Hospital hotels

 

After a recent day as an outpatient, I have been inspired to propose a new type of hotel. A hospital hotel. This hotel would provide no health services but would try to duplicate the experience of a hospital stay. So many people coming home from the hospital say they would like to experience their hospital stay again, but without having to get sick. These hotels would try to duplicate this exciting and comforting experience.

The experience would enfold at check in. The "patient" would have to answer a long list of questions, including their favorite sports as a child. The "patient" would then have to show a copy of the deed to his house, in case he might have to quit claim his home to the hospital for unpaid expenses. Then he would be put in a wheelchair while an orderly would bring him on a madcap ride through the metes and bounds of the hospital until he was brought to his temporary lodgings, Now he would attempt to put on a hospital gown. I think I put mine on backwards. 

In his hospital bed he would then be handed a remote control where he could watch television commercials. Eventually he would be given a menu for lunch. 

With his arm attached to a blood pressure machine that takes his bp at random times throughout his stay, and his finger attached to a do hicky that does something unkown the "patient" is immobilized. If he wants to go the bathroom he has to push a button to summon a nurse. 

After a long wait the staff comes back and prepares him for a procedure. Now the bed is rushed through the corridors at lightning speed where he is brought to another room where he is deposited and has to wait several hours until the procedure. Since this is a hotel instead of a hospital, the procedure is a lie down akido exercise.

After the procedure   the "patient" and his bed is raced through the corridors and returned to his room where lunch is waiting for him. Cold soup and a turkey sandwich are consumed. At dismissal the patient would again enter a wheel chair where he would be rushed at lightning speed, hopefully to a waiting car. Hospital hotels would be a swell way to duplicate the pleasures and comforts of a hospital stay. 

 

the Catholic Dilemma

 

Catholics have long suffered the contradictions that lie with being a good Catholic and supporting liberal causes. This has often led to theories that the Kennedy family and Biden  should be banished from the Catholic church. Like many Democratic officeholders who are publicly seen attending mass and then appoint pro-abortion judges, support trans rights and who are themselves divorced, in many cases more than once.

For those of us raised on a study of the Baltimore Catechism, religion can lead to a moral discomfort... I once worked with a woman who meticulously read the obituary section of the paper every day. When asked why she had such a morbid habit, she replied that she was checking to see if her ex had died. It was important to her because the notice of such a passing meant she could receive Communion at church. 

People who go to mass, or try to go to mass when convenient, then vote for candidates who support gay rights, divorce, transexual rights, legal abortions, and the right of a Palestinian state in the homeland of the bible are what is known as "cafeteria Catholics". Others staunchly vote Republican because of a belief that such candidates, unseemly as they may be, support the rule of God as they were taught during Confirmation lessons. 

Another tenet of the church is that of papal infallibility. I was taught in Sunday school that a pope cannot err. But what happens when a pope disagrees with an American president, over what the president perceives as a religious war?  This leads to a new type of Catholic, the cafeteria Catholic upended by the food court Catholic. This individual not only chooses different plates from the steam table but chooses from completely different cuisines. 

A voyage through the Strait of Hormuz

Just reading about Trump supporting a deal  on the Strait of Hormuz. Here is a suggested flyer to be presented to ships at the head of the strait. 

Welcome to the Strait of Hormuz

We hope you enjoy your journey through the historic Strait. Here are our prices, subject to change:

• Oil tankers 1 million dollars
• Ship carrying fertilizer $500,000
• Ship carrying food $400,000
• Ship carrying consumer goods $600,000

Other items? Give us a call.

Hungry? We sell the following: Lamb dorma, Chicken dorma, and Trump dorma for ten dollars per take out order.

Frequent customer?

Every time you travel the strait you will get a point. Ten points entitle you to a free voyage and a leather embossed shell casing of a U2-47. 

Photographers note: You may photograph the strait and its wildlife but we do not encourage the saving of images of our military installations and vessels.

Have a safe voyage! 😂😂 As-Salam-u-Alaikum!

 

Astronauts are again in the news

 Tonight astronauts are taking off from Cape Canaveral and orbiting the moon. I remember watching the moon landing from a bed and breakfast tv in Avon, New Jersey. Here is an old blog about the earlier Gemini era. 

YouTube travel videos

 

I have to admit I watch a few YouTube travel videos. Since people always ask me about free travel videos. here are the links to the ones I regularly follow:

Adventures and Naps:

https://youtu.be/71rE5xIUokI?si=Z88nQJNhgOahwc8d

That blonde woman in the isles of Scotland.

https://youtu.be/mlmFSDO_q1I?si=j-p_XP-DG0eIEgog

A Likeable couple that was also doing Scotland but is now documenting their Queen Mary half way round the world tour ending in Sydney,

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBhQuxcHU3aydk_zTXcbdTg

The redhead and the guy who gets in accidents, Cute.

https://www.youtube.com/@Theendlessadventure

Life in France. Okay

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCryJcPZSEQ

Eva in Africa. Driving in the dessert. 

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=eva+zu+beck

 

Love Story: John and Carolyn

 

Like most of us, I have been watching Love Story on Netflix. I have found the series interesting and am eagerly awaiting the "death" episode. For some reason, though, my own memories of John Kennedy Jr. seem to be at odds with what I have been enjoying on the screen. 

I remember him on Monday, November 25, 1963. when he saluted. I remember when George came out. I never read it, my library never ordered it but I remember seeing it at the newsstand at airports. I remember it was expensive. 

The next time his name crossed my radar was when he died. I had passed Essex County airport next to the Hangar, an airplane centered bar that featured old airplanes in the dining room. I never remember seeing him on television or in magazine articles. Yet in the series, he is portrayed as this mega celebrity that dominated the tabloids. I don't remember that at all.

One interesting aspect of the series is the depictions of Caroline and Ethel Kennedy. They are both shown as tough cookies. Maybe that is the one thing I have gotten out of the series. 

Old report cards

 

I've been going through my personal archives and I came across my old report cards from when I was in elementary school. My father was a bit of a pack rat and he saved them along with my Iowa test scores. In some ways there is a lot of similarity to my old report cards and the performance reviews I obtained during my working life. In all cases I am generally well-reviewed with one notable exception. Consistently, through my grade school appraisals, the line "keeps desk neat" is not checked. As a fifty-year-old, my performance review also indicated I need help in keeping my work area neat. I never changed. 

My appraisal from my second-grade teacher is of particular interest. Because of my age (as a December baby I was the youngest kid in the class) and my attachment to mother and Arthur Godfrey, I didn't have the social skills consistent with a six-year-old.  While the teacher was going off topic and describing her trip to Atlantic City my mind wandered off to imagining the Maguire sisters in rehearsal. When she asked me if I had ever been to Atlantic City I responded with "what?". The teacher requested that my hearing be checked. After a test with an audiometer by the school nurse (instead of saying yes to hearing the tone I said, "I can hardly hear it"). Mother was called and made an appointment with my pediatrician. 

In a highly rigorous test the pediatrician stood at one end of the office and whispered "cat" and I shouted back at the other end, "cat". Then he whispered "table" and I shouted back "table" and so on. The doctor said I didn't appear to be hard of hearing at all. The problem was that I was a daydreamer, 

People don't really change, Lazy kids become lazy adults. Sneaky kids become sneaky adults. Sadly, poor kids become poor adults. 

The Belmar St. Patrick's Day Parade

 

When I moved to Denver Colorado, I was told that to be a Colorado native I had to own property and go to the Stock Show in January. In New Jersey, to be a New Jersey native you have to march in or attend or have relatives who have marched in the Belmar St. Patrickk's Day Parade. If your grandmother marched in the parade while attending a Catholic high school in Red Bank, you are a native of the state of New Jersey, If your uncle marched in the parade with the Elizabeth Fire Department, you are a New Jersey native. 

Otherwise, you may live in New Jersey, work in New Jersey or even pay property taxes in New Jersey but you can never be a true New Jerseyite. You will always be an outsider unless you have some close connection to the Belmar St. Patrick's Day Parade. There is still time. It on March 28 this year. 

the Hole

 

As we get over the big snowstorms, one feature of my neighborhood that has remained resilient is the hole, After the storm it was covered with snow and forgotten. Then as the snow was removed by the plow it re emerged. First it was a silver color as the snow begat water which begat ice. Now that the ice has melted and we are in the early days of March it has become a brownish water filled color. When the water evaporates it will become a blackish brown. It will become quite hot in the summer, a cauldron of hot tar.  In the fall it will be covered with leaves. 

The hole has its uses. In driving home I know I live two doors past the hole. Visitors are told that I live two parking spaces away from the hole. The hole changes with the seasons, like the flowerpot in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I have become attached to the hole. It acts as a calendar, a weather report, and a signpost. 

Editor's note: With apologies to Wink Martindales's Deck of Cards

They patched the hole. My blog is influential after all. 

ESP Records

ESP Rccords was one of the more esoteric record labels that came about in the sixties. They were New York based and featured a lot of modern jazz and beat writers. I was watching the recent PBS program on Sun Ra when it occurred to me that I had an excerpt of him on my "ESP Records Sampler". As a young man I often ventured in the city and perused record stores and bought cheap jazz records. In Times Square. I discovered this sampler for 99 cents. I brought it back to my college dorm and impressed the Beat generation followers across the hall with the record which featured Ismael Reed, Allen Ginsberg, the Fugs, Gregory Corso, and William S. Burroughs. Each selection was about a minute long so listening to the album was a disjuncted  if interesting experience. 

Side One on YouTube     Side Two on You Tube

Tariffs

 

Here is a brief history of tariffs in the United States. An update on yesterday's NPR Marketplace,

There is a rumour that everyone is going to get thousands of dollars as a refund on the Trump tariffs. I am divided on renting a summer place in Rehoboth and getting a new car. 

Cheap toilet paper is better for your plumbing

 

Cheap toilet paper is better for plumbing, at least according to this article. It's nice to find out about something that is cheaper and better at the same time. Does not happen often. Personally I like the nice scratchiness of cheaper bathroom tissue. 

Retirement in bad weather

 

When you have a job, a snowstorm might mean a day off. Unfortunately, the next day means back to work. You get up early, do some last minute shoveling, then scrape ice off of your windshield. Then you drive to work, After a few swear words you are at work and walk in the doors of the office (or in my case, the library). Life at the office begins. Unless you up to a brisk walk at lunchtime you are in the world of work, work tasks, work gossip, and you forget about the weather. 

When you are retired, you are preoccupied with the weather. You check the temperature every hour. You check the weather report every hour. You are engrossed with news stories about the storm. You methodically plan a trip to the supermercado. You run to the window every time you think you hear the snow plow. Alas no snow plow. You watch the local news to see how other cities are doing. You think, "Boy I'm glad I don't live in Reading."

When you are retired, you are constantly preoccupied with the weather. You become your parents.  Just like in that insurance commercial.

Uncle Floyd died

 

In 1974 I graduated from college with no job awaiting. It was the recession and I had been an English major and I moved back home. I got a job selling hot dogs at Two Guys, traveled to California, eventually through family connections got a CETA job. During all this time I got in the habit of  watching Uncle Floyd on UHF channel 68. At that time UHF was known for its less than perfect reception. I could get ghosty images for channel 31, WNYC television and channel 68 which featured Uncle Floyd. Similar to Soupy Sales, Uncle Floyd was a local live tv show ostensibly for children but was picked up by older kids and adults who should have known better. I even have his big hit single, Deep in the Heart of Jersey. 

Over the years he migrated from station to station, from format to format. I remember he did a show where he showcased different main streets in the state. When I was a librarian in Bloomfield, the public cable station, also located in the library, featured him in a benefit show. I got to see him by sneaking into the Little Theatre during coffee break. 

Uncle Floyd had a varied career, but will always be remembered as the one New Jersey celebrity more precious in a way because unlike Frank or Bruce, you can identify yourself as a New Jersey native by your knowledge of this great New Jersey icon. Flags should be at half-staff tomorrow to commemorate Uncle Floyd. 

Predictions for 2026

 

                                      My predictions from a year ago for end of year, 2025:

                                       Dow Jones          45169

                                       S and P                6275

                                       NASDAQ           22530

                                       Unemployed        5.2%

                                       Microsoft             440

                                       Texas Crude Oil    90

                                       CPI                       3%

                                         

                                         Actual numbers for end of 2025:

                                                          

                                        Dow Jones          48063

                                        S and P                6845.5

                                        NASDAQ            23242

                                        Unemployed        4.6%

                                        Microsoft      483.62

                                        Texas Crude Oil   57.46

                                         CPI                      2.7%

                                     Predicted numbers for end of 2026:

                                                          

                                        Dow Jones         50000

                                        S and P               7200

                                        NASDAQ           25000

                                        Unemployed       5%

                                        Microsoft            500

                                        Texas Crude Oil   70

                                        CPI                     4%

This coming year, I predict a downturn in the market due to reappraisal of AI in the spring, followed by a mild revival by the end of the year. Trump will have a bad year, first with the Supreme Court, then with overwhelming victories by the Democratic party in both houses of Congress. As the year concludes, Trump will have resigned, ostensibly for health reasons, and the president will be JD Vance. The Ukraine war will continue. 

The Eagles will be in the playoffs but not the Superbowl. Tariffs will stay with us as the Democrats discover in future years that it provides income for programs they want without the political consequences of having to increase the regular income tax. 

Happy New Year!

I have swag

 

Today was a cold and windy day and I came to the supermarket dressed for the weather. I was waltzing through the aisles looking for lemon in a squeeze bottle. A young lady came up to me and exclaimed, "I love your swag! You are so perfectly put together. If you were in New York photographers would want to take your picture!"

I said, "But this coat is thirty years old".  

I have photographed what I was wearing. A crummy wool cap. A scarf I bought in Goodwill Industries forty years ago. A stained Field and Stream ski jacket from the eighties. I also was wearing a Levi pair of dad jeans, white socks, and sneakers. I had no idea I was wearing the latest in hipster fashion. 

My uncle Lawrence used to wear a tweed suit he probably bought after World War 2 ended. My mother said he wore clothing so out of date that it became fashionable again.  As we get older, we become like our relatives. 

Christmas letters, revisited

 Just got a Christmas letter! Here's an oldie I wrote about the genre. Yes the plant is still alive. 

Divorce

 

Lately I have been wondering if the norm for the middle class international family has changed. When I was a kid, the norm was Mother, Father, and the kids. TV situation comedies reflected this. Now I notice when watching network tv, Netflix and Hulu, that the norm is divorced couples trying to raise kids with the help or hindrance of grandma and grandpa. Mother and Father both have important jobs, or at least Mother does. Father is more likely to be unemployed. The conflict involves trying to maintain highly demanding kids along with highly demanding workplaces.  

Teachers are also much more likely to voice opinions about the kids than when I was a child. Back then, the parents talked to the parents during back-to-school night and perhaps when the children did something really bad.

I guess television is trying to depict family life as it exists today. First comes baby carriage, then comes marriage, then comes divorce. I've always felt left out socially since I've never been divorced.  I've been told its not as much fun as it seems on tv.

Thanksgiving dinner and why my father spitted gas into the kitchen sink.

Since the Thanksgiving holiday weekend is almost over, I have been ruminating over my personal favorite Thanksgiving, It was back in Hackensack in the old house. My father had invited some of his family over for dinner. There was Uncle Joe and my cousin Philip, Uncle Bill, Aunt Kay, the daughters, and Aunt Helen and Uncle Charley.  

My big bother was driving down from Boston but had yet to arrive. At about twelve thirty he called the house. He called to say that he was parked a block away but that he had run out of gas. Between him and the house was a steep hill and could somebody come down with some gasoline so he could get up the hill. 

Our house was open bar and by then the brothers had all had a beer or two or an old fashioned. My father yelled to them that Jim needed us to come down with a filled gas can. My father had an empty gas can in the garage. The mission became to siphon gas out of one of the cars. The art of siphoning seemed to be a skill they all possessed, a skill learned during their youths in the Bronx. 

First they tried Uncle Bill's car. His car didn't have any gas. Uncle Joe had gas and my father siphoned gas but ended up with mouth full of Shell Regular in his mouth. He ran into the house and spitted it into the kitchen sink, in full view of Mother. Mother was not pleased.

With the gas can full, the six men ran down the hill together and located Jim's car.  I wonder if any of the neighbors questioned why six men were galloping down Kaplan Avenue. At the car there was a brief debate on whether to pour the gas down the carburetor or not. The decision obtained was that we would just pour the gas into the usual receptacle.  

Mission accomplished. The older men got to ride back to the house with Jim with the now gassed up car while the boys walked back. For a moment the men were teenagers doing a weekly chore, rescuing one of the family cars. The rest of the day went well but the turkey was a little overcooked. 

 

 Here is one of my favorite posts on Thanksgiving and the family.