A few spare pictures and paintings to close out the year...

Prepping for possible stained glass venture

The affair: Nobody suspected Goofy.

Happy New Year!

By by 2018!

Happy New Year from the Schulte Sector

On the lookout for wild dingoes while riding a yellow bug. It's gonna be a wild ride in 2019!

The Writer

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from the Schulte Sector

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

Texaco Gas & Food

Pete reviews an upcoming book, Influenza by Dr. Jeremy Brown. He also writes a story about a flu survivor (or about a guy who got sick once and won't shut up about it).

Influenza: 

The Hundred Year Hunt to Cure the Deadliest Disease in History

By Dr. Jeremy Brown

During the first part of the 20th century a terror was unleashed across the globe. The obvious answer would be WWI (1914-1918). But as horrific as that war was, there was an unseen killer around that same time period that took far more lives and covered a great deal more distance. That killer was the 1918 influenza pandemic (also known as the Spanish flu), which infected perhaps 500 million people and killed between 50 to 100 million people. 

An ordinary flu can still be quite dangerous, especially to very old or very young individuals. But this wicked strain of flu also went after and killed ordinarily healthy adults as well. Dr. Jeremy Brown’s upcoming book (to be published 12/18/18 upon the hundred year anniversary of that nasty bug) attempts to answer many questions regarding the Spanish flu. For example, why was that particular flu strain (H1N1) so deadly? Why did it strike so fiercely, seemingly unstoppable, only to disappear on its own? What did doctors do to attempt to treat the flu? What are they doing today? And finally, should you get an annual flu shot? Remember, flu strains change and the vaccine you receive may only be effective against 20 to 50 percent of the strains. There may be a bird virus one year and a pig virus the next -- or even a viral mixture from several different animals. With humans and animals living in closer and closer proximity, will there be another influenza season as devastating as the 1918 pandemic? 

Consider that deep under the ice in some frozen tundra this very strain of flu is still out there, buried with the bodies it took. Now it’s getting warmer and the ice is melting. Is it still out there…waiting? This flu is also in a lab somewhere -- hopefully under the safest containment. 

As alarming as all that sounds, I found Dr. Brown’s book quite fascinating. The race is on for more effective vaccines and maybe even a cure. After reading this book, I have decided to continue getting an annual flu shot, though not all countries recommend that this be done. Luckily many US health plans offer a free flu shot. Please consider taking advantage. 

January, 1986 (A Survivor's Story)

The Centers for Disease Control reports that “The 1985/1986 influenza B epidemic that peaked in February 1986 was the largest influenza B epidemic in the United States since the 1968/1969 influenza season, caused by virus strains that were anti-genetically distinct from previous strains.”

When I was a child I had a fever.

My hands felt like two balloons.

Now I got that feeling once again.  

                           David Jon Gilmore/Roger Waters

He was sick so infrequently that it came as a total surprise when he was struck by the flu. Thinking back, it shouldn’t have been any surprise at all. That said, the others in the house didn’t even believe him at first, wondering whether his dull moans were mere artifice. They weren’t. It was funny how fast the virus hit him. One moment he was listening to music. Was it Madonna’s Crazy for You? Or maybe Bruce Springsteen’s I’m on Fire? He’d like to remember it being Don Henley’s Boys of Summer. That one he especially liked. But during that song or some other it felt to him as if he’d been clobbered by a sucker punch. But this sucker punch had come from within. It hit him and his head spun round and his body sunk itself into the couch. He could nothing but lie as still as possible, for any motion on his part would bring on waves of nausea and a sprint to the bathroom. He knew what it was instantly. He knew. 

Upon reflection, he realizes that he was not as strong as he’d once thought. The flu had picked on an already weakened host. It could have killed him if it wanted to. It’s interesting that nobody else in the house or those close to him became ill. He alone had to battle the flu bug. But just who was he, this young man in late January, 1986? I knew him well and I’ll tell you about him. He was not yet 21. He’d left college voluntarily and without a diploma. He was working as a bellman at a hotel in one of the ugly, industrial parts of Florida that you don’t see on any brochures. All of his bosses were horrible people, and the rest of the staff seemed just as miserable as he was. He remembers spending his lunch breaks in an empty stairwell. He began losing weight, and he didn’t have much weight on him to begin with. And, some months prior, he’d managed to break his own heart. It’s not that he had what you’d call low self-esteem, it’s more accurate to say that he had no self-esteem. There was a book around that time called Less Than Zero by Brett Easton Ellis. He felt less than that -- if that’s even possible. But the worst part was that he felt there was no future for him. Even in his wild fever dreams there was nothing. He was a nobody and there was nothing and nobody for him. I guess you could say he’d hit bottom. But no. Because then, on his sick bed, on January 28th at 11:39 a.m., he watched in horror on television as the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up soon after lift-off killing all on board. He remembers clearly and misses those brave people to this day. 

It was a colder than the usual January for Florida in 1986, and it turns out that the cold air may have contributed to the Challenger’s demise. Florida is not supposed to be that cold, but sometimes it is anyway. The cold dips down from the east coast. What’s to stop it? 

So on further reflection, it appears that his immune system was indeed compromised despite a track record of robust health. He had given up on his education, stuck in a crummy job, had a sad heart, an unexplained weight loss (His buddy even teased him by calling him an anorexic motherfucker. Really, that bad?), and it was cold out there, the high for January 28 was 51.1 F, the low 30.2 F. Below freezing. 

So he caught the flu and felt physically near death. His eyes bulged to red, watery slits, and it seemed even his skin and every hair on it ached and burned. But in reality, it was just an average flu, which infected an average person, which lasted about a week. Average. But his life was certainly buried in a hole, that’s for sure. And like anybody else in that position he’d have to dig himself out. So, little by little (with plenty of bumps and hiccups along the way), I guess that’s what he did. 

The end. 

January, 1986 (outtake)

The young man woke up in the middle of the night, his head and body throbbing in pain. It was day four for his bout with the flu, and he felt weak, dizzy, and dehydrated. He turned to his side for greater comfort and was startled to find someone (or something!) sitting motionless by his bedside. It was an alien, just like in the movies this alien, who was thin and with skin colored dark green and having an over-sized head. Its eyes, mouth, and nose were mere black slits. There was no expression on its face. I mean, he was right there. Holy fuck! The young man wanted to cry out, but in his panicked state could do nothing but suck in air and gasp. The alien reacted to the young man’s consternation by calmly placing his palms upward. He said, “Fear not, human boy, no harm will come to you. There is no cause for alarm.”

“What do you want?” the young man managed to say.

“I want nothing.”

“Are you really here?” said the young man. “Am I dreaming this?”

“Do you remember when your friend was deathly ill, when he claimed he saw his Danny O’Day doll get up off the dresser and dance a jig?”

“Yes,” said the young man. “He was hallucinating.”

“No, he wasn’t. His Danny O‘Day doll really did get up off the dresser and dance a jig. And you’re not hallucinating either. I am here, and I am here to help you.” 

The young man could say nothing so he let the alien continue. “It has come to our attention that you suffer from influenza. That is most unfortunate. Luckily, I am a doctor.”

“I feel terrible.”

“I know, and I want to give you something to help alleviate your symptoms.”

The alien held out in his hand a glowing red pill for the young man to take. The young man, however, was fearful. Would anyone ever suggest accepting medication from an alien? “Come now,” the alien said. “You cannot possibly feel any worse than you do now, and none of your human stuff has been any help at all. Take the pill and by tomorrow you will have turned the corner and be well on your way to beating this thing. Come on now, don’t be a pussy.”

“Why are helping me?” the young man asked before gulping down the medication. He had no intention of being a pussy. 

“Because we know you were listening to a program on the radio just the other night. Oh yes, we now all about it. Radio waves travel very far -- across the universe in fact. The show you were listening to was about aliens, how this scientist, Fred Hoyle, theorized that the influenza virus was of alien origin. How influenza particles linger in the upper atmosphere after being carried in by various comets and meteorites. How -- every now and then -- solar flares pummel the atmosphere and drive down the flu spores from way up above.”

“Is that possible?” asked the young man.

“Well sure it’s possible but highly improbable. You probably got it from a bird who passed it to a pig who passed it to a dog who passed it to some other chump who passed it on to you. What me and my superiors want you and other flu sufferers to know is that our alien race neither carries nor transmits the flu virus. We are completely immune. So the next time anyone brings up this stupid theory, we want you to remember that aliens are helpful, not hurtful. Got it? To repeat: helpful, not hurtful. I mean, we don’t need anymore bad press. E.T. did us a solid but people have short memories.”

The young man nodded his head in affirmation as the alien rose to his feet. “Say,” said the alien, “you mind if I get into bed with you for a moment? I promise, no funny stuff.”

“Oh, it’s already pretty funny.”

“Yeah, it is,” said the alien as it slid its body under the covers. “I’m just so damn tired. Do you realize how vast our galaxy is? And I had to get here on short notice, too. We didn’t know that program was going to come on -- or that anybody would even listen to it.”

“It was quite interesting actually.”

“I’m sure.”

The young man and the alien rested beneath the covers. It felt warm and cozy being buried under blankets against a cold January night. The young man turned to his bed companion. “So are you a male alien or a female alien?”

“Oh, we don’t have those distinctions where I’m from. All we have is something called level of hotness.”

“Really?” asked the surprised young man. “Are you hot?”

“I’m off the charts hot,” replied the alien. “You better believe it. You‘re in bed with greatness, my friend.”

“I really can’t tell one alien from another.”

“Yeah, well I can say the same thing about you too, brother.”

The two quietly chatted until neither could keep their eyes open any longer. They drifted off to a deep sleep. When the young man awoke he found the alien gone. It was as if it had never been there at all. There was a note, however, sitting on the bedside table. Give my regards to Danny O’Day was all it said. But the pill had worked its magic and the young man had really turned the corner to recovery. He would be well again soon. Yes, his flu story was a strange one, but maybe there was some truth to it as well.

The end.

Book reviews, a story, and a farewell...

Are you looking for a fun paperback novel to cap off your summer? Please give Tom Perrotta's 'Mrs. Fletcher' your consideration. Mrs. Fletcher is divorced, 46, and now an empty-nester. Her son, Brendan, is a freshman at college who's not quite ready to give up his bro/jock reputation earned at high school. While he takes baby steps toward a more enlightened way of life, Mrs. Fletcher, or Eve, goes back to school herself in search of...life, or really anything to escape the drudgery of another Saturday night at home. Boy does she find it. Mrs. Fletcher is as fresh as today's 'me too' headlines. It's funny, touching, and something you'll remember this summer and beyond. 





If you’re a history buff, or if you just need to brush up on what went down for the past 5,000 years or so, I highly recommend E.H. Gombrich’s ‘A Little History of the World.’ The author wrote the book in just six weeks using a conversational style that anyone can understand and enjoy. Refresh your memory about the birth of Christianity and Islam and the Jewish Diaspora. Learn about the unlikely invasion of Hannibal and the vast exploits of Alexander the Great. Delve into the greatness of the Roman Empire, how it rose and why it fell. The French Revolution? Yes, heads were severed. WWI? I really believe cooler heads should have prevailed. There is something for everyone in this little history that tells so much in just a few short pages.


  
Getting the Mail

At first he carried the small child on the short walk to their mail station at the end of the street. Soon enough she was able to walk on her own, holding his hand as they made small steps along the sidewalk. At that time she knew how to say probably 50 words, but mail was definitely one of them. He told her that the mail arrived every day except for Sundays and holidays, but she wasn’t quite ready to understand the days of the week just yet. Sometimes they spotted the moon peaking out between the clouds. Moon was another word she knew well. He let her hold the mail key though kept a wary eye lest she drop it on the ground. 

At the mail station he helps her finagle the key into the lock and open the door. He helps her load her fist with assorted coupons and other junk mail. She turns to an approaching neighbor and shouts ‘Mail!’ as if she’s just won the lottery. He can’t help but laugh. In some ways they really have won the lottery. 

One night he went out to get the mail on his own. It was just after dark and cars and trucks were lined up along the street leading up to the mail station. One of the trucks, he noticed, was rocking. This appeared more than just a timid rocking so he increased his speed so as not to intrude. But just as he approached an interior light flashed on, no doubt bumped into illumination by a flailing body part. Wow, a hot night in suburbia, he thought, making haste for the mailbox (because the mail must never be interrupted -- not even by coitus). He decided to take the long way home in order to avoid lovers’ lane. Looking back (Yes, he looked back but did not turn into a pillar of salt.), he saw that the light had been extinguished. A faint laughter could be heard. 

He remembers when he himself was much younger and went on twilight walks with his father. They may have been walking their two dogs. There may have been cigar smoke in the air. He remembers being in his pajamas already. It was warm in Florida for much of the year and always good walking weather after the sun disappears. It was good to walk then and it’s still good to walk now -- even if it’s only to get the mail.




A few thought on the passing of Anthony Boudain...

Our family loved his show, Parts Unknown, and learned so much from his travels and cooking expertise. The way he could fit in with the locals no matter what part of the globe he was visiting was admirable. And he wasn't snooty at all, just an average guy learning about another culture. Here's someone anyone on the outside would think has it all put together. But that's the thing, we're on the outside. We only know the celebrity and not the man. I'm reminded of poem called 'Richard Cory' written way back in 1897 by Edwin Arlington Robinson (there's also a song on the same subject by Simon and Garfunkel). Anyway, Richard Cory is described in the poem as being a 'gentleman from sole to crown,' who 'fluttered pulses when he walked,' and was 'clean favored and imperiously slim.' He is described as being 'rich, richer than a king' and 'admired for his grace.' After extolling Richard Cory, we get the final haunting stanza:

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet in his head.

RIP Anthony Boudain. 

The Schulte Sector turns to science.

Astrophysics for People in a Hurry by Neil DeGrasse Tyson

I'm not in much of a hurry, and I have a very limited science background, so I wasn't sure if this would be the book for me. How wrong I was. Astrophysics for People in a Hurry helped expand my knowledge beyond our galaxy and into the universe (or universes) beyond. The author takes you to the end of time -- or is it the beginning? There is also the possibility that there really is no time at all; it's just a human construct to get the flight schedules on time. So it makes sense sometimes to not be in a hurry -- unless a bear is chasing you. The big bang theory is explained, as are the possible big bang theories to come. My writing is confusing because I'm a novice at astrophysics. But trust me, Neil DeGrasse Tyson will give you all the expertise you need in this universe, as well as the duplicate you in a parallel dimension. Happy space travels!

Journey to the Sun

I just wanted to drop off a bag, but was able to let go of some emotional baggage as well. 

Reading by the Rails

With a toddler on the move, updating this blog has been temporarily slowed. We are still, however, reading, watching shows, painting, and gardening when we can. We've certainly seen our share of kids' movies such as Despicable Me (I and II), Minions, and Sesame Street. Of the adult nature, we loved The Killing, Mindhunter, Handmaid's Tale, The Americans (we like The Americans so much we choreographed a dance sequence to the opening credits), Bombshell (the Hedy Lamarr story), Versailles, New Girl, This is Us, Alienist, and Fixer-Upper. Miki also enjoyed The Crown, the Royal Wedding, Love, and Let Down. 

In sports, we had fun watching the Notre Dame women's basketball team win the big tournament. We also enjoyed watching the US women's soccer team with our favorite player, Mallory Pugh. The Kentucky Derby was pretty fun to watch as well. Hopefully the Colorado Rockies will keep up their winning ways. 

As far as reading goes, along with the above mentioned Astrophysics for People in a Hurry, I've been reading Stephen Hawking's A Briefer History of Time. I don't know what's with the science kick for me, but I'm really loving it. I've also read two more Bill Bryson books: One Summer, America 1927 and The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid. Both are excellent. I've also read Mindhunter, about the FBI's special unit designed to hunt serial killers. Speaking of killers, Miki's been a long time listener of My Favorite Murder podcast, which often discusses the recently captured suspect in the Golden State murders. She loved the current bestseller on the subject called I'll Be Gone in the Dark by the late Michelle McNamara. One more of Miki's picks to note: Scrappy Little Nobody, Anna Kendrick's autobiography. As for our favorite toddler, she seems to enjoy the classic Goodnight Moon, A Spot for Arlo, Crinkle, Crinkle Little Star, You Be You, and A Charlie Brown Christmas (even in May). Well, we're going to out back and take a look at the full moon. Happy reading everyone!  

End of winter photos