I also don’t hate The Eagles. But they were on my mind this morning.
I was putting my contacts in when I realized the t-shirt I was wearing was from an event in 2011. That was 14 years ago. 2011 was a pivotal year for me. It’s when I semi-voluntarily left the job I had had in Washington DC for 4.5 years. I spent some time trying to decide what to do next and came up with the idea for QuiCR. It never became what I wanted, but I learned a lot about myself through that experience.
14 years though I realized was both a long time ago and a time that seems so near. I have a hard time comprehending that so many years have passed since then but also so seemingly quickly.
So what has this got to do with The Eagles? For some reason I have distinct memories of being in art-class in elementary school and drawing while Fly Like an Eagle was playing in the background and the line “Time keeps on slipping into the future” sticks in my mind. Now you’re probably thinking, “but Greg, that’s the Steve Miller Band” and you’d be right. But excuse me if my brain conflated the title of the song with the band The Eagles and hence we’re here.
Time keeps on slipping into the future and I can’t abide that. I’ve mentioned before how I feel a bit dichotomous about my age.
Ironically, one could argue that time slipped back an hour last night, but in reality that’s only our marking of time. Time itself still slipped into the future.
So I sit here, trying to gather thoughts into a coherent blog post, when I know I should be studying for this week’s tests (another pharm one, my 3rd, fortunately my second was even better than my first, so it looks like I’ll do ok in this class) as time continues to slip into the future.
I can’t abide it because there’s so much I want to do and realizing so little time left to do it.
So please, someone discover the fountain of youth. (or even the fountain of yutes).
This year I’ve lost two people close to me. Both died of cancer. Their deaths have hit me in different ways. Both were linked to each other and to me through caving.
I obliquely referred to the first in a post earlier this year. Don Paquette was a friend, colleague and mentor. His intensity could easily fill a room. As an instructor, he was quick to let you know where you stood. I know some thought he might be overly harsh or strict or that he might have unreasonable standards. But the truth is, he simply wanted everyone to try their best. He didn’t necessarily expect everyone to be perfect in the skills taught. But if he thought you could do better, he’d push you to do so. And deep down, he cared.
Don was known for judging how well students would lay out the gear cache during training. He felt strongly that a well laid out gear cache was a key part of a well-run and organized rescue. In the last few years of his life, when he couldn’t make it to training, I’d text him a photo of a cache and wait for his grade so I could report back to students.
Don might give this a B on a good day
He also was an advocate of what some might call a “Command Voice”. A command voice was more than simply being louder than the rest, it was a tone that caught your attention, made you listen, and moreover, want to to do what was asked.
And that’s where Cordelia Ross enters the picture, or Cordie as we all knew her. I first recall meeting Cordie at the NCRC weeklong in Indiana in 2009. I was helping to teach the Level 2 class, along with Don, while Cordie was taking it. During much of the week, Don kept encouraging Cordie to be a bit louder and more commanding. This wasn’t exactly Cordie’s style however.
Cordie is on the left
We were doing an exercise in Sullivan Cave. The students weren’t quite as organized as they could have been, but as one of the goals of Level 2 is to teach leadership, we as instructors were sitting back letting things unfold to see how the students would cope and if they’d organize themselves.
And then it happened. From the top of the breakdown pile we heard a loud and commanding voice: “Stop!” Everyone, and I mean everyone, including the instructors, stopped what they were doing and waited for instructions to come forth. I recall looking up at Cordie who then, in a much quieter but forceful tone started to direct her fellow students on what to do next. It took us instructors a second to realize that she wasn’t giving us commands. But her voice had been so commanding for an instant, had she given us instructions, we would have no doubt followed them. We liked to joke that Cordie had found her command voice. But she made it clear, she hadn’t found it, she simply had used the one she had had all along, but held in reserve until the right time. I tend to think she was right. After that Don never again gave her any flack about her lack of command voice.
That episode with Cordie really personified her to me. She was a petite woman, often surrounded by firefighters and cavers twice her size. But she was the mouse that could roar. Many might describe her as quiet, but that wasn’t true. When she did speak, it was with authenticity and power. Many might underestimate her, but never more than once.
In my final visit with Don, we talked about many things, including our times instructing fellow cavers. He reminded me of a time where we played a prank on a set of students on a haul team. He had a deep sense of humor. His death was tough and I grieved and still grieve for him, but also know that having lived into his 70s he had lived a good life. He had seen his kids grown and even watched his grandkids grow up. We often talked about his travels with his family on Amtrak. While I know he would have loved to live longer and had more to do, he expressed no regrets to me. He led a good life.
Cordie’s death though strikes a deeper chord. Her family was just starting. Just over a year ago she had given birth to her daughter, Viola. Her cancer diagnosis was a surprise and sadly didn’t give her enough time in this world. Her husband Wayne now has the unenviable task of being what some might call a “single father”. Technically that may be true, but I know there is a whole community out there that will help him. And much of that community will help Viola know the woman who was her mother. Whereas Don had much to look back on, Cordie had so much to look forward to. Cordie looked forward to being a mother and I suspect far down the road, a grandmother. She had so much she wished to teach Viola. And Viola, sadly will never grow up truly knowing her mother. The world is a smaller place because of Cordie’s untimely death.
Whereas Don and I talked Amtrak and travels, Cordie and I discussed New England (because she had gone to school at Dartmouth) and literature. Both were people to whom I had a connection far more than simply caving or cave rescue. Both are people that I dearly wish I could sit down with at least one more time and talk to.
I had a few photos that didn’t really fit into my previous post so decided to create a separate one.
Heading into my final shift
This was my first shift actually in the ED. I think the bottom set of scrubs were some I bought locally. Marginally better than what I was given at the end of my first week of preliminary orientation.
Celebrating the 1000 hour Mark
By now I was 1000 hours into teching. You can’t tell from this photo, but my scrubs are better fitting and I’m feeling far more comfortable in the job.
Heading into work for my final shift was a fulltime tech
Definitely comfortable now!
Poised for a quick getaway!
While we don’t have assigned spots, I usually considered one of the spots around here as “mine”. I could usually get such a spot about 90% of the time. Why so important to me? My car was headed straight down the ramp. So by not having to back out, or come down from other areas, I could get out of the garage that much faster.
I make this look good
5,500 hours ago I know I would not have looked so relaxed and comfortable at work. But now, I’m definitely comfortable and relaxed. Even in the middle of a trauma. I think I’ve come pretty far. And now I set off on the next part of my journey.
I was making good time on my all night drive and with a few catnaps and a limited amount of caffeine (which really doesn’t tend to always help me I’ve discovered) I figured I’d make the Gateway Arch by Noon.
One stop along the way was the Will Rogers rest stop on the eastern side of Oklahoma.
Will Rogers Statue
Once I was in St. Louis I started to follow the Google Maps directions until I realized it was leading me away from the Arch. I’m still not quite sure where it thought I wanted to go, but after resetting it twice and being VERY specific the final time I was headed east towards the river. I had hoped to find a free spot along the side road I had parked when heading west, but the spots were full. I knew there was at least one garage that I could get my parking validated at, but I wasn’t sure which one it was so I choose the first available one that appeared to have fair pricing. I quickly parked. My watch told me it was just after 11:00 AM. I had made it before Noon!
Now I was fighting two timelines: first, I wanted to get to the ticket kiosk as quickly as possible so I could get the first available ticket, even if it meant the ticket was much later in the day. The second was, my bladder was beyond full!
I walked quickly to the entrance and went inside and turned to the ticket counter. Or rather, I turned to where the ticket counter had been literally a week and a half ago. Now it was completely boarded up with a sign, “Ticket Counter closed for renovations”. I was in a panic. All that driving for naught? Then I spied another sign with a QR Code that explained I could use the URL to purchase my ticket or go to another counter somewhere else in the visitor center and buy a ticket. I breathed a sigh of relief.
But my bladder now was screaming so that was my first order of business! After solving that I went back to the QR Code and scanned it. Turns out, that while the Reservations.gov website couldn’t provide me tickets on line, there is in fact an online site to buy them! This means I could have bought them the night before and taken my time driving here! Oh well. Such is life. The first available tickets were at 1:00 PM. Glancing at my watch I saw I had plenty of time. I bought my ticket and also received a discount because I’m a National Park Holder (still the best $80 I’ve spent in a long time). I then headed back to the car to swap into some cleaner clothing, put in my contacts and grab my National Parks passport so I could get it stamped. Then I headed back. I got my passport stamped and then headed through security to check out the displays while I waited for 1:00 PM to arrive.
On the way down I saw a monitor that showed boarding times and it said that the 1:00 PM ticketholders could start to board in 5 minutes. I thought this was a bit soon, but figured it might be a large crowd so I hurried. Then a thought crossed my mind. I glanced at my phone. It wasn’t 11:55 as my watch said, it was 12:55. Again I had passed time zones and forgotten to update my watch. No worries, I apparently had time and got in line.
Turns out the line was far smaller than I expected. Here a little background on how one gets to the top of the Arch. As a video explains, because of the shape, a standard elevator wouldn’t work, nor would an escalator. The solution is basically 8 “cars” on a string that each sit in a ring with bearings. As the cars move up the Arch, they rotate so that the passengers are always upright. While I believe this is all done by gravity, I did notice that several times along the way up, the sound of a motor and the car righted itself a bit. I suspect there’s there’s both passive and active measures occurring.
Each car can hold 5 adults, but it’s a tight squeeze. So if you do the math, that’s 40 people per trip up. There’s one tram in each leg so that’s 80 people at a time when both are running (today only the North Tram was running). Given round-trip times, that’s 480 an hour.
Example of the car one rides to the top of the Arch.
While in line, the guide asked who was in what groups and then handed out numbered boarding passes to indicate which car to board. I was number 7. In fact, I was the only in that particular car!
My ticket to ride
Before you board, there’s a short 1960s style animated video that’s actually a lot of fun to watch. It both made me feel old and nostalgic.
Then you line up in front of your particular car. They give you a safety briefing. The main details are the doors are only 4′ tall so duck when you enter and do not try to take photos as you enter.
Once boarded and the doors close you start to move up. It’s not obvious from the photos, but first you move to what would be the left of the photos above and then up and then as you move up, to the right (technically I was in the North Tram, so first you move to the North, then up and to the South)
There’s a window in the door so you can see the structure of the Arch, including the stairs of the 1,076 step emergency evacuation staircase.
Yes, I was grinning Cheshire cat the entire way up. A dream of a lifetime was coming true.
The top did not disappoint. I knew the observation windows were only 9″ tall so I thought it would be a tight view. I also had thought the observation area would be much smaller than it actually is. From the ground you get a false sense of scale. It’s actually fairly roomy (though I suspect with two full trams working and 80 people being up there it would be a bit crowded. All told we had perhaps 30 people including employees up there).
The ride up is about 4 minutes and the ride down is about 3 minutes. This with 3 minutes of time to board at the bottom means you’re given about 10 minutes to see everything. I thought I would feel rushed, but I wasn’t. Finally it was time to head back down.
After the ride down I visited the gift shop and then started to head out. I had been texting a friend about a quick visit and wanted to get there in time.
This said friend is someone I’ve known for over two decades now and is somewhat a mentor to me in the cave rescue community. I knew he’s definitely a mentor to another close friend of mine. Sadly though, said mentor was diagnosed with cancer several years ago and it has now since metastasized to his liver. He texted back that he’d probably be up for a visit after his hospice nurse left. Home hospice… that’s where he’s at now. That said, as he reminded me when we did talk in person, Jimmy Carter was on hospice for three years, so who knows how much time is left.
After leaving the Arch I headed to his place. I hoped to make it not too late as I didn’t want to keep him up late. It seemed fate had other ideas. Immediately upon entering Indiana I hit a detour as we were routed around a traffic accident. Or rather, routed off the Interstate onto a side road with no clear directions on where to go from there, so we all followed our GPSs or Google Maps which took us back onto the same Interstate albeit one exit later. This did put me ahead of some of the vehicles which had not been detoured, but didn’t help much. So this put me behind schedule.
Finally Google maps directed me off the Interstate onto the backroads to get to my friend’s house. However, Google maps didn’t know that immediately after turning off the Interstate that the road I was supposed to take was closed and I had to follow a detour. This further put me behind schedule.
Then, not more than 3 miles from my friend’s house, the Low Oil light came on. I’ve had enough Subarus to know that inevitably this is due to burning a bit of oil, not a sudden oil leak. So I pulled over, put some spare oil I carry with me for this purpose in and continued. Honestly, I had sort of expected this and should have checked my oil earlier. I had put in over 6000 miles in the last two weeks at this point.
I finally arrived at said friends house and he met me at the door. We sat and talked for over an hour. I’ll admit it was a bit bittersweet. We talked a bit about his prognosis and time left, but focused mostly on the good times we’ve had. Besides both being cavers, we have an interest in train travel and have travelled extensively via Amtrak.
In most cases when we talk to folks, we expect to see them again, but we both knew, even if we didn’t exactly say it out loud, that this might be our last chance to catch up.
That said, he’s not really bitter or sad. He’s led a great life and he’s been the person I expect he’s wanted to be. There’s an outside chance I’ll see him this summer if we both make it to the NSS Convention in New York, but honestly we both know that’s unlikely.
So, while I reached a new high this day, I also have poignant and bittersweet memories. I’m glad I made the stop. Ironically, had I bought tickets online for the Gateway Arch for later in the day and gotten sleep on my drive there, instead of a marathon all night drive, I would not have had a chance to catch up. That was the other reason I had done the marathon drive, even if somehow I didn’t make the top of the Arch, I knew it gave me a chance to meet with my friend. So the lack of sleep was worth it in multiple ways.
So, I don’t want to end this on a down note as much as a happy note. I reached a life goal and I caught up with a close friend. It was as they say, a good day.
I’ve mentioned not being on a strict schedule. Which is good. Originally I was going to leave Monday the 7th, after work. But a car repair wasn’t done by then. So then it was going to be Tuesday morning. Of course it ended up being Wednesday around Noon. My original goal had me arriving at the Canyon on Thursday morning. By postponing my departure by 2 days, I figured I could still make it to the Canyon by Saturday morning.
Well here it is, Sunday night and I just arrived after dark (8:37 local time, 11:37 Eastern time). But I’m ok with that. I even managed to score a campsite in the Park itself (which meant not having to find a place along the way). But why the delay?
Well as the previous post notes, I had some car issues that slowed me down. And of course I ended up visiting and staying at Chaco Canyon. But that’s only like a 6 hour drive from the Grand Canyon and I left there around 10:00 AM MDT. So why so late?
Well for one thing I decided to do a bit of food shopping since the next few days stopping by a restaurant was less likely and I was running out and getting sick and tired of what I had packed when I left New York. While paying for the food, I started to panic since I couldn’t find one of my credit cards. I had just used it 8 miles up the road for gas, so I figured I could call to see if they found it and go back. After a frantic search of the car and my pockets multiple times, I did find it in one of my pockets. So I could breath a bit easier after that.
Back on the highway, I still was thinking I’d make the Canyon, specifically Mather Campground, well before dark. I wasn’t scared.
But soon I was petrified. Ok, no, not really. But I saw signs for the Petrified Forest National Park. My paternal grandparents had had a slice of petrified wood that always fascinated me and as such I had always wanted to check it out. A quick check of Google confused me a bit, since it looked like there was a few spots it was calling attention to. But no worry, the entrance was quite literally off the Interstate. I figured I’d pop in, check it out and 20 minutes later be on the road.
Little did I know that actually that’s the North Entrance and the road takes you about 26 miles south to the South Entrance. Along the way there are pull-offs to see the Painted Desert, Blue Mesa and much more. The ranger warned several of us that it could take a couple of hours. He was right. But it was well worth it.
A side note, at Chaco I had decided to pay $80 for an annual pass for the National Parks (in 5 years I can get a lifetime one for the same price, I guess a perk of getting older). Well Chaco is $25, Petrified is $25 and the Grand is $35. So it’s already paid for itself and I have other parks I want to visit on this trip. I also picked up a Park Passport at Petrified so I can collect stamps. Why not.
Anyway, I still had hope to make it to the Grand Canyon before sundown but another sign caught my eye: 65 miles to Winslow. Yes, THAT Winslow Arizona. Since I suppose I’m trying to take it easy on this trip, I just knew I had to stop. And I did. And of course got pictures. And I was far from the only one doing so. At least two other groups were doing the same.
At this point though, any chance of making the campground by sundown was gone. But, it was well worth it.
I’ll add one more note before ending. Several times on this trip, including in Winslow, I’ve managed to be on bits and pieces of the Mother Road, Route 66. And it’s been both cool and sad seeing some of the old hotels (most now dilapidated), restaurants (closed), and gas stations (abandoned).
Written yesterday, but no connection to post, so a day late.
Future posts may also be delayed as I get to more places with limited WiFi.
Today started off fine. I woke up, a bit confused why it was so dark but then remembered my watch is still set to Eastern Time. That was only part of it. Anyone who has spent much time travelling even with a time zone will soon realize that the sun rises earlier on the eastern edge and rises later on the western edge. Conversely sunset is reversed. So not only was I one time zone off, I was rather west in it anyway. I stayed at the Texas Welcome Center along I-40. Most states have their welcome center within a few miles of the border. Not Texas, it’s in Amarillo, about halfway through the state. I suppose that way they only have to build one. That said, it was pretty decent.
I got off an early start and hit the border of New Mexico fairly early. I stopped at their welcome center which is literally right next to the border. However, since I was off to an early start, I decided to get of at Exit 0 in Texas. No, that’s not a typo. It’s right on the border and in fact the merge ramp ends within yards of the New Mexico border. I guess I was going nowhere. (To quote Harry Chapin, “anywhere is a better place to be.”)
Soon after that though the trip hit a snag. My check-engine light came on. Fortunately in my experience with Subarus it’s almost always an O2 sensor so I wasn’t worried. I got off at the next exit with a large enough town and waited for O’Reilly’s Auto Parts to open so I could borrow their OBD2 reader (foolishly I didn’t bring one with me). Sure enough, O2 sensor readings. They claim they can’t clear the codes with theirs so I nursed it until a large town outside of Albuquerque where there was a Walmart. There I picked up a decent reader, reset the sensors and I was off. I also got some Cataclean, I product I’ve had some success with. I used it down the road when my tank was empty enough. So that problem solved.
At this point between my stops and a few “for fun” detours checking out where some frontage roads went (two dead ended, one rejoined the Interstage) I was a bit behind schedule so decided to make for Chaco Canyon National Historical Park. This was probably the first place I visited with my dad years ago. Back then we didn’t have Google. We had AAA Trip-Tiks.
Well, let me go on an aside about Google Maps. One reason I’m not a fan of online maps is because it’s hard to see the big picture, like statewide. This means it’s possible for the online map to take you a way you may want to know and you don’t realize it until too late. This happened to my wife recently in New Jersey (which seems to be particularly bad). Let’s just say in that case there was NO logical reason for Google Maps to suggest anything other than I-95. But it did.
Today, I had a similar problem and it led me to a bit of bad luck. I was following the directions when it suggested I turn off the main road I was on onto a side road. I figured this was a bit strange, but whatever. Well, I should have been thinking more about the speed limit because I got nabbed. Ayup. I suppose I can call it bad luck, but it’s my own damn fault for speeding, regardless of where the map sent me. That said, I’m not even sure if it’ll be a problem (other than the fine) because it was technically on Tribal Land. We’ll see.
But then the fun began. Google Maps continued to take me down slow backroads. I was very careful to follow the speed limit here, despite numerous cars passing me. That said, my general sense of direction was telling me, “this might be the shortest route, but is it the BEST route?” But as they say, in for a penny in for a pound.
So I was thinking right up until Google Maps told me to turn right onto a dirt road. Now, a saner, more cautious person would have continued straight until Google Maps could suggest another route. I am not that person.
Now to be fair, the Subaru of course has all-wheel drive, decent ground clearance, and while I can’t say I have lots of off-road experience, I’m pretty comfortable taking it along roads like this.
Let me just say… it was FUN… bombing along a dirt road in the desert, pausing for the one stray cow. Only a few spots had me worried because they had some rough rocks poking up, but managed those (admittedly I ended up skidding a bit over one rather than steering around.)
I will add too Google Maps said 6.3 miles of unpaved road. Google Maps is a big fat liar. It was about 12 miles.
BUT, at the end was Chaco Canyon. So it worked. And I had fun.
As I drove in, I saw the sign I was dreading. “Campsite Full”. Actually that’s not entirely true. In the spirit of little planning, I hadn’t confirmed if there even was camping. (If there weren’t there were fallback plans). So I went into the Visitors Center to get a pass (got a season pass as I’m pretty sure it’ll be cheaper in the long run) and asked about nearby camping. He asked what I had. “A car, maybe a tent.” “Well if no-one shows up to take the Accessible spot by 4:00 PM, we release that to general camping.” I checked my watch and realized that was only 45 minutes away. So I filled some water bottles (that was the only thing that really had me nervous on the dirt road, if the car had issues I only had soda for hydration) and then went back inside, watched the 25 minute video on Chaco Canyon, wandered around a bit, setup to use their wifi and then, claimed the site. It does feel a bit weird using an Accessible site, but since they run on reservations followed by first-come, first-served, I assume they figure it’s better to rent it out than not.
After parking I did a short hike up to a viewpoint (where I did get some cell access for a bit) and then came back to my campsite, made a cold dinner of PB&J and set up the tent. I’m writing this in Word to later paste into WordPress because I have no service here.
In about 30 minutes I’ll join the Ranger led talk at the campfire and relax.
That’s the journey of today. I have more thoughts, but I think I’ll end up posting those as separate side posts.
One more thing to add, my new phone apparently does do great night shots with a full Moon
One thing that makes humans rare among species is our ability to shape and craft and use tools. This was on my mind last night as I went to bad.
A couple of years after my dad died, I wrote a post about using his Milwaukee right angle drill. I still have that drill and while I rarely use it, it still brings back memories.
Yesterday I added a new tool to my toolbox. Well, to my set of tools: a portable table-saw. When I first moved into the house, decades ago, my dad gave me his old table-saw as he had upgraded to a much heavier duty one so he could build cabinets and the like. When he passed, I decided to keep the larger one, but had no place for it, so I gave it on “permanent” loan to a friend who went above and beyond the call of duty to help me during my dad’s illness. He had the room I didn’t.
In the meantime, I had gotten rid of the original one, for a variety of reasons, including that it had some bad memories. You see, back in my senior year of high school I was using it to cut some cedar shingles and it kicked back on me. I’ll be honest, I’m lucky to still have all 10 fingers. And that’s in part because of receiving some sutures at the local hospital.
As for the new table-saw, it had been on my bucket list to obtain for awhile and I finally bit the bullet and bought it on Sunday, assembled it yesterday and used it to start finishing some projects that really needed what a table-saw can offer. And so far, I love it. It has a number of safety features my old saw didn’t and it’s much easier to adjust. I think it’ll be a very useful addition to my toolbox.
But I wasn’t done with saws with with memories of my dad’s tools. Turns out I needed to cut out a notch in the piece of trim I had just cut on the table-saw. There’s no real safe way of doing all the necessary cuts on a table-saw. But that’s ok, I realized I needed a coping saw, something my dad had. Sure enough going to his toolbox in the basement I found it and got my cut started. (I’ll admit I cheated for the rest, once I had enough started to fit a jigsaw blade, I used my jigsaw to finish it.)
But I want to circle back to sutures. One of the skills I’ve watched a lot of in the ER is doctors and PAs putting in sutures. The overall mechanics didn’t seem complex, but I wanted to get in practice before I had to PA school in May. Fortunately one of my members of the Council of Moore was able to set me up with some of the items needed. A quick shopping trip on Amazon got me a practice suturing pad. I’ve had the items for a couple of weeks, but finally last night decided to pull them out and pull up Youtube.
And I was right. The hand motions are just as I thought. Pierce the “skin”, rotate the wrist to drive the needle through, pull the suture mostly through, wrap the suture twice around the needle driver, grab the end pull through and voila, the first knot.
Or so I thought. My suture kept unravelling. I watched more videos, they all showed the same thing. I was baffled. I kept trying, suddenly I had something that looked right and didn’t slip. But I had no idea what I had done, so I didn’t count that one.
After getting fairly frustrated I decided to hand-tie one to see confirm what it should look like. That was easy. Back to using the needle driver. No luck.
Then it hit me. While the videos talked about wrapping in two different directions, clockwise and counter-clockwise, there’s really two other directions! The first, which is what I had been doing was wrapping the suture with the tip of the needle driver pointing towards the wound (and hence the free end). The second, was angling it the other way so effectively the tip of the needle driver is towards the needle end of the suture. It’s subtle but once I did that, I was able to create the knot I wanted.
The clockwise/counter-clockwise comes in when tying the knot twice to ensure it’s correctly tied (strictly speaking it’s what’s called a surgeon’s know which is much like a square knot, but with an extra wrap on the bottom half.
I’ll admit I’m still working on getting this part right, lest I end up creating the surgeons knot equivalent of a granny knot. But that’s honestly a minor issue and one that I’ll soon solve with muscle memory.
There’s obviously a lot more to learn about suturing, but getting this part down is a huge win for me.
So in one day I’ve come full circle, from a table-saw, to a coping saw, to a suture. But this time the suture was simply practice by me, not necessary on me.
One last comment: my statements above are not endorsed by my employer, Albany Medical Health System nor do they reflect the views of my employer.
Well, yesterday everything was ready. In 2017 I had taken a bit of a leap of faith and driven all the way to my uncle’s place in South Carolina in order to observe totality. Despite thirteen hours driving southbound and I think close to twenty driving northbound (due to traffic and a nap) I decided it was totally worth it. Totality was unlike anything I had ever experienced before in my life. If you didn’t get to see it then or in 2024 (or any other time) let me tell you that there is a 100% difference between 99.9% coverage and totality.
So, with some last minute planning, Randi, Ian, and I were aboard Amtrak’s Adirondack yesterday, bound for Port Henry, NY. It appears we were far from the only ones who had decided to forgo driving and to risk potential tardiness (though we had a buffer of over an hour) and cloud cover (mitigated by fully refundable tickets). According to the conductor, 130 people were scheduled to get off Port Henry that day. In contrast, it appears on average, Port Henry has 3-4 people get off or on the train day. Amtrak apparently called the town supervisor a few days previous to let them know 150 people were bound there. Suddenly they were planning to do some stuff right near the train station, something they hadn’t planned on before.
The Adirondack, preparing to depart Port Henry, NY after dropping us off.
Like last time, the build-up was interesting, but also a bit boring. It’s not until you’re at over 50% coverage or so do you start to notice a dullness start to cover the land. It’s sort of like a cloudy day, but different in a way I can’t necessarily describe other than muted. This grows as coverage increase. We spent our time walking around, buying and consuming a pizza made in portable trailer based pizza oven (not bad, but I normally wouldn’t have paid as much for it as I did, but hey, I was hungry and it was supporting local business).
As 99% approached, we could definitely feel the temperature drop and now everything was really simply in dull colors. At that point, my eclipse glasses were basically glued to my eyes (with an occasional peak at the landscape around me).
Then 100%: Totality. Glasses came off. People cheered and shouted. There was a hole in the sky where the Sun should have been. If you’ve never seen it, it’s bizarre. Literally where the Sun should be, is a dark black dot. It’s the darkest thing in the sky. It’s a bit unsettling.
I can’t recall if I saw it last time, but this time I definitely saw the Sun’s corona. When one considers who big the Sun really is, the eclipse drove home how far from it the corona can extend. I also saw, and confirmed with others, that I saw what apparently was a solar prominence. It had a very distinctive red color and for me appeared at about the 7 o’clock position on the Sun.
Then, just minutes after beginning I saw a flash of the “diamond ring” and put my glasses back on. It was over. We waited for our train, boarded, and once my ticket was scanned, I fell asleep. It wasn’t so much because it was anti-climatic as much as because I had just worked my standard 12 hour shift, plus 3 more the night before. (I literally went from work, straight to the train station).
I still can’t really put to words the experience, but I do know Randi and Ian also came away with the belief that the trip was well worth it.
I will just say this, if you ever get the chance to be in totality, do it. This is especially true for the folks I’ve heard about and say things like “well I was at 99.9%, that’s good enough”. No, it’s not. So, if you make plans to see an eclipse, get into totality. Yes, I get it, you might live or work at say 90% and decide “that’s good enough” and logistically it may be, but honestly, the closer you are to totality, the more worth the effort it is to get all the way. It’s not worth travelling from 40% to 60% but it is for 99% to 100%.
And here’s looking forward to the next North American eclipse in 2044, and perhaps ones elsewhere sooner!
I’ll have to admit, I actually tend to like the winter. Though I haven’t enjoyed it as much lately as I probably should. In fact, I should be more specific. I enjoy certain weather associated with winter. I don’t necessarily like the season unless I get that weather. Bluntly, I like snow.
I like the quietness during a nighttime snowfall. I love the white blanket over everything. I’m also one of those rare birds that actually likes driving in the snow. Of course since I have a Subaru with all-wheel drive, that probably contributes to it.
What I don’t like are the cold, dreary, wet days without snow. Those are the worst. I’d rather have it be 20F and snowing, then 33F and raining.
So, overall, this winter has basically been a bust around here. In fact, over the decades, we’ve had more winters that I didn’t enjoy than when I was younger. It’s not so much because I’ve gotten older, but because they have for the most part gotten more mild.
So I can genuinely say, I’ve appreciated the snow that came over the weekend for us. Finally some real snow. Snow that if I were more inclined, I could make a snow man out of. Or I could make a snow fort out of. Or, had I made the time, driven in when the roads were still covered.
So, I’ll enjoy the snow we got.
The picture that should appear with this post is back from 2003!
Just a short post today. The title comes from the little bit of a dream that I recall from last night. It was something my father said in my dream. There’s really no meaning to it more than what it seems. In the dream he needed help catching and putting the very overweight and drunk cat outside. Don’t ask me why the cat was drunk or why it had to go outside (though I suspect that’s a better place for a drunk cat).
Why do I mention this seemingly random line? It’s because it’s an insight into how my dreams of my father have progressed. In my dream I heard my father’s voice. This is very bittersweet for me. Of all the tangible things I miss the most since he’s gone it is his voice I miss the most. For awhile I didn’t dream of him at all. After a while I’d start to have dreams with him in them. They were often variations on discovering that he was actually alive and we had to figure out how to undo selling his estate and all that paperwork. Then my dreams changed a bit and within a dream I’d remind myself that it was only a dream. Then they changed again. This time it was an inner voice telling me, that at least this time it wasn’t a dream. Those were hard to wake up from. But they also all had one other thing in common. He was always silent in them.
That was the hardest, I was forgetting his voice.
That too has changed over time. More often now when I dream of him, I hear his voice in my dreams. I couldn’t tell you what it sounds like and honestly, I’m not sure it’s really HIS voice, but in the dream it seems to be and that’s good enough.
I miss him every day, but some days, it’s his voice I miss the most.
Green Mountain Software 