Ramblin' with Roger

The most awarded songs #5

the Rosetta Stone

The most awarded songs #5 are even more tunes that got awards from the Grammys, the Oscars, Rolling Stone magazine, RIAA, ASCAP, CMA, NPR, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

110. The Great Pretender – The Platters. This song epitomized the 1950s sound for me, more than almost any other tune. Naturally, it’s on the soundtrack of American Graffiti, which I do own.

109. All I Have To Do Is Dream – The Everly Brothers. #1 on the pop, R and B, and country charts in 1958 for five, five, and three weeks, respectively. My second favorite version is the one with Linda Ronstadt and Kermit the Frog. Did I ever link to that?

108. Shout – The Isley Brothers. This became one of those too-oft-covered songs that I still love because the call-and-response reminds me of the best of the black church. Yes, I’m very fond of the Isleys, as I noted here.

107. Roll Over Beethoven – Chuck Berry. Musically, he references Early in the Mornin’, a 1947 hit for Louis Jordan. As this article noted when it was added to the National Registry in 2003: “Roll Over Beethoven remains the definitive Chuck Berry composition, the Rosetta Stone that unlocks our understanding of his influences, his creative process, and his enduring appeal.” So “tell Tchaikovsky the news.”

106. Born To Run – Bruce Springsteen. Possibly, still, my favorite song by The Boss, way back when TIME and Newsweek, on the same week in 1975, dubbed him the next big thing. And eventually, he was.

Leonard Skinner

105. Freebird – Lynyrd Skynyrd. So popular that audience members at various concerts call for it by name, regardless of the artist or their genre. And occasionally, the musicians oblige.

104. I Left My Heart In San Francisco – Tony Bennett. Not only is it Bennett’s signature tune, but it has been embraced by the city. It is one of two official anthems for the city of San Francisco. The SF Giants baseball team plays the song after each home victory.

103. Respect Yourself – The Staple Singers. I cannot adequately describe the joy I get when I hear a certain line. “If you don’t respect yourself Ain’t nobody gonna give a good cahoot, na na na na.” I’m so glad Mavis Staples has been still making music.

102. I Fall To Pieces – Patsy Cline. For reasons having to with her near-fatal accident, this was one of the slowest ascending singles in country music history. But it ended up at #1 on country charts for two weeks in 1961. It also was #6 adult contemporary, and #12 pop. I remember it well.

101. Moon River – Henry Mancini and His Orchestra. While I’m familiar with this version, I associate the song more with Andy Williams. Or Audrey Hepburn singing it in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Formerly known as Armistice Day

changed in 1954

When I read history.com telling of the history of Veterans Day, formerly known as Armistice Day, most of it was quite familiar.

“The Treaty of Versailles was signed on June 28, 1919, marking the official end of World War I. Nonetheless, the armistice date of November 11, 1918, remained in the public imagination as the date that marked the end of the conflict.”

But somehow, this part I forgot, though I was alive at the time. In 1968, “Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act, which sought to ensure three-day weekends for federal employees—and encourage tourism and travel—by celebrating four national holidays (Washington’s Birthday, Memorial Day, Veterans Day and Columbus Day) on Mondays.” I had forgotten that Veterans Day was part of the Monday holiday package.

“The observation of Veterans Day was set as the fourth Monday in October. The first Veterans Day under the new law was Monday, October 25, 1971; confusion ensued as many states disapproved of this change and continued to observe the holiday on its original date.

“In 1975, after it became evident that the actual date of Veterans Day carried historical and patriotic significance to many Americans, President Gerald Ford signed a new law returning the observation of Veterans Day to November 11th beginning in 1978.” This oddly pleased me. Not everything has to be shoehorned into a Monday holiday.

I used to correct people who would confuse Memorial Day and Veterans Day. So pedantic, I suppose. “Memorial Day (the fourth Monday in May) honors American service members who died in service to their country or as a result of injuries incurred during battle, while Veterans Day pays tribute to all American veterans—living or dead—but especially gives thanks to living veterans who served their country honorably during war or peacetime.”

Armistice Day

Still, I miss the term Armistice Day, which is what the holiday was called before World War II and the Korean conflict. “In 1954, after lobbying efforts by veterans’ service organizations, the 83rd U.S. Congress amended the 1938 act that had made Armistice Day a holiday, striking the word ‘Armistice’ in favor of ‘Veterans.'”

But three states recognize Veterans’ Day/Armistice Day: Mississippi, Rhode Island, and Texas. Here’s a song by Paul Simon.

Did you know there is a Veterans Day poster contest? I didn’t either. Here’s the winning design for 2022, which frankly doesn’t excite me very much.

Here are some 2022 Veterans Day discounts and freebies, plus more specific deals at restaurants.

PTSD

I worry about the conditions veterans experience. BVA points to unemployment, their relationship with themselves, homelessness, physical handicaps, and poor mental health as very real issues.

Organizations such as the VFW and Sound Off note a sad situation. “Between 19% and 44% of veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan meet criteria for mental health disorders, such as PTSD or depression. Yet, 47% do not seek mental health support.” Sound Off and other groups “provide a platform where military members who would otherwise avoid mental health support can engage anonymously with peers like you who can understand their experiences.”

I like a good parade occasionally. But Thank you for your service rings hollow until the country does better by the people it has put in harm’s way.

Albany County is in COVID yellow

The power of the Session

After months in COVID red, or orange, as the CDC seemingly now designates it, Albany County was designated in COVID yellow as of November 3. Other counties in the metro area, such as Schenectady and Saratoga, have been yellow or green during most of that time.

It was frustrating. “As of November 3, 2022, there are 78 (2.0%) counties, districts, or territories with a high COVID-19 Community Level, 614 (20.1%) counties with a medium Community Level, and 2,525 (77.5%) counties with a low Community Level.” So MOST of the country is in green. There are a few patches of red in eastern Montana and western North Dakota and a few other clusters. Why have my county’s numbers run so stubbornly high?

As we were rehearsing in the choir masked one week ago, one of the basses got a message on his phone indicating the change. There was an audible cheer as about 75% of the masks immediately came off. Fist-pumping may have taken place. While singing with masks is better than not singing at all, it still rather sucks.

The Session did it

My church’s Session met to update the orange/red COVID guidelines just the day before. As my wife is in the Session, I can attest that the online meeting was LONG. Among the new policies, choir members and soloists may take a COVID test on Sunday morning and, if they are negative, remove their masks for the service. The choir was THRILLED by this.

“In addition, Session voted to allow masked congregational singing in the orange/red level.” This is great because the church sounds dispirited without it.

The fact that the FPC Session hashed out these new guidelines with the huge assistance of an ad hoc practically ASSURED that Albany County would finally move to yellow. It’s the power of Presbyterians operating in good and decent order.

So if/when Albany sinks back to orange/red – which COULD happen again as early as 8 pm tonight – the church will have a new, somewhat less restrictive procedure. I still have a few COVID tests gathering dust.

Asking for help; not my strong suit

Trader Joe’s

The last month of my wife’s medical sojourn had me contemplating my feeling about asking for help. As is often the case, I have rules, though they had not been codified until now.

First off, as someone who has never had a driver’s license, I pride myself on getting from here to there locally without asking for a ride. I’ll take a ride home from the choir or the Bible Guys’ breakfast when the company is good, but I don’t HAVE to do that to get home.

However, for my wife, who does drive but could not for most of October, I was perfectly willing to ask to get her from our house to the doctor and back. Can you move her car to the opposite side of the street?

(I’m not even sure I know how to operate her vehicle. It’s much larger than anything I ever drove when I had my seven driver’s permits. And there is no ignition key.)

But when I had to see my cardiologist in Schenectady, it was a struggle for me to ask someone to transport me for a half hour or more, wait, and take me home. It’s not that I thought no one WOULD take me, but that I was resistant to asking. Ultimately, I did request because mass transit would have involved three buses and two hours each way, which would have made getting to the choir on time difficult.

Still, I bristle at the notion that I CAN’T make it without a car. There is a certain infantilization I sometimes experience with some people, and it irritates me greatly.

Groceries

My wife drives to do the bulk of the grocery shopping at Hannaford on Central Avenue. When we run out of something during the week, I usually walk to the nearby Price Chopper, hauling my trusty cart. Twice when my sister Leslie was in town, she took me to Hannaford because my wife knew the products there, which was fine.

Friends of ours recently took me shopping at the Hannaford on Wolf Road. I negotiated the process fine on my own. By the time I ran into one of my friends, I had gotten everything except the dairy items, which I was heading toward, and a rotisserie chicken, which they found. Pretty good.

Incidentally, my wife gave me an empty box of the feminine hygiene item she required. I was very appreciative because I may never have found it otherwise. I was comforted by the fact that she often feels the same way about the overwhelming array of products.

New experience

But my wife also made a roster of things to pick up at Trader Joe’s. To the best of my recollection, I had never been in that, or any other, store in the chain. I’m going up and down the aisles trying to decipher the very specific items on the list. I went through the entire small store, but there was NOTHING in my cart. So I asked a staffer to help me find four items that I surmised would be together – they were – and then I had four items total.

I started back at the beginning of the store and found one item. My friends asked employees to help them find others, and my list was done. But I was feeling cranky; I didn’t want to ask someone for help finding almost every item. One person said that they would get an item for me; no, I want to know where it is, in the doubtful chance I’m there again.

In conclusion

I don’t mind asking for help if it’s clear to me I can’t do it myself. But usually, I want the chance to try. There will be a time someday, maybe, that I’ll be less able to do for myself. Until then, I would like the chance to do it on my own, if it’s possible.

My wife in the hospital

What’s the diagnosis?

My wife said that her being in the hospital was easier for me than taking care of her when she was home. I don’t think that was necessarily true.

For while I was helping her with many tasks she normally did on her own, as well as doing most of the household chores, coming to the hospital daily had its own challenges.

Friday, October 14: I went to the hospital and gave my wife my charger because hers got lost in her various moves, and it was the only way I knew how to keep in touch with her. I brought her some magazines and stayed about three hours, which was about my norm on Saturday through Monday.

She was getting a four-hour IV drip for antibiotics, plus others for hydration and other meds.

“Bring the lavender top”

Saturday, October 15: She didn’t have to wear the hospital gown, but she did need me to bring her clothes. I had no idea how she organized her apparel, and why would I? But now I know more than I thought I needed to know. Also, I brought her laptop.

When I was home alone, the house seemed unsettled, with every noise the cats made seemingly amplified. Also, I received many calls, emails, and texts checking in on my wife.

Sunday, October 16: We did Facetime for the very first time, as I used it to show her armoire so that she could pick out her apparel. At the hospital, she beat me at Boggle, which is not unusual.

Monday, October 17: She thought she would come home today but nope, not until tomorrow. I watched as the nurse showed me how to treat the wounds on her leg. The infection started on her left ankle, but the area on her lower shin “blistered,” as they called it. It was… well, if you ever saw the climatic scene in the movie Alien…

Another twofer

Tuesday, October 18: I had breakfast with my friend Karen at the Madison Cafe. More correctly, she ate, but I got something to go because I was not allowed to eat in anticipation of another test at St. Peter’s. It was a CT ANGIO CHEST WO AND/OR W CONTRAST; got that?

I went to the hospital and got the test. As the notes indicate, “Images were repeated due to motion artifact,” the motion being my need to cough once. Note that I had not only eaten anything but drank nothing as well. I’m wearing a mask. To avoid wrecking a second test, I strained to send saliva down my throat.

My wife was going to be discharged. I was supposed to get hands-on training in treating her leg wounds, but because my procedure took longer, my opportunity passed. The nurse said, “So you finally got here.” My wife thought the nurse was joking with me; maybe.

My BIL Dan took us home. Getting up the four steps to our porch on crutches was a challenge for my wife. Later on, hopping up and down our stairwell was an exhausting chore. So for the next few days, she’d make only one trip downstairs and then one return trip per day. Per the suggestion of our daughter, crawling up proved to be the optimal method.

Improving

Over the next week, she slowly improved. While her leg was elevated while she was sitting on the sofa or the bed, she made efforts to walk at least a little. Gradually, her swollen foot started shrinking so that she could wear one of my shoes on her left foot; this would probably go viral had I recorded it. A few days later, had her own shoes.

I treated her wound nearly daily, except when she went to the doctor. The task got easier once I commandeered one of her empty dresser drawers to keep the gauze and abdominal pads et al. Her leg got less red and far less… unappealing. The actual diagnosis is cellulitis, but it’s not vascular, and it may take a month before she sees a specialist who might give a clearer assessment.

As for my situation: the status quo is the way to go. More tests in six months.