When A House Is Not A Home...

Traveling south on I-95 is usually a joyous trip. Leaving behind about 20 inches of snow on a dead end street, a street where some neighbors don't even acknowledge when you wave hello, was definitely a plus for the need for this outing. A few minor delays, a few too many times turning the windshield wipers on to clear my visibility, and only a slight rise in temperature led me to believe this might be a curious journey.
Arriving at, what I loving call our vacation home, all bags were unloaded from the car and our visitation began. Twelve hours, exactly, door to door, 703 miles, with our dog, cat, and bird as traveling companions. Then, it happened.

My bride said that the bottom of her bag which was placed on the master bedroom floor only a short time ago  was wet. Then, another. bag, and another was found wet. I walked over and there it was, a squishy feeling around my shoes; WATER, soaking water, filling the carpet with water. Thinking it had to be a leak penetrating the bedroom window from the recent heavy torrential downpours, I was resigned to getting good night's rest. My thoughts in my sleep led to me to a temporary insomnia so I pondered the water question. Hearing a drip, my hypothesis of window leakage went out the proverbial window. Next up, it could be the outside faucet leaking in the flooring.
The next morning the plumber was called after I moved the refrigerator, finding water behind the unit. Ah, the ice cube maker was broken and probably shooting high pressure water on the wall before seeping into the carpet in the adjoining room. At least that would give the plumber a purpose.

Not to be. The line for the ice maker was perfect, and the outside faucet was okay. However the plumber did hear a drip. Removing the skirting around the house the plumber with his flashlight found water, and a major leak coming from the house. We searched the kitchen water line, the main line, etc, etc, etc. Until I said, could it be my hot water heater "under the house" to which he said, "you don't have a hot water heater under your house". Embarrassed I responded that I did not know where the hot water heater would be then, to which he removed a few screws in a panel in the master bedroom and found not only the hot water heated but the source of the leak.The hot water heater was cracked and spewing water, rusted water.

Using about 15 towels, I started to sop up the water while he, the plumber checked for the availability of a replacement. Being late in the afternoon, we arranged to start work in the morning. Meanwhile, I continued to wring out the towels, wash each (in cold water), and dry before using again. Contemplating what this would cost got worse as the panel which originally hid the hot water heater collapse and disintegrated from the weight of the water. Now we would have the extra expense of replacing the panel in the master bedroom.

The water heater was replaced the next morn and a huge fan and a smaller one were strategically placed in the room hoping to dry out the rugs. But to no avail. So now I ripped out the carpeting and the padding beneath it, which was the true villain here. Cost will be a new carpet, padding and installation. And while we are at it let's re-carpet the guest room where we are now sleeping due to the horrendous odor of mildew in the master bedroom.

Adding this all up we have the cost of the initial plumber visit, the purchase of a new hot water heater, all the necessary materials needed to install said heater which includes new tubing, a pan, new electric line, new water lines both intake and out flow, new carpeting and padding, a measurement cost,and a carpenter with all materials to replace the wall. All this for our "vacation" home.

1965: The Most Revolutionary Year In Music by Andrew Grant Jackson

What a cover. The psychedelic poster colors, the swirling letters, the flowers, all that is what caught my eye. And the reviews weren't too shabby either. So I bought a copy for my new Kindle Fire and away on a journey back to 1965 I traveled. The author, Andrew Grant Jackson, makes a bold hypothesis' surmising that 1965 IS the "most revolutionary year in music". Debatable, to say the least but interesting as hell.
Jackson starts off with a 1965 "SELECTED" TIME LINE (the quotation marks are mine), one which helped to pique my interest and excitement about what the author may offer to prove his theory. He then sections his book off to four seasons (not the singing group fronted by Frankie Valli); Winter , Spring, Summer, and the better choice  than fall, Autumn. Each section title tends to lead the reader  to believe the author will offer a chronological approach at a proof. While filling each section's subsequent chapters with anecdotal information, Billboard like charting data, followed by a political climate overview of that time, the author offered his proof thematically, using a musician(s) as the anchor to each chapter. This model of presentation sometimes confused me ,as I then needed to "post-reference" his said reference  AKA I needed to backtrack too many times.
The overall reading experience DID spark some nostalgia in me, having me traveling back in time to that ever present AM radio and/or the small screened black and white television the kind that needed time to warm up) circa 1965. However, Andrew Grant Jackson's thesis that 1965 was the "most revolutionary" year in music, while exciting and interesting, was not proven to me.

Rock and Roll: The Trivia Game- Game#1

Can not believe I have not written anything in over a year. Call it writer's block or just sheer laziness but the fact is there WAS and IS plenty to comment on, with what is happening in the world. However, I do not want to do that today for today is an all new idea. Just a little Rock and Roll trivia for you to ponder. The game goes like this. I'll put down a few questions for your brain to zero in on. Get 'em correct and you are a winner, get 'em wrong, you still win as no one will ever know. So here goes, GAME #1...Good luck

MUSICAL TRIVIA

1)It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty delta day...Name that tune....

2)April Four, a shot rings out in the Memphis sky...Name that tune..

3)Give The date mentioned in the title of this Earth, Wind and Fire November 1978 hit:" Do You Remember the.........."

4)The TEMPTATIONS  informed us that  PAPA WAS A ROLLING STONE, and that Papa died on this date........

5)In THE BAND'S historical masterpiece THE NIGHT THEY DROVE OLD DIXIE DOWN, according to Robbie Robertson's recollection "In the Winter of 65, we were hungry, just barely alive......on which date did Richmond fall?

6) 1959 RECORD OF THE YEAR was THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS by Johnny Horton. In what year did they take "a little trip along with Colonel Jackson along the mighty Mississippi...?

7)The following year of 1960 Johnny Horton had another smash hit with SINK THE BISMARK,historica accurate, what month and year does he mention?

8)Originally an 11 verse B-Side written by Miss Bobbie Gentry, this 1967 classic song was trimmed in half and re-released as an A side winning 4 Grammys and recognition as #412 of Rolling Stone Magazines TOP 500 GREATEST SONGS, ODE TO BILLIE JOE has Billie Joe McAllister jumping off which bridge?

9) The first TOP TEN hit for Gary Lewis and The Playboys was actually recorded by the legendary Wrecking Crew with heavily overdubbed vocals added to very weak vocals by Gary Lewis and of course  The Playboys were nowhere near the record(s). Actually arranged by Leon Russell, this hit was written by Bob Brass, Irwin Levine, and another famous keyboardist who also provided the organ parts for Bob Dylan's LIKE A ROLLING STONE. Name this artist.

10)The Shangri La's had a hit June of 64 with THE LEADER OF THE PACK. What was The Leader's name? 

It Still Hurts: Six Weeks and Counting

It definitely still hurts, even after six weeks of medication and being restrained by a sling. The emotional and physical pain comes with bouts of sleep depredation, with not having permission to drive even locally, and then enduring 12 sessions of physical therapy (non-weight bearing). Even with all that the worst part is being on Home Lockup. Don't get me wrong, I love my home and everything that goes with it but hey....being told that for six weeks I was to avoid crowds. End result,the weight comes on. Oh, yea, a good 10 pounds of spare tire has developed. My pants are now officially too tight. Not the new skinny jeans tight either. No, belly bulge tight.
The large electric ice box has become like a friend. There is always something in there to gain my attention. And most items found there if not already opened can be opened with one hand, very conveniently I might add. The refrig also serves as a night light during the long extended bouts of insomnia. So after putting a nice snack together and grabbing a cold refreshing beverage it is off to the TV set, my other late night buddy.Try to get comfortable, which is an adventure in itself at the sofa and then click the on switch while simulataneously changing the channel from NEWS12, I then proceed to  faithfully watch "five seconds of everything" as my bride has exclaimed on more than one occasion. It should be noted that my bride has become like my own personal butler by helping me dress, loop a belt,  tie my shoes, and of course drive me to my many appointments. She's a keeper and she prays for my medical clearance every moment...or at least that is what it sounds like.
After the morning sun and having my coffee it is off to the showers. Try washing your hair one handed or toweling off. Missed a few spots. You bet I did. Shaving is non-existent so it's off the Sal The Barber once a week for a HOT TOWEL SHAVE. I look almost human again. The bride smiles.
As a reward for both of us I suggest going out to dinner. Forgetting I only have one hand and can not cut steak, I order a Aha Tuna. Oh well. However, I do apply ice faithfully to the wound and throw a few down while I'm out to dinner. Both relieve the pain somewhat and aided in sleep that evening.
Six weeks and counting.   Jazzbus@gmail.com

Over 100 Years Experience

Just left a retirement party, one which celebrated local educators. Quite a gala event I might add, with over 170 paying guests. What is truly amazing is the sheer numbers represented this evening. Four teachers individually represented by 21 years of experience (26 overall), 31 years (33 overall), 33 years and lastly 34 years, totalling the 4 teaching in one building working for 129 years, 136 if you count prior experience elsewhere.
Not a math student but I will attempt the data: 129 years x 183 working days= 23607 days. Remove a few sick days, snow days, conference day and whatever days, let's round it off to 23500 teaching days. Now each performs at least 5 teaching periods a day, sometimes classes of multiple levels, different grade levels, etc, but still equalling a staggering 117500 class periods. That's 117500 lesson plans.
Each year budgetary concerns can influence an administrators determination for class size. Some districts have limits set by teachers contracts; this district does not. However, classes will never be under subscriped (less than 15), and over 32 is pushing it big time. So let's conservatively state average class size at 26. So 117500 classes taught times 26 students per class...3,055,000 student contacts. Homeworks corrected, tests written and graded, voluntary extra credit, extra curricular events, PTA meetings, Graduation, Prom Chaperon, trip organizer, cafeteria/ hall duty, attendance/homeroom, arrival bus duty, dismissal bus duty ...more student interaction time, some with additional day but most not.
This celebration was for only four people....of a school consisting of 123 teachers. Whew...my hat goes off to those in the "trenches", and to those who say "teachers are overpaid, cry babies"...well, another time.

The Signs, The Signs...

The Signs,The Signs...

Sitting with the usual guys having Diet Cokes  discussing politics, religion, sports, the Boston Bombings and one of the irregulars blurts out: "The signs went up the other day. Still don't know the why or the what... but still the signs went up. Town trucks arrived a little before noon and they installed the signs". I immediate thought  "Did this geezer lose it? What the heck is he talking about?" Stupidly I ask, "What are you talking about?".

And so the story begins: Seems there is a strange neighbor on this guys street. He has never met her and knows nothing about her except what others tell him. She had a husband. He left. She had a tenant. He left. She had another tenant. He left. The cable guy refuses to go back to the house , she calls regularly for service. The police who arrive occasionally leave shaking their heads. Not  a participant nor will she sign on for any block party however when it was held, at precisely the moment the permit ran out  (11PM) she drove down the street at a good rate of speed beeping her horn, chasing the kids and parents  off the pavement. When confronted by a neighbor about her recklessness she gave the neighbors a one fingered salute. (He did witness this).

Each of the homes on this street are well maintained,her's included, forming a nice little enclave. Yet deep down there is one who "has a problem" or so  I am told. Rumor has it she is a nurse who works odd hours so her lack of visibility is job related. But late at night her car is found in one of her two drive ways, one on each side of the home. Occasionally, a flash of light can been seen, according to an eye witness.  It appears Nurse Whatever takes photos of cars parked at her curbside as well as those on the street. "And...?", I ask.

My partner in conversation informs me that these photos were presented to the town board, with dates and times, as well as other "documentation " that her driveway (which one?) was blocked causing her to miss work at the hospital. She feels she is being harassed by the neighbors on this otherwise quite street.

"Hmmmmm", I said," Anything else?"." Why yes", he states. There was that time when a neighbor's mother was being cared for by hospice.  The hospice care giver was an African American  who one day brought her teenage son along, allowing him to sit in the car listening to a NY Yankees game. While the Nurse Whatever saw a car parked in front of her home, one with this young man in the car ....yea, you guessed it, she called 911 claiming her home was being staked out for a possible home invasion. The responding officer must have recognized the address. He was calm, cool, and collected. He asked the young man what he was doing (listening to the Yankees waiting on his mother), and could he present ID which he politly did. A few moments later the young man's mother saw what was happening and.... she became outraged that this woman  called 911. The police officer calmed things down and...

So I ask, "but the signs, what about the signs?"...Oh, yeah the signs.

Town trucks arrived a little before noon. Dug a few holes in the curbside and place NO PARKING ANYTIME signs, the ones  complete with arrows which now effectively designate her property a NO PARKING ZONE. What??? How can that be???? My partner walked over to the juke box, deposited in the appropriate coinage, hit a button, smiled and walked out. A few moments later I heard Willie Nelson's beautiful voice singing..."Crazy"...jazzbus@gmail.com

Artist of The Day: CRABBY APPLETON

Just had the urge to listen to Crabby Appleton on SPOTIFY. First two lps in sequence.Michael can really sing.