More check in

 

Good evening, 919 Gang. You read this publication every day, so you know I get some interesting email. One message that I won’t print here came from a lady with the FBI. She said the FBI had determined that I had not yet received the $16.5 million the government owes me. I assume that is a new stimulus payment. No doubt tomorrow’s Union-Tribune will have a big story about it.

I’m sure the lady is correct that I have not yet received the money. I would probably notice a $16.5 million bulge in my billfold. One thing bothers me about this. She wrote that they will send me an ATM card so I can get the money. And she said FedEx will charge $240 to deliver the ATM card. Guess who is supposed to furnish the $240.

 

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SHARON JONES writes:

Jack, since you asked for it, here is my check in...

I am at the end of my 18 months of medical interventions. First there was chemo for breast cancer as COVID spread in Asia and arrived at our shores. Then I had a mastectomy, just before the COVID lockdown in California. During the summer, I was in and out of Moore’s Cancer Center radiation center for five weeks. Then I had open heart surgery in September to replace my ascending aorta, which had been damaged by an aneurysm. The surgeon left the bicuspid valve because he thought it was working fine (and we hope it continues to). Yesterday I ended the surgery treatment plan with breast reconstruction. Yay! I will be bikini ready by summer.

          Through my treatments, I finished coursework for a special education credential. Yes, I am 60 years old and starting a new career. I am working at The Language Academy, near SDSU. My Spanish is starting to come back. Both my kids have learning differences so I am called to this profession through my personal experience. My daughter is completing a degree in history at Cal Poly SLO. She hopes to work in museums. My son is a sophomore at High Tech High. He is on the spectrum, and his future career is undecided.

          I enjoy helping my kids, and my students, succeed. My husband, Steve, takes care of the house and the animals (cat and dog).

Still above ground, thank you for asking, Jack. Thanks for providing the daily updates. I enjoy reading them!

 

JERRY RIFE writes:

Good evening, Jack. I'm checking in to let you know that I have not checked out. I don't contribute to 919 as often as I should but both Jan and I take pleasure in the wit and wisdom penned by my former colleagues.

In the past few years, we have been splitting our time between our homes in San Diego and Mexico. However, COVID chased us back north of the border last year. It was a fortunate decision because we got both our vaccinations here while most of our friends in Mexico still do not have them.

We have put our time to good use in San Diego by selling our Tierrasanta home and moving into a Bankers Hill condo. Downsizing was not as traumatic as I thought it would be.

Living next to Balboa Park has allowed me to take up a new sport - archery. I ride my bike over to the range and happily launch arrows at targets depicting dragons and medieval knights.

Age of course (82 at last count) has taken its toll on my bike mileage. Gone are those halcyon days when I routinely cranked 50-70 miles in a day. Now I have added public transportation to the mix by taking my bike via bus or trolley to an outlying destination then pedaling home. Biking around San Diego Bay then taking the ferry back across the waters is still one of my favorite rides.

COVID has opened up another opportunity as restaurants have closed their doors. I've taken up cooking, mostly vegetarian. One of our neighbors receives a weekly medley of vegetables and shares them with us. The mixture is always different so I find recipes on the Internet. I never knew there were so many recipes for my least favorite veggie - beets. To my surprise, they taste pretty good prepared the right way.

 

BETSY BATES FREED writes:

Checking in — I’m still alive, having spent the COVID year sequestered in our peaceful canyon south of Santa Barbara, seeing my psychology patients virtually. We got a puppy, as did most of America, apparently. Oz is a love but demanding as only a cute puppy can be. I’m grateful for all of the above. It’s fun to see familiar names on 919. Thank you for keeping this going!

 

          JOHN MARTIN writes:

Congratulations to 919er Nancy Schoeffler for joining and highlighting the Dartmouth alumni magazine, where she is now executive editor. She recently skillfully edited a remarkable essay by a friend of mine, Allan Ryan, a former U.S. Supreme Court law clerk who later ran the Nazi-hunting Justice Department Office of Special Investigations. His article is called “Reconstruction Radical.” The subhead reads “Amid the turmoil of post-Civil War America, Amos Akerman, class of 1842, went toe to toe with the KKK.” GREAT STORY, GREAT EDITING

https://bit.ly/3uih86R

 

ALAN MILLER writes:

Good to hear from Nancy Schoeffler. I'll always recall her dead-on nickname for a tone deaf editor in our department-- Rin-Tin Tin.

 

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          MIKE RICHMOND writes:

          My wife Alice and I spotted this float plane image in the sky earlier this month as we returned from a beach cleanup. We were at a stoplight at a bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway in Jupiter. I was driving and handed my phone to Alice to try for a photo that she took through the passenger window as we drove over the bridge. I shared the picture with a friend, Glenn Spacht, retired vice president for engineering at Grumman Aerospace in New York, who replied, "Wow.!" He said he probably saw more in the image than we did, and he was right. He cited the horizontal wing on the vertical tail and a spare fuel tank on the underside of the fuselage. The image was among puffy cumulus clouds that filled the sky that morning and, according to Google, are usually found below 6,500 feet. This "Ghost plane" was so low that Alice and I joked that it was heading for a splashdown landing on the Intracoastal Waterway. Since that day I find myself staring at the clouds a lot in hope of seeing something else of interest.

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 PRESTON TUREGANO writes:

Google “identity of 11-year-old boy on Normandy beach 70^th anniversary” and you get:

          “My name is Richie. I am 18 years old. In 2013 my father and I started Project Vigil, a personal remembrance project dedicated to the memory of American soldiers killed in the D-Day invasion of World War II.

“In 2014, during the week of the 70th anniversary of D-Day, my father and I spent four days in the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in Colleville-sur-Mer, France, where I taught people about three paratroopers who are buried there. When we got home from our trip my father posted a video about me saluting on Omaha beach. So many people were touched by the video that I have decided to create this blog and to broaden our project to include stories and memories of American soldiers who paid the ultimate sacrifice in any war.

“If you have a loved one who died serving our country, please feel free to share his or her story with me and I will post it here on my blog.

“Thank you.

“Richie”

 

Is 919er Tim Wilson, who posted the photos and video of the boy in Wednesday’s 919, the boy’s father? Google “Project Vigil”

 

          REBER: The boy's name is Richie McErlean.

 

 

Jack J. Reber

P.O. Box 2239

Ramona, CA 92065-0938

United States

Members check in

 

Good evening, 919 Gang. Last night I asked for a census of this group. I think I can be forgiven for being nervous. Since I took this job in 2006, 83 members have died. You probably shouldn’t stand too close to me.

But here is reassuring news from a few folks.

 

NANCY SCHOEFFLER writes:

Hi Jack -- I'm still very much alive!

          After 25 years at The Hartford Courant (most recently as special projects editor and editor of the monthly Hartford Magazine), I took a buyout in March 2020 -- which turned out to be fortuitous timing given the plummeting fortunes of Tribune Publishing. The Courant, the oldest continuously published newspaper in the country (1764) -- and continuously shrinking, sad to say -- no longer has a newsroom. Surreal. I still feel great fondness for The Courant, and gratitude for all the opportunities I had and all the terrific, talented journalists with whom I worked over the years. (I used to joke that I'd edited every kind of story except sports -- and then I co-edited Dynasty, a book we put together when the UConn women's basketball team won its 10th championship.)

          I started a new role in May 2020 as executive editor of Dartmouth Alumni Magazine (No. 2 editor) -- left one job, working remotely, and started a new one, remotely. Also quite surreal. In September, my husband, Scott Frew, and I sold our Connecticut house and moved full-time to our place in Vermont -- on a dirt road in Rockingham, a somewhat ramshackle 1810 house with lots of land and spectacular views of New Hampshire. So rural that it has been quite easy to quarantine.

          My new job is fantastic. Great staff, great writers, and a seemingly infinite supply of fascinating stories.

          I sporadically catch sight of U-T folks on Facebook and Twitter. Our mailing address is P.O. Box 122, Bellows Falls, VT 05101 -- my cell is 860-883-4352. I'd love to see anyone who is wandering through southern Vermont or the Upper Valley/Hanover. Don't know that many people will remember me though -- I was opinion editor at The Tribune, then asst. opinion editor at the U-T (1991-1994). Hello to all -- and all the best to you, Jack. I'm a loyal 919 Gang reader!

 

DON BAUDER writes:

I turn 85 in May. Both my cardiologist and pulmonologist are downright indignant that I am still alive. I had a heart attack at age 45 and two quadruple bypass surgeries before I was in my mid-50s. I am an anxiety-ridden work addict. I should be dead. I am not as of today.

 

PHIL McMAHAN writes:

Jack, a wise person once told me that you learn more by listening than talking. Wonder if that applies to reading too? Whatever, I enjoy reading the 919 report each day and, yes, I’m still above ground.

 

MIRIAM RAFTERY writes:

          Jack, I’ve been silent lately because my mother had a terrible fall in mid-February. She is 90 with dementia. She was hospitalized for a week and diagnosed with a fractured sternum (breast bone), rib and low back. Then she went into a nursing home that was a nightmare. She fell repeatedly and injured her foot; she is still unable to stand without assistance due to the foot injury but can walk on a walker with help. The nursing home also, after the third fall due to their negligence, made us hire a bedside sitter at an outrageous rate to keep Mom safe. I filed complaints but this is apparently legal; bed rails are illegal as “restraints” now. When she first moved in despite dementia and three broken bones, they failed to lower the bed, or put a pad on the floor, or a bed alarm on, or any precaution whatsoever to prevent falls. Of course since family was not allowed inside we couldn’t see the setup initially. This place was highly rated; I would sure hate to see the worse places.

          The nursing home made more serious mistakes than I can count, including letting a urinary tract infection get out of control and a bowel blockage that sent Mom back to the hospital. If not for the sitter spotting these issues, we would never have known and even then it took five days to get tests to confirm the diagnosis each time. Mom went through agony due to the negligence.

Once her two weeks of quarantine at the nursing home was over (meaning staying in her room to assure she didn’t have COVID) so she could finally get into the rehab room, two days later Medicare declared she no longer needed skilled nursing. This is insane. We appealed and lost, even getting our Congressional member to try to reverse this on our behalf, to no avail. The system is rigged. You are not allowed to put in a written appeal, only via telephone, and they don’t record it and the company Medicare outsourced to refused to even turn over notes. They ignored everything I told them.

          We began looking for board and care facilities. We signed up for two that backed out, both citing Mom’s serious medical condition after reviewing her records. One also got another family that bribed them by offering a thousand dollars a month more than the asking price. We finally signed up for a third one that also nearly fell through; this one demanded more money after getting Mom’s full records though I’d already disclosed everything up front. She moves in there today but I am fearful for her future.

          Bringing her here is not an option as we have stairs everywhere and no spare bedroom. She cancelled her long term care insurance after she got dementia and while we are appealing that, too, even if we win there isn’t much since she never indexed her policy for inflation.

          The whole ordeal has been emotionally draining, exhausting and depressing. After I get Mom settled in I will be filing complaints with the state and county, then seeking out an elder care attorney to see if we have any legal recourse against the nursing home. There are more issues besides health concerns, such as losing her diamond ring and more.

          I’ve got lots of referrals to possible sources of help and have been doing nothing the past few weeks but spending every minute of my time, virtually, working on this nightmare.

          America’s elder care system is a disgrace and needs reforms top to bottom.

 

          REBER: A terrible story. A few years ago the U-T did an excellent series on nursing home problems. I would like to see them revisit this issue, especially since COVID-19 is factored in.

 

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BRIAN CLARK writes:

I’ve been skiing at Mammoth with my youngest son on his final spring break. We stepped away from the slopes to hike around Convict Lake. I put on my Ansel Adams hat to shoot this photo.

The backstory is that I couldn’t ski anymore because I was blindsided on one of the runs and ended up with broken ribs. It was a hit-and-run job. The culprit took off.

          It only hurts when I breathe or move. Other than that, I feel fine. I was lucky I didn’t suffer pneumothorax, which is the fancy medical word for a punctured lung, or worse. The ER doc I saw here says I should be fine in a couple of weeks. Treatment for bruised or busted ribs is the same. Grin and bear it with the help of drugs to ease the pain. Just don’t laugh or cough or sneeze. Achooo!

 

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DAVID FARMER writes:

When I was a boy, silos looked like this:

 

 Then, during the Cold War, some of them looked like this, cuddling a missile:

       But now we have to get used to a whole new kind of silo, which we read about in the news. It's a concept, not a giant tube in grain country or one going the other way, into the ground.

A conceptual silo seems to a bad thing, useful for neither storing food nor vaporizing Russians. This kind occurs when some people in a company, for example, know something important that others in that company don't know. Companies generally want everyone to know the same things.

It can be even more abstract than that: a person can have a silo mentality. Such a person might be a division manager who trains his or her employees to keep secrets for the advantage of his or her division.

Finally, there's still another kind of silo:

 

It's a 24-ounce can of beer, presumably quaffed by a manager with a silo mentality, or a whole group of employees who've formed one in their company. They probably go home at night and drink silos.

I can't tell which kind would be more fun.

 

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CARL LARSEN writes:

Joining other major metros, the besieged Chicago Tribune is farming out coverage, including reviews, of local classical music to a freelance writer working under a financial support arrangement with the Rubin Institute for Classical Music Criticism. The Tribune says it will continue to maintain editorial oversight in assignments and editing. This may work in some cities, but it’s a shame this is happening in Chicago, home of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, which deserves a staff writer.

https://bit.ly/3dkbE4t

 

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TIM WILSON forwards:

This is very special.

Boy on a Beach

 

 

Jack J. Reber

P.O. Box 2239

Ramona, CA 92065-0938

United States