Background: I broke the patella (kneecap to you and me) of my right leg in 1974, the final year of my employment in Hartford. This event and its aftermath are described here. For twenty-four years the knee bothered me very little. When I got up from a chair I sometimes walked like Walter Brennan on The New McCoys1 for a few paces, but otherwise I managed quite well. I took up jogging in the following years. At one time I was able to run eighteen miles in a little more than three hours.
Chris Bessette.
In 1998 or 1999 something happened to my knee. I don’t remember injuring it, but it became quite swollen, and running produced a good bit of pain. I knew that Denise Bessette’s son Christopher had once had difficulty with his shoulder. She told me that Christopher2 was very happy with the outcome of the treatment by an orthopedic specialist who had an office in Enfield. I asked her for the physician’s name3 and made an appointment.
I told the doctor my symptoms, and I admitted that I was worried that he would advise me to give up running. He took x-rays and told me that he thought that the doctor who did the surgery on my knee had missed one of the fragments of the patella, and it had fused to a bone or something. He surprised me by asking me if my hip sometimes hurt. I said that it did, but I never suspected that it could be related.
He thought that my problem was tendinitis in the iliotibial (IT) band that connects the knee and hip on the outside of the knee. I later learned that IT band syndrome is rather common in distance runners. He gave me two prescriptions—one for pills to bring down the swelling and one for a few appointments with a physical therapist. It took a few weeks, but the pills worked.
I remember that the young lady who supervised my PT was very cute, but I don’t recall her name. The office that I went to was on the part of Route 5 that I often have driven past on the way to southbound I-91. It no longer is a clinic for physical therapists. At some point a podiatry clinic took over the building.
She taught me some exercises for strengthening the muscles around my knee and especially to stretch the IT band. What worked the best for me was one in which I held onto something with my right hand, stepped over my right foot with my left, thrust the hips to the left, and leaned a little to the right.
I performed the stretches before every time that I went for a run or, after I gave up running in 2008, a walk. I also used the step-over stretch when I felt a pain on the side of my knee or anywhere near my hip. This sometimes occurred when I rose and walked around after being in a sitting position for an extended period. As soon as I exited from an airplane I almost always did the step-over stretch before leaving the waiting area at the gate. It also came in handy for the European bus tours that Sue and I took in the twenty-first century. I probably looked silly, but that simple movement always decreased the pain and in most cases eliminated it.
Easter Sunday 2017: By 2017 my life had changed dramatically in many ways. TSI had been shut down for good for a few years. Sue and I had been on quite a few European vacations and one fantastic African safari trip to Tanzania (described here). I had established for myself an office in one of our spare bedrooms.
On Sunday morning, April 16, 2017, I was in my office working on the computer, probably on something related to bridge; by then I was both webmaster and database manager for the New England Bridge Conference. I arose from my chair to go to the bathroom. I got as far as the door to the office—about six feet—when my right leg gave out. I did not fall; I was able to grab the door frame to steady myself. I experienced a sharp pain in my knee, but it soon subsided.
The weather that Easter Sunday was quite nice. I was enthusiastic about the prospect of getting in a long walk around the neighborhood. In those days I made a circuit of about two miles walking on School St., Hazard Ave., Park St., and North St. I hoped to do two or three circuits that afternoon.
I was less than a quarter of a mile from the house when my leg gave out again. I fell flat on my face on the sidewalk. I got to my feet without difficulty and limped slowly and carefully back home. This seemed more serious than IT band syndrome.
I searched the Internet for information about dealing with knee pain. I learned about RICE: rest, icing, compression, and elevation. For the next month or two I stayed off of my leg as much as possible. I wore my knee brace and iced my knee after exercise. I brought a small chair into the office so that I could elevate it, and I put an ice pack on it until the swelling went down.
Even after the swelling subsided I did not feel comfortable about trying to walk several miles on it. It still felt very shaky. Eventually I decided to make an appointment at the Orthopedic Associates clinic in Glastonbury. I was amazed at the place. It was much larger than I anticipated. There were dozens of people—maybe a hundred—waiting to be seen. Most were older and much less ambulatory than I was. There was no way to tell how many patients were on the other side of the many reception desks.
They took x-rays of both knees, and then I met with Dr. Mark Shekhman, who specialized in hips and knees. He compared the x-rays of my two legs and showed me that there was much less cartilage in my right knee than in my left. He said that he thought my difficulties were due to arthritis, rather than either my fractured patella or the IT band syndrome.4 He prescribed more physical therapy, and told me that if I still had pain to call him. Injections could be used to address the problem.
I asked Dr. Shekhman if I could increase my mileage after I completed the therapy. I explained that I was getting fat. He assured me that I could.
The physical therapy that I received this time was overseen by two people at the Hartford Hospital office at 100 Hazard Ave. in Enfield. I don’t remember their names. I went once a week for five weeks in October and November. The prescription required me to attend twice per week, but the guy who worked with me the first week said that my problems were not that serious.
The staff there seemed to be better organized than the therapist with whom I had previously dealt. I usually started with an eight-minute warmup on a stationary bicycle. On the first visit the fellow who worked with me noticed that when I bent my leg I slanted my right knee in. He advised me to slant it out, as I already did with my left knee. He said that I had been favoring my left leg, and the muscles in my right leg needed strengthening. Both he and the female therapist also worked on getting the “knots” out of the muscles and ligaments surrounding the knee.
They also gave me exercises to perform every day. The list grew to include nine exercises, all of which were performed from a prone position. Three of them were stretches—four sets of holding the position for thirty seconds. These were basically prone versions of stretches that I had been doing since my first session in the nineties. The other seven were designed to build strength. They consisted of twenty repetitions of the designated movement.
After the second or third session I was provided with a paper that showed the exercises that I was to be doing. At the last session I was given a new paper that supposedly illustrated all of them. I saved both of these sheets of paper, although they were both badly wrinkled. I discovered recently that the second set only contained eight exercises, and one of those was shown twice. So, for the image shown above I created a composite that included all nine exercises.
I usually did these exercises before I went for a walk—either outside if the weather permitted or on my treadmill. I added one more exercise to stretch my calf muscles to reduce the likelihood of cramps. I found an old brown exercise or yoga mat in my garage. I laid it in the hallway, one of the few places in the house in which I could stretch my six-foot frame. It was a little tight, but I managed.
When I performed these exercises at the clinic I used two pieces of equipment. The first was similar to a dog’s leash. One end was looped around my foot. I grabbed the other end to pull my stiff leg toward my face. Then I pulled a straightened leg across the other leg to the side. The “leash” was also used it to pull a bent leg back to the rear, but I could just reach back and grab my foot for that one. I have good flexibility in that respect. At home I repurposed an old Donald Duck tie as a substitute for the “leash”.
The second instrument was a length of stretchy fabric that had been knotted into a loop. This one was used for the “clamshell” exercise depicted on the sheet, and they let me keep it. After a month or so it snapped in two; I did not replace it.
The left one: I exercised my right leg using this routine nearly every day for almost two years. I felt pretty good about the progress that I had been making until the day on which my left leg almost collapsed while I was walking on School St. I limped back to the house. By the next day the left knee was swollen. I used what I had learned with my right leg to try to address it. Eventually the swelling went away, but the pain still occurred occasionally.
I expanded my exercises to include both legs. I revised the order so that I did not need to change positions so often. I started on my back with the straight leg raise—right and then left—and the bridging. I then did the three exercises lying on my right side followed by the two that required me to be face down—left and then right.
Next I did the three exercises while lying on my left side. I then rolled over to my back again and attached the tie to my right foot for the stretch that pulls the leg back and the ITB stretch. I then transferred the tie to my left foot and did the same two stretches. I finished with the calf stretch that is not shown on the sheet. The whole set took about half an hour.
My left leg was still bothering me when I attended the fall North American Bridge Championships in San Francisco (described here). Quite a bit of walking was required there. It felt very strange to be limping on a different leg. I did my exercises on most mornings, but I was still uncomfortable most of the time that I was there. My right leg did not bother me at all.
Recovery: By the time of the worldwide shutdown due to the pandemic my left leg had fully recovered. Over the spring and summer of 2020 I walked at least five mile nearly every day. On several days I did 7½ miles and at least twice I walked ten miles. I almost never had any pain in my legs. The most likely location of discomfort was in my right lower back. However, I was usually able to stretch this away.
I often rested on the cast-iron bench in front of Dr. Cummiskey’s office.
Over the fall and winter I walked on the treadmill5 more often than outside. A new development was a pain on the top of my right foot that spread to the ankle. At first it only occurred when I walked outside. Later a much milder version plagued me on the treadmill as well. I could usually walk for about 1¼ miles before it became difficult to tolerate. After I rested for a couple of minutes and stretched the leg, it went away. However, it usually came back after about the same distance.
We were scheduled to take a European river cruse in October of 2021. My goal was to be able to participate in all of the excursions without leg pain. Since we decided to postpone this cruise until May of 2022, whether I can achieve that still remains to be determined.
1. If you are unfamiliar with Grandpappy Amos’s gait, you can view a short demonstration here.
3. I can picture the doctor in my imagination, but I have forgotten his name.
4. In retrospect, I am sure that Dr. Shekhman was correct in his diagnosis of arthritis. However, I think that he was a little too dismissive of my two previous experiences. It was likely that the arthritis was precipitated by the original fracture. Also, the IT band syndrome never really went away. I had rather mild symptoms both before and after the arthritis treatments. Aside from that first day when I fell I never really had much pain in my knee itself.
5. The biggest problem with the treadmill was boredom. I subscribed to the Metropolitan Opera On Demand service for about a year. I streamed operas on my Lenovo convertible PC (which is called Yoga) and watched them while I was walking. I also watched some operas and the entire series Inspector Morse shows on YouTube. Later I subscribed to MHz Choice and watched a large number of European mysteries with subtitles. February 10, 2021, was a very dark day for me. The treadmill broke. Since then I have used the rowing machine when I could not walk. On May 26 I dropped my Big Bubba mug on Yoga and cracked the screen badly. I bought a new Microsoft laptop from Best Buy a few days later.
The remnants of Hurricane Ida1 arrived in southern New England on Wednesday, September 1, 2001. It rained pretty heavily in Connecticut all evening and well into the morning. I was scheduled to play bridge on Thursday at 10AM. I heard on the radio of floods in Manchester and Vernon, about fifteen miles to the south of where we lived in Enfield. I could see no signs of damage in our yard, and there was no standing water in our yard.
The southeast side of the yard.
This last bit of news was a huge relief. A few weeks earlier a weird localized storm had deluged Enfield and Suffield for a couple of hours. The rest of Connecticut seemed unaffected. For the first time in the thirty-three and a half years that Sue and I had resided at 41 North St. water had somehow seeped into the old part2 of the basement. It was not exactly flooded, but there was a little water in some areas, notably the southeast corner, which was piled high with boxes and who knows what. The new part of the basement was completely dry. It took a few days, but the dehumidifier dried up the old side pretty well.
I also walked out into the yard. I saw several inches of water in the yard that faced North St. The water disappeared when the drain in the street was cleared, but the sod remained squishy.
The feeling of relief was short-lived. Before I left for the Hartford Bridge Club on Thursday morning I checked the basement. Both the old part and the new part were dry. After I finished playing, drove back home, ate lunch, took a nap, and went for a walk, I descended the staircase to the basement to empty the dehumidifier. I was aghast to see that there was considerable water in both halves of the basement.
The litter box was near the bikes.
I could see that the cats’ litter box was sitting in a little water in the new part of the basement. My very old cat Giacomo was resting on the broken treadmill, but he was very upset about how his paws had become wet when he needed to use the litter box. I sifted the litter box and moved it, the sifting tool, and the box of Clean Paws litter to a part of the old basement that was still dry. I also dried of His Highness’s paws and carried him to the stairway, which was dry.
Meanwhile Sue made some phone calls. Someone told her that the fire department would pump out the basement if the standing water was six or more inches deep. There was probably an inch or more on the new side, but it did not look like six inches to me.
The most comfortable shoes ever.
Sue also located her Craftsman Wet/Dry Vacuum, Sears’ version of what nearly everyone calls a Shop-Vac3. It had been lent to the Somersville Congregational Church. Sue made arrangements to pick it up in the afternoon. I located two long extension cords in my garage. Sue somehow got the vacuum down to the basement. Someone must have carried it down the hatchway stairs for her. I removed my socks and put on a pair of beat-up old sneakers with a few holes in them. I walked through the water to the new side and opened the hatch to try to encourage evaporation.
The GE dehumidifier did the job in the old basement.
Sue operated the machine. I made sure that the cords were kept out of the water. We filled the machine’s barrel4 with water, and I used a fourteen-quart bucket to transfer the water to an unused washing machine. We then put the washing machine on the last dot of the spin cycle and turned it on. This step was necessary because there are no drains in the basement. I had used this same technique to empty the dehumidifier.
Sue’s initial approach was to try to create a dry path between the base of the stairs and the washing machine so that we could avoid standing in water, a good conductor of electricity. She filled up a barrel in about twenty minutes. I emptied the barrel into washing machine. As we did this we noticed that the dry space that Sue had just cleared was covered with water again.
Our weapons against the sea of troubles: the washer, the wet/dry vac, and the fourteen-quart bucket.
I suggested that we should concentrate on the new side of the basement, which was consistently covered by more than an inch of water. We were both stunned that it t took less than a minute to fill a barrel. We then had to roll it up the ramp to the old side and empty it in the washer. We were standing in water once we left the ramp, but we were careful to keep the cords dry. We did one more barrel that way, and then stopped for supper. We planned to continue after we ate, but neither of us could summon the energy. We are, after all, old.
I walked this wet path on the old side from the door to the washing machine at least one hundred times. The cord running from the wall plug at left stayed dry.
At 2 o’clock on Friday morning I woke up and went downstairs to continue vacuuming the new side of the basement. I looped the extension cord over some boxes and cabling in the ceiling of the basement to eliminate the need to disconnect the extension cord from the machine every time. I concentrated on the new side and filled four barrels with water. It took me about thirty minutes, but there was no discernible effect on the level of the water. I went back to bed and slept like a dead man.
When I awoke again and checked the basement, both sides seemed worse. The water level on the new side was considerably higher, and the entire old side now had at least a filmy coating of water. I could see no dry spots. Where was the water coming from?5 I had to move the cats’ litter box upstairs. I was afraid to move the open box of litter because I could see that the bottom would fill out. I left it where it was and resolved to buy a new box at Shop-Rite.
I worked all day on the basement—not counting a few naps. In all I sucked up about forty-five barrels of water, which produced a notable difference in the level in the new side, about as much as I expected—an inch or so. I kept the hatch closed because I remembered that this was mosquito season, and I had heard warnings about West Nile virus. The mosquitoes that carry the virus like to breed in standing water.
Several avalanches blocked parts of the path from the ramp (bottom) to the hatch door (top). At this point there was at least three inches of water.
When I awoke on Saturday morning there was quite a bit more water than was there before. I checked the new side. The level was a little higher than when I started on Friday. So, more than an inch of water had seeped back in overnight. This was very discouraging. In fact, I decided to abandon vacuuming until the amount of water stabilized. I checked several times a day when I emptied the dehumidifier
I did figure out that I could move the cardboard box of cat litter upstairs if I tipped it sideways. Once I got it upstairs I split a large hold in the middle of what was now the top side. I could then scoop out dry litter with a ladle. In fact, I was able to salvage the entire contents of the box.
On Tuesday September 7 I decided that the water levels had finally stabilized. The dehumidifier seemed to be doing a good job of drying out the old part of the basement, and the newer side was no worse than on Monday evening. I therefore set to work. By 5 o’clock in the afternoon I had sucked up fifty barrels of water from my position on the ramp. I could definitely see the effect on the water level on the ramp itself.
I bought these shoes for the Hawaii trip in 1995, but I did not wear them for 26 years.
By this time I had refined my technique pretty well. I positioned the machine on the flat part of the wooden ramp with two wheels on the cement floor of the old basement. When the barrel had filled, I detached the top part of the vacuum and rolled the barrel the fifteen or twenty feet to the washer. I straddled the barrel, bent at the knees, held the handle of the bucket in my left hand, and placed my right fingertips in the indentation on the bucket. I then filled the bucket as much as possible and lifted it up to the washer. This method was the easiest on my back. It also minimized the splashing.
I could do the entire process in four or five minutes. I also saved a little time by only running the spin cycle on the washer every other time. The tub of the washer could hold a little more that two of the vacuum’s barrels. This spin cycle lasted longer than it took the vacuum to fill with water. So, I had a short break every other barrel while I waited for the washer.
On Wednesday I played bridge with Eric Vogel. Afterwards I sucked up another twenty barrels.
On Thursday I was up early enough to run the vacuum through another twenty barrels before playing bridge with Jeanne Striefler at 10 AM. Between rounds Lesley Meyers asked me what had happened to my elbow. I had no idea what she was talking about.
I did another twenty barrels when I arrived home.
Friday was an epic day. I filled and emptied thirty barrels in the morning. The water level near the end was low enough that I had to abandon the ramp for the afternoon session. I added the second extension cord and change the looping of the cords so that I could walk all the way to the hatch and still keep the cords dried.
I vacuumed up seven more barrels in the afternoon, but because the water was now not nearly as deep, it took as long as the morning session.
Most of my time in the afternoon was in two places—right before the hatch and about halfway between the ramp and the hatch. These areas, which were evidently low points, were frustrating because as soon as I would get an area dry, it would fill back up with water seeping in from areas that were filled with some kind of junk that belonged to the other resident of the house. I went back and forth between the two areas.
When I unplugged the vacuum’s cable from the extension cord, I noticed that the vacuum’s male plug was hot. I had already noticed that one of the two prongs was shorter than the other. I could now see that the short one consisted of two pieces of metal that had a slight gap between them. I reported this to Sue. She said that it was a definite fire hazard.
I went back the next two days to work on those two areas. On Saturday I was surprised to find the other cat, Bob, lying on the cement on the path in the new side. There were also a few cat prints near the puddle in the middle. I carried Bob to the staircase, and he easily made his way up. I then extracted about a half barrel.
This is the right setting on the washing machine.
Much less than that came out on Sunday. When I had finished, the new side was pretty much dry. I could see a few small puddles, but there was no way to get at them with the vacuum.
In the afternoon Sue and I were scheduled to go to a picnic for her cousins on the Locke side. As we were about to leave, she exclaimed, “Ooh! What did you do to your elbow?” I asked her what she meant. She drew my attention to a golf-ball-sized lump on the point of the left one. I had to twist my arm around to see it. I then recalled Lesley’s remark on Thursday. I must have already had it then.
The knob was twice this size on Sunday and Monday.
After the picnic Sue and I drove to the to Urgent Care clinics on Hazard Avenue. Neither was open.
On Monday morning, September 13, I drove to the PhysicianOne Urgent Care, the one on the north side of the street. I had been to this location once before, but I am pretty sure that in the interim it had closed and reopened under new management (Yale New Haven Hospital). I arrived at 10 o’clock, with hopes of being home by noon.
I did not know that one made appointments at Urgent Cares. The lady at the desk told me that it would be at least two hours until they could see me. Although most people were required to wait in their cars for a text message, she let me sit in the lobby, where there were only a few usable chairs. The rest of the chairs were Xed off to prevent them from being used. So, I did not get within ten feet of any other patients. That is a good thing because most of them were there to get Covid-19 tests or treatments. The delta variant was still quite active.
One Hispanic lady came in with two children. The boy was about 2’6″ tall. His sister was a little taller. The lady’s mother had a third infant in her arms. They never checked in or entered the treatment area. The lady seemed to be busy with some papers or something. Then the whole family suddenly departed. On the way out I noticed that she was pregnant again.
he physician’s assistant finally saw me after I had been there for nearly three and a half hours. I had spent the time proofreading and rewriting my blog entry concerning 9/11 (which is now posted here). She quickly diagnosed my problem as bursitis. Some other young ladies x-rayed my elbow and wrapped it for me. The P.A. then advised me that if the swelling had not gone down in a week that I should see a physician who specialized in joints. She provided me with the business card of one and a CD that contained my x-rays. .
The hatch.
Clean Paws litter carton.
Litter Box.
By Sunday, September 17, the old side was also nearly completely dry. I opened the hatch again to try to air out the new side of the basement. The dehumidifier on the old side shows a reading of 60 percent humidity. It was consistently at 75 or 80 when the water was at its highest.
The knob on my elbow had shrunk a lot. It never did hurt or hinder me in any significant way. I did not plan to call the doctor, but a couple of weeks later the bump was still significant. I tried to schedule an appointment with the doctor recommended by the Urgent Care clinic, but he was out of the office until the end of October, and he only saw patients in Rocky Hill and Farmington, which are both more than thirty minutes away. Fortunately, his receptionist referred me to a doctor who has office hours in Enfield.
My elbow sleeve.
Dr. Bontempo.
On Wednesday, October 6, I had an appointment with Dr. Nicholas Bontempo. He told me essentially what the P.A. had told me earlier. He gave me an elastic “sleeve” to wear over the elbow. It was much more comfortable, but it seemed to provide less compression. So, I applied the wrap over the sleeve.
They scheduled a follow-up appointment for me for November 3. I canceled on October 11. By then the bump was negligible.
Although there had never been standing water in the basement since we had moved to Enfield in 1988, the new (northern half) of the basement was flooded again in April of 2024. My efforts in dealing with that mess have been described here.
1. Hurricane Ida described a very unusual path. It first hit land in Venezuela. It then turned northwest, crossed the Caribbean Sea, a tip of Cuba on August 27, and the Gulf of Mexico before landing again near New Orleans on August 29 as a Category 4 hurricane.
From there it headed northeast, losing strength but dumping a huge quantities of rain everywhere it went. On September 1 it reached the New York City area and caused widespread flooding. It finally petered out in the maritime provinces of Canada.
2. In 2007 Sue and I began the process of refinancing the house and building an addition that was approximately the same size as the original house. A description of this activity was posted here. The addition also had a full basement, which could be reached through an external hatchway in the lawn north of the house. It could also be reached through a door in the northwest corner of the old basement.
3. I had never heard of a Shop-Vac until I ate lunch with Barbara Schane Jackson, TSI’s liaison for the installation at Hecht’s (described here). For some reason she mentioned that she needed to use one. I nodded sagely even though I had no idea what she was talking about. Johnson County in Kansas, where I grew up, is not exactly prone to flooding.
4. If there was ever an indication on the machine of Shop-Vac’s capacity, it had long since been lost. I estimated the size of the barrel at fifteen or sixteen gallons based on the number of fourteen-quart buckets required to empty it.
The new side of the basement was approximately fifty feet by twenty feet—one thousand square feet or 144,000 square inches. One gallon is equivalent to 231 cubic inches. So, each inch of water on the new side contained over 623 gallons. If the barrel contained fifteen gallons, about 41.5 barrels would be required to lower the water level by one inch (assuming no replacement).
5. An admittedly biased description of the process of flooding from the water table is posted here. Perhaps our contractors did not do a perfect job when they installed the new basement.
Everyone with whom I dealt—and there were a great many people over the course of seventeen years—-called the large retailer based on the south side of Houston “Stage Stores”. Even their LinkedIn pages refer to Stage Stores. However, our contracts1 were definitely with a company named Specialty Retailers, Inc. (SRI). The checks that we received were from SRI. This always seemed strange to me, but I managed to piece together from various sites on the Internet something of an explanation.
I spent many hours at the headquarters building on South Main. The visitors’ parking was perhaps thirty to the right of the palm tree.
SRI was incorporated in 1988. I was unable to discover who the original stockholders were or who ran the corporation. I also have no idea what, if anything, SRI did in its first four years of existence.
In 1992 the company purchased a Colorado-based retail company named Fashion Bar, Inc., which had seventy-one stores. The larger ones were branded as Palais Royal or Bealls2. The rest were known as Stage Stores. In the nineties SRI purchased a large number of other stores. Most of them bore the Stage logo. SRI’s headquarters at 10201 South Main3 in Houston was known locally as Stage Stores, and that name, as you can see in the photo, was displayed prominently over the entrance. The only stores that were actually located in Houston were branded as Palais Royal. I recall actually purchasing a leather belt in one of them. Many people in Houston knew about Palais Royal, but Stage Stores and SRI were probably not on their radar.
In late 1996 or early 1997 Doug Pease, TSI’s Director of Marketing, received a call from Brenda Suire4, the Director of Finance for Stage’s Marketing Department. Doug and I flew on Continental Airlines to Intercontinental Airport in Houston to meet with Brenda and some other employees. We were somewhat surprised by the length of the drive from the airport to Stage’s headquarters.
The blue route on the map at left suggests driving through downtown Houston. That route would only be considered if the trip was in the middle of the night. We always took the western loop on I-610.
On the second day in Houston I demonstrated the functionality and design of the AdDept system at the local IBM office. It went over very well.
I recently found in my notes from January of 2001 some of the items that were included in the contract that resulted from that presentation and subsequent negotiations.
I was surprised to discover that in 1997 Stage paid us over $8,000 for the expense payables, sales, MM Plus, and AdSEND (!) interfaces. No wonder we made so much money in those days. We have no choice but to give them the assistance they need to get the first three working. They don’t use AdSEND any more, thank goodness, and I am pretty certain that no one remembers that they paid for this. I don’t remember coding an expense interface for Stage, but we clearly did it in 1998.
As part of that initial contract the programmers at TSI wrote a great deal of new code. Stage Stores had more stores and fewer merchandise departments than the first few AdDept customers. In most of their markets they operated only one store. They were therefore much more interested in the ratios of media dollars spent on each store to the amount of sales that the store generated than in sales and expenses by department. To provide this information we wrote code to accept sales by store from the corporate systems. We also wrote a set of reports that showed the ratio of advertising expenses to sales for each store.
No one at Stage Stores had previously examined the broadcast (i.e., radio and television) advertising too carefully. The buys and audits were done by a lady (I don’t recall her name) from Reynolds Communications. She used SmartPlus5 software to make the schedule and audit the spots that each station ran. Stage soon discovered that she had been spending much too much money on television buys, especially in one-store markets in Louisiana. She knew that the company had a store in those markets, but she had no access to sales data.
As often seemed to happen in AdDept installations, this unexpected revelation allowed Stage Stores to save enough money on an inefficient use of funds to justify most of the cost of the entire system.
Brenda, Floyd, and Denise Bessette at TSI’s office.
Training and installation: In 1997 Stage sent three employees to TSI’s office in Enfield for several days of intensive training: Brenda, Floyd Smith6, and Hugo DuBois7. The emphasis of the training was on how to get the most out of the AdDept software in their environment.
Floyd was Brenda’s right-hand man in the business office. For the first few years—which (for reasons unrelated to the system) were rather chaotic—Floyd was the liaison between TSI and Stage. Hugo, a native of Belgium, managed the department’s local area network. He mainly worked with the production and creative people. I am not sure why he came to Enfield. Hugo’s only role in the project was to connect the network to the AS/400 and to install and configure the software on individual PC’s and Macs so that the department’s employees could access the AdDept system.
After the AS/400 had been delivered, and the network was connected to it, I flew to Houston to install the AdDept software and configure the database. Over the next few months I returned to help them deal with problems, to show them how to use new features, and to gather ideas about further development. I soon discovered that there was a better way to get from Connecticut to Stage. On most trips I flew on Delta or American and landed at Houston’s smaller airport, Hobby. Not only was it much closer to Stage, but there was usually a better choice of flight times.
Denise, Floyd, Hugo, the top of Brenda’s head, and Steve Shaw at TSI’s office.
Within a year or so the system was running fairly smoothly. Then in 1998 Brenda left Stage Stores, and for a while Floyd ran the advertising business office. His primary assistant was Toni Young8. One of the primary AdDept users was Renee Mottu9, who managed the expense invoices.
Fortunately for TSI, for the next year our involvement with Stage was reduced to answering phone calls and resolving mundane issues. I say “fortunately” because even though Stage Stores declared Chapter 11 bankruptcy in 1999, the effect on TSI’s bottom line was minimal. The effect on daily life in Stage’s advertising department was for a considerable period much more severe. My notes after a visit to their headquarters in January of 2000 stressed that “Those poor people spend half of their time trying to persuade newspapers to run their ads.”
Karen is in the red jacket. The man who is obscuring Floyd is, I think, the Advertising Director.
Brenda was replaced by Karen Peltz, who had held a similar position at Foley’s10, the chain of department stores owned by the May Company that was also based in Houston. At the time Foley’s had been using AdDept to solve various problems in its advertising department for five years. I had worked with Karen at Foley’s, but only a little. Eventually Floyd moved to another position at Stage Stores, and Toni Young managed the day-to-day operations of the marketing business office thereafter.
Joanne’s LinkedIn photo.
I had only a few interactions with Joanne Swartz11, the Senior VP of Marketing, and the guy who was Advertising Director. I do not remember his name. I think that Karen reported directly to Joanne.
I dealt with two people in the media area. The woman’s name was Deidre Prince11. I do not remember the guy’s name, and it is not in the notes. I also remember Sandra Green, who used AdDept for buying newspaper space. She seemed to have a lot more difficulty using the system than anyone else did.
My notes: I discovered quite a few email messages that I sent back to TSI’s office from Stage. They are dated between October 1999 and January 2001. I’ll start withe the earliest one
The New Skin bottle and the shaving/ medical kit that I kept it in.
Not a great start today. I woke up at 6 AM. I got up and stumbled around the hotel room for a few minutes. I ironed some shirts and pants. At 6:55 I shaved. I looked in the mirror and saw Dracula. The blood was pouring from my lip. It took over 40 minutes for it to stop bleeding. I painted the New Skin on it. I got dressed and went to Stage. The New Skin held until almost 5 PM. Then I bled all over my shirt and pants, but this time I got it to stop in only about five minutes. Life on the road is so glamorous.
Renee Mottu is looking for suggestions as to how to remove two possums that have taken up residence beneath her mobile home. She rejected my idea of sending in a dachshund. She said that the possums would eat a dog.
I didn’t get to run tonight. Toni Young told me about a good trail. I put on my running duds, followed her directions, and drove around for about 25 minutes looking for the place. I never found it. I drove back to the hotel, got some food, and settled into my room to watch “Norm” and “The Drew Carey” show.
I am pretty sure that the woman with the big hair to the right of Floyd is Renee Mottu. I don’t remember the names of the other two ladies.
The first paragraph refers to a blue-black circle that appeared on my left lower lip in the nineties. It has never caused any pain, and it has not bled in the last decade or so. The story of Renee and her possum continued for a few visits. Before reading the above I had totally forgotten that for a while Norm McDonald had a network television show.
The following are from the subsequent two days on the same trip.
Toni and Floyd.
It was in the 80’s here yesterday, but it felt cooler. There was almost no humidity, which is rare for Houston. Floyd’s office was freezing. He has an electric heater in his office. We had it running most of the day even though we had six people crowded around his PC all day long. I brought sweaters, and I will wear one today.
Stage has network printers. We sent a 40-page report to Floyd’s printer about noon. It was still in SND status when I left at 6 PM. Floyd said it will sometimes not print until the next morning. Have they ever complained about this? I think the culprit may be the faxing. They were faxing all day yesterday.
I noticed at Stage that their floors must not be very level. The pieces of their desk units come together at angles. I also noticed that some units were raised off the floor as much as an inch on one side.
I don’t think that I could possibly in good conscience approve more than five months for the palm tree research project at this time.
How much do you think is the monthly fee that Reynolds Communications charges Stage to handle (including auditing and approving invoices from stations) their broadcast advertising?
I don’t remember the precise answer to the last question, but I am pretty sure that there were two digits to the left of the comma. The next set of emails came from the trip that began on January 11, 2000.
This Silver Medallion card expired many years ago.
I was dreading the flight to Atlanta. I envisioned myself standing in line with the common people now that my silver medallion card has expired. I was delighted to discover that my ticket still says “Silver Medallion.” Half of the flight got on with the medallion status group.
The phone on my seat on the flight from Hartford to Atlanta has a little LCD display. It discloses the NASDAQ closing price every few minutes along with advertisements for various ways to spend your money on the phone.
A lady on the Atlanta flight has striped hair. Not streaks, stripes. She has brown hair intermixed with ½” blonde stripes. I guess it is a look.
The flight from Atlanta to Houston sat in the gate for about 20 minutes. Then we got in the usual long line to take off. It must have been over 100 degrees in the cabin by the time we hit the skies. The guy in the seat in front of me pushed his seat all the way back. I have therefore had to turn 45 degrees and put my laptop on my lap. Even so it is uncomfortable to type. Thankfully there is no one next to me.
Listening to Kiri Te Kanawa sure beats listening to salesmen. On my last few flights the planes were full of families and college students. The passengers on both of Tuesday night’s flights have been mostly middle-aged men.
I still have a 45 minute drive ahead of me after this flight, which won’t get in until about 11:00 central time. I need some caffeine.
I used the air conditioner in the car all the way from the airport to the motel.
… Renee Mottu asked me to hire her. I told her that we needed experienced, or at least trained, programmers. She pressed me on this. She said that she was sure she could learn programming and that Floyd would give her a good reference. By the way, she said all of this in front of Floyd.
I’ll take a dachshund any day.
I remembered to ask Renee what happened to the possums living under her trailer. She said they were still there. I repeated my recommendation about the dog. She said she didn’t have one. I said she should borrow one. She asked me (!) if I knew anyone who had a dog she could use. Later I heard her walking around intoning “Does anyone have a dog I can borrow?”
I think that by 2001 Stage Stores must have been emerging from bankruptcy and resuming their strategy of expansion by purchasing other chains. The biggest of those was the acquisition of Peebles, a chain of 125 department stores based in South Hill, VA.
For some reason the management at Stage wanted to keep track of all expenses and co-op income of the Peebles stores separately. This was the first, but not the last, time that I installed a second AdDept database on the same AS/400. There was still only one set of programs, but each user had two AS/400 user ID’s. Their profiles determined which database would be used.
Here are some of my notes from January of 2001:
Leaping Lanny Poppo became one late in his wrestling career
The meeting in the afternoon went well. Joanne, the advertising VP introduced me as “the resident genius.” The project has been scaled down. We need to be able to do accruals at the store level for media and production at the store level. We also need to be able to do prepaid to expense. One unusual wrinkle is that they do not want to allocate creative costs to stores. They want to be able to get ratios of advertising expense to sales from AdDept, but we must be able to reconcile this with what is in the G/L.
I was glad that I was an outsider at this meeting. The politics was just barely below the surface. Chuck, who I think is the CFO, put Joanne on the spot about something that was not even on the agenda. Their explanations were not at all impressive. The experience had the happy effect of reminding why I did not like working at a larger company.
Toni Young says that she thinks that Renee Mottu never got rid of her possums.
It turns out that what Stage really wants to do most is to start using what they have and what we have previously proposed—SmartPlus interface, sales interface, and expense payables interface. They spoke of the SmartPlus interface as if it were a done deal. I don’t recall them purchasing this module. I brought back the file layout for the expense interface. I did not come back with a lot of specs for new projects. Believe it or not, they want another week of my time. Both Karen and Joanne (the Senior VP) seriously asked me to stay over the weekend and spend next week in Houston. I didn’t tell them this, but I don’t think that I could have lasted for 24 days.
01/07/01: I was surprised to discover that in 1997 Stage paid us over $8,000 for the expense payables, sales, MM Plus, and AdSEND (!) interfaces. No wonder we made so much money in those days. We have no choice but to give them the assistance they need to get the first three working. They don’t use AdSEND any more, thank goodness, and I am pretty certain that no one remembers that they paid for this. I don’t remember coding an expense interface for Stage, but we clearly did it in 1998. I will write up a quote to change it to work the way that the new documentation states.
Toni Young said that she thinks that Renee Mottu had not solved her possum problem.
I saw a sign at Stage Stores offering a $3,000 bonus to any employee that refers someone hired as a senior analyst in IS. The candidate must have five years of COBOL or Oracle experience.
Evidently I had already scheduled most of the rest of the month of January 2001 to travel to other clients so that if I had agreed to stay in Houston over the weekend and the following week, I would have been on the road for twenty-four days in a row! In those days we were charging $1,000 per day for my time. If Stage had still been in Chapter 11, I doubt that they would have proposed spending another $7,000 for another week of my presence. The bankruptcy court would have needed to approve the expense.
AdSend was a service offered by the Associated Press for sending the images of ad layouts to the newspapers. Hugo once told me that the company had twelve T-1 lines (TSI had one), and, according to him it was not nearly enough.
The neighborhood: Stage seemed to be a nice place to work. The headquarters was a fairly nice building located on the south side of Houston. They always provided me with a comfortable place to work, and there was ample parking in spaces reserved for vendors. The building also had a cafeteria that offered good food at very reasonable prices. I always ate lunch there, usually by myself. Many employees arrived at work early and ate breakfast there.
I took this photo of Enron Field under construction. It is now called Minute Maid Park.
It was not too easy to reach by a car driven from the south. Just north of the building Main Street became a divided highway with restricted access. Since I always stayed in a hotel north of the building, I had to drive my rental car to the first exit, drive under the highway, and then take the access road back to Stage’s driveway.
Most of Houston’s explosive growth had been in other directions. There was not much south of Stage’s location. However, just north of the building were the medical centers for which Houston was famous and Enron Field, which is where the Houston Astros played after the Astrodome was abandoned in 1999. I got to see (and photograph) the construction of the new stadium.
According to Yelp Marco’s is closed, but it still has a website.
I usually stayed in a Hampton Inn a few blocks from the stadium. My favorite restaurant was a Mexican place called Marco’s. Located in a hard-to-reach strip mall near my hotel, it was where I first became acquainted with tacos al carbon, one of my favorite dishes. Marco’s had ridiculously low prices. I often told the manager that they should open restaurants in the northeast. They could have doubled their prices and still filled the place every night.
During a couple of multi-day trips to Stage I met up with Sue’s cousin, Mark Davis, for supper. He worked for Exxon Mobil. We usually at an Olive Garden. The conversation was better than the food.
I jogged on the streets near the hotel nearly every evening when I visited Stage. I worked out a route that kept me on streets that had very little traffic.
Eventually I discovered a delightful dirt track that surrounded a golf course in Memorial Park. I drove there every chance that I got. A loop around the track was a little less than three miles. I usually did two loops. There is no chance that I would ever move to Texas. However, if I did, it would be to Houston, and the primary motive would be to gain access to this track every day.
The people: I was quite surprised by the LinkedIn pages of the people with whom I worked at Stage. We had not done much work for the company after 2008 or so. Consequently, I really had no idea who was still working there after that. I discovered that many of them remained at Stage Stores quite a long time after I last saw them or talked with them.
Brenda on Facebook.
TSI’s initial contact, Brenda, departed in 1998. I don’t know why she left Stage so soon after we did the installation. There might be a story there. I don’t recall ever hearing her name mentioned again.
I have many memories of Floyd. He was definitely a family man. He was always cheerful and business-minded. He always ate lunch at his desk. His office was not very large, but it had two doors, which he kept open. Some people used his office as a shortcut to get from one part of the marketing department to another. I was surprised when he and Toni seemed to switch jobs after Karen arrived. That was never explained to me. Floyd was employed by Stage Stores until 2011.
I was acquainted with Karen from her days at Foley’s. When she arrived at Stage, she made it clear to me that one of her top priorities was for the department to make better use of AdDept. A Republican, she assured all of us in January of 2001 that George W. Bush “will not be that bad.” After his two incredibly stupid wars and an economy that totally tanked while he and his cronies watched helplessly, most historian vehemently disagree.
Karen was, to my amazement, an avid biker—not mountain bikes, Harleys. She and her husband rode up to the big gathering in Sturgis, SD, at least once. I have always told people that if you saw me on a motorcycle, you can be certain that I will also be smoking a cigarette and showing off my piercings and tattoos.
Karen worked at Stage until 2013, twice as long as her stint at Foley’s. Her LinkedIn page lists no jobs after she left Stage Stores.
I remember that Hugo drove a Saturn—as did I during that period. His, however, was a coupe. If I had known that Saturn sold two-door cars, I would have bought one. Hugo stayed until 2017.
Toni and Floyd.
I did not really have much personal contact with Joanne, aside from that one meeting that they asked me to attend in 2001. I do remember that on one occasion I overheard Renee accosting her in the hallway. Renee said, quite loudly, “Joanne, I need a raise!” If Joanne replied, I did not hear the answer. Joanne left Stage Stores in 2012.
Toni apparently never left Stage Stores. The more that I worked with her the more that I respected her.
Somebody, Floyd, and Deidre.
When I met Deidre I asked her if she was related to Diana Prince. She did not know whom I was talking about. I guess not everyone was a fan of Wonder Woman on TV and in the comic books.
I think that Deidre was our main contact when I showed the AxN12 system to the department in 2003 or 2004. They enthusiastically endorsed it and used it until they outsourced the buying of newspaper space to an outside company. Deidre left Stage in 2011.
Epilogue: I think that our last major dealings with Stage were the implementation of AxN and the Peebles project. Nevertheless, they were still using AdDept when TSI went out of business in 2014.
Unlike most retailers Stage Stores continued to expand in the twenty-teens by acquiring other chains. In 2017 Stage acquired the assets of the Gordman’s chain of department stores and quickly converted all of them to sell off-priced items. This worked so well that they began to convert most of their other stores to the same format. In the November 2019-February 2020 quarter sales were up 19 percent14.
Then the pandemic struck and Stage Stores was stuck with a lot of debt and 738 stores that could not be expected to generate any revenue in the immediate future. The price of the company’s stock plummeted. In May of 2020 Stage entered Chapter 11 again, and in August it announced that it was liquidating all of its holdings.
1. For some reason SRI insisted on a new contract every year. We had contracts with all of our AdDept clients, but all of the others were open-ended.
2. There is also an unrelated chain of department stores with the Bealls moniker that is based in Florida. My unsuccessful pitch to that company is detailed here.
3. Years after TSI was closed SRI moved to an office building at 2425 West Loop South. I tried to use Google Maps to find the Main Street building with which I was so familiar, but I failed. I think that it must have been demolished.
4. Brenda’s LinkedIn page is here. I had trouble remember her last name. I sent an email to Floyd Smith asking if he knew it. He replied, “Sure. She is also on Facebook..” Confused, I asked again. Floyd wrote, “Suire is her last name. Sorry about that spell check changed it last time.”
5. The Media Management Plus product was renamed SmartPlus. I think that this may have happened when the company was purchased by Arbitron, the rating service. On the Internet I found a very detailed description of what SmartPlus did. It is posted here.
8. In 1997 I was only 49. I was shocked that year to learn that Toni Young, who was younger than I was, had a grandchild who was by no means an infant. Her LinkedIn page is here.
Toni’s LinkedIn Photo.
9. I found no LinkedIn page for Renee Mottu. Her Facebook page is here. I was surprised to discover that it contained even less than mine does.
10. A great deal more has been written about the AdDept installation at Foley’s. The account is posted here.
11. Joanne Swartz’s LinkedIn page can be viewed here.
13. AxN was the name that I gave to TSI’s Internet program for management of insertion orders that AdDept users sent to newspapers. Its system design is explicated here. The marketing history is described here. Stage’s use of the system was one of the main reason that the number of subscribing newspapers grew so large—at one point over four hundred!
14. The Philadelphia Inquirer picked up this story from the Washington Post and posted it here.
The third major stop that Sue and I made on our Hawaii trip in 1995 was on the island of Maui. The flight from Lihue to the principal airport on Maui at Kahului took about forty-five minutes. En route our plane passed over the islands of Oahu and Molokai1. Maui is not as old as Oahu, which in turn is newer than Kauai. Maui has two large volcanic structures, which makes the island look like a large irregular circle and a smaller one that slightly overlap each other. The large mountain is Mt. Haleakalā, which is over 10,000 feet high, almost twice as high as Mt. Waialeale on Kauai. The other mountain is generally just called West Maui Mountain.
Most of the people who resided permanently on Maui lived in the area between the two mountains from the outskirts of Kahului southwest to Kihei. That was also the location of almost all the island’s retail establishments and almost no tourist attractions, of which there were a very diverse multitude elsewhere.
We stayed in a nice but inexpensive hotel in the old port town of Lahaina, which is on the west coast of the West Maui part. The resorts on Maui were (and still are) mostly north of Lahaina or south of Kihei. These areas are very dry, as opposed to the eastern side of Mt. Haleakalā, which is a tropical rainforest. In the nineteenth century a series of canals and ditches dug by the East Maui Irrigation Co. brought water from the east side to the west. The purpose was to improve the sugar cane production, but the main long-term effect was to turn Maui into a mecca for all kinds of tourists.
The roads in Maui were only slightly more complicated than those of Kauai had been. A highway ran all the way around the seacoast. In the northeast corner of West Maui it was only one lane wide in some spots. In the southwest side of East Maui there were unpaved sections that were dangerous to drive. That corner of Maui was (and is) subject to flash floods of biblical proportions. There is also a road that runs along the west side of Mt Haleakala and one that zigzags up to the rim of the caldera.
We rented a car and drove from the airport to our hotel, Plantation Inn in Lahaina. Of course, we had to circumvent the mountain, which meant that we spent roughly the same amount of time on the highway as we had spent in the air en route from Lihue.
Our hotel was about three blocks from the ocean. We stayed for two or three nights. It must have been three. I clearly remember doing activities that certainly would have consumed more than two days worth of daylight. Sue and I both loved the Plantation Inn2. It was convenient to everything, it offered free breakfasts, the room was nice, and it was within our price range.
Both Molokai and Lana’i are clearly visible from the northwest coast of Maui. Lana’i is only 16.4 miles from Lahaina.
On our first evening on Maui a person representing several of the tourist spots came to the hotel, made a presentation about them, answered questions about them, and sold tickets at a discount, of course. All tickets sold everywhere in Hawaii are always at a discount. I remember that all the other attendees were jealous when they heard how long our Hawaiian vacation was.
We bought two tickets for the trip in a van to watch the sun rise over the caldera of Mt. Haleakalā and to ride bicycles down. Someone from the tour company would pick us up at the hotel at 3AM. We also purchased tickets for an excursion across the Maui Channel to the island of Lana’i3 on a later day.
So, we did not get much sleep that first night. The temperature can get down to near freezing at the top of the mountain. I thought that I would be warm enough in a couple of sweatshirts and a nylon jacket, but I was wrong. Fortunately, the company that ran the tour brought along enough insulated ski jackets with hoods for everyone.
The drive up the mountain was slow but uneventful. It was, of course, dark the entire way, and so we were not able to enjoy any views. The last few miles on switchbacks seemed to take forever. Nevertheless, we arrived at least an hour before dawn. The tour guides brought thermoses of coffee and cocoa to keep us warm as we awaited the big event. While we shivered, the guides unloaded the bicycles from the vans.
By the time that the sun peeked over the eastern edge of the caldera, perhaps one hundred people joined us on the western edge. I don’t honestly remember the colors of the sunrise. The sky was already pretty well lit because the sun had already cleared the horizon of the ocean several minutes before it appeared atop the mountain. I wasn’t disappointed, and so it probably was at least somewhat spectacular.
I definitely remember the silversword plants near the edge of the caldera. They were unlike anything that I had seen before. The interior of the caldera was also very interesting. There were clouds below us, but below them we saw plenty of vegetation, and hiking trails were also evident. It had not occurred to me that people might come to Haleakalā just to explore the caldera.
Almost as soon as it was full daylight, our bicycle guide asked loudly, “Who are Sue and Mike?” When we identified ourselves, he told us his name (I forget it) and his hometown of Springfield, MA. He said that when he lived there he often came to the stores in Enfield to shop.
We posed like this, but Sue was on the seat facing forward. I had my hands on her shoulders, my left foot on the rear fender, and my right foot raised high. There is a photo of it somewhere.
Here is how the descent worked4. About a dozen people were in our group. We each were given a bicycle. One van preceded the cyclists, who were more or less in single file. A second van followed the group to prevent any motorists from trying to overtake us. Pedaling was hardly ever needed; gravity did all the work. The group made several stops to allow the cars to go by and to enjoy the scenery. I am pretty sure that near the bottom of the mountain we stopped at a restaurant for breakfast.
Before we departed out guide explained all of this and said that we would be starting at 10,000 feet and descending to the beach. One cyclist asked him how high we would be at the end. He answered the question with his own pertinent question: “How tall are you?”
The demon was IN my bike, not on it.
The guide assured us that the bicycles were regularly maintained, and a mechanic rode in one of the vans. Sue’s bike was fine. Everyone’s was fine, except mine. I knew bikes. I rode bikes constantly as a kid. I rode bikes in 1973 and 1974 in Hartford and occasionally in the subsequent years in Plymouth. I felt very at home on one.
This bike was possessed by a demon. As we coasted down the road my bike started pedaling backwards on its own! I could not stop it/ It was all that I could do to maintain my place in line. I certainly paid no attention to the scenery, breathtaking as it no doubt was.
This would have helped.
I don’t think that any mechanic could have fixed the problem. An exorcist might have had a better chance. Nevertheless, at the first stop I asked the mechanic to check out the bike. He immediately determined that something was seriously wrong with it. They had brought a spare bike, which they let me ride. I found it much easier to control.
However, there was a reason why this bike had not been assigned to someone originally. The brakes, which were activated by levers beneath the handles, were probably adequate for a normal bike ride, but after a few miles of downhill coasting I had both brakes pressed tightly to the handlebars, and the bike was still accelerating.
A few times I actually needed to employ the Fred Flintstone method of braking with the soles of my feet. I am serious.
When I told the mechanic about the braking problem, he said that he could not fix it on the spot, and he did not have any more bikes. He offered to let me ride in the van with him. Since I still had quite a bit of rubber left on the bottoms of my sneakers, I returned to my wheeled mount for the rest of the journey. It was a little harrowing, but I managed.
Every time that we stopped, everyone in our group peeled off a layer of clothes. By the time that we reached the beach and turned in our bikes, it was at least 80°. Don’t ask me to describe the scenery; I was concentrating on my braking. When we finally reached it, the beach was nice. I enjoyed the beach.
The guides drove us back to the hotel in time for lunch. I don’t remember for certain what we did in the afternoon, but I recall that on one afternoon or evening we stumbled upon a live concert in a park. We sat on the lawn for a while and listened to music. I cannot remember for sure whether it was Hawaiian music, rock & roll, or some combination. As always, Sue really enjoyed the music. I soaked up the atmosphere.
On the second day (I think) we decided to drive to Hana. This seemed a peculiar thing to do because the destination, the town of Hana, was a real nothing. However, there is was an abundance of things to see on the way. The drive itself, with its twists and turns and one-way bridges, was sometimes an adventure. There was always the chance of a flash flood, but the weather was actually dry and very pleasant.
I made sure that we left early in the morning. It was pretty important for haole tourists to avoid attempting this trip during the rush hours. The native Hawaiians knew this road very well, and they had little patience with tentative drivers. I remember that we had a plan to pick up some food that had an advertised special, but for some reason this did not work out. I don’t remember where we ended up eating any of our meals that day. We might have stopped at roadside stands.
We did stop to gawk at some waterfalls. By that point, however, we had already seen quite a few fairly spectacular ones in Kauai. So, we were looking for something different. We definitely stopped at the Ke’anae Arboretum. I have never been much of a botany enthusiast, but I was impressed by the large number of rainbow eucalyptus trees with their multi-colored barks.
I am pretty sure that we actually drove a little way past Hana. The guidebook had reported that the Sacred Pools of Ohe’o were worth a trip. So, we stopped there for a few minutes.
I don’t think that we made any stops at all on the return trip. We were rather desperate to reach civilization again while there was still enough light to see the road.
On the way back we noticed Mama’s Fish House, which is on the north coast of East Hawaii, where the big waves are. We either stopped there for supper that evening, or else we decided to eat there later. I remember that it had a very impressive view of the rugged north shore. I have never been much of a fish eater. Catholics who grew up in Kansas when I did think of fish as what people are forced to eat on Friday. When I think of fish, I think of frozen breaded rectangles.
Our other big adventure in Maui was much less stressful. We took a short cruise on a catamaran across the Au’au Channel to Lana’i. There were perhaps twenty passengers on our boat. I am pretty sure that Sue and I were the oldest couple.
The boat had large powerful engines, but it also had a sail. At least once during the trip the captain turned off the engines and raised the sail. This was, I think my first time ever sailing. Few people in Kansas buy sailboats for their ponds, and no yachtsman from the Sunflower State has ever won the America’s Cup.
We definitely saw glimpses of whales from a distance while we were at sea. I have a vague recollection that a few dolphins swam alongside the boat for a while, as well.
At the time most of Lana’i was owned by Dole5. Pineapples had been grown there in great numbers, but pineapple production was abandoned in 1992. At the time of our visit the company was trying to find other uses for its assets. It rented out the park at Hulopo’e Beach to tourist groups. It was a nice spot for some snorkeling and a picnic. The boat brought plenty of gear for snorkeling, and the crew gave us a quick class in how best to do it. I did not pay too much attention, and I was reprimanded when I did it wrong.
Snorkeling provided the opportunity to see some very colorful fish and other sea creatures. Unfortunately, no one had taught them any tricks yet, and so I soon lost interest.
I am pretty sure that the crew served us lunch after the snorkeling was over. We then were escorted around in large jeeps tp some of the camps on the elevated parts of the island that were formerly occupied by plantation workers and managers. It was of some slight historical interest, but no one told us the whole history of the island. For Sue and me this was just a relaxing interlude in an otherwise hectic period on Maui.
I might be imagining this, but I have a dim recollection of driving up to the ‘Iao Valley, which is close to the center of West Maui. The rugged scenery there was enough to draw tourists. However, the site actually has more historic interest than esthetic.
During the trip I had begun to become more and more curious about Hawaii’s history. I was surprised to learn that Hawaii did not have a king until 1810, about the same time that Europeans became interested in the islands. The man who united the kingdom was Kamehameha the Great. His greatest victory was the Battle of Kepaniwai, which occurred in 1790 in the ‘Iao Valley within sight of the Needle. A decisive factor was Kamehameha’s use of two cannons supplied by two British subjects who became the king’s closest advisers..
One evening we came up with the idea of having a sunset picnic on the beach. We bought some food from a grocery store in Lahaina and drove south until we found a suitable beach. We were pretty much by ourselves. I don’t think that we cooked anything. We had a good time just spotting whales and eventually watching the sun disappear into the Pacific Ocean.
The flight from Kahului to Kona Airport on the Big Island took about forty-five minutes. During the flight we were treated to a pretty good view of Mt. Haleakalā and, from a distance, the two huge mountains on the Big Island, which almost no one ever calls it by its official name, Hawaii
The Big Island is gigantic in comparison with the other islands. It is bigger than Rhode Island and Delaware combined, and it contains over 63 percent of the total area of the state of Hawaii. Moreover, because of the lava flow from Kilauea, the percentage is constantly growing.
It turned out that this last leg of our time in Hawaii was as much educational as it was entertaining. As on the other islands, we set out just to relax and have fun, but we ended up learning a lot on the Big Island in a short time.
If you go to the Big Island, and you want to explore at all, you really must rent a car. We stayed at the Kamehameha Hotel, which was close to the airport, but we intended to see as much of the island as possible. So, we immediately rented a car.
I guess that you could consider our hotel6 a resort—it had a Liberty House inside, and there was a luau every evening on the beach. However, it did not have that feeling of a prison in which the clients are both protected from intrusion by outsiders and actively discouraged from leaving the grounds. That has long been my impression of the big gated resorts.
Queen Lili’ukolani.
On the ground floor of the hotel was a fairly large display that narrated in some detail the story of Hawaii’s kingdom, from the great triumphs of Kamehameha the Great not long after the American Revolutionary War through the tragic overthrow of Lili’uokalani in 1893 and her scandalous imprisonment. For me there was one surprise after another: Kamehameha received critically important help from a man from Wales and a man from Lancashire. So many members of the royal family died from Western diseases unknown on Hawaii. In fact, the king and queen both died in London while waiting for an audience with George IV. The Hawaiian royal family then became Christians, dressed as westerners, and had close ties to Queen Victoria and her family.
I found this all to be fascinating, and it ignited a desire for me to discover the reality underlying the Disneyfied stories that have been handed down. I had never really felt this way before about anything historical. Since then I have been inspired to conduct independent detailed analyses about many events.
Sue and I spent most of our time on the Big Island in our rental car. We headed south immediately mostly because I wanted to see just how far south we could actually get. The ultimate goal was the southernmost7 point of the entire United States, which we could reach after about an hour and a half of driving.
In the first half of the drive to the south we passed several coastal towns on our right. Most of the “land” to the east looked almost like asphalt. It was lava from an eruption of Mauna Loa that had not yet disintegrated into dirt. Mauna Loa, the largest active volcano in the United States, last erupted in 1984.
112 miles of this followed by a marathon? No thanks.
We were driving through the area that hosted the annual Ironman Triathlon. It consisted of a 2.4 mile ocean swim, followed by a 112 mile bicycle ride, and ending with a marathon of 26.2 miles. I had always considered the participants as a breed apart, but when I saw the course in person I was stupefied. There was no shade! None at all! And it practically never rained on this side of the Big Island. For the participants it must have seemed like exercising in a toaster oven.
On the second half of the journey to South Point we saw cattle ranches on the hills to our left, and a pretty good-sized herd of cattle was grazing there. We had enjoyed steaks from cattle raised on this island during our rain-soaked barbecue on Kauai.
South Point, the whole southern tip of the island (also known as Ka Lae), is a National Historic Landmark, probably because it is where the Polynesians first landed when they discovered Hawaii. It was (and is) extremely windy. However, on the day that we were there, the sea was relatively calm, nothing like the satellite image shown at the right.
When we arrived at the point a couple of people were wading in the water ten or twenty yards from the shore. I took off my shoes and went in. I walked out just far enough that I was two or three meters farther south than either of them. I then turned around and hurried back. So, I can safely state that for a few seconds I was farther south than anyone else on American soil.
This stunt was at least a little dangerous. The Halaea Current has a strong reputation for pulling people out to sea. If the current grabs you, you can try to ride it, I guess, but the nearest land mass to the south is several thousand miles away.
We drove back to the hotel the same way that we came. There was really no choice. I don’t remember what we did in the evening. We again avoided going to the luau, but it was not possible to avoid listening to it.
Our last night in Hawaii was scheduled to be spent at Volcano House, a lodge run by Ken Direction Corporation of Hilo for the National Park Service. It was adjacent to the west rim of the largest caldera of Kilauea, the most active volcano in the United States. We checked out of our hotel and began the long drive across the island. For most of the journey the largest of the mountains, Mauna Kea, was on our left and Mauna Loa was on the right. Their elevations are 13,803′ and 13,678′ respectively.
Once the mountains were behind us, the climate changed dramatically. Hilo and the surrounding area are a tropical rainforest.
The main reason that we even included the Big Island on our itinerary was so that Sue could visit her friend Patty Johnson, who was assistant editor the magazine Dancing USA9. Sue had talked with her over the phone but had never met her in person. Patty lived in a small prefabricated home on the northeast side of Kilauea, which, at the time of our visit was spewing red-hot lava on its southeast flank.
Sue and Patty mostly conversed about dancing and the magazine. I remember that Patty mentioned that her son sometimes earned money by harvesting “mac nuts”. I did not realize that macadamia nuts were a cash crop on the Big Island. In fact, I knew nothing at all about them10.
Patty recommended that we drive to the black sand beach, Punalu’u, on the south shore. Sometimes legally protected sea turtles came ashore there to bask in the sun.
From Patty’s house we drove up to Volcano House, where all forty-two rooms offered stunning views of the caldera and beyond. When we checked in, we received some unexpected news. We had vaguely heard about the folderol about the federal budget that culminated in a shutdown of the federal government, but we were still surprised when we learned that, although we could stay there that night, Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park would be closed for an indefinite period starting the next morning.
The only effect that this really had on us was that we immediately scurried over to the nearby Jaggar Museum, which would be closed on the following day. We found that the little museum was a great source of information about the geology of volcanoes.
We learned that Kilauea was a very active and complicated entity. The chain of islands that we call Hawaii were all generated by the same process, which was (and is and will be) still ongoing. A very hot spot below the bottom of the Pacific Ocean was causing this disruption. The ocean floor was very slowly moving from east to west over this spot. The volcanoes created on the other islands were dormant or nearly so, but Kilauea was definitely still affected.
We saw and smelled steam vents but no eruptions.
At the time that we were there, there had been continuous eruptions since 1983. However, they were, for the most part, not explosive eruptions. Instead lava often flowed down from a vent in the side of the mountain all the way to the ocean where it was very gradually increasing the size of the island as the relatively cool ocean waters solidified the liquid lava.
Fortunately this lava flow was generally on top of lava flows that had occurred a few years earlier. Consequently, no inhabited areas were in imminent peril.11 We heard that it was possible to get quite close to where the lava was trickling into the sea, but we did not have time even to think about attempting such a feat.
At the museum we also learned about the hot spot’s other big project, the Lo’ihi seamount, which is an underwater volcano about twenty-two miles southeast of the Big Island. If it keeps going at its current pace, it could surface in less than 100,000 years. I doubt that anyone from our species will be around to notice it.
Sue and I also made a short visit to the black sand beach at Punalu’u. The sand was, indeed, black. I do not remember whether we saw any sea turtles. If we did, they did not perform any noteworthy tricks.
Our trip back home was not without incident. At some point during our adventures, the zipper broke on one of our suitcases. My recollection is that we tried to hold it shut with a strap at first, but eventually we purchased another suitcase somewhere. However, Sue refused to throw away the defective luggage. In her words, “There are people who fix zippers.”
I was unwilling to pay for an empty broken suitcase to be flown from Hawaii to Connecticut. So, after trying to give it away, Sue finally let me junk it at the Hilo Airport.
The flight from Hilo to Honolulu was fun. From the window I got good views of Maui, Molokai, and Lana’i, as well as the coastline of the Big Island that we had not had time to explore. I remember nothing about our red-eye flights back to New England. I am quite sure, however, that the first thing that we did upon entering our house was to make certain that Rocky and Woodrow, our pet cats, were OK.
1. Although the island’s name is sometimes pronounced as four syllables, it officially has only three. The last one rhymes with “dye”.
2. We liked it so much that we stayed in the same hotel when we returned to Maui in 2018, as described here. In some ways we liked it even more the second time.
3. The apostrophe indicates that Lana’i (unlike the word spelled with exactly the same letters in exactly the same order that means “balcony”) has three syllables: lah NAH ee.
4. This method is no longer allowed. Individuals can still ride bicycles down from the rim of the caldera, but groups of cyclists must start no higher than the entrance to the park, which is 3,500 feet lower. While we were on the island a young Japanese woman who was in a bicycle group lost control, slid into the upcoming traffic, and was killed.
5. In 2012 Larry Ellison, the founder of Oracle, purchased 98 percent of the island from the company that owned Dole. He has subsequently invested a lot of money in the island. There are now two Four Seasons Resorts! I doubt that I would recognize much about the island in 2021.
6. The official name of the hotel is now The Courtyard King Kamehameha’s Kona Beach Hotel. It is owned and operated by Marriott.
8. Part of the answer to the trivia question: Name the southernmost, northernmost, westernmost, and easternmost states. The other three correct answers are Alaska, Alaska, and Alaska.
9. The magazine appears to be defunct in 2021. I also could not find any mention of Patty on the Internet.
Nine delicious deserts.
10. In 2021 I generally eat exactly one freshly baked white chocolate macadamia nut cookie after both lunch and dinner every day.
11. That changed in 2018, they year in which lava flows wiped out several settlements and destroyed hundreds of houses. The national park was closed on May 17, just before eruptive activity in the caldera propelled volcanic dust 30,000 feet into the air. Explosions, earthquakes, and collapses of structures continued on the mountain for five months.
In 2020 a water lake that had formed in the caldera was suddenly replaced by a lake of lava. A fiery plume then erupted to the height of 30,000 feet. The eruptions eventually dissipated. On May 26, 2021, the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory announced that Kīlauea was no longer erupting. The lava lake had completely crusted over a few days earlier.
The story of the pets who shared the house in Enfield with Sue and me begins here. It recounts the first fifteen years of our lives there with, for most of the period, two cats named Rocky and Woodrow. Rocky died in the summer of 2003 after a very full life.
In late 2003 or early 2004 Sue’s sister Betty told us that a friend of hers had a family of cats that were too much for her to manage. Sue went to meet her one evening and chose on the spot to adopt a long-haired black male that was about the same size as Rocky and Woodrow. The woman called him Fluffy, which, of course, would never do. I dubbed him Giacomo after my favorite opera composer, Giacomo Puccini, and Giacomo della Chiesa, better known as Pope Benedict XV.
For a few weeks Giacomo was, to put it mildly, very wary of his new surroundings. We did not keep him cooped up for more than a day or two, and thereafter I personally spent a lot of time looking for him and trying to remove him from various hiding places. I remember that one day he somehow crawled under the dishwasher in the old kitchen. Fortunately, he was just shy, not a bit aggressive or even defensive. As soon as I got a good grip on him he let me pull him out of his hiding spot without much of a struggle.
Giacomo on the chair showing off his thumbs and his anteater tail. Woodrow looks up from the floor.
Finding him when he hid outdoors was even more challenging. He liked to retreat beneath some evergreen bushes on the north side of our house. When I approached him from one side, he slipped over to the other. It took me at least thirty minutes to retrieve him whenever he did this.
Woodrow, who made new friends very easily, took the new kid under his wing. Giacomo followed his lead in nearly everything.
Eventually, Giacomo became comfortable in both our house and our yard. However, he did not seem to comprehend the value of the cat door (described here). It looked like a trap to him.
Finally, one day Sue and I decided to team up to help him understand it. Sue held him on the outside of the cat door and pushed him through. I was in the basement standing on a chair by the cat door. When he appeared on the top shelf of the bookcase, I grabbed him, took him in my arms (which he liked), and walked around the basement enough so that he could figure out where he was. I then returned him to the top shelf by the cat door and pushed him back through it. Sue grabbed him and held him for a minute or two. Then she pushed him back through to the basement again.
All of a sudden I could see the light bulb appear over Giacomo’s head as he emerged into familiar surroundings. The message penetrated through all the fear to his little brain. He finally realized that this little door meant that he could come and go as he pleased. It was no trap; it meant freedom!
Meanwhile, to our surprise, Giacomo continued to grow. After a couple of months he was a good two inches taller than Woodrow and three or more inches longer. He had one broken (or at least shorter) fang that bothered him not even a little. He also had polydactyly on both front paws. Each had an extra toe sticking out on the inside. They looked a lot like thumbs. One other thing was quickly noticeable about Giacomo—he was left-pawed. I called his left front paw “Lefty”. If it came towards you, it generally meant business.
During his first summer in Enfield Giacomo cleaned out the mole colony that had resumed residency when Woodrow retired as master exterminator a few years earlier.
For the most part Giacomo followed Woodrow around the house and the yard. Woodrow habitually came in to the bedroom every morning when my alarm went off at 5 AM. Giacomo began to join us. I was expected to acknowledge both of them, although Woodrow wanted nothing more than a rub or two on his head. Giacomo liked to be rubbed all the way down his spine, but he did not like his belly rubbed.
In the summer the coolest sport for a nap was this sink. Giacomo learned this trick from Woodrow.
From the start Giacomo preferred me over Sue. Whenever I sat down on a chair he jumped onto my lap. If I was seated at my desk (which was really a tabletop astride two file cabinets), he often got bored and went exploring on the table. If I was watching TV, he lay lengthwise on my lap (on a stadium blanket that I always set there) when he was younger and across it when he got older. I don’t know why he changed. Whenever I lay down he walked (he was so long that he hardly needed to jump) up onto the bed and settled himself next to me.
I never teased Giacomo in the way that I tortured Woodrow with that stick and feather. However, I occasionally took advantage of the fact that he allowed me to do almost anything to him. I liked to lift him up over my head and make him pretend to walk on the ceiling.
Woodrow and Giacomo were left “home alone” during our trips to Village Italy in 2005 (described here) and Eastern Europe in 2007 (described here).
Suburban raccoons are too fat for cat doors.
Woodrow was still around for a startling occurrence in May of 2008. The cat door drew the attention of a masked varmint, a raccoon that was too chubby to fit through the opening. Raccoons are known to be very crafty, but this one used brute force to solve the problem. He made short work of my (very) amateurish carpentry by pulling the door out of its wooden frame in the window. Sue and I knew that the rascal had made it all the way into the house when we found the cat bowl empty and water all over the floor. Cats are very meticulous when drinking water; they seldom spill a drop. Raccoons are meticulous in a different way. They wash their food before they eat it; they always spill water, and they never clean up after they are finished eating.
Chick Comparetto let us borrow his Havahart trap, and he showed Sue how to use it. She then put it outside near the cat’s entrance (which we had temporarily closed off) and put some food in it. On the very first night the raccoon got caught in the trap. Sue and Chick then transported the raccoon—still in the cage—in her car across the Connecticut River to Suffield, where they released it in a wooded area.
Sue immortalized the raccoon adventure by recording a video of the release in Suffield. You can watch it here.
I bought a new sturdier cat door and affixed it to the board blocking the window a little more securely.
In the late summer of 2008 Woodrow died. He was eighteen years old, the same age that Rocky was at his death. Woodrow was weak and very ragged looking the last week or so. I stayed home with him on his last day.
Despite my closeness to him, I wasn’t overcome with grief when Woodrow died. The Woodrow that I wanted to remember was the devious rascal and hunter, not the decrepit bag of bones of his last few days. I still retain so many vivid memories of him. He was an immediate friend to everyone whom we let in through a human-sized door, but I think that, at least in his younger years, he would have fought to the death to defend against an intruder trying to get through the cat door.
I buried Woody under the burning bush, his favorite outdoor napping spot. I don’t honestly know whether Giacomo missed him as much as I did. He could not have missed him more.
Franklin.
For about a year Giacomo was our only pet. Then Sue learned that Betty’s friend, who was absolutely thrilled to find out how much we liked Giacomo, told Sue that she could have Giacomo’s litter-mate, whom she had named Frankie. I insisted on elongating his name to Franklin.
Franklin was black, like Giacomo, but he had short hair, and he was not as long and lean as his brother. I thought of them as the anteater and the aardvark. Giacomo was the bigger anteater with his luxurious fur coat. Franklin was the much less attractive aardvark.
Giacomo on the futon.
Giant Anteater
Aardvark
Pretty good analogy, no?
Franklin did not share Giacomo’s pleasant disposition and love of human companionship. He never fought with his brother, which we recognized as a big plus. However, Franklin did not especially like either Sue or me. He would only occasionally let us pet him. mostly when he was outside. Once or twice, however, I actually found him up on the bed with Giacomo, but after a couple of strokes he became antsy and departed.
This sturdier version of the cat door was installed with the new addition in 2013.
The aspect of living with us that Franklin hated the most was the monthly application of flea drops. I suspect that he had never been allowed outdoors at his previous residence. He discovered the cat door in the basement without our assistance, and he seemed to appreciate the freedom that it provided. However, he had never learned the fundamental lesson of civics class: with all freedom comes responsibility. In this case, the monthly flea drops were the price civilization exacted for his liberty.
This is the basement side, with a ramp down to the floor.
When the weather was warm Franklin put me through a frustrating and exhausting ritual every month. When I was sure that Franklin was in the house, I shut the door to the basement so that he could not retreat there. I then chased him from room to room trying to corner him. Sometimes he hid under one of the barnboard shelves in the library. When he did, I had to wait for him to move. Eventually I always trapped in the bedroom, where he would take refuge under the bed. I had to remove the mattress and box springs to get at him. I always eventually managed to apply the treatment, but the experience was a gigantic pain in the coondingy1.
In contrast, I merely waited for Giacomo to jump in my lap. He did not mind getting the drops at all. He trusted me completely.
Giacomo and Franklin stayed home together while Sue, I, and our friends the Corcorans toured Paris and the South of France in 2009 (described here). We also took a Russian River Cruise in 2010 (described here) and an ill-fated tour of South Italy the following year (described here). I learned of no untoward incidents either caused by or inflicted on either cat.
Franklin on the futon.
For some reason Franklin insisted on exploring our neighbor’s3 property. The gentleman who lived there called me aside while I was trimming the forsythia bush near his property one day and informed me that he had a problem with our cats. They made his dog bark too much. I told him that I would see what I could do.
I thought of responding, “Oh, you have a dog problem. I thought that you said that you had a cat problem.” After all, in Enfield, although dogs must be fenced in or kept on a leash, there is no law against cats roaming free.
I was pretty certain that Franklin was the instigator. Whenever I saw him near the neighbor’s property, I chased him back to our yard. However, I worked all day, and I slept at night. Franklin had ample opportunities to roam. One day, when I was not home, the dog owner accosted Sue and told her that if he caught one of our cats on his property, he would kill it. I won’t repeat Sue’s precise response, but it was not neighborly.
The situation did not escalate any further. I wrote a letter to the neighbors that explained the situation with our cats and offered to pay if they did any damage. Shortly thereafter the family got rid of its noisy dog, and eventually the man of the house departed as well.
In 2012 Franklin got hit by a car on North Street. I did not dig a grave for him, the only domestic animal that I have ever really disliked.
After Franklin’s death Giacomo was our only pet3 for quite a few years. He went through a period in which he spent a lot of time on Allen Street, a dead-end street that was directly across North Street (the site of Franklin’s untimely demise) from our house. Quite a few outdoor cats lived in the neighborhood and congregated informally. The situation reminded me of the old Top Cat cartoons.
I did not like this new lifestyle, but there was not much that I could do about it without turning Giacomo into an indoor cat. Sue was equally concerned. She came to see me when I was in my easy chair wearing my cardigan sweater and reading a magazine. She said, “Ward, I ‘m worried about Giacomo.”
Giacomo on the bed.
Although I don’t remember attributing his injury to the evil influence of the other gang members, one day Giacomo came home with a wound that had formed an abscess. The vet who examined him told me that if this happened again, we might need to keep him inside. That was something that we really wanted to avoid. She also told me that he definitely had a heart murmur, but she did not recommend doing anything about it. It made me think, however, that Giacomo would probably not match the longevity records of Rocky and Woodrow.
Bob in 2017.
Eventually Giacomo’s wanderlust subsided. By 2016 he almost never left the property. That was the year that another black cat decided that he wanted to take up resident at the Slanetz house, home of Sue’s siblings, Don and Betty, and their father, Art. Betty and Art were quite fond of the newcomer, a very stocky fellow with an inflexible tail that measured only four or five inches. Betty named him Bob in honor of his tail—bobcats are sometimes seen in the area. The tail reminded me more of a crank or handle.
A good view of the crank.
Unfortunately, Betty’s own cat had a fiercely hostile reaction to Bob’s presence. Betty therefore asked Sue to adopt him, and, needless to say, Sue agreed. Bob moved into our house on December 8, 2016, and for about two or three weeks Bob and Giacomo hissed at each other. They eventually became tolerant and, in time, quite friendly.
Giacomo held down the fort in Enfield by himself on several of our tours and cruises. Bob and Giacomo stayed in the house by themselves while we took the bridge trip/vacation in Hawaii in 2018 (details here).
Giacomo was much longer.
Not to mention his tail.
Bob exploring in the back yard.
Bob developed one very peculiar tendency. From the beginning his joints were not very flexible, especially by cats’ standards. Something also seemed to itch him on his spine, and he tried desperately to get at it with his teeth. To do this he rested his weight on one shoulder and used a back leg to spin around furiously. It reminded me of someone breakdancing.
After a while some tufts appeared on Bob’s spine. They looked like matted clumps of fur, but he would not let us touch them at all. They kept getting bigger, and eventually it became clear that they were growths of some kind. Maybe we should have taken him to the vet, but at the time Bob would not let me touch him under any conditions. Sue decided to let him be. Every so often she would say to him, “Oh, Bob, what am I going to do with you?”
Prior to Bob’s arrival Giacomo almost never made a sound unless I rolled over his tail with my office chair. Bob was quite talkative, and he had a pleasant voice. Giacomo began to vocalize, too, but he almost always squawked at a high volume. He sounded just like a blue jay. This was his only bad habit. We just had to put up with it.
Giacomo and Sue sometimes napped together.
Meanwhile, Giacomo was definitely beginning to show his age. Whereas he formerly sprang up to my lap or to his favorite perch on the back of the sofa, by 2019 he didn’t jump at all. He had to climb. He had also lost the ability (or at least the inclination) to retract his claws. When he walked on a bare floor, he always made click-click sounds. His right front paw also definitely bothered him. He never ran, and he walked with a noticeable limp.
This is a rare shot. B0b was seldom allowed in Giacomo’s main napping spot atop the couch. Bob always stuck out his right rear leg when resting.
I spent the week after Thanksgiving in 2019 in San Francisco at the NABC4 tournament (described here). Between and after the rounds my thoughts often turned to Giacomo. I really feared that he might die while I was gone. I would not have been too surprised if Bob had died as well.
I was wrong on both counts. Both Bob and Giacomo were still reasonably healthy and active when the Pandemic changed all of our lives in March of 2020.
1. I learned this word while I was in the army. I think that it is derived from a Korean word that sounds similar.
2. Because of the location of our house, we really had only one next-door neighbor, the residents of 1 Hamilton Court. I think that the person with whom I conversed was named Chris Simons. He no longer lives there in 2022, but I think that his wife still does.
3. I am not counting our third rabbit. At some point before, during, or after Franklin’s stay with us at 41 North Street, Sue accepted (without consulting me) another rabbit from a relative or a friend of a relative. She explained that it could live outdoors, and she promised that she would care for it. She neglected it, and it died within a month or two.
4. Prior to the Pandemic three North American Bridge Championships were held every year at rotating sites by the American Contract Bridge League.
