Monthly Calendar Report for February, 2012

Amtrak’s eastbound “Pennsylvanian” on Track Two at Lilly, PA. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

―I guess I’ll make my own calendar-picture number-one for February 2012, even though I’m not happy with it.
It’s best, but only because the others are so middling.
In fact, all my boughten calendars have middling pictures this year, and that’s throughout the year, not just this month. Nothing is extraordinary.

Peter Harholdt©.

The only musclecar I’d want, a ’64 G-T-O.

Photo by John Dziobko, Jr.

The most beautiful diesel-locomotive of all.

About the only photo that is any good is the ’64 G-T-O I ran last month, and it wasn’t that dramatic a picture.
It got by on the fact it was a ’64 G-T-O, the best of the musclecars, the one I’d want.
My Alco PA picture wasn’t bad either.
In fact, one entry in my hotrod calendar is a customized ’51 Buick.
Ugh! What would anyone ever see in such a car?
Okay, I saw enough dumb customs while growing up, e.g. a nosed-and-decked 1952 Chevrolet two-door sedan, and a dark-green ’50 Pontiac convertible.
That guy, whose name was George, two classes ahead of me in high-school, used to sit atop the front seatback top-down, and steer with his feet!
Simple formula: buy a cheap used-car as high-school transportation, then do a little el-cheapo customization — e.g. nosing and decking.
“Nosing and decking” are to remove both the hood and trunk ornaments, and then fill in the mounting holes and repaint. “Nosing and decking” were very much the in thing to do; usually about the extent of customization.
“Nosing and decking” were fairly easy, especially if there were flush mounting-holes. A ’56 Chevy was near impossible, since its hood-ornament was mounted on a quarter-inch emboss.
This picture was taken in February of last year.
We had gone down to Altoona in hopes of repeating the previous February (2010) when the snow was fabulous.
But the snow was almost gone. It had snowed previously, but temperatures rose to almost 50 degrees.
The snow just melted away.
You see a little snow-cover still extant, but the roadbed is almost bare.
In fact, the only snow is on the access-road, where a fourth track used to be. The tracks are bare.
The tracks here are numbered One, Two, and Three, left-to-right. Three is westbound, One is eastbound, and Two can be either way.
My nephew Tom, from northern Delaware, also a railfan like me, had come out to accompany Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) and I on our train-chase.
I’ve written up Phil so many times to do it again would be boring.
If you need clarification, click this link, and go toward the end of the post.
That explains Phil.
I would be driving with Phil navigating, and Tom in the back seat.
My wife was along, but was having a hard time due to her cancer, and would stay behind at first.
We stayed at Station Inn in Cresson, PA (“KRESS-in”), a bed-and-breakfast for railfans.
It’s not Tunnel Inn in nearby Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin;” as in “get”), where we usually stay.
Station Inn is quite rudimentary, but Tunnel Inn wasn’t open at that time.
We had the “Pennsy” suite, which had an extra room for Tom.
Breakfast at Station Inn is pretty good.
Hired help cook breakfast in a kitchen, and you eat together with other patrons at a common-table.
In the so-called “Common Room.”
Tunnel Inn, by comparison, is just muffins and coffee delivered to each suite in a small basket.
It’s not as good as Station Inn, but compared to Station Inn the suites at Tunnel Inn are far better.
Both front the railroad, the so-called “47 miles of the most historic railroad in the United States,” Norfolk Southern’s Pittsburgh Division through and over the Alleghenies, the old Pennsy mainline.
Pennsy is long-gone, and now Norfolk Southern owns and operates the old Pennsy, ever since Norfolk Southern got the old Pennsy lines in 1999 when Conrail was broken up and sold.
Conrail was a successor to Pennsy when Penn-Central failed.
It started as a government operation, but eventually privatized as it became successful.
Conrail succeeded a bunch of northeast rail-carriers that failed about the same time as Penn-Central, a merger of the Pennsylvania Railroad and arch-rival New York Central.
And operations on the Norfolk Southern Pittsburgh Division are much like the old Pennsy. Helper locomotives get added to help the trains climb The Hill. The western-slope is not as steep as the eastern slope up from Altoona, but helpers often still get added.
Station Inn is the old Callan House hotel in Cresson. Trains would take vacationers out of Pittsburgh up to Cresson, where they stayed at Callan House.
Tunnel Inn doesn’t have all the tracks, just those at the old Pennsy tunnels.
Station Inn views all the tracks, but they’re across the street. At Tunnel Inn they’re right at your feet.
Sleeping at Tunnel Inn is fairly easy; it’s a heavy substantial brick building.
It’s the old Gallitzin town offices and library, built by Pennsy in 1905.
Trains shake the building slightly as they rumble by.
Tunnel Inn is the top of the grade, so trains are still pulling uphill as they pass.
About all that wakes you is eastbounds on Track Two, which stop at the top of The Hill to do a brake-test before descending.
Track One (also eastbound) is on the other side of town, out of sight and hearing.
The eastbounds whistle off as they restart to descend The Hill down toward Altoona.
At Station Inn the railroad is far away, 75-100 yards across the street.
You can tell a train is passing, especially eastbound, which is uphill; but they’re not that noticeable.
Phil showed up at Station Inn during breakfast, and off we went down to South Fork, just me, Tom and Phil.
South Fork is where the railroad turns west to follow the Conemaugh (kone-uh-MAW;” as is “own”) river down to Johnstown.
The Johnstown Flood, May 31, 1889, started when a dam ruptured above South Fork. 2,209 died.
Trains were coming, and we photographed them in South Fork, then we drove back north toward Cresson, railroad-east.
Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian was coming, so we stopped at the overpass in Lilly.
That’s this picture; the train is climbing the western slope on Track Two.
(It’s passing a westbound stacker on Three.)
Back at Cresson my wife felt well enough to come along, so off we all went, north to Tyrone (“Tie-RONE;” as in “own”) to Plummers Crossing just east of Tyrone.
By then it started to cloud over, and the landscape was pretty much snowless.
It was warm enough to open my down jacket.

Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.

My cover-photo.

Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.

Holy mackerel!

The photo at left was taken at this location during that trip.
It’s the cover of my calendar.
What’s bad about this Amtrak picture is the low February sun.
I’ve done much better at this location in later months, but no snow.
The picture below left was my first “tour” with Phil, August 4, 2008. We snagged a “double;” two trains at once. —First “double” I ever saw!




(Nothing extraordinary from now on.)




1969 Yenko 427 Camaro. (Peter Harholdt©.)

—Here it is, the most desirable Camaro of all, the one everyone wants.

One of the prettiest styling-jobs ever.

Except yrs trly. I think the ’70&1/2 Rally-Sport, first year of the second-generation Camaros, is one of the best styling jobs of all time.
General Motors stylists pulled out all the stops. Practicality was cast to the wind!
The only problem is that it’s rather large (and has large doors).
My Motorbooks Musclecars calendar features a 1969 Camaro — the model-year everyone wants.
And this is a special Camaro; very rare.
It has the 427 cubic-inch Big-Block engine; the result of a COPO #9561 order, the Central Office Production Order system being a way for Chevrolet to produce cars for special-order, for example, taxicabs, police-cars, and el-cheapo strippers for light government duty (meter-readers, etc.).
Various hot-rodders, namely Don Yenko, saw the COPO system as a way to get Chevrolet to build maximum hotrods, like the Camaro with a Big-Block motor.
Seems a while ago I ran another rare Camaro with a Big-Block motor, but the engine was aluminum.
The Yenko Camaros were the cast-iron Big-Block, inordinately heavy.
About all a Yenko Camaro was good for is straight-line acceleration.
Bend it into a corner and you’re into the trees.
An aluminum Big-Block might weigh about the same as a Small-Block. A Camaro with Big-Block performance that might handle as well as a Small-Block Camaro, which could handle pretty well.
COPO 9561 Camaros are extremely rare.
Only 1,015 were built.
The car was a sleeper.
There were no markings.
The hubcaps are the cheapest available, mere pie-plates.
About the only giveaways are the hood and spoilers.
And the Polyglas Wide-Oval tires.
Line up against one at a traffic-light, and you wonder “What’s in that thing?”
This photo is not that impressive.
But it IS a Yenko Camaro, and a ’69.
The ‘69s were the last of the first-generation Camaros, not that good-looking to me.
The ’69 was slightly different-looking, but had the same roof as earlier.
The whole car had to be improved.
A really great-looking Mustang was coming, the 1970, a true fastback.




Pennsy’s first electric locomotive. (Dave Sweetland Collection)

—The February 2012 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is a single Pennsylvania Railroad DD1 electric locomotive, actually two semi-permanently coupled D units, 4-4-0, #s 4780 and 4781 (later Penn-Central numbers).
4780 and 4781 were the only remaining DD1; and are the only unscrapped DD1, retained at Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania, although renumbered as 3936/3937, their original Pennsy numbers.

A D16.

A Long Island Rail Road G5 (Long Island was once owned by Pennsy, so it’s a Pennsy G5).

“D” was Pennsy’s 4-4-0 classification; for example the D16. (1223 at left is a D16, and still exists at Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania.)
The GG1 is two 4-6-0s on a single underframe. The “G” is Pennsy’s 4-6-0 classification, for example the G5 (#35 is a G5).
Electrification was needed to operate the Hudson River Tubes (tunnels) to New York City.
The DD1 was developed as power for that.
A big electric motor is up inside the body.
An eccentric is at each end of the power-shaft.
It rotates a large rod connected to the wheel side-rods.
So the motor turns at the same rate as the drive-wheels, which are 72 inches diameter. (A Pennsy M-class 4-8-2 has 72-inch drive-wheels. A K4 Pacific [4-6-2] is 80-inch.)
A DD1 operates on direct-current third-rail electrification. Pennsy switched later to overhead alternating-current trolley-wire.
As far as I know, the DD1 was never converted to overhead alternating-current trolley-wire. It was always third-rail direct-current.
Long Island Rail Road had some third-rail electrification, so the DD1s gravitated to it. (Long Island Rail Road was once owned by Pennsy.)
The DD1 pictured has been renumbered into Penn-Central numbers, and was never scrapped.
It was retained for low-priority work-trains.
There once were 33, and they delivered classy Pennsy passenger-trains into New York City.
Long ago the line from Washington DC to Newark was still steam — it wasn’t fully electrified until the middle ‘30s.
Steam engines would pull passenger-trains to Manhattan Transfer in Newark, and then be switched out for a DD1.
The engine is in Sunnyside Yard on Long Island.
Locomotives for New York City-to-Washington DC were often stored and worked on/prepared in Sunnyside Yard, which is accessed directly from Penn Station in Manhattan.




Hurricane. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The February 2012 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a really great photograph of a rather plain airplane.

Spit.

The Hawker Hurricane is not the gorgeous hotrod the Supermarine Spitfire was.
But the judgment is the Hawker Hurricane won the Battle of Britain, that it turned back Hitler’s Luftwaffe.
Hurricanes would swarm like bees.
They put up an intimidating defense.
I’ll let my WWII warbirds site tell it:
“August 1940 brought what has become the Hurricane's shining moment in history: The Battle of Britain. RAF Hurricanes accounted for more enemy aircraft kills than all other defenses combined, including all aircraft and ground defenses.”
The engine is only a 1,280 horsepower V12 Merlin, not what it was in the Spitfire, 1,478 horsepower, 1,695 in the Mustang.
This photograph is the best in the calendar, although a photograph of a B-24 Liberator bomber is almost as good.
Continuing:
“In 1933, Hawker’s chief designer, Sydney Camm, decided to design an aircraft which would fulfill a British Air Ministry specification calling for a new monoplane fighter.
His prototype, powered by a 990 horsepower Rolls Royce Merlin ‘C’ engine, first flew on November 6, 1935, and quickly surpassed expectations and performance estimates.
Official trials began three months later, and in June 1936, Hawker received an initial order for 600 aircraft from the Royal Air Force.
The first aircraft had fabric wings. To power the new aircraft (now officially designated the “Hurricane,”) the RAF ordered the new 1,030 horsepower Merlin II engine.”
But the Hawker Hurricane is not a dramatic airplane.
The empennage, the tail of the airplane, is fabric-covered. In fact, it’s fabric behind the cockpit, a very old way of doing things.
This was an advantage. Bullets would pass right through. A Hurricane could sustain incredible damage, yet return to base.
But the Merlin is water-cooled. The cooling-system had to remain undamaged to sustain flight; that is, not overheat the engine.
But it’s the airplane that won the Battle of Britain, and turned back Hitler’s Luftwaffe.


(Downhill from here.)




A Pennsy K4 Pacific (4-6-2) leads Train #6 (the Allegheny) on Panhandle Bridge approaching Pittsburgh. (Photo by John Bowman, Jr.©)

—The February 2012 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is not much, but it’s historical.
A Pennsy K4 Pacific (4-6-2) leads Train #6, “The Allegheny,” around a curve on Panhandle Bridge towards Pittsburgh.
The K4 is a Lines-West locomotive, meaning it was used on Pennsy lines west of Pittsburgh.
As such it has its sand-dome ahead of the bell. (Lines-West K4s were built that way.)
The tracks and facilities at ground-level are Pittsburgh & Lake Erie (railroad).
The K4 was extraordinary for a Pacific.
Most Pacifics were much lighter, smaller boiler and smaller firebox.
A grate-area of 70 square feet is quite large.
But even then the K4 was not the largest Pacific employed by Pennsy.
That would be the K5, still a 70 square-foot grate, but the boiler of a massive Pennsy Decapod (2-10-0). The Decapod was also only 70 square feet.
Only two K5s were built; crews didn’t like ‘em. They could run fast, but were slippery on startup.
Of interest to me is the Fort Pitt beer billboard’s huge clock saying about 25 after noon.
Fort Pitt beer is defunct, the picture is probably late ‘40s.
Also visible in the background is the Mt. Washington Incline, a funicular (”foo-NICK-yew-ler”) railroad. Kind of like an elevator, except the cars get winched up the tracks.
There are many funiculars in PA to climb mountains.
One was built in Johnstown after the Johnstown Flood.
The bridge also looks familiar, like it might be the one used in the movie “Unstoppable.” There it was called “Stanton Curve,” in the alleged town of “Stanton.”
The curve is posted for 15 mph, yet the runaway train negotiated it at near 70 mph. Tipped onto its outside wheels, clearly impossible, and without pulling out the rail. —And without derailing and crashing in flames into an oil tank-farm below.
Only one side of the bridge remains active; no tracks on the foot of the wye, but the bridge is still up.
A ridiculous movie; it shoulda been named “Unbelievable!”




Vicky!

—The February 2012 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a hot-rodded 1934 Ford Victoria two-door sedan.
The Victoria is a special-model two-door sedan.
It was all-steel, instead of a fabric insert in the top.
As far as I know the Victoria became a part of Ford offerings in the 1920s as a Model-T variant, and lasted until Ford cars became all-steel.

Stock 1932 Ford Victoria

Hot-rodded 1934 Ford two-door sedan (note fabric top insert).

Stamping an all-steel car was difficult at first.
An all-steel top had to be stamped as a separate roof-panel.
Ford sedans didn’t have separate roof-panels at first.
Perhaps the side-stamping curved up into the roof, or a large opening was left in the roof for a fabric insert.
The Vicky had a distinctive shape.
The roof was shorter than a typical two-door sedan with the fabric insert.
As such, it had a bustle-back at first. The typical two-door sedan didn’t.
The rear seat of a typical two-door sedan was over the rear-axle at first, which car-design moved away from, as such a design supposedly rode rough.
(Although my 1979 Ford E250 van was that way, and seemed fine.)
Interior seating was more cramped in a Vicky than the typical sedan.
Vickys are much desired.
This car is extensively hot-rodded.
It has a fully-independent Jaguar XK-E rear-suspension with inboard disc brakes. Very hip in the ‘60s in sportscar circles.
But I wonder if it can stand the torque output of the motor, a much-modified 350 Chevy SmallBlock with Weber carburetors.
Although with that much carburetion I wonder if it runs.......
My friend Art Dana (“day-nuh”), the recently-deceased retired bus-driver from Regional Transit, tried triple two-barrels on his ’56 Pontiac-powered Model-A hotrod.
It wouldn’t run right. All it did was backfire through the carburetors.
Triple-deuces look great. But he had to switch back to a single four-barrel.
Four Webers look great too, but sound like too much for a streetable SmallBlock.
Four Webers on a SmallBlock can be made to work in full-on racing applications.
The Jaguar independent rear-suspension is fairly strong, but it’s not the Corvette independent rear-suspension, which was crude but very strong.
What it sounds like is this car was built to satisfy the show-crowd.
Gee-whiz! Jag rear-end and four Webers.
A trailer-queen.
It doesn’t fulfill the Dana rule, which is “the bitch has gotta run!”
It’s an attractive hotrod, but not as attractive as a 1932 Victoria.

Hot-rodded 1932 Ford Victoria.

But even the ’32 Vicky looks like an old car. Cool, but antique.
Better-looking as hotrods are the ’32 roadster or three-window coupe, really great-looking cars, for which we can thank Edsel Ford.




Auto-racks depart Bellevue, OH. (Photo by Jermaine Ashby.)

―The February 2012 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar is the weakest in the calendar.
It’s just a single General-Electric Dash 9-40CW pulling a string of auto-racks out of Bellevue, Ohio.
Norfolk Southern Dash 9s are only 4,000 horsepower. A normal Dash 9 is 4,400 horsepower, Dash 9-44CW.
Norfolk Southern thought 4,400 horsepower too risky.
I can’t make sense of the light-sources.
The moon in the mist seems pretty strong, perhaps full.
If that brightening sky in the background is sunrise or sunset, to be that full the moon has to be behind the photographer.
So perhaps the brightening sky is actually Bellevue, or Bellevue yard.
Bellevue is a storied railroad town.
It was a junction of numerous railroads, where the old New York Central crossed Nickel Plate. —Wheeling & Lake Erie also was there, it’s line to Pittsburgh.
I think it was also the center of Nickel Plate operations, or at least A center.
Norfolk Southern operates the old Nickel Plate line to Buffalo, NY.
That goes way back to Norfolk Southern predecessor Norfolk & Western getting the Nickel Plate in 1964.
Norfolk Southern is a merger of the old Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway in 1982.
One diesel-locomotive for a train might not seem like much, but a string of auto-racks is light.
Of interest to me is that old passenger diesel barely visible to the right.
It looks like an old Penn-Central E-unit.
It’s at Sea Island Passenger Services for restoration.
This picture would have looked better in daylight.
That streetlight at right is what made it possible.
The calendar probably chose it because the photographer pulled it off.

Welcome to Mayberry

The other day (Thursday, January 26, 2012) we visited a lawyer in the nearby village of Honeoye Falls (“hone-eee-OYE;” as in “boy”).
The idea was for us old folks to get our affairs in order.
Following will be reflections of our visit:
We walked in and sat.
No one was there; not even a receptionist.
—1) Welcome to Mayberry.
It looked like the Sheriff’s office in the Andy Griffith Show.
“I’d like an explanation of his filing system,” my wife said.
Stuff was heaped in disorderly piles.
A folder of some sort was stuffed with detritus that emanated every which way.
Dark filing-cabinets were off to the side. Each had the word “Bingo” scrawled in black magic-marker onto the small paper insert in the file-name frame.
—2) The lawyer strode in from outside.
“Can I help you?” he said.
“We had a 2 p.m. appointment,” my wife said.
“You did?” the lawyer said. “I didn’t know that.”
Funny; he made the appointment.
—3) Into the inner sanctum, the actual lawyer office behind the reception area.
Be careful where you step. Don’t trip, and don’t knock anything over.
We’re talking about four things: -a) a will, -b) living wills, -c) healthcare proxies, and -d) power-of-attorneys.
The will-bit is only if we both die at the same time.
The house and our IRAs are set up to go to the surviving spouse.
Same with healthcare proxies.
Of maximum import is what happens to our dog should be both expire at the same time; for example, our airliner augurs into the Everglades.
The likelihood of that happening is slim, but should it, back to rescue goes our dog.

Photo by Linda Hughes. (Linda Hughes is my wife.)

Our dog.

Our dog is a rescue-dog from Ohio Irish-Setter Rescue.
A backyard breeder had given up.
Our dog was only three at that time, but had already had two litters of puppies.
(Now she’s approaching seven.)
I doubt there’s much demand for Irish-Setter puppies. You don’t see many Irish-Setters.
An Irish-Setter can be hyper; ours is.
Our dog learned the joy of hunting — we also had her spayed.
At least 10 rabbits have met their demise in her jaws, plus innumerable mice and moles. Once she got four chipmunks in a single strike.
I have to avoid the ponds at nearby Boughton Park (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow,” not “oh” or “who”). She’s snagged frogs, and can drag me into the pond.
—4) “I’ll send you a letter. It’ll just be fill-in-the-blanks, and then we can do a will” — that is, assemble a will from his saved computer forms.
“I’ll bill you after it’s done, maybe $150.
Everything is online now; those lawbooks out front are just for show.”
My wife used to work for Lawyers Cooperative Publishing Company in Rochester, a publisher of law-books.
“I remember how much trouble we went through getting our company to online anything.
They wanted to keep printing law materials.
I remember accompanying a salesman on a call to a law office.
The lawyer didn’t want a law-book set; it would just collect dust.
But the salesman wasn’t listening.
‘You want these books,’ the salesman kept saying.”
“And things are much easier now that we have word-processing,” the lawyer said.
“Used to be if anything changed, that was a complete start-over retype.
Now you just change the file.”
“Yeah,” I added; “I had a stroke, so my keyboarding got sloppy.
Word-processors had spellcheck. It flagged all my mistypes. It was like finding my old self again.”
The lawyer then detailed how no one seems to be concerned about misspelling anymore.
“Did you spellcheck this?” he’d ask his receptionist.
“Yes.”
“No you didn’t! This word is misspelled.”
Does anyone from the Facebook generation care?
“We’re fighting a losing battle,” I observed.
“Yet if something is misspelled it can reverse the intent of a document,” the lawyer said.
—5) “Did you know Joseph?” I asked; “the hairdresser down the street.”
“Joseph Cotteleer,” the lawyer said; “one of my clients.”
“Does he still have that ’67 Corvette?” I asked.

Joseph’s ’67 Corvette.

“Nope, he had to sell it,” he said. “Probably for a loss too.
Seems he went sorta crazy after his wife died. Now he’s back in Thailand with his new bride.
And his old house here in Honeoye Falls is still on the market.”
“That Corvette was part craziness,” I observed; “but a really nice car.”
“Nothing I’d sneeze at, although I prefer the ’63 Split-Window coupe.”
“Four-on-the-floor too,” I commented.”
“All the right stuff,” he added. “Not fuel-injection, but good enough.”
“I considered making an offer, but didn’t. What would I do with a ’67 Corvette? Where do I put my dog? I don’t even have a garage for it. All it is is a show-car, for investment.
Plus it’s one more internal combustion engine to maintain. I already have eight!”
“Do you realize that in about 20 years no one will be left to drive performance cars? These whuppersnappers can’t drive stick-shift.
Getting a car with a stick-shift is near impossible.
In 20 years stick-shift will be but a memory.”

• RE: “Old folks......” —My wife is 68, and I soon will be.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered.

E-mail billing

Yesterday (Friday, January 27, 2012) I got an e-mail from National Grid, our electric utility.
Our January 2012 billing for electrical usage was available for viewing.
And paying.
Great idea! Save a tree!
Cut out the U.S. Postal-Service.
I already do online bill-pay through our bank.
No more paying bills by monthly check.
All bill-pays are paid online.
So far, National Grid is the only one for which I do e-mail billing.
This is the second month.
Open e-mail.
“First you must sign in to view your bill.”
“WHAT? This isn’t how it was last month,” I said.
“To sign in you must first register.”
When our bill comes snail-mail, it takes about 30 seconds to open the bill and put it on my desk for processing.
So far I’ve gobbled up about two minutes.
“This is not saving me time,” I said.
I set about registering; supposedly about five minutes.
“Please enter a valid password.”
I did so, or so I thought.
“Negatory. Please enter a valid password, eight characters minimum.”
I added a character to the seven-character password I usually use.
“Negatory. Please enter a valid password, at least one capital-letter.”
I changed the lead character of my password to a capital-letter.
“Congratulations, you have successfully registered with National Grid’s online bill-viewing.”
“WOW! Thrill,” I said. In about the time it would have taken me to pay the bill, and take a nap.
“Back to snail-mail,” I thought.
“Please enter account-number and last four digits of your Social-Security number.
Okay, but “too many techies,” I thought.
Just because you can do something doesn’t make it sensible.
“Why have I gotta register just to view my bill?”
Finally our bill was available for viewing.
I printed it, so I could set up an online bill-pay with our bank.
Yet another tree falls in the forest, and it’s my paper, not National Grid.
Shift the cost of paper to the consumer.
I noticed a red button to the right: “Pay bill.”
Oh no ya don’t!
I ain’t authorizin’ some payee to process my bill-pay, and mistakenly empty our checking-account so they can buy a Mercedes with our money.
I’ve seen it happen.
A friend authorized automatic payments to repay her college-loan. It mistakenly overdrew her checking-account, and she had to straighten it out with somebody in India.
“We understand your concern.”
I’m not havin’ that happen.
Only I authorize bill-pays.
I don’t trust payees. —If anything can go wrong, it will.
So far so good.
Took me five times as long to pay our National Grid bill.
What will it take next month?
This isn’t progress when I gotta blow 15-20 minutes just to pay a bill.

Country Curtains

Our bay-window (the Christmas-candles are still up). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Last Sunday (January 22, 2012) we went to our local Country Curtains outlet to try to engineer something for our bay-window pictured above.
Country Curtains is not Mighty Lowes or Wal*Mart. We had been to Lowes but our window is a challenge.
As you can see, our bay-window is entirely framed with wood, with wood molding. But the window-unit itself is vinyl, which means curtain mounting hardware can’t be screwed into the vinyl.
It has to be screwed into the wood framing or molding.
Other givens were at play, namely -a) whatever was installed allow light, or filtered light, into the room, and -b) whatever was installed would insulate, since the window is a very large hole in the wall.
A guy came out from Lowes to measure each window-pane for blinds mounted to the top-surround.
We thought about that, and decided against blinds.
Five individual top-casings, at the angle of each window-pane, would be partially obscuring the top of each window, in the top window-casing.
And blinds wouldn’t be insulating.
Individual insulating shades had the same problem, and would partially obscure with a stack when retracted.
The fact it’s a bay-window makes a single insulating curtain difficult.
A bay-window is not straight, so a rod for a close curtain has to be curved.
There are curved rods designed for bay-windows (we saw one at Lowes), but not the shape or length we have, even with adjustment.
Most rods are shorter, and don’t match our window.
So finally we decided on a single straight rod for an insulating curtain covering the window-opening.
Such a curtain would cover the window-hole, but could be pulled open (back).
The curtain would be hung on a traverse rod with pull-back strings.
Pulled open, the curtain would leave a stack, perhaps a single window-pane each side.
So off to Country Curtains to -a) purchase an insulating curtain, and -b) purchase hardware and a traverse rod.
We took along a Country-Curtains catalog, which my wife gets in the mail.
Country-Curtains is nationwide, but this was a local store.
The store was awash in faux-window curtain displays, pretty curtains everywhere amidst beautiful antique furniture also for sale. Very crowded and florid.
But then we detailed our requirements, particularly an insulated curtain.
Hemming and hawing.
Our window-opening isn’t a standard width. A standard curtain would be too small or much too big.
Except for one curtain, about the right width, but it would need to be shortened.
Everyone stared at me, my wife and the sales-clerk.
“Yer lookin’ at me? I’m supposed to pass judgment on this?
Well, I guess it looks okay, except it reminds me of a mattress-cover.
But it’s the only one that comes close to fitting.
I guess it’ll do.”
“Which color?” Blue or black or cranberry?
“Black looks gray,” I said. “And no cranberry” (a mattress-cover).
“I guess blue will look okay on yellow walls.”
It still looks like a mattress-cover, but it’s the only one that fits.
Next was hardware; the traverse-rod.
We bought a decorative traverse-rod, as opposed to an el-cheapo rod that looked like junk.
“Which end-insert do you want, our birdcage, our” (whatever) “or the fleur-de-lis?”
“The dagger,” I said; the fleur-de-lis.
Men, they just don’t understand.
I’m sorry, but if a Japanese maven fails in business, he falls on that traverse rod.
The sales-associate had the traverse-rod and various brackets in stock.
But the curtains and daggers have to be ordered.
Now, can I escape the store without forking over $500?
$408.78.
I noticed a small sign on the counter: a “certified clutter-coach” was going to give a presentation.
“Certified by who?” I asked.
“Marcy, it’s everywhere,” I said under my breath, chuckling.
The bracketry is so involved we probably will farm out installation.
I don’t have hours to figure it all out.
I’m not Einstein.

• RE: “Marcy, it’s everywhere!” —“Marcy” is my number-one Ne’er-do-Well — she was the first I was e-mailing stuff to. Marcy and I worked in adjacent cubicles at the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired. A picture of her is in this blog at Conclave of Ne’er-do-Wells. At one time she asked how I managed to dredge up so much insane material to write up, and I responded “Marcy, it’s everywhere!”

Rads

“It sure is nicer going to Thompson Hospital,” my wife observed yesterday (Tuesday, January 24, 2012).
“No traffic-jam, no giant parking-garage, tiny hole-in-the-wall office, and they take me right in.
It’s as if they’re waiting for me.”
Thompson is a small hospital in the nearby city of Canandaigua.
My wife has cancer, but supposedly not fatal, at least not yet.
Actually, she has two cancers: -a) Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and -b) metastatic breast-cancer.
The Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma appeared about four-and-a-half years ago as a hard tumor in her abdomen.
That was poofed with C-H-O-P chemotherapy.
The metastatic breast-cancer did not have a primary site; it never appeared in her breasts.
It was first noticed in her bones, where breast-cancer metastasizes.
We knocked that back with Femara®, the trade-name for Letrozole.
Femara is an estrogen inhibitor. Her breast-cancer was estrogen-positive.
Her breast-cancer just about disappeared, but has since reappeared in her bones. (No Letrozole for a while. —And now the Letrozole is generic.)
So the Lymphoma has reappeared, a tumor in her abdomen.
No more C-H-O-P chemotherapy can be applied, after eight applications you risk heart-damage, and we’ve used all eight.
Other chemotherapies have been tried, and all found wanting.
The next step is radiation, which will probably shrink the tumor, but not cure her cancer.
The tumor may eventually kill her.
A pill chemotherapy will be tried after radiation, but it’s only a maintenance chemo, and may not work anyway.
Her radiation treatment began yesterday at Thompson Hospital.
Cancer treatment began at Strong Hospital in Rochester, Wilmot Cancer Center (“will-MOTT;” as in “Mott’s” applesauce).
Strong Hospital is very large, and getting there is a 45-minute trip, usually in careening NASCAR rush-hour traffic.
Radiation can be administered by Thompson, they’re affiliated with Strong.
Yrs Trly has been the driver for every foray to Strong.
My wife is “automotively challenged.” The traffic and parking-garage would be intimidating.
But she has driven herself to Thompson; it’s not a dreadful challenge. About a 20-25 minute drive.
Chemo infusions were at Strong.
Since they took hours, what we did is I let her off for the infusion and thereafter drive back home.
We always had to leave our dog behind in the house.
That way I could come home to rescue the dog.
I’d take the dog for a walk in our fenced backyard, and thereafter await a call from my wife that she was done, and I could pick her up.
I’d then pile our dog into our van, drive back to Strong, and pick up my wife.
At Thompson we don’t have to do that.
My wife can drive herself, so far.
Radiation is only about 15 minutes per treatment.
So my wife could make a surgical-strike, while I took the dog to nearby Boughton Park (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow,” not “oh” or “who”).
If radiation treatments had been at Strong, no park for the dog.

• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.
• “CHOP” chemotherapy is Cyclophosphamide, Hydroxydaunorubicin (also called doxorubicin or Adriamycin), Oncovin (vincristine), and Prednisone or prednisolone.
• “Automotively challenged” means difficulty making driving decisions. —For example, stick-shift is out.

Inspiration or job-preparation?

For some unknown reason, perhaps because she’s an outpatient at the University’s Strong Hospital, my wife gets the University of Rochester Alumni Magazine.
We did not attend University of Rochester.
It’s hoity-toity. My wife’s brother graduated there, but I wouldn’t have gained admittance.
In fact, I was barely admitted to the college I attended, Houghton College, south of Rochester in western New York (“HO-tin;” as in “oh,” not “how” or “who”).
I had to attend summer-school to prove I could do college-level work.
Which I could, because it was that or ‘Nam.
The UofR Alumni magazine makes an interesting point.
College costs so much any more you have to graduate with a job lined up.
Fortunately this wasn’t the case when we were in college.
Houghton cost perhaps $2,500-$3,000 per year at that time (middle ‘60s).
My father made up the difference my first two years, but after that it was President Johnson’s National Defense Student Loan program (NDSL).
I might be able to generate $1,600 with a summer-job, but the rest I paid for with student-loans.
So I graduated with debt, but it wasn’t staggering, about $3,400.
I paid it off in about four years.
And I wasn’t a walkaway — I paid it off.
So my college experience was inspirational.
I majored in the good professors: history.
My wife also majored in good professors, history and English.
History and English wouldn’t cut it in today’s world.
You’d graduate with staggering debt.
The only way to pay that off is Engineering or Business Administration.
Major in history and land a job at Mickey-D’s.
Even as an Engineer or Doctor, paying off your debt might take 10 years or more.
I never regretted attending college, and I was the first in my family to earn a degree — although I’m pretty sure my father could have.
And I feel fortunate it was inspirational instead of mere job-preparation.
Professors used to value my opinions. —I doubt that could happen in today’s world.

• “‘Nam” is of course Vietnam, the Vietnam war.
• “Mickey-D’s” is McDonalds.

Class of 1987

The March 2012 issue of my Classic Car Magazine prompts an interesting consideration.
The Antique Automobile Club of America (AACA) considers anything older than 25 years a so-called “classic-car,” eligible for judging as an antique at car-shows.
This means the 1987 model-year becomes a “classic” this year.
To me this is laughable.
I have a hard time imagining I’d get turned on by a beautifully-restored ’87 Chevrolet Caprice stationwagon at a car-show.
Or an ’87 Mustang. Or a Turbo Thunderbird. Or a GMC Safari minivan.
Well, the first Ford Taurus is a landmark car, the car that saved Ford Motor Company.
I remember renting one in Denver, and I was impressed.
The only thing wrong was the power-steering, which felt like cold molasses.
Ford’s attempt to give it European steering-feel crashed.
Otherwise it was really good. I rented a Chevy Corsica a few months later and it was awful.
But the only notable car for 1987, the one that qualifies as a classic, is the Cadillac Allanté, an attempt by Cadillac to market a megabuck performance roadster to compete with the Mercedes SL.

Allanté roadster.

The Allanté debuted in the 1987 model-year, and was an almighty stretch for Cadillac.
The underpinnings were Cadillac, but the styling and body were by Pininfarina of Italy (“pin-in-fer-IN-ya”).
(Pininfarina is responsible for many Ferraris.)
In fact, Allantés were started in Italy, and then shipped to Cadillac's Detroit/Hamtramck plant for completion.
Making for the world’s longest assembly-line.
The only thing wrong with the Allanté was that it was front-wheel-drive, using pretty much the standard GM front-wheel-drive platform.
Everything else in its market-segment was rear-wheel drive, and the opinion of sportscar-wags was that a megabuck performance roadster should be rear-wheel drive.
Supposedly front-wheel-drive was not Cadillac’s decision.
But it’s hard to imagine Cadillac reconfiguring everything just to meet that requirement.
But build it they did, and the Allanté is the most memorable car of the 1987 model-year.
If I saw one at a car-show I’d be impressed.
And that’s despite its disco styling.
A 1987 Chevrolet El Camino maybe, but a Chevette or a Dodge Diplomat are forgettable.

What next, Microsoft?

First was mighty Pennsylvania Railroad, the widows’ and orphans’ stock, that never failed to pay a dividend; the so-called “Standard Railroad of the World.”
Pennsy had already merged with arch-rival New York Central in a flailing attempt to remain solvent, since the government wouldn’t approve merger with Norfolk & Western, who eventually ended up operating Pennsy after Norfolk & Western merged with Southern Railway.
That is, Norfolk Southern owns and operates the old Pennsy lines, most that is, after Penn-Central successor Conrail was broken up and sold in 1999.
So it wasn’t actually Pennsy that went bankrupt; it was Penn-Central, the largest corporate bankruptcy ever at that time, June 21, 1970. (Penn-Central continued operations through 1976.)
Although government policy can partially take the blame, plus the tendency toward individualized personal transport, the auto.
I also remember the Rochester Democrat & Chronicle newspaper wailing about Penn-Central’s proposal to end delivery of newsprint by railroad boxcar.
The railroad wasn’t being compensated anywhere near the cost of delivery, yet the newspaper wanted to continue railroad delivery.
Can you say “corporate welfare?” Empty the pockets of the railroad so managers at the newspaper can buy a Mercedes?
Government built the Interstate Highway System. It also funded massive airport expansion, and set up an airway control system.
Railroads have their own control system; it isn’t a government operation.
It’s the railroads that keep trains from crashing into each other, and they do pretty well.
Together the government highway system, and airline transit, made railroad passenger transport unattractive.
Still, railroading is superior at carrying freight. It’s so much more efficient than trucking.
A single train, with only a crew of two or three, may be moving 200 or more trailer containers.
Trucking needs a driver for every one or two trailers.
And railroading uses much less fuel per ton-mile.
No way could trucking move the quantity of coal or grain or ethanol a train can move. One coal-car can carry 120 tons of coal — and a coal-train might be 100 cars or more. —Trucking can’t even come close.
Shipping can be even cheaper, but there you’re limited by where the waterways go.
The rail network is more extensive. Not as extensive as trucking, plus the railroad maintains its pathway.

Next was General Motors, who once claimed “what’s good for General Motors is good for America.”
Well, perhaps; but GM was saddled by heavy costs, and also seemed to suffer from myopic vision, like they were too big to fail.
They continued to build uninspired and unreliable cars, while the Japanese built better and more attractive cars.
Perhaps the best example of the turkeys they were turning out is the Pontiac Aztek, the UGLIEST car of all time.
Whatever possessed The General (General Motors) to market this styling abomination is beyond me. Plus its underpinnings weren’t much.
If it had been All-Wheel-Drive it would have been interesting, but it wasn’t.
It was just GM’s standard front-wheel-drive platform made into a box.
Box-like styling is more useful, but needs a prop. That prop would have been All-Wheel-Drive.
The Aztek was also a styling disaster; like GM stylists were confused.
A Japanese manufacturer, Toyota, became the number-one auto-seller. Mighty GM was left in the dust.
The General eventually had to declare bankruptcy; it couldn’t meet its financial obligations.
Mighty GM had to rationalize. It had to dump some of its storied brands.
Oldsmobile ended before the bankruptcy, and then Pontiac was lost with it.
Saturn was also dumped. Saturn was a somewhat successful attempt by GM to build and market cars Japanese-style.
It started good, but caved to the GM way.
Various Saturns were rebadgings of other brands. The General had a habit of fielding the same car across it’s many brands. There were Pontiac and Buick versions of the Chevy Cavalier, even a Cadillac version. Plus a Saturn version.
Dealers were fighting each other selling pretty much the same car.
Cannibalizing each other.
Perhaps the best Saturn was the first; almost a Honda.
Finally GM was competing at Honda’s level.
But then Saturn caved.
Ever more GM platforms were shared, and Saturn became GM, uninspiring.
Only four brands are left, Chevrolet, Buick, Cadillac and GMC — and GMC at first was essentially the Chevy truck.
Which it still is. Ya don’t see GMC versions of the Chevrolet Cruze.
The General apparently recovered from bankruptcy, and is building better cars.
GM has become as reliable as the Japanese; it’s back to number-one.

So now it’s Eastman Kodak that declared bankruptcy.
It was so tied to film, it failed to cash in on the switch to digital photography.
So now the Japanese have the market Kodak should have got.
When I came to this area in Fall of ’66, I surveyed the Kodak Employment Office on Brown St. near State St.
But I didn’t go in.
The opinion was a job with Kodak was a job for life.
If I had I’d have become one of the Kodak retirees now worried about pension and health-benefits.
Yellow Father (Kodak), who was Rochester, is DONE.
The largest employer in Rochester is no longer Kodak. It’s University of Rochester, primarily its health-system, which includes a large hospital.
I used Kodak products for years, Tri-X film, PolyContrast print paper, and Kodak photographic chemicals, developer, stop-bath, and fixer, etc.
My dark-red darkroom-light was Kodak.
I remember riding my bicycle to LeBeau Photo (“luh-BOW;” as in “bow-ribbon”) on Lyell Ave. (“lile;” as in “aisle”) in Rochester. I’d load up on Yellow Father. There were alternatives, but Yellow Father was best. —Also what I knew, dependable.

So one-by-one the mighty pillars fall, seeming victims of their own weight.
Heavily freighted with demands to maintain the status-quo, while markets changed.
Pennsy tried to put on a good face while falling apart. It always paid a dividend.
The General fell to marketing cars that were turgid and unreliable (at least that was their reputation) compared to Japanese offerings.
Kodak, whose immense power was its dominance of photographic film, failed to follow the market-change to digital photography — even though they invented it.
I wonder what will become of Kodak Park, the massive facility Kodak built in Rochester to manufacture and process its photographic products?
The Park stretched for miles. It even had its own railroad and fire-department.
When I drove bus we drove Park-and-Rides through the Park.
I’d enter at one end amidst massive manufacturing buildings, and drive the Park’s road all the way out to the boonies at its other end.
This was in the morning, so I’d let people off where they asked.
I also remember it stunk. It had the heavy aroma of photographic fixer.
You could smell it clear on the other side of town if the wind was right.
Already many of the buildings were torn down — usually dynamited in front a news-cameras.
A lot of the Park has been sold to start-up businesses, many with ex-Kodak employees.
Supposedly Kodak will reorganize and re-emerge.
But what if it’s liquidated?
I have a Nikon digital camera (made in Japan).
At the same time, storied brands like General Electric and Ford still prosper.
What is it, the company leadership?
General Electric is manufacturing jet engines and railroad locomotives, not just light-bulbs or irons.

• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and its environs. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability.
• “Park-and-Rides” were bus-trips from suburban or rural end-points, usually through Park-and-Ride parking-lots, where passengers would park their cars, for a bus-ride to work in Rochester.

Steer the car, Honey!

The other night (Friday, January 20, 2012) the ABC-TV Evening-News did a report on three city mayors complaining about our nation’s roads.
All I remember is Los Angeles and Philadelphia.
ABC went bonkers about the joy of driving.
There was Dinah Shore singing “See the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet” in her famous YouTube clip.

(The ’53 Chevy was a turkey.)
Next was a chrome-laden ’58 Oldsmobile four-door hardtop majestically cruising the Interstate.
Next was a baby-blue ’60 Corvette passing close underneath the photographer in the bed of a pickup.
Yes, driving was a joy back then.

Photo by BobbaLew.

The Wagon.

I remember cruising the highways of northern Delaware in my parents’ ’57 Chevrolet Power-Pak stationwagon.
I thought the world of that car; even paraded it as my own.
But back then gasoline didn’t cost almost $4 per gallon, and there weren’t so many cars fouling the atmosphere.
You could cruise the highway in a glittering land-barge without feeling guilty.
The mayors decried the dreadful condition of American highways, the potholes and crumbling bridges.
That they even rate lower than Malaysia.
The government seems to be posturing instead of getting things done.
The report ended with a girl driving a red convertible, top-down.
The girl threw her hands in the air, no longer steering the car.
An iconic image, freedom of the highway.
But the car started wandering left — it drifted across the double-yellow.
“Steer the car,” I shouted.
Reality impinges.

I could tell stories!

Yesterday (Wednesday, January 18, 2012) the dreaded 282 Alumni held one of its regular quarterly meetings.
The so-called “Alumni” are the union retirees of Regional Transit Service in Rochester, NY.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS — “Transit”), a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs.
While a bus-driver there I belonged to the Rochester Division of the Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU), Local 282. (ATU is nationwide.)
The Alumni was a reaction to the fact Transit upper-management retirees ran roughshod over union retirees — a continuation of the bad vibes at Transit, management versus union.
Transit had a club for long-time employees, and I was in it. It was called the “15/25-year Club;” I guess at first the “25-year Club.” But they lowered the employment requirement, and renamed it “15/25-year Club.” The employment requirement was lowered even more; I joined at 10 years.
My employ there ended in 1993 with my stroke (disability retirement); and the “Alumni” didn’t exist then.
The Alumni is a special club — you have to join.
It’s an Amalgamated Transit Union functionary. It isn’t just a social club.
It has bylaws, officers, and an Executive Board.
In many ways it’s just like our union-local, except it entertains issues of interest to retirees; like Medicare, healthcare, and diabetes and Alzheimer’s.
“Dreaded” because all my siblings are flagrantly anti-union, like the proper way for hourlies to parry the massive management juggernaut is one employee at a time; in which case that single employee gets trampled because he’s not presenting a united front with power equal to management.
Like the proletariate’s attempt to exact a living wage from bloated management fat-cats is what’s wrong with this country.
My younger brother from northern Delaware, perhaps a fat-cat, but only because of his high salary, recently declared the “occupy Wall-Street” crowd a bunch of freeloaders.
Little did he know my wife would blast him from his high-horse with all the evils and stupidity of corporate America.
“Don’t you get Rush Limbaugh up here?” he asked me.
“What, pray tell, would I wanna listen to that blowhard for?” I commented.
Not many were in attendance at this meeting, perhaps 10-15.
We usually rate about 30.
Joe Carey (“kar-eee;” as in “arrow”), the recently retired president of Local 282, and de facto leader of the Alumni, apologized.
Apparently people had asked him if there was a meeting, and he told them he wasn’t sure.
Which explains the low turnout.
There also was no speaker.
Previous meetings had a speaker; our Vision-Care, our Dental-plan (both with reduced negotiated rates), or BJ’s Wholesale Club. (What am I gonna do with 100 pounds of bulk rice?)
Last time we had a podiatrist. His best comment was high-heels were keeping him in business.
We also had a diabetes specialist once. Most of our Transit retirees are diabetic, yet I’m not.
It’s no wonder, with all the sugar they dump into their coffee. —I drink it black, and decaf only.
So it was more a social meeting.
People were complaining about the Alumni newsletter, that it looks so bad compared to my old union newsletter, also an unpaid volunteer effort.
The Alumni newsletter is generated by an aging computer-savvy retired bus-driver.
Like all of us, he’s getting older. A newsletter is an incredible time-gobbler; I know from experience doing my union newsletter.
That retiree is falling apart, and I’m sure he wants someone else to do it.
He asked me once if I could help, but I told him I was up-against-the-wall already.
I’ve told him since I could edit stuff, check spelling, grammar, syntax, etc.
I haven’t heard from him since.
He also related his greatest difficulty was getting promised copy on time — a problem I knew all too well. The whole idea of a union newsletter was articles from union officialdom, which I never received during the entire year I did it.
People suggested I could make the newsletter look better, but all I can suggest is -a) two columns per page (instead of one), and -b) don’t distort the pictures by stretching them.
Which isn’t paginating the entire newsletter, which I don’t want to do.
“It doesn’t look that bad,” I said.
Around-and-around we we went, over pancakes for me, and gigundo omelets for some of the others.
A management person was there, Gary Coleman (“Coal-min”), husband of a recent bus-driver retiree.
Apparently Gary had been told to not show at Alumni meetings.
Well, why not?
Gary was lower-level management and once a bus-driver.
He’s one of us.
He knows the insanity we all faced; he’s not one of the high-and-mighty that refused to ride with the riffraff. (That was their term for our passengers.)
His wife Mary is a recently-retired bus-driver.
She was glad to get out!
Things seem to have got worse since we were there, although I was gone before most of the others.
We seemed to get madness from all quarters; passengers, upper management, etc.
I could tell stories!

• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered. It ended my career driving bus.
• RE: “De facto leader of the Alumni.....” —Joe Carey is not the president of the Alumni, but more-or-less leads our meetings.
• I once did a newsletter for our union; it lasted a year, and ended with my stroke.
• “Pagination” is the complete generation of a page; layout of story-text, ads, and pictures (“art”).

Cellphone phishing

I’m walking our dog back toward our van at nearby Boughton Park (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow, not “oh” or “who”), probably last Thursday, January 12, 2012.
Suddenly my SmartPhone rings.
I unholster my SmartPhone from my back pocket.
“Unknown caller,” it says.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m Amy.” (A robo-call.)
“You have been personally selected to complete a short 30-second survey.
To do the survey, please press one now.”
I’m holding back a four-legged enthusiastic hunter. I can’t do no survey.
Click!
End call.
Yesterday (Saturday, January 14) I’m walking our dog around our property.
I can do this loose, since our yard is fenced. —Cost us a fortune, but it’s the best fortune we ever spent.
Ding-a-ling!
Another unknown caller.
“Hello?” (Another robo-call.)
“This is HSBC bank.
We regret to inform you your debit MasterCard has been locked.”
“We don’t even have a debit MasterCard,” I shout.
“That HSBC account was closed years ago.”
“To unlock your card, please press one now to access our Security Department.”
Again, click!
End call.
My wife apparently got the same robo-call on her cellphone.
We use the Habecker rule (“HAH-beck-rrr”).
Vern Habecker is our old neighbor across-the-street.
He died a while ago at age-93.
He didn’t trust a soul.
My hairdresser came out to give him a Mason award, and Vern wouldn’t even let him in the door.
“Get outta here before I get my Smith & Wesson.
I don’t know you from the Moon!”

• Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s six, and is our sixth Irish-Setter, an extremely high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett is a reject from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad.)

Snowblower time!

Yesterday (Friday, January 13, 2012) Winter hit with a vengeance.
We had it easy until yesterday. No snow to speak of, only occasional rain, and warm and sunny days.
But yesterday we got clobbered.
Not that much snow really, but heavy wind and icy cold.
The snow was blowing and drifting.
I had planned to work out at the YMCA in nearby Canandaigua.
So I backed out of our garage.
Through drifts eight to 12 inches deep.
This looks like an eventual snowblow.
The wind was howling and the snow blinding.
Our car has All-Wheel-Drive, so the snow has to be really deep.
Otherwise it will go through anything.
I arrowed out our driveway onto the main highway in front of our house.
About all that told me where the driveway was were two reflectors I have at the end of the driveway.
The main highway was completely snow-covered; I don’t think I ever saw bare pavement.
I drove up the road and turned east toward Canandaigua on 5&20, also completely snow-covered.
I rarely got above 35 mph. It was a struggle to see where I was going.
I slowly treaded east a while, then down a hill into a slight defile. It’s not much, only about a 50-foot change in elevation. Then slowly up the other side.
Not too bad, but only about 30 mph.
Then down again, this time about a 75-foot change in elevation.
I saw a large Chevy van stopped in front of me, its driver waving his arm.
Up ahead on the uphill was a stopped truck, perhaps unable to make the hill.
Trucks are not All-Wheel-Drive, so it might have been spinning its drive-wheels.
The pavement was completely snow-covered.
I had no problem coasting to a stop — I wasn’t going fast anyway.
Now what?
A side-road was to my left.
If a truck is stuck ahead of me on a main highway, it looks like I better go back home.
Rarely do I ever have to turn around.
I turned onto the side-road, Rabbit Run, and the adventure began.
Get back home on secondary roads; I didn’t think I could U-turn on a main highway in blinding snow.
That’s asking to get tee-boned.
Back into our garage through foot-high snowdrifts.
Snowblower time!

• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.)
• “5&20” is the main east-west road (a two-lane highway) through our area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where we live. It used to be the main road across Western New York before the Thruway.

Uh-ohhh

Yesterday (Thursday, January 12, 2012) I decided to fire up my MyCast® weather-radar before taking our dog the nearby Boughton (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow,” not “oh” or “who”) Park for a walk.
It was raining lightly, and I wanted to see if we were gonna get drenched.
MyCast was good for this.
Their weather-radar is animated, perhaps four scans at earlier 15-minute intervals are displayed. So you can see if a storm is coming.
I used it to decide whether to mow lawn, and take the dog to the park.
One of the locations I have is The Mighty Curve near Altoona, and I could access it with my SmartPhone. It saved me from a downpour once — an approaching thunderstorm.
Instead of what I usually get, I got a welcome-page.
“Why am I getting this?” I asked.
“We have made major enhancements to MyCast.com, adding several new features and providing you with a better web-viewing experience. We think you will like the changes we have made!”
“Uh-ohhh....” I said.
“Where’s the log-in?” I asked. “There isn’t any!”
I tried various log-in procedures with my Internet-browser, but each time I got the welcome-page.
Quite a few of my weather-locations were set by geodesic coordinates, got by standing in place with my cellphone, and getting them from the GPS satellite.
Places like Horseshoe Curve, our house, and nearby Baker Park in Canandaigua.
Other places are ballparked, De Land Fl (my mother-in-law), Fort Lauderdale Fl (my recently deceased sister), Wilmington DE (my younger brother), and Boston MA (my other brother).
I never had a chance to get the exact geodesic coordinates for these locations.
My old weather-radar showed a 90-mile-wide display, but it was centered on my location.
90 miles displays way more than the immediate location, but it looked like all my locations got zapped.
I fired off an e-mail to their “Feedback.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“It looks like all my locations got zapped.”
I got an immediate response.
“We have updated the MyCast web-site, you can still get weather forecasts and maps through the new site: www.my-cast.com. The old site is no longer available.
We did eliminate user accounts completely as they are no longer supported, but you can still save any number of locations simply by bookmarking the locations you’d like in any browser!
To do this, just search for a location you’re interested in, and when it’s found, make a bookmark.
You can enter a latitude and longitude right into the search box like... 44.85,93.5
You can also share locations with others by just sending them the link.
We hope you’ll enjoy our new features like weather maps that you can pan and zoom, the interactive StormWatch map, and bookmarkable, sharable locations. You can learn more about what’s new here.”
“No longer supported” Hmmmnnn.......
Why thank you MyCast! Like I have all those geodesic coordinates memorized.
If I had any idea you were gonna do this, I woulda stored those coordinates.
Thanks for warning me MyCast! —Outta the clear blue sky!
Last night I fired up the new MyCast yet again, and cranked “West Bloomfield” into the search-window.
It brought up a radar-display covering most of western New York.
Well, I can deal with that, but it’s way more than I need.
The radar was also static, as it could also be on the old site.
The old site had a means to animate the display, and I discovered a small arrow on the new display animated the new display.
Progress, I guess, but it ‘s still showing way more than I need.
A while ago I used to e-mail through MyWay®, a web-mail; and it was pretty slick.
Then they went and “improved” their site, making it a royal pain.
It was so bog-slow I had to flee it.
I went back to my old Netscape e-mail.
This laptop has an even better e-mail I use: AppleMail.
Apparently MyWay still exists, but like before it hung upon loading after I logged-in.
Now I’m tempted to trash MyCast, although maybe not.
There are other weather-sites.
And it looks like with the new MyCast I need an app for my Smartphone!
Previously my Smartphone was accessing my MyCast Internet-site.
Will the new MyCast save me from a drenching?

• The “Mighty Curve” (Horseshoe Curve), west of Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh;” as in the name “Al”), PA, is by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. It was a trick used by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades. The railroad was looped around a valley to climb the mountains without steep grades. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. I’m a railfan, and have been since age-two (I’m almost 68). The viewing-area is smack in the apex of the Curve; and trains are willy-nilly. Up-close-and-personal. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.
• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.

We managed to pull it off

Two heavy medical-appointments in one day (yesterday, Tuesday, January 10, 2012).
The first was my wife; the second was me.
My wife’s medical appointment was at Strong Hospital in Rochester, NY; Wilmot Cancer Center (“will-MOTT”).
It was at 8 a.m., but we had to be there for a blood-draw at 7:30.
Our house to Strong Hospital is 40-45 minutes.
We live in the tiny rural town of West Bloomfield, about 20 miles southeast of Rochester — mainly south.
We had to get up at 4:30 a.m. to leave by 6:30-6:45.
4:30 sounds extreme, but the dishwasher has to be emptied, we dress, and breakfast must be eaten.
So as 6:30 comes around, breakfast is being finished.
After that come bathroom ablutions.
Do it or it doesn’t get done.
We got on the road about 6:50, still dark, our dog abandoned in the house.
It was still dark when we got on Interstate-390 about 15-20 minutes later.
It was NASCAR rush-hour, the expressway a strident ribbon of madly cannonading red brake-lights.
Avoid the hard-charging idiots, desperate to be first to the free donuts.
It was beginning to lighten as I pulled into Strong, and let out my wife at the entrance.
I thereafter went to park the car in the vast multi-story parking-garage.
At 7:30 in the morning it was still pretty empty.
As I entered Wilmot, my wife’s blood-draw was being started.
Next was the appointment at 8, her oncologist, a very knowledgable and caring expert.
My wife has cancer, but supposedly not fatal, at least not yet.
Actually, she has two cancers: -a) Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and -b) metastatic breast-cancer.
The Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma appeared about three-and-a-half years ago as a hard tumor in her abdomen.
That was poofed with CHOP chemotherapy.
The metastatic breast-cancer did not have a primary site; it never appeared in her breasts.
It was first noticed in her bones, where breast-cancer metastasizes.
We knocked that back with Femara®, a trade-name for Letrozole.
Femara is an estrogen inhibitor. Her breast-cancer was estrogen-positive.
Her breast-cancer just about disappeared, but has since reappeared in her bones. (No Letrozole for a while. —And now the Letrozole is generic.)
A lymphoma tumor has since reappeared in her abdomen.
A recent chemo for that failed, so the next step is radiation.
That entails a consult with the radiologist, and planning.
“I can set up with the radiologist about 10 a.m.,” the oncologist suggested.
“Can’t do it!” my wife said. “My husband has a stress-echo scheduled at 12:30. 10 o’clock is too tight.”
“At Strong?” the oncologist asked.
“Of course not,” my wife said. “Another location far away, plus our dog is abandoned in the house.”
The reason for the blood-draw was because the most recent chemo, Cytarabine (“sigh-tare-uh-BEAN;” as in “arrow”), lowered her blood-levels.
They were worried about anemia, and in my opinion she was smashed.
They were worried she might need a blood-transfusion.
We walked out forgetting to get their advice — the test results.
She would need a transfusion. That was the next day. They called back.
We charged directly home, partly to make my appointment, but mostly to rescue our dog.
I had plenty of slop. This is never guaranteed. Strong tends to suck you into their system. A one-hour appointment can turn into five-six hours.
My appointment, a stress-echo and doctor consult at Rochester Cardiopulmonary, was another 40-45 minute drive.
My appointment was at 12:30. I’d have to leave at 11:30-11:45.
I zoomed up to Rochester Cardiopulmonary. Arrived a few minutes early.
Was directed to the stress-echo test room, after waiting a few minutes.
The stress-echo room has a treadmill and an ultrasound display.
“I do work out,” I told the nurse.
”Target pulse-rate for someone my age is 126 heart-beats per minute, and sometimes I see over 130.”
“Our goal is to get you up to 150,” the nurse said.
(The highest I saw was 111.)
“Sheer baloney,” my heart-doctor said later. “Get up to 150 and you’ll pass out! Who told you that?
Your heart works fine, Mr. Hughes; no blockages, etc.”
“Well it better,” I said. “That’s the whole reason I work out — to keep the old ticker workin’ fine. My workout is mainly aerobic.”
“Get outta here. See you in 18 months! You’re shaming some of my patients!”
Of interest to me was seeing how far back my heart-doctor and I went; since 1994.
He was the one who performed the heart-catheter procedure on me before the open-heart surgery that repaired the flaw that caused my stroke.

• “CHOP” chemotherapy is Cyclophosphamide, Hydroxydaunorubicin (also called doxorubicin or Adriamycin), Oncovin (vincristine), and Prednisone or prednisolone.
• The whole point of a “stress-echo test” is to make your heart work hard, and then see if it works right when stressed. (Mine does.)
• “Mr. Hughes” is me, Bob Hughes, BobbaLew.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered. It was caused by a Patent foramen ovale between the upper two chambers of my heart. This flaw passed a clot to my brain.

Linkedin

(I suppose it’s “linked-in,” although I was pronouncing it “link-uh-din” at first.)
“What is it?” my wife asked.
“I guess it’s a sort of Facebook for professional people,” I said.
The other day (Sunday, January 8, 2012), after posting a blog on this site about Microsoft Excel®, I decided to try to e-mail a blog-link to Jack Kellogg, my Excel instructor at Bloomfield Central School, who deserves some of the credit for my having a fairly good handle on Excel.
To find his e-mail address, which I no longer have, I cranked “Jack Kellogg Excel” into Google, and came up with various Jack Kelloggs, one of whom sounded like him.
“Jack Kellogg on Linkedin; view complete profile......”
I clicked that.
Suddenly 89 bazilyun different links, all a seeming wall to protect Jack Kellogg.
Mental overload!
What, pray tell, is an old stroke-survivor supposed to do with 89 bazilyun choices?
One of which was to log-in, that is, join Linkedin.
I joined.
Ding! An e-mail arrived.
“Confirm e-mail address.”
I tried; “Please log in.”
I logged in. Again I got 89 bazilyun choices, all of which led me to “please log in.”
“What?
I thought my responding confirmed my e-mail address.”
And so it began: 89 bazilyun choices, all of which lead to “Please log in.”
“We seem to be going in circles,” I observed. “This isn’t worth it.
This site is too tech-driven.”
Logged in, I was presented with various professionals to network with.
I noticed Dan Gnagy (“naggy”), my old computer-guru at the Mighty Mezz.
I also noticed Dave Wheeler, a long-ago coworker at the Mighty Mezz.
I also was presented with complete strangers, graphic-designers and “social-media experts.”
“So what is required to be a social-media expert?” I asked.
“Do colleges now have majors in that?”
“You declare yourself a social-media expert,” my wife commented.
I “selected” my “network” with Gnagy and Wheeler.
I successfully selected Gnagy, but no Wheeler.
I also somehow selected complete strangers I’d never heard of.
“I did? Who are these people? I didn’t select a single one.”
“Send Dan (Gnagy) a message.”
I generated a message in my word-processor.
I plugged it into the message-window.
“Please log in.”
I did so.
“Send message.”
I clicked that. Nothing happened.
Or so it seemed.
Maybe my message sent, maybe it didn’t.
Linkedin seemed rather obtuse.
Every move seemed to want a log-in, even after I logged in.
“This isn’t worth it,” I said again.
“Linkedin is not helping me any.”
It wants me to register, and then it hits me with a “You’re already registered” message.
I gave up.
Jack Kellogg is not getting my blog-link.
Shut out by Linkedin.
And now I get e-mail updates every day from Linkedin.
Complete stranger updates.
Updates that want me to “Please log in,” followed by “Please log in.”

• RE: “Bloomfield Central School........” —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. Adjacent is the rural town of East Bloomfield, and the village of Bloomfield is within it. Bloomfield Central School is the high-school within the village.
• RE: “Old stroke-survivor.....” —I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered. I’m also age 67.
• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired six years ago. Best job I ever had — I worked there almost 10 years. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 14 miles away.)

Newfangled Hexx-Cell®

At the beginning of every new year, I generate two new Excel spreadsheets for our income-tax.
These don’t really apply any more, since it is no longer to our advantage to itemize deductions.
We qualify for the geezer deduction. It’s higher than itemizing.
My two Excel spreadsheets are -1) itemized deductions, and -2) income.
Even the income spreadsheet no longer applies.
We only have four incomes: Social-Security for each, and pensions for each.
We’re not hitting our IRAs yet; we don’t need to.
We get statements from each income-source, and they usually don’t agree with my spreadsheet.
This is especially true of Social-Security.
I go with the statements. They’re what’s reported to the Infernal-Revenue-Service.
What I do is copy my old header-row and paste it onto a new spreadsheet.
Dead simple, except Microsoft seems to have “improved” (???????) Excel.
Almost two years ago I bought this new laptop.
It replaced an old tower I was using.
That tower had Excel-98 on it, what I had been using, and knew fairly well.
I still have that tower. It was state-of-the-art 10 years ago.
It has Quark® on it, and I use it when I need Quark.
I’m not about the spill 89 bazilyun dollars for a newer Quark for this laptop, not when I do so little with it.
I had it on the tower because it was one of the “Big Three” the Mighty Mezz used: Photoshop®, Freehand®, and Quark. (I had all three.)
The newspaper was paginated in Quark.
My Quark is 4.1 — ancient.
My macho blowhard brother-from-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, calls it “Quack,” and claims Microsoft Word® is superior.
Well it isn’t, or at least wasn’t.
The Mighty Mezz was paginated with Quark. At that time Quark ran circles around Word.
I’ve had experience with both. Quark was much more flexible and capable.
Years ago I paginated a union newsletter with Word.
But at the Mighty Mezz I discovered Quark; that it was so much more powerful.
So I copied my header-row off my 2011 spreadsheet, and pasted it onto a new Excel spreadsheet.
WHOA! Nothing worked like usual. My header-row was taking up two rows because I couldn’t widen columns, at least not like I had done previously.
And furthermore my new Excel spreadsheet had a four-letter file-extension: .xlsx, not .xls as it had been in the past.
Apply guile-and-cunning.
The “save-as” window has a “save-as Excel-98” option, so I tried that.
VIOLA! Back to the Excel I know.
.xlsx must be the new improved Excel, although if so it’s not improved in my humble opinion.
Not if I can’t work with it without a lot of research and/or fore-knowledge.
Excel-98 I pretty much learned on my own, although I had an Excel guru helping at Bloomfield Central School.
There were only two of us in the class, and the other poor girl was totally buffaloed.
I was the only one making any progress.
The guru was showing me shortcuts and making suggestions I found interesting.
For example: “You can widen your columns by doing such-and-such.”
So how does one do that with the new improved Excel?
Must I use Microsoft’s dreaded help-section?
89 bazilyun Frequently-Asked-Questions.
Chat with techies in India?
“We understand your concern, and are happy to help.”
After that, “Uh-duh.”

• “Quark” is a very powerful word-processor, among other things. It can be used to do complete and complicated pages — including pictures.
• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired six years ago. Best job I ever had — I worked there almost 10 years. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 14 miles away.)
• “Paginate” means to completely generate a page (like for a newspaper or a magazine). Bring the stories in and flow them into story-boxes, and also add “art” (pictures, whatever).
• RE: “Bloomfield Central School........” —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester. Adjacent is the rural town of East Bloomfield, and the village of Bloomfield is within it. Bloomfield Central School is the high-school within the village. The Excel course was a night-course.