When I was a DJ, I hosted a large party at a local restaurant in Paducah, Ky., even though Loretta wasn’t in attendance.  But her record company gave me lots of help with free give aways etc.  So anyway …. this post isn’t about her and I don’t mean to use her noble self on the same page as AH and hope is does her no harm.
I’m only saying those are the dates I remember with no prompting

The Hitler date has a bit of a story and while I suppose I can understand the folks who questioned having a concert to celebrate Wagner on the same date as the birthday of AH, I think to cancel a concert just because he liked Wagner and a concert was scheduled on that date, is just plain silly. And pc I think.

I am not a fan of opera. I don’t understand it and had to put up with a lot of it as a kid, as my mother was a huge fan.  So I heard it a lot and never much liked what I heard.
I belonged heart and sole to Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw and Bix and the Firehouse Five etc.
But who am I?  If even Hitler loved Wagner …. ???

Well, as it happens, Berlin’s biggest opera house, the Deutsche Oper, has been forced to backtrack on plans to stage a re-launched version of Adolf Hitler’s favourite Wagner opera on the Nazi leader’s birthday.  April 20.  I honestly think we can be sure, in light of present day German laws, that the director of the opera house had no intention of celebrating that date.  He’d have risked jail were it intentional.  The date was pencilled in far in advance, the director says. With no thought to the date as anything other then just that. A date on a calendar.  But because AH was a very large fan of Wagner and especially of the one scheduled to be performed on the 100th anniversary of the opera house, it was decided to change the date least the wrong people see it as something else.  And of course, in case anyone might become offended.

OK, so what other events in any other part of the world might be considered a no show day in case the date should fall on the birth date of some infamous historical and criminal character?

Jeesh.

Cheers and enjoy what’s left of your wkend.  I’m off but decided to leave you with this bit of unrelated to anything except the appeal. And nope. Don’t know her b. day. Does it matter? Didn’t think so.

Posted by peiper     on 02/05/2012 at 07:20 AM   
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   Wednesday - February 01, 2012

I NEED A BIGGER TARBRUSH redux

I’d like to weigh in on ‘racism’.

Bullshit.

Sorry, but I’m one of these people who remember MLK’s speech “…not the color of their skin, but the content of their character.”

Allow me to show you my family:

Actually, I’m not certain who’s on First. I think that’s Michael, next is my sister Michelle, next is Rachel, (Mother of my niece Erika, that I just posted about), Next is half-sister Laura, Then Anthony Johnson…

Anthony Scott Johnson (born October 25, 1967 in Indianapolis, Indiana) is a former professional American football running back for eleven seasons in the National Football League for the Indianapolis Colts, the New York Jets, the Chicago Bears, the Carolina Panthers, and the Jacksonville Jaguars. Johnson now ministers as the chaplain to the Jacksonville Jaguars. He attended Stanley Clark School, and then played high school football at John Adams High School, where his jersey is still on display. He also played college football at Notre Dame.

My point? Not a racist. However, you better behave!

Have to admit one regret… there was a time I could carry Michael and Anthony under both arms. They’re way too big for that anymore!

Posted by Christopher     on 02/01/2012 at 10:57 PM   
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   Tuesday - January 31, 2012

My baby niece got married!

Erika & Phil.

Posted by Christopher     on 01/31/2012 at 04:36 AM   
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   Monday - January 30, 2012

Washing machine woes…

Ever notice how bad things come in threes?

In just the last week…

1.) My wife’s new Jeep breaks down…again. If she had consulted me before the purchase I’d have advised against buying a Chrysler product. Especially when it had to go to the shop BEFORE she even took delivery. I only found out about her purchase because I got the insurance bill before she took delivery. Then she accused me of ‘opening her mail.’ I had to point out that the insurance bill was indeed addressed to me.

2.) She wakes me up from a nap. Seems the stove caught fire! Her words. In fact, all that happened was a ‘popping’ sound and the smell of burnt insulation. Third time this has happened in the last twenty years. Just needed a new terminal block for that burner. The other three burners worked fine. Fixed now. I bought four new terminal blocks, which means I still have three back-ups. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just replace that burner? It does heat unevenly…

3.) Next day she calls me down to the basement. The washing machine isn’t spin-drying. I turned it on and, yeah, it sounded like one of the cats coughing up a hairball. I spent two days taking that thing apart. I was hoping it was something simple and cheap…like a broken coupler (the part that connects the motor to the transmission–$10+shipping for a replacement.). No such luck. Took it apart, and the coupler was fine. Had to do a few more checks and turns out the transmission was going bad. This was not good. I was not going to spend $200 for a new transmission for a twenty-year-old washing machine. Instead, I spent $450 (+tax and delivery) on a new washing machine. Which just got delivered about 8:30 this morning.

Good thing I socked a lot of money into my savings account before I became unemployed!

Posted by Christopher     on 01/30/2012 at 10:29 AM   
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   Thursday - December 22, 2011

Oldcatman?

Does anyone have an update? I owe him a 12-pack. My Google search turned up nothing.

Posted by Christopher     on 12/22/2011 at 11:56 AM   
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   Monday - December 19, 2011

FURTHER ADVENTURES OF BRAIN DEAD COUSIN JO.

POOR BRAIN DEAD COUSIN JO

the saga continues

December 2011

Poor brain dead cousin Jo is so called because she just may be the dumbest woman in the western hemisphere.  If not the world. 
For those readers new to this site, the brain dead wonder of the western world happens to be my wife’s cousin.

She is a good person, a generally kindly older woman, but oh so stupid she almost defies description. 
Our regulars here at BMEWS have seen previous adventures of this laffable loon.
For those of you who haven’t, here’s an example of what I mean by stupid.

She once called us because she was having trouble reading in bed and wanted our advice with regard to a problem.  Her book kept falling on her.  ?? When asked how that was possible, it turned out that the silly woman wasn’t actually sitting up straight in bed, but was reclining, more prone then recline and trying to hold her book over her head. And she was falling asleep and so would drop the book which of course would fall on her head.  Yeah. She’s that stupid.  Which from my point of view is fine because I started a journal on around 2008, chronicling cousin Jo’s verbal meanderings and traumas.  Like, not knowing how to self administer an enema.
Yeah.  She’s that stupid.

So, when she calls or comes by for a visit, I listen to what passes for a conversation, in hope of getting more material to write about and add to the journal dedicated to her.
As good fortune would have it, an opportunity presented itself to us just recently.
As in last evening when she called seeking help with another one of life’s little problems that vexes her so.  This time is wasn’t quite how do you boil water dumb, but it does come pretty close to that category.

About ten days ago, she came by for a visit. She also overstayed as is her habit.  She had coffee with us and was asked if she’d like it with Bailey’s Irish Cream.  A boozy drink of great good taste.  She said yes she like to try that.  It was served and she enjoyed it and asked the wife how she made it.  Well, the wife tells her she simply put the Bailey’s into the coffee cup. That was all. No measure or anything. Just put in the same as you would cream or milk.  Simple, you might think. Ah, but this is brain dead cousin Jo we’re writing about.  Not to be confused with anyone normal and a grasp of the obvious. 

Well, Jo called one night saying she tried to make her coffee at home with Baileys but for some reason it wasn’t coming out right.  She wanted to know what we did to make the taste so different from the way hers tasted. Something wasn’t quite right she reported.  So the wife asked her what she was doing.

Turns out she was putting milk in the coffee in addition to the Baileys. So we told her no Jo. You don’t need the milk and the Baileys. Just the boozy Baileys. Add to taste. That’s it. Nothing too complicated. Right?  Wanna bet?

She called us again last night saying she just didn’t have it right and wanted further instructions.  She just didn’t seem to have it right and asked for the third time how to unlock the secret of this marvellous scientific discovery.
The phone rang, I answered and passed the phone to my wife.
This is how her side of the conversation went.

Phone: ringring,ringring.
Me:  Pick up phone and say hello.
Cousin Jo:  “OH,,, Hello” That’s how she always answers. She says OH! as tho she’s surprised anyone answered.  She needs help with the coffee thing and the Baileys.
I pass the phone to my wife and grab a pen and pad.

WIFE:
No Jo.  you are not supposed to boil the Baileys. It’s alcohol Jo. You’re boiling out the booze.
No Jo. I didn’t say to boil the Baileys.
No Jo. Don’t add the Baileys to the water.  You add it to the coffee already in the cup.
Yes Jo. If you’re making instant coffee, you do boil the water. But not the Baileys.
Yes Jo. put the coffee granules in the cup like you always do.
Right. Add the water.
No Jo. You don’t have to wait for the water to cool.
Pour in the water Jo, and then the Baileys Cream according to how strong you like it.
No Jo.  Don’t put any milk in it.  Remember?  We already covered that.
Yes.  Cup – Coffee – Baileys
Yes. That’s really all there is to it.
No, no trouble at all Jo.  Happy to help.
Good night Jo.

And so ends another chapter in the continuing adventures of
POOR BRAIN DEAD COUSIN JO.

Stay tuned. There’s always more to follow.

Posted by peiper     on 12/19/2011 at 12:26 PM   
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   Thursday - December 01, 2011

Why Marriage Eludes the Modern Woman

Why Marriage Eludes the Modern Woman

This is a wonderful article. I especially like this quote:

“There are two ingredients to a healthy marriage: good food and good sex.”

Amen.

Was Denken Sie Wardmama?

Posted by Christopher     on 12/01/2011 at 12:52 AM   
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   Tuesday - November 15, 2011

THE AMERICAN WAY OF LIFE

Someone wrote a letter to the editor of a magazine I read today, just bugged the hell oughta me. I let these things bother me.  It isn’t the criticism. When it’s fair. But I’m bothered by the mindless stupidity.

Under the heading of “America, here I come!” was the following.

“I’m not a fan of the American way of life, and its brutal sink – or – swim attitude to success.”

The idiot never tells us what personal experience he has had with our way of life, or what exactly is it he knows. Has he ever lived for any length of time in America?  Probably not. And as for sink or swim, what else is there should you find yourself in the drink?  And if you’ve a goal of any sort, isn’t success the goal? 

He goes on to say, and I don’t think he’s serious or I hope he isn’t serious, that he is

“seriously contemplating moving to the US because it (US) gets everything first.”

Gee, isn’t it nice to know our way of life has something this jerk approves.

He is referring to things tech. He says he “loves gadgets and the web” but apparently the problem is, many hi tech gadgets and toys for which he has a passion, are harder to get due to the fact that they seem to appear first in the USA and it then take a year and sometimes two years, for the newest must haves to appear on this side of the Atlantic.  And that bothers him no end. 
He asks for example, when the new Kindle Fire will arrive here?  He wants it NOW!

“Not in two years, when the Americans have mastered it.”

He wants the UK to be more technology innovative,

“so we don’t have to watch enviously as some cocky New Yorker gets to grips with a new product ages before we do.”

It’s signed, Pete Murphy.

Well you stupid fuck wad, first of all you learn to swim a hell of a lot harder and a lot faster then your competition.  But of course that’d be cruel and brutal by the lights of your home grown brake on success in the form of some unions.  Or maybe it’s simply your own personal work ethic.
And Please … whatever you do Mr. Murphy …. stay the hell away from our country.
Enjoy what you have now and what you’ll get even if it is late, with the compliments of ;

THE AMERICAN WAY OF LIFE!

Posted by peiper     on 11/15/2011 at 04:31 AM   
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   Wednesday - November 09, 2011

Pt.Two final. For now. Immigration USA Really kind folk. NOT

I have been up since 2am and so this is going to be a very short computer day.
Yesterday I started writing on a subject that I want to finish here.

We are facing a bit of an immigration problem, easily solved.  Just return to the USA but only as a three-month visitor, or say the hell with it and never return.  I am not the ‘visitor,’ but the wife is.  Never mind that my wife is married to an American and has been for 42 years.  Never mind that she worked and paid taxes in the USA before we ever met, and worked there for approx. 40 of our 42 years. And never mind that she collects Soc. Security.  She is still a foreigner and subject to the laws of the USA as such.  But wouldn’t any reasonable person, with knowledge of that and our present circumstances concede that there are times when some slack should be allowed.  The folks at immigration have no problem with my entry, no matter how long I’ve been away.  But they just can’t seem to allow for a 42 year marriage. So, I’m welcome but she isn’t except under strict guidelines.  And forget dual citizenship. Yeah, that was explored.  But in spite of having spent all those years working in the USA, the rules to qualify for DC are impossible to comply with.  They sure do not make it easy. Of course, they shouldn’t.  But in the case of someone who has already spent half a lifetime and done everything but vote, heck.  I thought (dumbly) that my natural born citizenship might cover her.  Well apparently not. But hey, shouldn’t some kind of allowance be made for someone having lived in and been married for say 25 years and with no criminal record?  Not even a parking ticket.

Yesterday, I ended this story with the following.

In 2006, we set ourselves up for the trouble that followed in 2010, and worse this year on our trip back home on Sept. 13, 2011, when she was pulled aside and taken to an interrogation room like some sort of illegal.  And technically, she may have been.

By 2006, the mil was totally bedridden and as already explained, the wife wasn’t exactly running the minute mile anymore.  Injuries from accidents and the stress and the very hard work of moving dead weight to change diapers on an aged mother, had taken its toll.

There is a rule with regard to foreigners who are out of the USA for long periods.
You must return every year just to get your passport stamped by US Immigration.  Never mind the cost, which is not small even with so called cheap flights.
The greater cost is the physical inability of doing that when you are wracked by pain and the worry of a dying parent you’re afraid to leave.  At one point in late ’05, my wife was making use of a cane for some months.  But there was nobody at the embassy or at Homeland Security who was able to offer any kind of advise or help.

The wife’s mother finally passed away in 2009 at the age of 93, thus giving us back our own lives which had been on hold for so long.  Although it was expected, as always the loved one left behind is devastated.  I of course felt relief.  The bondage was over at last.

I could not help myself and wondered if that was how the freed slaves felt after the unCivil War.
So, we went through all the usual things after a death in a family, the mortuary, the lawyer(s) the will, yadda,yadda.  And of course months of probate.  Then another disaster (for my wife) when her brother suddenly died of a brain tumor in Australia.

Finally in 2010 with some things more or less settled , we flew to the US for a three month visit.  And ran into US Immigration who pointed out that my wife’s passport had not been stamped since 2004, and here it was 2010.  Oh boy.  The guy at the booth was not interested in the wife’s story but instead had her escorted to the room where they question folks coming into the country.  Reasonable enough I guess, they wanted answers to questions which they got.  Sort of.  She spoke to a supervisor who told her that a decision had to be made as to which country she was going to live in.  As well, he gave her an extension and allowed her into the USA but with the warning that she had to return in a year.  It may look like an excuse but I can tell you for sure that my wife was in no condition to make decisions of any kind at that point in time.  We could not leave an empty house here for long; we cannot maintain two separate houses in two countries and who knows how long it will take to sell this place.  Yeah, we wanted to come home (USA) but the problem was when.  It all looks so easy and so simple on paper. 
And then her uncle died, her mom’s last sibling. 

Well, for lots of reasons I can’t explain, although we should have returned to the states by July, making it one year, we could not.
I filled out that ESTAS thingy that does not guarantee a person can get in, but must be done (at a cost btw) before you fly.
On Sept. 13th, two months later then the rule, we arrived at LAX.

Now I must make a confession here in order not to give the wrong impression.  I had warned the wife that we needed to return in July if we were going, as that month made the year.  But she was under the impression based on what she said she was told at the interrogation in 2010, that it wasn’t a calendar year.

I’m still not clear on what her thinking was, it could have been wishful thinking.  But I was not allowed into that room with her and so don’t know.  Here’s what I do know.  If you ever made an international flight and had to wait for customs and immigration, you know the wait can be an hour at a minimum at LAX. An hour? You are lucky if it’s that short.

So after an 11 hour cramped flight, another hour (at least) in a slow moving line and then taken to an interrogation room where she had another hour to wait to be interviewed, she wasn’t at her best back in 2010 and I sure don’t know what was said. But she came away thinking that coming back every year meant 2010,2011,2012 etc. You get the idea.  Add to all that, on a transatlantic flight, we’d been up and moving for a very long time. Up at 6am for a 7am pick up for the hour drive to London airport. Then three hours of waiting there, a loooong walk to the gate with carry on baggage. By the time we arrived at LAX, I don’t really know how long we’d been up. And hey, we are not spring chickens anymore. 

So naturally coming through LAX this year, going by the rule, she was two months over the limit.  We left the USA last year in July and so had to return in July of this year.  But we returned in Sept.
Big mistake.

The line to wait after deplaning was a long one. It was a full plane and there were not that many immigration booths operating. The line went at a snail’s pace, I don’t think there was any air conditioning running. Didn’t feel like it.  Two sights I will never ever forget. One was a joke.  While waiting in that line and in plain view are posters showing smiling, helpful and happy looking snappy dressed officials waiting to greet visitors with a caption that said, “The face of America.” Yeah?  Not there surely.  Not at LAX. Not one person looked anything like that poster and certainly there weren’t any smiles.  The other thing I cannot forget is the inspector with the rubber mouth.  Think I’m cracking wise?  Nope.
I’d never seen anything quite like that before. So, picture this.

A long snaking line, people being called one at a time as a booth becomes clear for the next victim.  You’re still some distance from the front of that line but have a clear view. You wait along with a couple of hundred others for your turn to clear immigration. And there at one booth sits an officer who decides to stop processing ppl and waving other ppl on to other booths, while he very,very,very
s l o o o o l y munches on a bag of potato chips.  He was very slow and very deliberate in his chewing, and his lips seemed made of rubber as they extended and retracted and twisted round and round his face.  He sat there chewing and looking at the exhausted, sweaty travellers shuffling in place, almost as if he were daring any of us to say anything.  Of course none did except to each other.

When it was finally our turn he waved us on to the next unoccupied inspector as he was still making circles with those large ugly lips.
He wasn’t finished with his chips.

We got an inspector I was hoping to avoid. None of them are exactly pleasing to the eye, but this one guy was kinda scary.
With a complete stone face he asked the wife a question she wasn’t prepared for. He looked at her passport and asked if she wanted to surrender her green card?  That threw her cos she didn’t understand why he would want it. It didn’t expire till 2014. So she (in error) said no and that’s when he asked her to step aside and she would be escorted to the interaction room.
Here we go again and it doesn’t get any better.

Once again I am not allowed in that place with her, and so grab a baggage trolley and gather all our luggage, and sit down outside the closed off area she’s in. Behind closed glass doors.  She’s about the 11th and last person in the waiting area.  We are already very late and I’m now worried about the hired car that’s supposed to pick us up and take us to Palm Desert, a three hour drive at least, depending on traffic and accidents etc.  Pretty soon, little by little a little later, the terminal empties itself of humanity as even the inspector booths are now vacant.  And still no sign of my wife.
So I push the trolley to the far end, almost to the exit and find a water fountain. I tried to empty the reservoir.  Then I made my way to the exit thinking maybe I could find our ride and let em know we’re delayed. But no such luck because if you exit, you can not go back in. What if I got stuck on the outside and the wife finally got through?  What if there was going to be a problem and they wouldn’t let her in?  All sorts of crazy things going thru my tired worn out brain. I couldn’t leave the baggage unattended in a terminal. Even if it wasn’t stolen, it would surely be seen as abandoned and a possible threat. But I had to get out to the waiting area. Not a chance.  So I wheeled the trolley back to the waiting area, stopping on the way to make another attack on LA’s water supply.  Still no sign of my wife.  But she wasn’t in the waiting room so presumably she was being interviewed.
Outside of the glass door and sitting at a desk armed with a clipboard was a small Asian woman, I thought perhaps Vietnamese.
At any rate, from that general area.  By now, there was total silence. The rumble of the baggage carousal was gone, the place was empty and quiet.  Anxious to try and find a way to alert our driver (if they were even there, I had no cell phone) I told the woman I had a problem, knew I couldn’t just leave luggage even there, and could she keep an eye on our baggage for a couple of minutes?  Her reply was,
“I’m not paid to baby sit people’s luggage.” Well heck, I was the only one there by that time, she was sitting there doing nothing that I could see.
I think I used the word “shit” and sat down to wait for my wife to exit KGB HQ. 
During her interview, the officer was she tells me polite, but aggressive at the same time.  He told her that she was told last year she had a year in which to return and that she was told she should have got an extension.  Tired and confused she thought she had used the extension in ’04 and wasn’t allowed another. She said she didn’t recall that. She says he asked her if she was saying that the officer was lying.  She said no, she wasn’t saying that at all. Only that she didn’t remember anything about another extension. That came as a surprise.  She’d been up for many hours, many more in lines, was exhausted and just didn’t know. But she accepted what he told her.  He then told her that by holding on to her green card, she was denying entry to some other immigrant who might qualify for one and do America some good.
He had a point.  My wife had her time and paid her taxes and wasn’t living in the USA and so her time is up.  Need to make way for new blood I guess.  Like the folks coming in across the borders of Tx,Az,Nm,Ca, etc. And then there are the amnesties from the dark past.

She told the inspector that we had hoped to settle in Ca. and were going to look for a home on this trip, try and sell the house in the UK and return next year.  He told her that might be a problem.

So here we are and I guess until I can sort things out, here we’ll remain.  The supermarkets are better here then those in our home state and town, plus they deliver.  And while it ain’t perfect cos nothing man made is, national health for all it’s problems isn’t as bad as has been reported in the states. I don’t drive here and that’s a bit of a handicap but … we have bus service and it’s free to those over 65.  So we’re having to play this one out one day at a time. Or in our case, one year at a time, and time sure grows short at my age.

Do miss Sun City, CA.  tho.

Posted by peiper     on 11/09/2011 at 03:07 PM   
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   Tuesday - November 08, 2011

Part One … the compassionate, understanding and warm hearted folks at US Immigration.

Pt. one of two

The article by the brilliant MELANIE PHILLIPS in the Daily Mail really hits home due to a recent experience with the KGB, or as it’s known in the USA, US Immigration.
Our ppl appeared to me to be a cross between the Gestapo and the KGB altho I hardly know the difference if there was one, between the two.  One thing I do know for sure.
Our guys don’t have the sartorial good taste in uniforms that the Nazis did.  Just the bad manners and bully boy attitude.

This has been gnawing away at me for more then a month.  While the wife is over it, I’m still greatly bothered. Would it kill anyone at US Immigration to be helpful? OK, forget helpful. They don’t get paid for that.  How about ‘civil?’ I’d settle for that.

As I wrote Drew at the time, I had never met so many stone faced, unhelpful, unkind, unfriendly, unsympathetic, unyielding and moronically aggressive people all at once under one roof. 

There are a few here at BMEWS who know a bit about my circumstances and so some of this is a re-telling. That’s because those who aren’t aware will see our story for the first time and I have to go to the beginning, which is 2004.

My wife was the only daughter of the mil, who with old age could no longer live alone.  She had not yet become bedridden, that was in the near future. She was a burden which later became a curse.  If there’s one thing to be understood, it’s that there isn’t any substitute for an only daughter.  Just ask any mother who has a good relationship with her daughter.  I understood that, and didn’t think twice when it became apparent that the wife and I would have to move to England to care for her mother.  And before anyone asks, no.  It was not even remotely possible to have the old lady move in with us in America.  So in 2004 we pulled up stakes in CA., sold everything and stored what needed saving, and arrived here in the rain and cold on April 28 of ’04.  I kept a journal over the years we cared for the mil, one of these days I may post them.

There are rules and laws and sometimes we may not understand the logic of them, but we always assumed and especially after 9/11, that rules were in place for a good reason. Among our many rights, we never believed it was right to circumvent a law just because it wasn’t convenient.  Not only that, but there are fines and jail and who needs that, for people who flaunt the law.

One of the very strict rules of Homeland Security is that any foreigner who leaves the USA and stays away for a year, must return in that year to simply get their passport stamped. The USA didn’t care if you returned on the next plane, but you must get that passport stamped. Which meant of course that the wife would have to fly to NY to do that at US Customs and Immigration.  Now then …. we applied for and the wife got a years extension on that, which you can get one time only.  And I think we paid for the privilege, altho my memory on that is a bit murky. The wife says we did.

I won’t go into detail here with all we found upon arrival, the things that had to be tossed (secretly) to make room in this small place, and the leaking roof which resulted in the removal of one of the two chimneys.  There was a mountain of work to be done, and for those who do not know, this house was built in 1924, and hadn’t been maintained by the mil to the degree needed for house this old. But again, that’s for another time.  I’m simply trying to convey the idea that things weren’t as simple as just moving in. Far from it. 

At first, the mil could make it into the kitchen on her own with the aid of a walker.
She could use the bathroom with no help. Sadly, that didn’t last long.  By the end of ’04 she could no longer do those things and had a portable potty in her room. By Mid December of 2005, she was entirely bedridden.  We did have help from social services after having to spend down some of her savings, which really weren’t much to begin with.  Depending on which team came to the house, they weren’t always easy to get along with and I posted about them a few years ago.  They changed the old dears diapers twice a day.  My wife, on her own, did the other two changes. And that was not easy on her.

A word is necessary about my wife’s health so you’ll know why she decided to not to comply with the return rule in 2006, when she was due to return to the USA, just to have her passport stamped.  When folks here would ask how my wife was coping, I’d tell them she was “committing suicide by mother” Ha Ha. Dark American humor. Or so they thought. But I wasn’t kidding.

Some years before, the wife had a couple of accidents which resulted in broken bones and torn ligaments.  One was the result of being hit by a small pick up truck carrying fire wood. The kid went through a stop sign and demolished the wife’s car.  She was lucky to be hit on the passenger side. The car was totalled and she had all sorts of damage to herself.  The other accident years before that was in a fall on stage at the Grand Ole Opry.  They used to have these bleachers on stage behind the performers.
It was dark up there, you could hardly see the ppl on stage in the bleachers from the audience.  (No, we didn’t sue the Opry) She was coming down the stairs when her ankle turned on the last step or the one above it. She was badly hurt and in a cast on one leg almost up to her hip for months.  This old scratchy photo was taken during that first recovery. 
She has never fully recovered, has continuous pain, and there’s arthritis as well.

So then, here she is changing diapers, doing the shopping cos I can not drive here, and more or less playing mother to her mother.  By the time 2006 rolled around, she was just not in any shape to be getting in a car or worse yet a bus and making the trip to the airport in London.  She also had the very real worry that her mother could pass away and she wouldn’t be here for her. 
If you try and explain all that to officialdom, you very quickly discover that not only aren’t they listening, they don’t care.  They really do not.  There is no such thing as
Extenuating Circumstances. They wanted her passport stamped. Period.
Since the American Embassy is US soil, we asked if she could go there, given her health and circumstances.  Nope. Can’t do.
And so in 2006, we set ourselves up for the trouble that followed in 2010, and worse this year on our trip back home on Sept. 13, 2011, when she was pulled aside and taken to an interrogation room like some sort of illegal.  And technically, she may have been. 

It’s late, I’m tired and so ....

CONCLUSION TOMORROW

Posted by peiper     on 11/08/2011 at 02:52 PM   
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   Friday - November 04, 2011

thick heads abound

Martin Samuel, writing in the Daily Mail today, had two stories that hit home only because the wife and I can relate to the frustration felt by the subjects involved.
We’d been through much of the same in the last month.

With some hours before our flight back to London’s Heathrow airport, and after quickly clearing customs, we stopped for lunch one of the few restaurants at LAX.

Our waitress was a somewhat heavy, possibly middle aged (hard to tell) Oriental lady with fairly muddled Ringlish.  When my wife ordered an alcoholic drink, the dim wit insisted on an ID.  My wife is 66. At first we thought it was merely a joke or her way of being friendly. But no. She actually insisted on an ID.  There seems to be a thick headed dumb virus going around, because apparently as Martin reports, a market clerk insisted on an ID from a woman of 92.  People are being hired with little regard to their language skills, common sense is lost on them and their well speaking English natives in both our countries.
And then there’s the moronic thick heads at the US Immigration. Oh boy do I have a few things to say. But first ….

(For our American readers and others who may not have seen the term, an OAP is Old Age Pensioner.)

A 92-year-old asked for ID? I need a drink
By MARTIN SAMUEL

Diane Taylor, a 92-year-old great-grandmother from Harlow in Essex, went into her local One Stop shop for a bottle of whisky. She was asked for ID. Diane produced an over-60s bus pass, an OAP card and her pacemaker certificate, to no avail. As she did not have a passport or driving licence, her purchase was refused.

‘We are sorry for the inconvenience, but staff are required to ask all customers for ID,’ said a spokesman. He claimed the shop had to enforce a strict policy or risk losing its licence, although there is a simpler explanation.

Some people are just really, really thick.

Unfortunately, they often end up in the service industries most governed by regulations and without the wit to assess a situation on merit (a 92-year-old widow probably won’t have a driving licence, or carry a passport, particularly if she is only nipping out for a bottle of Famous Grouse).
It is beyond them to fathom that an OAP card is also proof a person is over 18, even if the precise date of birth is not displayed. This would take something called common sense. It is an increasingly rare commodity.

THICK HEADS

And then there is this …. take a look.

Again, from Martin Samuel.

A short while ago, I had the misfortune to attempt to travel from London to Newcastle with British Airways. The helpful staff let me check in and pass through security, without revealing my flight had been seriously delayed, making the journey redundant. My remaining hope was to make a quick turnaround and drive north — but first I had to clear the airport. 

‘You can’t come back through here,’ said security. ‘You have to be escorted out.’ This is how I found myself, with a crowd of similarly stranded people, in front of a useless BAA official who was to be our guide. ‘How long will this take?’ asked a woman. ‘I won’t lie,’ said the useless one, ‘it might be around an hour and a half.’
She said we had to go through immigration. I reminded her, in considerably more measured tones than the situation deserved, that I was a domestic passenger. I wouldn’t have had to go through immigration if I had completed my journey successfully. I didn’t even need a passport to travel. So surely there must be another way for me to exit the airport, without joining the end of a long queue of international travellers?
‘I don’t want confrontation,’ she said. And there our argument stalled. Whatever logic I attempted to inject, she didn’t want confrontation. Not that there was any.
There were just frustrated people looking to get on with their day, with the thick and useless forces of authority in league against them. The rules made no sense, but could not be questioned in any way.
Eventually, I went home. Somewhere, no doubt Diane Taylor got a drop of the hard stuff. Maybe if the world was given its long overdue intelligence upgrade, at 92, she wouldn’t have such need for it.

The wife and I visited home (California) last month. Perhaps for the last time. Nothing’s writ in stone, and I won’t go into the whole thing here but will hold it for another post.  Suffice it to say tho that I think we’ll be looking for a home here in this politically correct lunatic asylum, where at least the civil servants who work for the immigration dept. are actually civil. Imagine that. What a difference between here and the thick headed, miserable, unhelpful stone faced shits at US Immigration at LAX.

Small example of tiny minds at work with lots of authority. And no, this isn’t the reason for my rant above. Just one of things I don’t understand fully perhaps.

Any of you who’ve ever stood in a long line, especially at a busy airport, are familiar with the ropes that form a snake like line and move at a snail’s pace.
Well, due to the fact that my wife upon handing her passport over for inspection, was taken to an interrogation room where I wasn’t allowed, and was the last to be interrogated by the KGB therein, by the time she was through there was hardly a soul left in that terminal.  No kidding.  Like something outta Sci-Fi.
Imagine an empty terminal at LAX. Even the immigration inspection booths were empty. All gone. The only luggage in sight is yours, there’s no noise anymore, no voices or conversation or the rattle of the baggage conveyor. It too is still as a tomb.

So then .... here we are. The very last to leave. Hauling some carry stuff and pushing a baggage trolley we come to the exit part, there’s only one policeman and since there was not a soul to be seen, instead of walking the roped off snake like thingy, I thought it would be quicker to simply go under the rope and straight out.  Made sense to us.  But NO!  Comrade officer Herr Himmler told us to start at the far side and come through as it would normally be done, if there were lines of people there. 

It wasn’t that it took long or was a hardship on us. Of course it wasn’t.  But it just seemed so damn pointless.  Like the officials themselves.
That’s just a minor thing of no great importance.  But there’s so much more that this one last episode at LAX just stands out as another example of the unhelpful, mindless attitude exhibited by these automatons.

-30-

Posted by peiper     on 11/04/2011 at 01:31 PM   
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   Wednesday - November 02, 2011

long ago and very far away …. a bit of personal history

Yeah, that’s me with hair and carrying about 50lbs or more less weight. Gee, I do miss the hair.

This photo had been lost to me for a number of years and has resurfaced within the last month.  It was among other things being stored in California.

Some time ago I wrote about this pix and what it represented. Well, a thousand words and no surprise, is no substitute for this one picture.

You must understand firstly that I regarded KFI as a kind of religion, and the building was my church.  I loved KFI and still do but over time I think what I loved most and worshipped so much, was the history and what the station once stood for and the many very talented people who lived behind the microphones, in the booths and earlier on the old broadcast stage itself.  For me personally, being at KFI was living the American dream.

See that glass dome?  Underneath sits the transmitter built by Earl C. Anthony, that’s part of his portrait on the wall behind me.  He built that on his mother’s breadboard.
I don’t think it broadcast very far, but by the time I got there around 1968 or 69, it was known as the Pacific Powerhouse.  50,000 watts of clear channel power.
Mr. Anthony not only owned KFI, in the day he was the Packard Auto distributor for So. Calif.  Which is how he got the money I suppose, to start KFI.  It wasn’t my job but I was forever making sure there wasn’t any dust or fingerprints (even mine after this shot) on that dome.  It was in the lobby (where I hope it remains today) on public display.  Every time I noticed someone looking at it or reading the info on display, when they left I’d quickly run over to it and wipe it down. 

BTW …. KFI had a jingle package that was without any doubt the best and most musical and most beautiful that any station anywhere ever had.  And I’m not saying that just cause it happens to be true.  I have the series on an old reel to reel stored someplace between Nashville and Calif.  Would love to get my hands on it again and convert it to play here, just to prove it. 

At one time, when the radio’s theater was in use, some of the best known and loved talent of both screen and radio graced that small radio stage. Another age altogether. One of glamour and some grace and lots of magic.
I miss all that.

I didn’t beg my wife to marry me, but I think I begged to have our wedding in the old KFI theater.  She didn’t care for that idea at all.  I never understood why.

We got married here instead. In San Marino, Calif. on July 15, 1970.

Posted by peiper     on 11/02/2011 at 12:32 PM   
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   Sunday - October 30, 2011

This will tick my sisters off

It’s fall! You know what happens in the fall? You don’t? The answer is I start cooking. Specifically hearty soups. So I got ready last night. Thawed out two smoked ham hocks. Had the wife buy me a pound of dried split peas. And here we go!

1 lb dried split green peas
2 cups diced ham (2 smoked ham hocks: trust me, the diced ham doesn’t do it.)
2 quarts ham stock (chicken stock works as well. Don’t have either? Plain old water works.)
1 small onion, finely minced
3 large potatoes, peeled and diced
1 carrot, peeled and sliced
1/2 teaspoon savory
1/4 teaspoon thyme
1 teaspoon salt

In a 4 or 5-quart crock pot, combine the peas, ham, onion, carrot, potatos, ham stock, savory, thyme, and salt. Cover.
Cook on low-heat for 10-12 hours, or high-heat for 4-5 hours.

You know what I love? She comes home from work and tells me how jealous all the girls are about her having home-made soup. She sticks it in the microwave and the smell just permeates. The only thing that makes this better is a loaf of home-made bread. If anybody’s interested, I’ll post that recipe.

UPDATE:

I’m with you Drew. Haven’t tried sourdough. It’s on my list. But this goes well too.

1 1/4 cups / 300 ml warm water (105-115F)
2 teaspoons active dry yeast (one packet)
1 tablespoon runny honey
1 cup / 4.5 oz / 125 g unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup / 5 oz / 140 g whole wheat flour
1 cup / 3.5 oz / 100 g rolled oats (not instant oats)
1 1/2 teaspoons fine grain sea salt
2 tablespoons butter, melted, for brushing

In a medium bowl, sprinkle the yeast onto the warm water and stir until the yeast dissolves. Stir in the honey and set aside for a few minutes, until the yeast blooms and swells a bit - 5 - 10 minutes.
In the meantime, mix the flours, oats, and salt in a large bowl. Add the wet mixture to the dry and stir very well.
Brush a 8-cup loaf pan generously with some of the melted butter. Turn the dough into the tin, cover with a clean, slightly damp cloth, and set in a warm place for 30 minutes, to rise.
Preheat the oven to 350F / 180C, with a rack in the middle. When ready, bake the bread for 35-40 minutes, until golden and pulling away from the sides of the pan. I finish things up by leaving the bread under the broiler for just a heartbeat - to give the top a bit deeper color. Remove from oven, and turn the bread out of the pan quickly. Let it cool on a rack so it doesn’t steam in the pan. Serve warm, slathered with butter.
Makes 1 loaf.

Yeah, it’s a yeast bread, but you don’t have to kneed it. Just one rise.

I really doubt you can do better than smoked ham hock split pea soup with this bread.

Posted by Christopher     on 10/30/2011 at 01:57 PM   
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   Saturday - October 29, 2011

back at last in mind if not body …. read all about it.

Been away so long hard to restart but have a thing or two to share.

Wasn’t aware Drew not here until I got the pc back from where it was stored, and rehooked things today.  To be honest, I’d like another week off from doing anything except breathing.  Brits have a word for being tired but well beyond that.  Exhausted doesn’t cover it at all. Brits would say “Shattered” and that’s about how we feel.

For the first time since moving to England, and the first day back, I experienced in full what a grey, misty and chill to the bone, that damp, cold feeling you can’t shake, feels like.  Sure, we’ve had damp days and rainy days and cold days and stops in between.  But nothing in my experience like Wednesday. Clammy all day long. Btw, how can one sweat when one is cold?

Coughed my way across the Atlantic on Virgin Air.  Had the foresight to book exit row seats at extra cost for the leg room. But the seats are narrow of course because we were in peasant class. 

I’ve never been able to sleep on a plane, and flying LA to London and back not anything I want to do often.  In fact, I may not be too eager to return to the USA for a long time. Which is the subject of another post/rant.  Anyway …

Not much jet lag on trip over, but it hit us big time on return trip to London.  Where btw … the civil servants who are in charge of the border and immigration, really, really are civil.  Not at all like the self important bullies at LAX.  I’ll have more to say on that later.

So, back to a damp house. Turn heat on, don’t bother unpacking and fall into bed and hope eyesight returns to something approaching normal.  Oh, I should mention I was seeing double and having trouble with focus.  Coughing again and can’t stop so up rest of the night.

It actually started a few days before leaving Calif. There just seemed to be a problem (to start) with my distance sight. It wasn’t that I couldn’t see, but that things I normally could see I had to be closer to.  Like road signs.  When walking, once or 2wice I lost a bit of footing. Nothing major but I’d lose balance for a second or two and sort of drift to one side or the other instead of walking straight.  But since it wasn’t all the time and only a few missteps in the house, I just blamed it on Bush and moved on.

When we finally landed at Heathrow and while exiting the plane, I felt light headed and instead of being able to walk straight off, I seemed to drift and stumble to the left.
An attendant asked if I was okay and did I need any help.  It was really a creepy feeling and as I walked out and followed the signs to arrivals, things in the distance were kind of blurry. Not like the movies, but just not clear. Not a lot out of focus, but just enough so I’d know the difference.  And no. I hadn’t been drinking anything but water and one tea on the flight. 

The evening before the flight I hadn’t much sleep at all. Was up fully by 2am. Breakfast around 8:30am to 9.  Back to room and repack cases and double check nothing left behind, checked out about 10:15 and waited for our ride to LAX, who was 12 minutes late picking us up.  Another good reason to always arrange pick ups long before needed I guess.  So, two hour ride, perhaps a shade longer, struggle to release one of those carts for luggage they charge $5.00 for at LAX but which much bigger ones are free here in England at Heathrow. Which also has better airport restaurants then LA. At least on departing platforms.
And then the long wait to check in, because we’re more then the three hours required to do that, and the Virgin baggage weigh isn’t open.  Once it does, and we’re rid of three very heavy cases, one of which weighs 62 pounds, it’s back in line again for security checks, which this time are not too time consuming at all.

A thought occurs to me, as our carry on bags are put through x-ray on the conveyor.
I begin to wonder if on the USA side, they aren’t too worried about what gets carried across the Atlantic to England or Europe in hand baggage, as opposed to what comes the other way.  (of course I know they are but ) On leaving England for LA the prior month, they were taking everything out of everyone’s carry on and checking things twice to see who’d be naughty or nice. And those lines moved at a snail’s pace. 

Customs at London busy but seemed faster and fewer people then last year. So, thru customs, meet wife on other side, being a Brit she went through another line first.
Eyes continue to bother, getting a bit worried at that point, found a porter and got our luggage, exited and our car (late model Jag) and driver (Brian, our regular guy) there to meet and greet.  So then … off we go for the final leg of the overlong and exhausting journey. And the really scary thing starts to happen.

I’m now seeing double. Never had that happen to me before but there it is.  Can’t focus on anything for long.  There are three lanes of traffic going one way.
Lanes divided by dotted lines. So there’d be two white dotted lines on the roadway separating the lanes.  Except what I was seeing was a third dotted line running between the two, and any car in front of us appeared as two cars, with the dummy image showing up on the far left and sometimes I saw it as though it were on the other side of a fence where there was nothing but fields. And there was this car and traffic lane floating along in the field. 

We finally arrived at the house, when I tried to put the key in the door lock, I stumbled forward a bit because I was seeing the door somewhat closer to me then it actually was. 

Saw a doctor next day …. result was, he said, low blood pressure. So, I was taken off one of the meds I had been given and taken last couple of years for something else, but which does lower blood pressure.

Now all I honestly need is a week of bone tired sleep.

Posted by peiper     on 10/29/2011 at 05:23 AM   
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