Ramblin' with Roger

The zen of baseball division

pieces of eight

When I first learned about pi, it was noted as 3.14, or 22/7, the latter because I suspect they figured kids couldn’t understand how to multiply by 3 1/7. Or something.

Pi, of course, is 3.141592, followed by a whole lot of numbers, none of which I have bothered to memorize. And 22/7 is 3.142857 endlessly repeated. Close enough for most purposes.

As a kid, I loved the beginning of baseball season. I would take the box scores from the morning newspaper, the Sun-Bulletin, in Binghamton, NY. I’d figure out players’ batting averages after one or two games because it was FUN. (No, really, it WAS!) It was a bit of baseball division, as it were.

Figuring out two to six at-bats was easy. Eight at-bats also worked because I thought of pirates’ pieces of eight; in my mind, I considered eight twelve-and-a-half cent pieces (.125, .250, and so forth). Sussing nine at-bats was a cinch (.111, .222, et al.) though I had to add a point above 50%. (.556, .667, and so on).

Calculating seven at-bats was only slightly more challenging. But once I figured it out, I recognized its beauty. 1 for 7 is .143; 2 for 7, .286, 3 for 7, .429; 4 for 7, .571; 5 for 7,.714, 6 for 7, .857. The first two digits are multiples of 14 until you get past 50%, then it’s one more than that.

Om

Let me let you in on a secret. All the information I’ve written to date in this post was written in my head in the nine minutes I was waiting to take my blood pressure on a Sunday morning when I had not gotten enough sleep the night before.

I was so entranced thinking about the numbers that I missed the little chirp on the stove’s timer signaling one minute to go. It wasn’t until the device signaled the entire nine minutes that I recognized the passage of time.

It was almost, dare I say it, a zen experience, musing over numbers. I liked it, but I don’t recall experiencing something like that in a very long time.

Three years of COVID

Only remotely interested in “remote”

Back in January, fillyjonk wrote about three years of COVID. The first case of COVID in the United States occurred in that month. But it didn’t really affect me until March 13.

I’ll back up to when I retired on June 30, 2019. my wife and daughter were home from school, but come fall, I had the run of the house. I’d read and write in the morning, exercise and clean in the afternoon. It was glorious. And after Christmas break, more wonderfulness.

My wife and I went to the cinema often. I saw Cheap Trick at the Palace Theater in February 2022.

The church production of Once on This Island occurred on Sunday, March 8th, with the afterparty the following evening. Choir met as usual on Thursday, March 12.

But the buzz was out that everything was going to shut down after Friday the 13th. At 4:30 pm, I rushed to the Pine Hills branch of the Albany Public Library with my daughter. I WANTED to take out ten videos for me, but she wanted to get a few, so I checked out seven Marvel Cinematic Universe films I had not seen. Sure enough, the library was closed on Saturday and for months after that.

The annual hearts game at my abode occurred as scheduled for March 14; some people came, but others begged off, which I understood intellectually, if not emotionally.

School at home

After a week of figuring out what to do, school districts made laptops available to students, and remote learning began. My wife specifically was disappointed (too weak a word) when then-Governor Andrew Cuomo mandated that the spring break be canceled. The rest of that semester was a slog.

One thing I insisted on is that my wife teach in the old guest room. Otherwise, every time I went downstairs, I was in her classroom. In hindsight, it was a great decision, as she held her church session meetings and other private conversations there.

My daughter was engaged in school for about a month, then not so much.

Starting March 22, my church began having services online on Facebook, a feature that continues to this day. Early on, it was okay; better than nothing.

I was feeling very isolated. Starting in April, I started calling, on the telephone, people who I hadn’t spoken with for a while, some of them for years, even though they live in my metropolitan area. It was a worthwhile project. I completed two calls daily until Memorial Day, then one per day until August. By this point, I was also phoning people I used to see weekly at church.

Meanwhile, my father-in-law, Richard, was dying from lymphoma and passed on April 22; his funeral was 13 months later. His death led to weekly family Zoom meetings, which ended abruptly over political differences at the end of June.

I did start having regular ZOOM meetings with my sisters, which have continued.

New job

I had expressed interest in working on the 2020 Census in mid-2019. But it wasn’t until the summer of 2020 that I learned I’d be trained to work, as I wrote about here. It was more difficult than it was 30 years earlier because it started later in the year. COVID did a number on this enumeration.

My wife, despite her trepidations, had to return to school in person and teach both online and classroom, which was way more work for her. My daughter opted to stay home to do school, which was probably a suboptimal decision.

Church was still remote, though some section leaders recorded music in an empty church on a Monday, and it was shown during the service. Specifically, some previous choir recordings were shared, especially on Christmas Eve. Watching myself sing instead of actually performing brought me to tears.

We watched a few events online. Frankly, though, way more offerings were available than I wanted to consume. I watched a few movies and plays, but most didn’t capture me.

2021: the vaccine!

When the vaccine became available, I wanted it yesterday. There were priority lists. My wife got her first shot in February 2021. I kept checking places for availability but found none that didn’t involve traveling hundreds of miles.

Finally, I logged onto the CVS website again on March 1 at 6 a.m., and Pfizer vaccines were available the next day! I got my first shot, then my second three weeks later. Minimal reactions other than a sore arm for a day.

So on April 6, my kindergarten friends Bill, Carol, Karen, and our friend Michael went to an outdoor restaurant. A sign of normalcy!

I went to a few movies in person, and maybe a half dozen people were there.

The library was quasi-open, and the FFAPL offered remote book reviews online or in the Bach branch garden. It was hard to hear outside because of the wind and, sometimes, the neighbors.

The church is back!

Finally, in June, the church began meeting again, masked, distanced, but in person! We had a coffee hour in the parking lot. Then in October, the choir started rehearsing, though we didn’t sing at service until late November. We did sing on Christmas Eve. I was so happy I probably wept.

But after the holidays, the surge put us back to red/orange, and the church went back to remote. I thought I’d be okay, knowing intellectually it wouldn’t last long, and it didn’t. But I did end up in my sad place for a time.

Since then, and possibly before that, I’ve been checking the COVID status of Albany County and nearby Rensselaer County, which have been in lockstep. I’ve also been obsessively reading related medical news, such as this: RSV Vaccine Succeeds in Phase III Trial of Older Adults.

Fortunately, we sang again in person by February 2022, though Black History Month adult education, which I was in charge of, was primarily remote.

COVID, you SOB

In August 2022, my daughter, my wife, and I all got COVID, probably the Omicron variant. It wasn’t awful, but it was inconvenient.

That’s essentially it. I’m seeking to get past it all. I still refer to events as before or after COVID, and I usually have no idea what happened when after March 2020 unless I look it up. Heck, I probably forgot several things.

Still hate ZOOM, and I use the term generically, for meetings, especially events. My ability to focus in front of a screen with 13 or more rectangles is diminished.

My parents in the 1950 Census

13 Maple Street, Binghamton, NY

March 12, 1950: Bride Trudy between Les (left, behind her) and Gert (to the right, dark hat); Deana is to Gert’s right

I found my parents in the 1950 Census. Since you almost certainly can’t read the item posted below, I shall transcribe the highlighted section.

The address is 13 Maple Street, Binghamton, NY. It’s not a farm, and it’s not on three or more acres; far from it. The Census enumerator, indicating 171 1/2 Prospect Street, seemed to suggest that 15 and 13 Maple Street were on Prospect. Given the number of times I was at 13, I know this to be inaccurate.

Yates, Edward. Head of household. He was initially listed as white, but ultimately, like everyone else, he was listed as Negro. Male. 47 years old, although initially listed as 48. Everyone in the house was born in the state of New York. Never married. Ed worked 48 hours the previous week as a truck driver at an express trucking company. In the picture, he is obscured by his sister Gert’s hat.

Yates, Adenia H. Sister. Female. 42. Never married. Worked 35 hours as a stitcher for a textile manufacturing company.

Williams, Gertrude. Sister. Female. 52. Separated. Was not working outside the home, though she had worked in previous years as a maid.

Green, Leslie. Nephew (actually nephew-in-law). 23. Male. Married. Worked 40 hours as a cleaner at a house cleaning and remodeling company.

Green, Gertrude. Niece. 22. Married. Worked 33 hours as a shipping clerk at a textile manufacturing company.

Recorded

I knew my parents lived with her mother, uncle, and aunt after their marriage on March 12, 1950. There was a wedding announcement in the local newspaper that I had come across earlier. Yet, seeing them in the Census had a special significance.

As I mentioned in a previous post, my parents had difficulty finding a place to live in Binghamton. More than one landlord thought they were an interracial couple. Ultimately, they moved into 5 Gaines Street, about six blocks away. Gert, Ed, Deana, their brother Ernie (far left in pic), and perhaps other relatives owned that property. Ernie had married Charlotte (far right) and lived in the area with his wife and four children (Fran and Raymond are in the front).

Given how much my father bristled at living in a house owned by his in-laws, I can only imagine what he felt living WITH them as a newlywed.

I suppose I should identify the others in the photo. The other guy in the back was McKinley Green, my dad’s stepfather. The woman in front of Mac and Les is Agatha (Walker) Green, my dad’s mom. And the other guy, behind Deana and Charlotte, is… a Walker, one of Agatha’s brothers, Stanley E. or Samuel E.

Oh, and the venue was the tiny living room of 13 Maple Street.

Today would have been my parents’ 73rd wedding anniversary. Because they married in a year ending with a zero, it’s always easy for me to remember. They had 50 years together until dad died in 2000; mom died in 2011.

Sunday Stealing: Extraordinary PenPals

adrenaline rush

This Sunday Stealing edition is PenPals, Part 2, stolen from the League of Extraordinary PenPals.

1. Do you make new friends easily?

I don’t think so. Acquaintances who may become friends down the road, perhaps. But almost all of my friends I’ve known for decades.

2..Which podcasts do you like at the moment?

I only listen to three. Coverville: Brian Ibbott plays new renditions of previously recorded songs. Hollywood and Levine by Ken Levine, an Emmy-winning writer/director/producer/major league baseball announcer. AmeriNZ by Arthur Schenck, a gay American-born New Zealander.

3. One thing that immediately makes your day better

Music. I play a LOT of music. Currently, it’s people whose birthdays are in March, such as Aretha Franklin, Elton John, and James Taylor. Also, LOTS of soundtracks in honor of the Oscars.

4. What app do you use most?

The Capital District Transportation Authority’s Navigator tells me when the next bus is coming.

5. The friends who would have your back no matter what

The ones I’ve mentioned in the last three months: Carol, Karen, Mark, Bill, Fred, and a few others.

6. What is something you’ll never do again?

So many things… I’ll say get married. (Note: I like being married.)

7. Something you practice often

The intentionality of kindness. A movie I saw two years ago called The Antidote spoke to this.

Better than drugs

8. What gives you an adrenaline rush?

I repeat myself when under stress. I repeat myself when under stress. I

repeat myself… It’s music. This week, I was commenting on how the bassline of Love Is Like An Itching In My Heart by the Supremes moves me. Or how The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel breaks my heart.

My choir is practicing Worthy Is The Lamb That Was Slain, the last piece from Handel’s Messiah. We began working on it in March 2020, and then we didn’t perform it for some reason.

9. How well do you do in social situations?

I fake it well, I gather. Our dermatologist told my wife this week that I was “full of personality” from when I was there a couple of months ago.

10. Are you a light sleeper or a deep sleeper?

Definitely light.

11. Do you get stage fright?

Yes.

A small tribe

12. Which family members are you closest to?

Well, my family is small. There are two nieces on the Green side, two sisters, one daughter, and one spouse. My parents are deceased, and they had no siblings, so I never had any first cousins.

13. How was your February?

Exhausting. Although I’ve said for years that I wasn’t in charge of my church’s Black History Month, I suppose I was. I called a meeting in October for ideas, several of which sounded promising, but only one panned out. I scurried around finding events for three classes of Adult Education.

14. What is your favorite candle scent?

I have no idea.

15. One book that you would recommend as a “must read”?

I don’t believe in a “must read, ” an album people must listen to, or a movie folks must watch. It’s too prescriptive for my sensibilities. Besides, it depends on the individual I’m recommending to.

Music: my mom and my dad

West Side Story

As part of my birthday month celebration, I’ve selected songs tied to a particular time and place, or occasionally multiple times and places, in my life. I associate these with my mom and my dad.

I wish I could find a recording of Be Kind To Your Parents that sounds like the pink vinyl we had growing up, possibly from Peter Pan Records. My sister Leslie and I would sing it to our parents, and I sang it to my daughter. Here’s Florence Henderson singing it, not as perkily as I remember it.

I’ve noted my father’s vinyl collection growing up, music I listened to in our living room. Of all his singles, Forty-Five Men In A Telephone Booth by The Four Tophatters is the one I most loved. I bought a compilation album mainly for this one track. We listened on a brown squarish record player that played at 78, 45, and 33. To listen to the 45s, one had to put an adapter on the turntable.

My mother, sisters, and I went to see West Side Story in a second run, probably at the Riviera or Strand Theater on Chenango Street in Binghamton. My baby sister was young enough that the ticket seller questioned whether she should be allowed to see the movie. When I heard Quintet, I thought, “I didn’t know you could have two competing melodies like that!”

My father owned an album by Joan Baez, a “best of” from 1963(!). One of the songs the Green Family Singers performed was this version of So Soon In The Morning, which featured Bill Wood. Leslie and I sang it at my 50th birthday party. My friend Laura and I sang it at my former church in the 1990s.

What is he listening to?

My mother came home from the grocery store. I went to the car to help haul in the food. When I returned to the living room, the stereo, playing the eponymous Vanilla Fudge album, was turned off. My mom said, “The record player must be broken. The song kept getting louder!” No, it was just the crescendo at the end of Take Me For A Little While, which retreated sonically in short order.

I was listening to the Tommy album by The Who. The last track, We’re Not Gonna Take It, was on. My father was in the room, reading the newspaper, I think. When he heard the lyrics, “We forsake you, Gonna rape you, Let’s forget you better still,” he peered over the paper with a look that said, “What IS that boy listening to?” But he said nothing.