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Author Topic: On This Day: Your History  (Read 71039 times)
RCMerchant
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« Reply #135 on: February 08, 2023, 01:43:33 PM »

Hmmm... at this day last year I was doing the same sh!t I do every day, I guess.
« Last Edit: February 08, 2023, 01:45:40 PM by RCMerchant » Logged

"Supernatural?...perhaps. Baloney?...Perhaps not!" Bela Lugosi-the BLACK CAT (1934)
Interviewer-"Does Dracula ever end for you?
Lugosi-"No. Dracula-never ends."

Slobber, Drool, Drip!
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #136 on: February 09, 2023, 09:45:04 AM »

February 9, 2021 Eleven inches of snow fell from dusk to dawn back home, the deepest one-day snowfall since 2008, but I was not there to see it, I was far away teaching a class on reading micro-expressions as means of gauging truth versus lies. As part of the exercise that capped off the day’s lecture, I made a hundred statements---

“Except for her beauty, I don’t think my mother contributes much to life.”

“One of my ancestors hollowed out a log and put gunpowder in it, then sealed it and sneaked it into the wood pile of a mean English landlord.”

“Frank Sinatra once talked to me.”

----and challenged the students to tell me whether each one was true. The base odds were obviously fifty-fifty, so they needed to do better than that if they’d learned anything, and to give them a break I went heavy on some of the tells I’d advised them to look for. Still the collective success rate of the class ending up being under fifty percent, and I felt like a lousy instructor, destined to be fired in the last months before retirement.

The accommodations where I was staying were pretty good, they even had those strange but comfortable purple waffle mattresses I’d seen online, and I laid on mine and called home and found out from my friend Clare that her paternal grandfather had died just short of age one-hundred. (Her father, who was in his mid-sixties but looked a generation younger, liked to attribute his own Dorian Gray-like lack of aging to his father’s genes.) This was a grandfather Clare had never known, as he and his wife began shunning her father early in his adulthood, and they’d never met her or acknowledged her or her late brother.
  
She said: “I find it hard to care that I’ve lost my grandfather, since I never met him, but I have always wished I’d had grandparents in my life.”

Poor girl.
« Last Edit: February 09, 2023, 10:38:25 AM by ER » Logged

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Alex
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« Reply #137 on: February 09, 2023, 10:31:14 AM »

9th February 2013.

Got on a plane with my two brothers and one of my sisters-in-law to travel to Utah. Stewart's luggage containing his medication would end up at the wrong location. Despite it not having snowed for 6 weeks, there was still plenty of snow on the ground, and as soon as we landed we went off to the theatre to see Arsenic & Old Lace. I really enjoyed the show, but I struggled to stay awake after the long flight. I am now friends with one of the actors who was in the show and I think I still have the program somewhere. It started snowing heavily the evening we arrived and continued to do so until the wedding. I guess that means we got a white wedding?
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« Reply #138 on: February 10, 2023, 08:21:35 AM »

10th Feb 2011.

After watching Knight & Day, and cross-referencing it to Battlefield Earth, I decided that whatever the benefits of scientology were, being able to pick good movie roles wasn't one of them.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #139 on: February 10, 2023, 09:59:20 AM »

February 10, 2018 I found out that that my youngest daughter, five year old Trinity, climbed up on the counter at her grandma’s house and ate the entire contents of a big bag of dried figs, after being told by her grandma that she’d had enough figs and that too many would give her a stomach ache. When I heard I thought, oh, well, you’ll live and learn, child. And boy did she learn. In fact she was up til the wee hours….learning. Finally, looking and sounding the worse for wear she gazed pathetically up at me as she stumbled abashedly toward her room and announced, “I don’t like figs anymore.”
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ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #140 on: February 11, 2023, 11:23:38 AM »

February 11, 1995 I passed my driver’s test on this day, or as I told my grandpa, “I aced that test so hard it ran screaming to its mama.” Not very humble, but creative. Went around and showed people my license and my new car, a Ford Taurus---oh-so-‘90s, I know---and went over and got Brian, and we played Pink Floyd’s The Division Bell while I drove us places, a feeling of unprecedented freedom flowing through me. I wanted us to go to this hilltop overlook on the west side of town, where a few minutes’ hike into the woods yielded a view of three states above a scenic bend in the river, a special place, but he rightly said it was too wet and cold of a day to be atop a small mountain. Neither of us had a lot of money to go do stuff, but I didn’t care, I was riding an immense high and life felt good. It was great to be driving, great to have a car, and great to be out with him. It was a day full of all sorts of amazingly cool things and new things that just went on and on, the sort of day you almost have to come down off of like a drug, the kind you know even as it’s happening around you that you’ll never forget and that someday you’ll wonder how you ever went back to normal life.
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indianasmith
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« Reply #141 on: February 11, 2023, 11:26:09 PM »

February 11, 1995 I passed my driver’s test on this day, or as I told my grandpa, “I aced that test so hard it ran screaming to its mama.” Not very humble, but creative. Went around and showed people my license and my new car, a Ford Taurus---oh-so-‘90s, I know---and went over and got Brian, and we played Pink Floyd’s The Division Bell while I drove us places, a feeling of unprecedented freedom flowing through me. I wanted us to go to this hilltop overlook on the west side of town, where a few minutes’ hike into the woods yielded a view of three states above a scenic bend in the river, a special place, but he rightly said it was too wet and cold of a day to be atop a small mountain. Neither of us had a lot of money to go do stuff, but I didn’t care, I was riding an immense high and life felt good. It was great to be driving, great to have a car, and great to be out with him. It was a day full of all sorts of amazingly cool things and new things that just went on and on, the sort of day you almost have to come down off of like a drug, the kind you know even as it’s happening around you that you’ll never forget and that someday you’ll wonder how you ever went back to normal life.

Those rare, precious days are SO amazing when they come!
And they pass so quickly . . .
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #142 on: February 11, 2023, 11:59:01 PM »

9th February 2013.

Arsenic & Old Lace
If I had a boarding house I'd run it like a combination of those old ladies in the play, and the Faceless Men. I wouldn't kill anybody, just wear fake skinned faces and serve legit bitter almond tea. I think people would love that .
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #143 on: February 12, 2023, 12:08:16 AM »

February 11, 1995 I passed my driver’s test on this day, or as I told my grandpa, “I aced that test so hard it ran screaming to its mama.” Not very humble, but creative. Went around and showed people my license and my new car, a Ford Taurus---oh-so-‘90s, I know---and went over and got Brian, and we played Pink Floyd’s The Division Bell while I drove us places, a feeling of unprecedented freedom flowing through me. I wanted us to go to this hilltop overlook on the west side of town, where a few minutes’ hike into the woods yielded a view of three states above a scenic bend in the river, a special place, but he rightly said it was too wet and cold of a day to be atop a small mountain. Neither of us had a lot of money to go do stuff, but I didn’t care, I was riding an immense high and life felt good. It was great to be driving, great to have a car, and great to be out with him. It was a day full of all sorts of amazingly cool things and new things that just went on and on, the sort of day you almost have to come down off of like a drug, the kind you know even as it’s happening around you that you’ll never forget and that someday you’ll wonder how you ever went back to normal life.

Those rare, precious days are SO amazing when they come!
And they pass so quickly . . .
Sigh, I know, right? I totally should've had sex with him that day for a perfect trifecta: the license, the car,  first-time sex, all in the same glorious day? If ever I get my hands on a time machine that girl's getting b***h slapped. And then I'll take her place.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #144 on: February 12, 2023, 11:37:50 AM »

February 12, 2019 Worked at my father’s office that day and before going in I walked alone through the old cemetery up the road where I liked to go. The hoarfrost broke under my steps and the orange glare of the rising sun made the landscape look like a creamsicle covered in sparkling diamonds. Came home that afternoon and my daughter had made Tyler a surprise cake to mark his getting a good evaluation on the job at the Library for the Blind, and though her generosity seemed to embarrass him, he still thanked her a bunch. Then a half hour later he had a sweet-faced boy in his room in our basement, and I wondered if I should ask the boy to stay for dinner and try Daisy’s cake, but in the end I just said bye to him as he left and then told myself they were probably down there together sending money to orphans, or studying the Bible. I went out that night with Landon and saw a funny play about voyeuristic ghosts, and the theater district was festooned with posters advertising the coming of Hamilton the next week. I had insomnia that night, and considering I’d gotten up at 4:30, it made for a long stretch of being awake in the Ellieverse.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #145 on: February 13, 2023, 09:53:38 AM »

February 13, 1992 Drove in to school with my mom and heard on the radio that California was having some of the worst flooding in its history after getting a foot of rain. (Let’s repeat that: a foot of rain.) I was called into the office after homeroom and was given a certificate of recognition signed by Archbishop Pilarczyk, for my part in representing the school’s honors program at a 7th grade academic event in Columbus, then went in late to a class called Advanced Composition, probably my favorite that semester, and as we’d been told to spontaneously write a haiku, I composed this:

Tree frogs’ chorus ends
In wintertime’s cold embrace,
Songs just for summer.

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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #146 on: February 14, 2023, 04:10:55 PM »

February 14, 2006 Our great, now late, tradition of going to Chicago for Valentine’s Day began that year when Landon and I stayed at the Hyatt and ate brunch there and later had a rum and coke at its block-long bar, took a cold carriage ride, shopped and got bought cool stuff, then looked at some multi-million dollar sailboats moored off the lake, and in general had a wonderful time. We’d return to Chicago for Valentine’s Day over the course of a number of years, but somewhere along the line we had children and the annual trip dried up. I don’t miss it, I’d rather be with Daikeagity, but it’s fun to look back on. And who knows, maybe someday we’ll put on Kevlar and go back to Chicago.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #147 on: February 15, 2023, 07:05:33 AM »

February 15, 2016 Asked my husband if I could “try” to shave his face with a straight razor, and he was game, so I watched a video about the undertaking, applied steaming hot towels and a pre-shave oil that smelled intoxicatingly of lime, lathered him up and had at it. I kept whispering, “Don’t move….sit very still….” and considering I had a lethal weapon poised above his jugular, he diligently complied. In the end I didn’t cut him even once, so bully for a tennis player’s steady hand.

While I shaved him we talked about rumors that Antonin Scalia had been murdered, which I thought unlikely, and I said holding his life in my hands was the sort of fun we should do more often. In that vein he asked if I’d given any more thought to his suggestion that he and I should try ayahuasca together, since we knew a source, and I said, “Now there’s an idea.”

How much deep thought I was actually giving the matter and how much I was going along with it (or for that matter how much he was) was debatable, because I didn’t think it would be good for me. I asked if he was really wanting to do that, and he said if I did it he‘d be in, so in laying it on me I think he was taking an out, but it was a fun mutual dare we had going for about five minutes while I shaved his chin as smooth as a baby’s stomach. (People say smooth as a “baby’s bottom” but what kind of person goes around rubbing babies’ bottoms?)

Later in the night it was so foggy from melting snow they had to issue a multi-county alert, so he and I went walking in our woods amid a supernatural-looking landscape with naked tree branches reaching up into cloaking mist. Who needed ayahuasca when you had a trippy night like that?
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #148 on: February 16, 2023, 10:21:53 AM »

February 16, 2008 We were in New York City, back in the US for the first time in weeks after a trip to France, Britain, and Ireland, and though I didn’t know it yet, I’d come home pregnant. We went atop the Empire State Building, though it was a sunny, cold sort of day that stung the eyes. For lunch we got potato pancakes with spicy brown mustard at a kosher deli where the cashier and cook yelled at each other, and for dinner we kept a six-week-old reservation at Tao’s, where the food was excellent, and one of the customers at a nearby table looked exactly like some chisel-featured mobster from a Scorsese movie. (Turned out he was a stock broker, not a leg-breaker.) We got out in time to just make it into the Ambassador Theater to see Chicago with the blond-haired guy from The Dukes of Hazzard, John Schneider, playing Billy Flynn. Back in our hotel room (such a non-posh place the bathrooms were communal and down the hall) I laid in bed and tried to entice Landon into one of my late night philosophical rambles, asking him whether something was beautiful because it pleased the senses, or did it please the senses because it was beautiful? He said, “I don’t know but I think you’re going to tell me.” Then he fell asleep before I trudged too far into the question, so I sat by the window, watching the city do its thing through the bright, vivid night, struck by the fact New Yorkers probably never got to see the stars. I was ready to go home.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #149 on: February 17, 2023, 07:32:56 AM »

February 17, 2000 I’d begun the morning talking to a senior supervisor who’d been born in Pakistan, and listening to her sum up my contributions in an Oxbridge accent: “You are only good for what you are good at.” I knew the people I worked for were always ready to tell you what you did wrong, not what you’d done right. Besides, I had more personal things to darken my mind.

After that ego-spanking phone call I submitted a paper in class arguing against Malthusian theory being applicable in the breakup of the Soviet Union, then helped my artist friend stretch canvases in her basement. After my grandfather’s terminal small-cell lung cancer diagnosis that month, I was staying in my apartment more than had been my routine, and helping my friend was the first social thing I’d done in days. I was half a continent away from my grandpa and wanted to be nearby, but my father and aunt said he wasn’t seeing anyone.

“It’s his vanity,” Aunt Christie explained, and in a way I got that, since my grandfather had long traded on his good looks, and his had been the era depicted in Mad Men, when people drank and smoked and males didn’t show much emotion, but I still wished I could be with him. (He did let me come see him once that spring, and I was the last family member to visit him, something later held against me in court when my cousins’ father was suing me, the suggestion being I poisoned Grandpa’s mind against my cousins, to whom he left virtually nothing.)
 
I was alone that evening in the apartment I shared with my roommate, Jackie, and from September to April it was so cold there my fingers would sometimes go numb, but as I sat by a window and watched the tail lights on cars going down the hill (I called it the “firewyrm”) I talked to a boy named Greg, who asked if I wanted him to come over and talk about my grandpa, and the thing was, he had always been such a genuinely kind sort that I knew he meant it, he wasn’t trying to score with a vulnerable girl, but I still said no thanks, this was something I was going to have to find a way through on my own.

And did I? Here’s the obscene truth. By the time my grandpa died in August, it was almost an anticlimax, because in shunning me it felt like he’d already left, and the months of dreading the day had steeled me against it. A long illness can have that terrible effect, whether you want it to or not.
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