A puzzling milestone

This morning, I finished the 75th and final puzzle in a book of NY Times Sunday crossword puzzles, which accompanied me on many travels during this most unusual year. Our niece and her husband sent the book to us in Loma Linda after our son was seriously injured last March.

The crossword book, along with five thoughtfully presharpened pencils, was included in a "care package" of books, activities and snacks to help us fill the time at our son's bedside. It also became an occasional notebook, when a doctor, nurse or visitor arrived. On the page for Puzzle 29, my wife jotted a number of questions for us to ask about Will's impending transfer to a rehab center. Inside the back cover, I jotted the cell phone number of his company commander, who had come to visit, and a few notes about Will's progress.

As it turned out, the first 43 of the 75 puzzles were completed in Loma Linda. Eventually, the five pencils lost their points, so I bought a small and surprisingly effective pencil sharpener at the Loma Linda University student store. The 44th puzzle was the transition one, completed in part as Leslie drove the two of us along Interstate 15 from San Diego back to Loma Linda, after we delivered Will to the naval hospital in SD. That puzzle was ultimately completed after we returned to Sacramento.

That's where I finished most of the rest. But Puzzle 48 was completed in SD in June, during a visit to Will. Four or five were finished during summertime trips to the cabin in Strawberry. I finished one and started another during our Thanksgiving weekend trip to my sister's house in Santa Rosa. By the time we went to visit Will in Twentynine Palms before New Year's, I was on Puzzles 71 and 72.

Now it's time to start on a new book of crosswords, thoughtfully provided by the daughter at Christmas. But I think I'll hold onto this completed book for a while longer.

The Editor at Work

This sketch of my father was made sometime in the early 1960s, I believe, as he worked at the newspaper. I don't know the artist, though I think it would have been done by the editorial cartoonist at the Stockton Record who, at the time, would have been a fellow named Bert Whitman.

The sketch had been tucked away in a filing cabinet among the many football programs, baseball scorebooks and other papers that my dad left behind. Now, it's been matted and framed and it hangs on the wall in my office.

Fenced in

Our back fence had been in horrible shape for several years. During that time, we had tried to contact our neighbor several times to see about replacing it. No response. But then we learned, through a mutual neighbor, that he had decided to redo his backyard, deck and fence.

The new fence was completed this week, and oh, what a fence it is.

I promised to post a photo, so here we go.

A timely Halloween decoration

In October, it's become common to see front lawns with fake tombstones. But someone in our neighborhood took this Halloween tradition and gave it a timely twist.

In their front yard, one tombstone reads, "RIP Savings."

Another, simply: "401K"

Nice hat

This is a wonderful photo. It's both strikingly lovely and strikingly silly.

The story in the New York Times says the photographer, Hendrik Kerstens, staged the photos to be similar to paintings by 17th century Dutch masters.

In this one, his daughter strikes the classical pose ... but of course it's a plastic trash bag she's wearing on her head, shaped like a lace hood. There's another one where she assumes a similar pose but wears a napkin on her head.

What a good sport and what a fun idea.

California Sto

People in other states refer to a driving technique called a "California stop," in which a driver rolls through a stop sign.

Here is evidence that we in California aren't even patient enough to paint the whole word on the pavement.

Anachronism Day

We thought today was Bastille Day, but it turned out to be Anachronism Day.

The radio broadcaster at the baseball All-Star Game, noting that many people had decided to take photographs of a hometown batter coming to the plate, remarked about the "thousands of flashbulbs going off."

I bet zero flashbulbs went off, but the broadcaster demonstrated himself to be of a certain age.

Later I learned that my wife, when driving home, had seen a young man crossing the street and holding a boombox to his ear. That seemed like a throwback, too.

I would type more, but I have to go repair my buggy whip.

Marines and mules ...

... and donkeys, mainly. As an admirer of Marines, I enjoyed this story from today's LA Times, about young Marines working with pack animals at the training center near Bridgeport.

They do it for a terribly serious reason: to be able to lug the gear they need up the mountains in Afghanistan. But the writer manages to capture the enthusiasm and optimism of young men who have volunteered to do dangerous work.

I also recommend the slide show accompanying the story. There are a couple of photos of the Marines working to pull, and push, their animal up the hill.

God bless 'em.

Room with a view

Attitude is everything. It's something we say all the time but every so often there are real examples that bring the old saying home. As our son continues an amazing recovery, we're convinced that his positive attitude is having a significant impact.

I admire what he posted on his Facebook site the other day: "One thing I learned from my situation, feeling sorry for yourself only gets you down. Remember this, it could be a lot worse."

The view from his room at the naval hospital barracks emphasizes the benefit of taking the glass-half-full approach. Is this a view of an ugly, government-built parking structure or a view of lovely buildings at Balboa Park?

Attitude is everything.

Silhouetty Kitty

This is an artsy portrait of the daughter's kitty, taken in beautiful Oakland on the weekend. The kitty deserves to be portrayed as a shadowy figure, because she is known to escape from her home and take up residence with other felines in the neighborhood.

The photograph was taken after we returned from SF, having thoroughly enjoyed Spamalot, and before we set out successfully in search of a fulfilling dinner along Grand Ave. The kitty stayed in the window.

Moving forward

During the past two months, I have learned much about the human spirit. How people come to the aid of others who are injured. How people rally around each other in times of crisis. How strong the will to live is.

We are about to return to our normal lives. But those lives have changed forever. We will not forget the kindness of all the family members, friends, colleagues and complete strangers who helped us and our son, as he continues his recovery. The daughter has written beautifully about this.

There is nothing to add but: Thank you.

Warped speed

We all have our eccentricities ... but we all don't have a replica of the chair Captain Kirk used on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise in Star Trek.

Thanks to the New York Times, though, I learned that a number of men (yes, the Times reported, they all seem to be men) have created replicas of the chair. Some, such as this gentleman, have installed these chairs in their living rooms. One fellow said his wife had forced him to keep the chair out in his garage/home-office: "My wife is not big on it," he told the reporter. "I've actually been threatened with divorce if it comes into the living room."

For all the trouble and expense the men go to in order to create these chairs, it turns out that they're not terribly comfortable ... almost as though the original set designers never really expected anyone to sit in this pretend chair for very long.

Rams win!

Congratulations to the St. Mary's High School Golden Rams of Stockton for winning their fifth state championship in the past decade, in girls Division III basketball.

(Thanks to Sac Bee Web site for the photo.)

City Sightings

We had a wonderful time skewing the demographics at the Space Gallery in San Francisco last night for the Instant Gratification show of Polaroid art. We left the revelry unfashionably early, around 10:30 p.m., but that provided two benefits: First, our departure allowed at least a couple of the people waiting in line to enter. Second, we chanced into a sighting of the San Francisco Snuggie Pub Crawl.

We had learned from the daughter that Snuggies--the As Seen on TV blankets with sleeves--have become an unlikely hit with the twentysomething set. We saw evidence of that cultural trend when we walked out of Space Gallery and saw a group of 10 or 12 people, all clad in what appeared to be royal blue monks' robes. They were headed to Vertigo, the bar across Polk St. from the gallery, and there were already at least a couple of other people in sea green Snuggies awaiting them there. According to the SFSPC Facebook page, Vertigo was even offering drink specials for Snuggie wearers only. If only we had known.

So far, according to the Snuggie Pub Crawls Web site, there is not a Snuggie Pub Crawl scheduled in Sacramento, though somehow the trend has reached Scranton, Penn., and Rapid City, S.D.

The other interesting sight came this morning, as we were walking back from our brunch at the Olea restaurant on California St. A man with a banjo slung over his shoulder came walking out of a laundromat. Had he been entertaining other patrons of the laundromat? There didn't seem to be anyone else in the building. Had his banjo playing scared all the other people away from the laundromat? Was he starting his laundry and heading off to a banjo gig nearby? We will never know.

Shocking revelation

I learned yesterday that a colleague of mine at work shares the same birthplace with me. Both of us were born in Amarillo, Texas.

We have worked in the same office for 20 years and somehow this never came up; not that I mention Amarillo much. After all, my family left there when I was six. But ever since I have proudly proclaimed myself a Texan by birth and Californian by choice.

My colleague also left Amarillo as a child; she was 13 months old, she said. But the timelines worked out so that we would have lived there at the same time.

If I later find out that her family lived on Carolina St. or Cimarron Ave. ... well, that would be a full-scale freak-out.

Mr. Lincoln's watch

I thought the story about the Shakespeare portrait would probably be the best story of the week, until I saw the story about Abe Lincoln's pocket watch: How an otherwise-anonymous watch repairman told his family that he had etched a secret message in Abe's watch on the day he learned that the rebels had fired on Fort Sumter ... how he had related the story to the New York Times as an 84-year-old in 1906 ... how a descendant had researched the tale and convinced the Smithsonian to open the watch ...

... and how, by God, the message was actually there, with the watch repairman's name to clinch the deal.

They'll be arguing for generations about whether that portrait really shows Shakespeare, but Jonathan Dillon's descendants now know that he really did what he said he did.

And, on top of all that, it's a beautiful watch.

The great man himself?

As an English major, I am of course interested in the question of whether this portrait is the actual, honest-to-god William Shakespeare.

It would be fun if it were true, since Shakespeare has been studied and studied to the point that it would seem that nothing new could be learned. If it's true, it would also make generations of the Cobbe family look rather foolish. After all, the family has owned this painting for nearly 300 years and not once did a Cobbe say, "You know, this bloke looks a little bit like the other portraits of Shakespeare that I've seen." It was only in the last three years that a Cobbe made the connection, setting off the chain of events that led to the painting's unveiling in London yesterday.

I also hope it's true because one of the Cambridge University specialists who has worked to authenticate the painting is named Rupert Featherstone and, in my mind, if it's good enough for Rupert Featherstone, that's all I need to know.

Funky to funkier

Our Sacramento Bee published a story today about the sad state of the Cal Neva Resort. The place is teetering on foreclosure and, according to the story, has fallen into a state of disrepair under its current owner. Actually, I suppose you could say it has fallen into two states of disrepair, since the state line runs right through the property, as the above Bee photo of the Indian Room shows.

Having visited the Cal Neva nearly five years ago for a wedding, it's hard to imagine it falling on even harder times. One of my cousins had a lovely wedding there, but save for the wedding party, there were few people at the resort that Independence Day.

I remember the trip primarily for the odd things that happened: I got a flat tire; I doused a new tie with champagne; and we took the very funky tour that the resort offered. In one of the tunnels connecting the main lodge to the guest cottages, the tour guide stopped us next to a small X chalked on the wall. The X, he told us, marked the spot where John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe had, allegedly, had an assignation during Frank Sinatra's ownership of the Cal Neva in the Rat Pack days. The tour also took us to the showroom where Sinatra had performed back in the day; by then, it smelled musty and was obviously in long-term disuse. It all seemed kind of forlorn.

But it's a special place for my cousin who was married there, and doubtless for many others. And that state line running through the lodge and the pool gives it a certain panache. Let's hope someone can revive it. Save the Cal Neva!

Vivaldi is popular ...

... in Sacramento. At least, that's what we learned last night. We thought we could walk up at the last minute and buy tickets for a Vivaldi concert in downtown Sac last night.

But no.

When we reached the front door of the church where the concert was to be held, we were confronted by a sign that read, "Vivaldi concert sold out." Boo hoo.

We contented ourselves with a stroll around the downtown area and resolved to plan ahead next time.

Viva Vivaldi.

Good for the soil and the soul

Just returned from an invigorating, hour-long walk in the rain. It's been raining steadily but gently all morning, so we could walk in relative comfort and enjoy the clear air and the vivid colors created by the muted light.

We also cut a jaunty appearance in our Driducks rainsuits (worn at the left by a lucky male model), purchased for football-watching attire but very useful for rain-walking. I imagine people looking out their windows were checking to see if their electricity was still on, since we looked like an itinerant, two-person utility crew.

But the suits kept us dry and allowed us to enjoy a walk in the rain.