April, 2010

Happy Birthday, Luke

Thursday, April 22nd, 2010

The UPS lady rang my buzzer this afternoon.  I opened my front door.  She held up the envelope.

“My memory is here,” I yelped.

“It is,” she said.

It was the memory for my Mac Book Pro.  Which I tried to install myself - big mistake.  First, I can’t see.  The screws that open the memory cage on my Mac are no bigger than a period at the end of a sentence.  Fortunately, I have a magnet screwdriver and reading glasses so I went to work.  Installing memory is harder than it sounds.  Or maybe not.  Anyway, I took out the old memory first, no small feat.  Then I inserted the first half of the whole Gigga Byte memory on the bottom and then inserted the second half on top of the first Gigga Byte me.  Happy with myself, I used my handy magnetic screwdriver to fasten down the memory cage, put the battery back in and turned on my Mac.  Blink - Blink - Blink - that was all the power light did.  The computer would not come on.  So, what to do?  I pulled the new memory out. 

Then Luke arrived.  First thing he saw was all the discarded memory lying on the living room floor.  So naturally I explain about buying the new memory and installing it even though I had a hunch I had no business opening up the back of a Mac. 

Luke grabbed a beer and sat down.

“What was wrong with the old memory?”

He had a point. 

“I just thought we needed more,” I said.

“We have enough,” he said. 

And then he used my magnetic screwdriver and slid the old memory back in.  And the Mac came on. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUKE !  (Oh, how I love to laugh with you.) 

R.I.P. Uncle Edmon

Monday, April 19th, 2010

Uncle Edmon died this morning.  He was 95.  My grandmother used to call him when my grandfather was pitching a fit, Uncle Edmon was my grandfather’s brother.  He would use the excuse of coming in his Higgins Oil truck to fill Papa’s gas tank on his farm and while he was there he would talk Papa down.  Up until the day Papa died, Uncle Edmon had to talk him down. 

Uncle Edmon was always like a second father to my mother.  She turned to him growing up when Papa pitched his fits and she turned to him later in life after Papa outlived my grandmother and continued pitching fits.  But, here’s the thing.  Uncle Edmon and Papa understood each other.  Papa was the first born, Uncle Edmon the second born, from a family of two boys and four girls.  My grandfather’s parents gave my grandfather away after he was born, to his mother’s parents, Grandad and Grandma Livesay.  They lived a rock’s throw apart but a world away from each other. 

Uncle Edmon and Papa were just two years apart.  All the time growing up, they kept it going between the two houses - boys standing in for adults - trying to keep a family together.  When they were grown with their own families, they stayed in touch via Higgins Oil.  They talked and told stories that over the years they had heard countless times before.  It was the laughter that mattered.  The visit was their bond.     

They were two brothers, working out the mess the adults made of their lives. 

R.I.P. Uncle Edmon

and Papa. 


Monday, April 5th, 2010

The 7.2 quake yesterday afternoon was a long one, it was as if the ground had turned into a roily sea.  There was another quake at 4 this morning then one at 6:30 that woke me up.  Just 15 minutes ago there was another one with the same characteristics - I’m in a boat, a swell pushes underneath me - I roll along with it in my office.  

Life is good.