Celebration of my Birthday and Christmas in New Preston CT by my cousin Sally

 

BRING IN THE BIRTHDAY CAKE

THE CANDLES WILL DAZZLE YOUR EYES

EVERYONE IS HERE

MOMMY AND DADDY

BROTHER DAVID

AND THE FIVE GREENWOLD GIRLS

SARAH AND DAN HAVE COME

EACH WITH THEIR MATES

AND WE SING THE BIRTHDAY SONG

WHICH LIFTS THE ROOF OFF THE HOUSE.

My Letter to the Editor published in the Times Chronicle, Dec 30, 2020

 Just published in the Times Chronicle.

Letter to editor: Read your way through this pandemic

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I just turned 75 on Christmas Day. My daughter and her husband drove down 

from Brooklyn 

in a friend’s car to visit me in my Willow Grove house. 

Not once did we remove our masks. 

Our conversations ranged from our favorite crime fiction -- Jack Higgins -- 

to our favorite libraries.

Wearing a mask, I’ve been to the Upper Moreland Public Library 

several times during the 

pandemic.

Back in my hometown of Cleveland Heights, Ohio, 

my mother walked me -- 

the oldest of 6 children -- to the library. 

What a treat that was!

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One time during the Lindbergh kidnapping, Mom walked her 

blond little brother -- 

Uncle Donny! -- and a crowd gathered around. They were finally convinced he was not the 

kidnapped child.

Since I am now of the age when I might get the two-part vaccine to wipe out the virus

 in my 

body, I am feeling jubilant.

Still, my home is filled with library books.

There is something sacred in reading volumes other folks 

have held in their hands. 

We share similar tastes. And need not feel so alone.

...“Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man” by the 

Nigerian immigrant Emmanuel Acho, 

who also played in the National Football League for a while.

...“Abe: Abraham Lincoln in his Time” by David S. Reynolds, which is 1,088 pages. 

No renewals.

...“The Lions of Fifth Avenue” a novel by Fiona Davis about perhaps 

the most famous library

 in the world.

I just returned “If it Bleeds” by the always creative Stephen King. 

When asked what books 

influenced him as a child, 

he named “Hot Rod” by Henry Gregor Felsen.

So join the millions of us who frequent local libraries. 

Say hello to the dedicated librarians: 

Hello Dorothy and Cathy and Emily.

And read your way through this lousy pandemic.

Ruth Deming

A FEW REASONS TO BE SAD AND ALSO HAPPY

 TERRIBLE, SIMPLY TERRIBLE !

My work is stuck on SEND LATER.

Successfully emailed my short story DREAMER to JonahMag. They'd published a few things of mine - pronounced my-en - in these parts, so I sent in the short story, obeying all their rules.

The Upper Moreland Public Library opens at 1 pm. I am BIDENing my time.

As you remember, Sarah had sprained her ankle, but is doing just fine, thank heavens!!!

Spoke to Judy K this morning. She said I lit a fire under her butt and we are racing to see who can publish their memoirs first.

"You're a very good writer, Judy," I told her.

Earlier today, read Sarah's THE LITTLE KIDNEY THAT COULD. It's excellent but I won't use it. 

You know what? I don't have to finish my coffee!!!

BUT I must eat.

Good bye for now, mes amis!

Who's dat gorgeous blonde below?

Scott helped me figure out how to get rid of SEND LATER.

Turn the laptop on and then off.

He just left for SEPTA.

I just wrote a poem on here but the whole thing got lost.

We watched the film MOSSVILLE and cried at the graves of the dead and dying since pollutants are killing the residents. 

Howl howl howl !!!!!

Flowers from Longwood Gardens. I believe Tyler drove Mom there about a week before she died.

Eileen's Coat Finally Published by Literary Yard - after a great breakfast, go upstairs and read a little before thinking up a short story yo'self, girlfriend!

 Read it here, s'ils vout plait.

That would be my next door neighbor Eileen Adams whose mind began unraveling like a knit sweater.

Guess what I had for breakfast?

Summer sausage, Cabot cheese, sauteed onions from Ben n Irv's.

Very good, mes amis.

When I awoke, turned on the TV so I could look at the weather report. Instead I listened to channel 57 where an evangelist was on, a guy with dark hair and a dark goatee who was making very good sense.

SHUT UP I finally thought and came down for breakfast.

Man, am I thirsty. How bout a nice cold glass of lager.

Oh, I forgot, I don't-a drink-a.

Just filled my pill box sitting on the floor. Then I TOOK the pills. They tasted so bad I needed to eat something that tasted good.

Oh no! You didn't.

Shhhh, don't tell anyone!

Reviewed a short story for our writers' group. Told the author

LEARN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE WORDS LEAD - as in lead the pony down the street and LED, as in Yesterday I led the pony down the street.

SHE WILL NEVER LEARN. 

I am now going upstairs to read.

I did submit a letter to the editor of the Times Chronicle. Couldn't find where to submit but Scott told me to look on their masthead. 

I started reading THE LIONS ON FIFTH AVENUE but now I'll read John Sandford's MASKED PREY.

Happy Birthday Ruthie ! 75 years old. Great pic included of Ruth and her little darlings Sarah Lynn and Daniel Paul

Thanks for driving in for my Erev Birthday, Sarah and Ethan!

Did I ever tell you where those TV trays came from?

A Jehovah's Witness once lived down the road from me. She was in denial that she had manic depression so by becoming a Witness she was forbidden to take medication. When she and her husband Ken had a garage sale as they were going to a nursing home, I bought all of her TV trays.

Cut up knedlach or matzoh balls. DEELICIOUS !!!

Scott doesn't eat them. Too much liquid. Sc-ooo-ttt !

Reuben sandwich - a plunket of chopped liver - thrillingly delicious !

 My reading room which used to be Sarah's bedroom.

Am listening to Alicia Delarocha, per Ethan's suggestion - and will nap in there momentarily.

WOKE UP with a dry throat which I soon realized was a sore throat. It went away however after I drank coffee and sucked on an entire orange.

My blood sugar was actually low when I awoke - 73. My hands shook like a Parkinson's patient.

Will read my John Sandford book as I fall asleep. Or else the new Atlantic mag. Or else the Fiona Davis book at the greatest library in the world - The one with the lions on Fifth Avenue in NYC.

Received loads of birthday wishes in the mail yesterday. Robin from the Giant, Teresita with a photo of her husband Muhammed - Moe for short - and son Nick who works at McDonalds.

Goodbye for now.

MWAH MWAH MWAH!

And Scott, Darling, thanks for downloading these photos.

Who are these characters? Why they're Ruth with her little darlings, who are now Big Darlings, Sarah Lynn and Daniel Paul !!!!

Errands done before it snows again - and Books, Lovely Books, from the library

 

Aww, Pee Wee Herman you are so cute!

Real name? 

dadadadadad

Give up? Paul Reubens. 

My errands are finished for the day.

But I'm gonna don my gay apparel and walk heartily around the block.

Done.

Just called Rem at the post office and asked how much I should tip Mailman Dante.

$20. Had to write him a check as I don't get out much anymore and don't carry bills around with me.

Hmm. What was Hamilton's claim to fame?

Shall we?

His first name is Alexander. 

Alexander Hamilton (January 11, 1755 or 1757 – July 12, 1804) was an American statesman, politician, 

legal scholar, military commander, lawyer, banker, and economist. He was one of the Founding Fathers of 

the United States. He was an influential interpreter and promoter of the U.S. Constitution, as well as the 

founder of the nation's financial system, the Federalist Party, the United States Coast Guard, and the New 

York Post newspaper. As the first secretary of the treasury, Hamilton was the main author of the economic 

policies of George Washington's administration. He took the lead in the federal government's funding of the 

states' debts, as well as establishing the nation's first two de facto central banks, the Bank of North 

America and the First Bank of the United States, a system of tariffs, and friendly trade relations with Britain.

 His vision included a strong central government led by a vigorous executive branch, a strong commercial 

economy, government-controlled banks, support for manufacturing, and a strong military.

THANK YOU WIKI and I did donate FIVE DOLLARS TO YOU THIS YEAR. 

    As usual, I am quite hungry. Did I tell you I composted today. Not easy but I made it home w/o falling on 

my buttinsky.

    Glad you're interested in hearing about my errands today.

    CVS for my Tacrolimus and Synthroid, then I actually figured out how to get to the library from there. 

Returned many books in the book drop

bump bump bump

    Then went inside, mask on, and checked out two books. Dorothy was my masked helper. And I did everything by myself, the bar codes. 

    The Lincoln book has 1088 pages.

God's Shadow has only 499 pages. Plus I'm reading a few other books, located all over my bed.

I do have my late mother's 1974 dictionary on my bed. Last words I looked up were cachet and something I don't remember.

BTW, when I finally get out of bed in the morning, I yell:

GOOD MORNING MOM AND DAD !!!

On my walk this morning I met young Patrick who was walking Sydney. She loves the snow, he said, and eats it.

When we were kids, I said, we'd eat it with maple syrup on top.

You know I am really excited to start reading those books.

First, though, what shall I eat?

BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS 

My blue bag contains treasures

richer than gold and silver

I carry it with the pride of 

one of Chekhov's maidens

In only minutes you will find me

in my Reading Room, covered over

with green quilt as I feast on

w o r d s. 

 

The day was very cold and I nearly tripped and fell getting to the compost heap

 

Entrance to a NY museum above. 

Viola Davis plays Ma Rainey, a jealous but talented woman, who is competing with Bessie Smith.

A very complicated film based on a play by the late August Wilson. And the late Chadwick Boseman plays a many layered young man. While prepping for the film, he had a trumpeter from the Tonight Show help him learn the fingering for the trumpet.

He delved into playing the part. And one of the Marsalis Brothers did the music for the film. 

Boseman died of colon cancer on August 28, 2020.

Mark Shields gets a great send off from his colleagues at the PBS Evening News Hour. He is retiring at age 83. 

For dinner I made perfect hard boiled eggs, then made egg salad with steamed asparagus. Instead of having seconds, I put the remainder in the fridge.

Gosh, golly, it was delicious.

Maybe I'll take a teeny tiny taste before going upstairs to read.

My grandchildren GRACE and MAX go sledding - Wahoo !!!

 

I was a little concerned taking Max because I worried he wouldn't be into it, or would be too cold and want to come back home. But he did really well.

Grace was going up and down the hill all by herself and was pretty much just self-sufficient. So I spent most of the time with Max. He'd go down by himself also but needed a little encouragement. All around, everyone had a great time.

When we left, it was starting to get a little crowded. I was wearing a mask for some of the time, but the kids weren't. I'd tried to get them too but they complained about it so I just let it go. We were pretty well distanced from everyone so I think it was fine. Some of the older kids there were pretty bunched up but I'm sure that's the case with teenagers everywhere -- and part of the reason we're in this mess :-/

My shoulder's bugging me a bit from all the shoveling but I think Ill be all back to normal in another day or two. At least there's no more snow on the way as far as I know.

I told Dan that my shoulders had been hurting for months but I fixed the situation by lifting my shoulders up and down, up and down, up and down.

At first it was excruciating but now they're fine.

Snyder's dipping pretzels anyone?  

I eat the straight as a razor pretzels. 

Okay, time to go upstairs and read in My Reading Room. 

At last - here's me blog !

All God's chillun needs clothes

When Sarah and Ethan came out a couple weeks ago. Now they're home in their new pad in Brooklyn.

Willow Tree Service... z best !

Thanks Alex, nice job. From Ecuador. Did I have a story for him !

Advent Teas from Ada and Rich. 

Last night of Chanukah

Brrr cold so I wore this darling top with them shoulder pads. 

Scott turned 62 years old on December 13. 

You have the rest of your life before you, I said.

Read for several hours in my Reading Room today. 

Miles H Greene passed his bar exam.

Yippee!

Time for the PBS Evening News. Will watch online. Join me. I hate being alone but I am not Greta Garbo as you may have noticed.
 

Poem: White High Heels or Heroes of the Hour

 

Marie Antoinette faced the guillotine after her husband Louis Quatorze did. She was an excellent mother. One of her sons died of tuberculosis and his heart was smuggled out of France and he was buried at the family crypt.

Let's see if the snow keeps falling. Hold on while I check outside the door.

I'm guessing FOUR INCHES have fallen and there's no end in sight.

I would however, like to write a poem about the Township Plows.

HEROES OF THE HOUR

They come as rescuers down our street

Pushing away the thick heavy snow

Like heavy cream in a pie

Only this morning we could hardly believe

the skies would open up and trounce us

we hear the click click click

like white high heels.

Noshing on peanuts while watching a FRONTLINE documentary on Isis

 At 1:15 pm it started snowing, here on Cowbell Road.

I pushed out our Yellow Plastic Bin which was not easy.

The electricity was out, per PECO's phone call, for about 45 minutes.

Scott came over and we chatted. 

I showed him the books I am reading. He said if a burglar came over they would never find me as I'd be under five layers of covers.

Am noshing on peanuts as I'm watching a show called RETURN TO ISIS.

These are terrible individuals who have no moral compass.

Am worried about some branches on my lone tree on my lawn.

Am hoping the heavy snow, which is coming down lightly now, will make them fall and then I won't need to hire Willow Tree Service.

 HIDDEN VALLEY ROAD

Inside the Mind of an American Family
By Robert Kolker

Amid the rugged beauty of Colorado Springs, Don Galvin, a gregarious and confident Air Force Academy official, and his wife, Mimi, a sparkplug from an upper-crust Texas family, were raising their family of 12 — count ’em, 12 — children.

[The editors of The Times Book Review chose the 10 best books of 2020.]

Don was named Father of the Year in 1965 by a local civic group, and Mimi, sewing the children’s clothing herself, was an engine of unflappable can-do industriousness. The Galvins seemed to embody American optimism, an emblem of the bountiful American century.

But Donald, the oldest son, knew something was wrong. “He’d known for a while,” Robert Kolker writes, ominously, toward the beginning of his fascinating and upsetting new book, “Hidden Valley Road.”

There was the time when Donald, without explanation, stood at the sink and smashed 10 dishes to pieces. Another when he jumped straight into a bonfire. Another when he apparently killed a cat, “slowly and painfully.”

Donald, who had the all-American good looks of his father, was descending into madness. And then, one by one, in a gruesome and chaotic parade, five of his nine brothers joined him.

“Hidden Valley Road” tells the terrifying story of a family swallowed whole by schizophrenia, a disease that no one understood, not doctors or researchers, and certainly not the Galvins.

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Kolker carefully reconstructs the story of the household falling into bedlam as the strong, athletic brothers warred with their demons and one another in flights of violent rage, each one slipping further away. There was the Thanksgiving where the perfectly set table, Mimi’s last fingernail grip on normalcy, was completely toppled over in one of the brothers’ outbursts. The parents, ashamed and overwhelmed, tried to cope, while the other siblings searched for escape, secretly wondering if they would be the next to fall.

Six sons with schizophrenia — the curse of the Galvin family is the stuff of Greek tragedy. Kolker tells their story with great compassion, burrowing inside the particular delusions and hospitalizations of each brother while chronicling the family’s increasingly desperate search for help.

But “Hidden Valley Road” is more than a narrative of despair, and some of the most compelling chapters come from its other half, as a medical mystery. What clues, if any, might the Galvins’ misery hold for doctors and scientists trying to understand the roots of this unfathomable disease?

The medical community’s long misunderstanding of schizophrenia is largely a story of relentless failure, every theory proving more misguided than the last. Some experts championed shock therapy, others called for institutionalization; some psychotherapists saw madness as a metaphor and some doctors prescribed catatonia by tranquilizers. Perhaps most troubling of all, a generation of psychotherapists blamed the mother for causing the disease by either overparenting or underparenting. (You want to stand up and applaud when Kolker quotes one psychiatrist’s rebuttal: “If bad parenting caused any of these diseases, we’d all be in big, big trouble.”)

FRANK BRUNI: A less conventional take on politics, cultural milestones and more from Frank Bruni.

Through it all, the Galvins’ suffering is baroque and shattering. This is a world so bleak that serial incest rape — one of the ill brothers raped his two younger sisters for years — is just one of the horrors lurking in the attic.

The story of the geneticists’ quest to understand the disease comes as a relief to the family’s anguish. And one researcher, Lynn DeLisi, whom we meet as a young mother in a decidedly male field, emerges as something of a hero.

Years ahead of her time, DeLisi is convinced that schizophrenia is largely a genetic disease and through force of will, she seeks to make the case. The Galvin household, then, becomes one filled not only with pain, but perhaps with tantalizing clues as well. When she finally meets Mimi, halfway through the book, you are praying for a breakthrough.

Kolker follows DeLisi and other researchers on their decades-long search for the disease’s genetic markers, following misadventures in research funding and mazes filled with dead ends. There are promising discoveries in experiments to detect familiar traits and identify the disease’s warning signs — complicated science that Kolker ably explains.

If there were justice in the world, the Galvins’ genes would have provided the key to understanding and preventing schizophrenia, perhaps redeeming some measure of their pain.

Unfortunately, science doesn’t indulge in narrative satisfaction. While the Galvins’ blood samples have proved central to important research into the genetics of the disease, DeLisi remains an outsider rather than a leader in the field, and the Galvins’ genes seem to hold no silver bullet, no Rosetta Stone.

Indeed, the medical community appears not much closer today to finding a “cure” for schizophrenia, if such a thing exists. But Kolker argues that’s the wrong ship to wait for. More promising developments emerge in early detection, and in “soft intervention” techniques that combine therapy, family support and minimal medication.

A gifted storyteller, Kolker brings each family member to life — there’s Michael, who found solace in a Tennessee hippie commune; Brian, who moved to California to become a rock star; Mary, who changed her name to Lindsay as soon as she got to boarding school. But he’s also able to widen the aperture, describing how mental illness reshapes the lives of everyone within sight. “For a family, schizophrenia is, primarily, a felt experience, as if the foundation of the family is permanently tilted in the direction of the sick family member,” Kolker writes.

Kolker is used to prowling worlds of pain. His first book, “Lost Girls,” about the murders of prostitutes on Long Island, is filled with similar compassion without indulging in tawdry gore. He manages the same balancing act here, narrating the stuff of tabloid nightmares — one of the brothers kills himself and his ex-girlfriend with a .22-caliber rifle — without ever resorting to rubbernecking.

Kolker is a restrained and unshowy writer who is able to effectively set a mood. As the walls begin closing in for the Galvins, he subtly recreates their feeling of claustrophobia, erasing the outside world that has offered so little help. The political tumult of the 1960s exists somewhere out there, but only as an aside: “They prayed for the president who died just a few weeks after their move to Hidden Valley Road, and they prayed for the president who had taken his place.” What are politics and presidents in the face of your sick children?

Kolker spends several chapters with the two sisters, who responded in different ways to the trauma of their brother who preyed on them, and the other horrors of their lives.

But it’s Mimi, the matriarch, who sticks with me. Toward the end of the book, she reflects on the chasm that nearly engulfed her and everyone she loved.

Hearing her plain, stubborn, shellshocked voice, you can’t help wondering what defenses any of us could muster in the face of madness and monsters and genetic mysteries we may never understand.

“I was crushed,” she says. “Because I thought I was such a good mother. I baked a cake and a pie every night. Or at least had Jell-O with whipped cream.”

Sam Dolnick is an assistant managing editor at The Times.

HIDDEN VALLEY ROAD
Inside the Mind of an American Family
By Robert Kolker
Illustrated. 377 pp. Doubleday. $29.95.