A Lost Year

Posted on April 3, 2021 by Robert Eck

Recently, we passed the one year anniversary of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown — one year, 12 months, 365 days experiencing a sheltered, cautious, and isolated time. Commuting to work stopped, except for those in necessary jobs. Many people were furloughed or laid off, while the lucky ones could remain on a payroll by working from home and attending virtual meetings on Zoom. Restaurants, bars and gyms closed. Loved ones who died were interred without wake or ceremony, omitting an important part of saying goodbye. Those of us with grandchildren missed a year in their young lives, foregoing hugs and kisses, as well as recreational activities and games. Though life continued, its normal flow stopped, leaving a large unwelcome void.

Children suffered the most, not from the virus, but by missing in-person school, thus requiring virtual lessons and parental tutoring along the way. Many public schools never opened, while other reduced to a week-on, week-off, or day-on, day-off practice, cutting class time in half. The long lasting effects of such disruption in their young lives will be studied and measured for years thereafter.

As the country begins to reopen, some states and towns are reducing restrictions faster than others. No one knows for sure what the best course should be, balancing a virus breakout against a measured reopening. Most people in the high risk area — people over age 65 have been vaccinated to obtain some immunity, but the authorities do not know for how long or for what strains the vaccine protects.

Despite the gloom, the year seemed to pass quickly, with a week going from Monday to Friday in a blink of an eye, with a year blinking through history, without the usual joy or engagement along the way. One year out of our remaining years looms much larger for those over 70, than for someone in their 20’s or 30’s, as the latter can look forward to many more years of life.

Reading newspapers more fully became the norm, as well as solving the crossword, cypher, sudoku and other challenges to fill the morning. Rereading old favorite novels rekindled the spirit of an earlier time. Getting rid of clutter became a useful exercise — providing time to do a necessary task which most folks avoid in busier times.

Since trips to the gym stopped, stretching and yoga exercises became fashionable, together with a daily walk, short and slow at first, gradually increasing in distance and pace, until a former uninteresting activity became necessary to keep reasonably fit and stress free. Some studies have shown that a brisk daily walk can add five to seven years on a life span. (See my Post: “A Walk a Day,” October 19, 2020.)

Over the pandemic year, I have changed most of my habits for the better, and kept busy for most of the time. Some might call that result a blessing. Maybe so, but I still long for my former life style, engaging with friends, dining in restaurants, and living life as I wish, and not as I must.

I trust that the worst is behind us, and every day will comprise a step forward in our ultimate return to normal living.

Rest Room Reading

Posted on March 14, 2021 by Robert Eck

I have been a frequent user of rest rooms in restaurants, bars and arenas; and as I grow older, a more frequent user. Occasionally, I note a prominent sign over the urinal, which carries an important public service message — sometimes tinged with a little humor:

—“ We aim to please. You aim too, please!”

— “ Hey Diddle Diddle, aim for the middle.”

— “ Please stand closer, its shorter than you think!

All the above quotes send the same message that when you pee, keep it straight, and do not diddle with your piddle. But does it work? I do not know, but I try my best. Some proprietors put a deodorant disc in the bowl — a suitable target to hit, with the added benefit of dispensing an aromatic aroma within the room. Other proprietors, put a decal of a fly at the center of the bowl, Target practice become fun, but the fly never moves a flutter.

When the rest room fails to include a urinal, but presents the unisex toilet bowl, adorned with the familiar oval seat, the message changes:

— “If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat.”

— “Sprinkles are for cupcakes, not toilet seats.”

— “Color outside the lines. Think outside the box, but please pee inside the bowl.”

Sometimes a different themed message appears:

— “The best seat in the house”

— “Please remain seated for the entire performance.”

— “Hope everything comes out okay.”

During the 1946 presidential campaign between Lyndon Johnson and Barry Goldwater, a political sign became prominent over the urinal:

— “Please deposit your Goldwater here!”

One could easily tell the political affiliation of the proprietor, as well as the political persuasion of their patrons, who whizzed on the floor in protest. Some people take their politics too far.

In conclusion, I quote my all time favorite urinal sign, which brings a chortle every time I recall it:

—“Please do not throw your cigar butts in the urinal. It makes them soggy and hard to light.”

Shrove Tuesday

Posted on February 22, 2021 by Robert Eck

The Lenten Season has arrived. Forty-six days of fasting and penance for those who participate. it begins on Ash Wednesday, with the administration of ashes on a believer’s forehead, with a sobering message: “Remember man that thou are dust, and unto dust you shall return,” and ends on Easter Sunday.

The day before Ash Wednesday bears different names with different purposes. The most familiar is Mardi Gras — French for “fat Tuesday,” when people eat, drink and party to prepare for the 46 days ahead. Less familiar is Shrove Tuesday, which is the last day of Shrovetide comprising the three preceding days before Ash Wednesday, notably for people to confess their sins and to prepare for Lent. A third is Pancake Day, a practice in some European countries, when most households rid themselves of forbidden foods, like milk, eggs, sugar and flour to prepare for Lent.

The contrast is startling. Mardi Gras celebrates to the nth degree, including a carnival with costumes and beads, whereas Shrovetide adds three more days of penance in preparation. Pancake Day is practical — to dispose of perishable products that are taboo during Lent.

An interesting question: If you were faced with the three pre-lenten practices, which would one choose? Party? Penance? or Pancakes? The carnival party, parade and rich eating and drinking would be hard to pass up. I suppose a potential confessee could wait a day or two, perhaps to add more sins to confess later.

The word “shrove” is the past tense verb of “shrive,” meaning to present oneself to a priest for confession, penance and absolution. dictionary.com Shrive is an irregular verb conjugated as: shrive, shrove, shriven. An interesting verb to add to one’s arsenal — particularly a day or two before Lent. It may have fallen from common usage, but it is still recognized.

The tradition of Carnival, and all that accompanies it, is believed to have derived from an ancient pagan festival for fertility and spring. The Romans participated, but when Rome converted to Christianity, they eschewed giving up the party, and so combined it with lenten preparation. (Wikipedia, Carnival)

Glad To Be Back

Posted on February 7, 2021 by Robert Eck

I am back to writing posts, after taking a brief sabbatical to organize my 100 posts into a book for family and friends — an interesting journey. I spent the last few weeks, organizing, revising and formatting them. It took longer than I had expected. It always does!

Initially, I had to decide whether to run the posts chronologically or categorically; the latter requiring identifying viable and somewhat balanced categories. Obviously, arranging them by date would be the easiest approach, as it would permit division into sections by year. Nevertheless, I chose to categorize them, which increased my time and difficulty, as many of the pieces did not fit easily into any recognizable category.

I identified three obvious categories: Writing, Words and Quotes — my original focus, but over time my posts wandered all over the landscape, as I wrote most of them on what occurred to me at the moment. I hoped to divide them into balanced sections, finally determining nine categories. In addition to the three above, I added Senses, Everyday Living, Traits, By the Numbers, Special Days and Patchwork — the category for the leftovers.

I molded the posts to fit together reasonably, though I frequently switched pieces from section to section, and in different order within the section, as some would fit more than one category. It equated to solving a jigsaw puzzle, with pieces all over and some segments coming together. After much juggling, and fretful indecision, the book came together.

The categories and order established, I moved to formatting — a frustrating experience, if you have never done it. I carefully set the margins, typestyle, text size, etc., and then wrote category introductions, revised several lead-ins, cross-referenced cited pieces and proofread the manuscript at least five times. After all that work, I realized that I had formatted the manuscript in a 8 1/2” X 11” size, when the book size would be 5 1/2 X 8 1/2.” Changing the size is quite easy to do, but the end result never works out correctly, as the number of lines increase, with fewer words per line, so spacing becomes a problem, and the number of pages increase — sometimes with just one or two lines on the last page, referred to as “widows and orphans.” As a result, I needed to do still more proof reading edits.

Finally, my printer suggests that I block the manuscript, with both left and right margins justified, and automatically hyphenated. This process makes the page look uniform, but often introduces large spacing between the words. For example, in one instance, I had a two-word line that depicted the words on opposite margin ends, with a 95% space gap in between. A further line spacing audit did the trick.

Completing a book provides much satisfaction, but it takes a lot of work.

Christmas Reflections

Posted on December 18, 2020 by Robert Eck

Modern day culture surrounding Christmas has undertaken many changes since the days of my youth, when almost everyone, except Ebenezer Scrooge, wished anyone they saw, a “Merry Christmas.” Today, Happy Holidays” has become the politically correct norm, as it avoids any mention of Christ, which may offend people of a different religion — or no religion.

Moreover, the Christmas season seems to begin commercially earlier every year, about a boo away from Halloween, and ends the day after Christmas. Most folks remove all tree decorations and the tree thrown on the trash heap. Decades ago, the twelve days of Christmas, memorialized in the “Partridge in a Pear Tree” song, ran between December 25 and January 6, the feast of the Three Kings — a festive time celebrated world-wide. The Orthodox and Latin America cultures still exchange gifts on the latter date.

In my youth, the arrival of Christmas Eve always brought exited anticipation. Our living room was closed off by lock and key two weeks before “to keep it clean and uncluttered for Christmas.” Peeking through the keyhole provided no intelligence. After dinner on Christmas Eve, while we were at the kitchen window searching the skies for Santa’s sleigh, the locked door magically opened to emit multi-colored light from our Christmas tree into the kitchen. Beneath the tree sat wrapped gifts, designating which gifts were for whom. No matter how old I become, the magic of the day remains. and repeats in my memory.

Each year during the twelve days of Christmas, I sit alone by the lighted, ornamented tree, and reflect on my Christmases past, including the people in my life and memorable gifts received, basking in mostly happy memories. I recall my dear grandparents, who added wisdom and balance to our lives. Two of them passed away a day or two before Christmas, so those Christmases brought sadness, but earlier Christmas memories brought them back to life in my memory. Family and friends reunite in Christmas reverie.

My first razor qualifies as one of my most memorable Christmas gifts. Advertised as a safety razor, it was anything but safe. A thirteen year old had to insert a thin double edge blade in place and twist the handle to close the top panels. Before that day, I had to sneak my father’s razor to shave off the peach fuzz growing on my face. No doubt, the many nicks and scratches mysteriously appearing on my face led to the coming of age gift.

One Hundred

Posted on November 7, 2020 by Robert Eck

To reach the number one hundred at anything is a feat, whether it be your age, a test grade or the number of repetitions in an exercise — a milestone to remember. I reached one hundred today — one hundred posts on my blog.

In early 2016, I decided to write a blog, with little knowledge on where to begin or how to accomplish it. The Internet availed significant guide lines and opportunities. I subscribed to Bluehost to obtain a URL, and then followed the steps to select a Theme — a predesigned page including text heading, color format and other features, which ultimately led to establishing my blog. The whole process, over a three week period, entailed much trial and error before my blog: “A Writer’s Reflection” became a reality.

My vision entailed writing short essays within a 300 to 500 word range. My topics would cover anything that piqued my interest at the time, perhaps emanating from a book or newspaper, weather, conversation, quotes or just plain nonsense. With no topic before me in December, 2017, I even wrote about “Nothing.” My goal: to write 20 posts annually — a modest pace of one post for every eighteen days, or five posts every three months. I hoped to keep at least 5 posts ahead of publication, providing me with a backlog of three months of material to adjust for lean times.

If followed, I would accumulate 100 posts in five years, sufficient material for a book; albeit, a short book for my family and friends. Each post would comprise 1 1/2 to 2 pages, stretching to 200 pages without front matter or section introductions. It turned out to be an adventure, marching through the months, with no map or compass, relying on irresistible urges and new ideas from post to post. No pattern developed, just thoughts to ponder within a short framework.

At the outset, I doubted that I could meet the projected pace, but started with a list of potential topics and initiated a “blog bin,” folder, where I stored drafts on various subjects in varying degrees of readiness. When I published a post, I moved the final draft to a blog folder by year. At the height of my form, I kept five posts ahead, so I had no difficulty in maintaining a schedule. When I approached the eighty post mark, however, my blog bin had shrunk to just one or two ahead; and more recently, to an empty folder, leaving me with the uncomfortable pressure to devise a subject and complete a post within the imperfect deadline of 16-18 days.

I had no goal to achieve a readership, but was content to satisfy my urge to write about something — anything — to keep my mind and writing skills current.

Robert J. Eck

A Writer's Reflections

Author: Robert Eck