What Fresh Hell?


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Days after my family lost two of our own, I read a tip on How to Lament by Malia Wollan in the New York Times Magazine. It begins:

“‘‘You must have visible tears,’’ says James M. Wilce, an anthropology professor at Northern Arizona University who studies lamentation, or what he calls ‘‘melodic wailing’’ with words. Wet cheeks are the minimum: In some places, funeral keeners throw themselves to the ground, sway their bodies or beat at their chests.””

These are my tips:

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heather jonesComment

Reflections on David Andreatta’s article in the Rochester, NY, Democrat and Chronicle: “Don’t call these women ‘elderly’ – Sunday, July 9, 2017

David Andreatta, the hunky journalist who is even better-looking-than-his-picture (I saw him one time at GEVA Theater) writes about two women who are linked by friendship, a love of fitness and their rigorous walking schedule. Mary Mort (63) and Becky Kehoe (72) were training for a half-marathon back in February when they were struck by a car whose driver veered from the road and smacked into both of them. Mary and Becky suffered massive, life threatening injuries. Recently, they contacted Andreatta about what truly pissed them off, and it wasn’t just the “rehab and the nightmares and the medical bills throughout the ordeal,” not even - it was that the newspaper account of the accident didn’t even mention their names. They were referred to as two elderly women.

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Not Good

                Yesterday. The weather: beautiful. The place: leafy, green suburban neighborhood. My grandson was sleeping upstairs in the crib we now keep for him in our daughter’s old bedroom and I saw from the front window parked in front of our house a police car (K-9 unit) and a sheriff’s vehicle. Soon a maroon SUV drove up and parked in front of the sheriff’s car. My across-the-street-neighbor, only days before the birth of a second child, came over to see if everything was okay with us, if my husband was alright. I told her he was at work. My grandson napping. She said a swarm of cars converged in front of the house four doors down.


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The First Monday in June 2017

1.      I get up after reading (in bed) (for an hour and a half) (64% completed – huge -500 print pages) Paul Theroux’s Mother Land.

2.      Come downstairs to look up Steven King’s review of it in May 8, 2017 NYT Book Review article. Definitely autobiographical. Ew.

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Musings about The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing by Marie Kondo

First, a story about tidying and neatness. Years ago, a pillar of the church in which I grew up, died suddenly after being hit by a car. She was beautiful, wealthy, gracious in that southern way, and had a gorgeous singing voice. After her death, I heard my mother exclaiming to a friend, “My goodness, on the morning she died, it was shocking, so unexpected, but her kitchen counters were absolutely spotless, not a thing on them.” What the fuck?! I realized right then, that no, death is not the end. No, we, and I really mean, women, have to worry about our remains of the day and who’s left to be rooting around in pantries, bedside tables, our dresser drawers. And making comments.

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Sleep Number

Sleep and its opposite, insomnia, are much in the news these days. About sleep –Americans are not getting enough of it (frankly, how could we these days?) And insomnia – well, many of us have nights when sleep just won’t come at all or we simply cannot navigate ourselves back upon gentle lapping Lethian waves.

In an effort to spare you fruitless attempts to beat back insomnia – the kind that wakes you out of a soundish sleep at 2:45 in the morning – the following things DO NOT WORK:

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Mind Games

Again, am I the only one who is terrified? No, not of Alzheimer’s. I’m talking about not trying hard enough (at all) to prevent it. I cringe when I hear those ads for Lumosity - you know, the online site for brain games designed to insulate your gray matter against the ravages of various dementias. According to a commercial on my supposedly ad-free NPR affiliate, all I have to do is take a quiz, and then see how my intelligence aligns with everyone else’s in the world. . .

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From yesterday’s (Sunday, May 7, 2017) NYT Style Section “No Grandma, You Are Not LOL,” Future Tense

From yesterday’s (Sunday, May 7, 2017) NYT Style Section “No Grandma, You Are Not LOL,” Future Tense – Teddy Wayne

1.     I’m reading the newspaper – emphasis on ‘paper’ so that automatically lets you know I am of a certain age. Then I see three pictures accompanying above article –septuagenarians all, Larry King, Cher, and the Donald – I’m not quite there yet, but habitual obituary reading (and a shout out to obit writers everywhere who include the decedent’s age) and seeing that the newly departed was, oh say, between 61 (my age) and 80 and my first response is, “Holy Crap! Cut down in the very prime of life. Much too young!”

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I can’t be the only one. . . 

CNN, NBC, ABC, NPR - I get it, I know your demographic. I am your demographic, but until I retired last June from a busy career as an English teacher, I did not measure out my days tuning in, periodically during daylight hours, to catch up on the latest dispatches from the Trump administration’s current circle of hell. Seriously, last June, the words Trump administration weren’t used together except as a late-night laugh line. 

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heather jones