Author Archives: kzmclain

Friday Book Whimsy: The Glass Ocean

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It is not their first rodeo when it comes to co-authoring a book for fiction-writers Karen White, Beatriz Williams, and Lauren Willig. A couple of years ago, the three prolific novelists co-authored The Forgotten Room, a bestselling novel that I reviewed and frankly didn’t like all that much.

So, it was with some trepidation that I decided to read their newest crack at co-writing a historical novel, The Glass Ocean. I’m happy that I took the risk, because I liked this effort much more than I liked The Forgotten Room. In fact, I looked back at my review of The Forgotten Room to see if I was somewhat unfair. Book reviews are subjective, of course, but I concluded that my review was on point as far as my opinion of that book went.

Like The Forgotten Room, The Glass Ocean is the tale of three women from different eras But this book also features a doomed ship, the Lusitania. Socialite Caroline and her husband Gil are passengers on the ship that was fated to never reach its destination, and led to the United States declaring war on Germany in 1917. The Lusitania, of course, was destroyed by the Germans, and many of the passengers who died were Americans. Gil talks Caroline into accompanying him on the ship’s maiden voyage, and she reluctantly agrees. She loves her husband, but their marriage seems to be shaky and Gil is secretive and distant. Robert Langford, a long-time friend of Caroline’s, is happy to keep her company in his stead and books passage.

In the meantime, Tess and her sister are also passengers. They are small-time con artists, but Tess is ready to go straight. Her sister convinces her that this will be their last dishonest effort, and it will change their lives. It involves a piece of music — a lost Strauss waltz which belongs to Gil and is being carried to England on the ship.

Meanwhile, fast-forwarding to this century, Sarah — who is the great granddaughter of one of the Lusitania’s porters — wants to write a book about the ship because she discovers some interesting information that would offer the world a different angle. She turns to Robert Langford’s great grandson John, who is looking for something to do since his career in Parliament has been damaged because of an unrelated family scandal.

There are secrets galore in this lively novel, and many questions about loyalty. Who are patriots and who are German spies?

Some controversy about whether the Lusitania was, in fact, carrying weapons to England as the Germans maintained or was simply a passenger ship continues to this day. The book, in fact, is unclear about the ship’s role in the war. It isn’t unclear, however, about whether the characters help or harm the war efforts.

I found The Glass Ocean to be a very interesting and informative novel.

Here is a link to the book.

Thursday Thoughts

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Wimpy Followup
I got answers to my questions regarding Medicare. Gosh, it’s nice to have a blog so that I have an entire audience of people to help. Apparently Medicare will bill me quarterly for the money I owe them until such time as I begin to collect Social Security. At that point, they will start taking it directly out of my SS check. As for the flimsy cards which we are not allowed — by law — to laminate, Bec came up with the answer. As always, the answer is Amazon. They sell plastic sleeves designed especially for Medicare cards in packages of six. She has generously agreed to give two of her six cards to Bill and me. Was there really life before Amazon?

And It’s Off….
Rather than drive to our house in AZ, Bill and I decided to ship our car and let Southwest Airlines take us there. We don’t leave until Tuesday, but it was yesterday or never for the car. It left yesterday afternoon and will beat us to AZ. We will pick it up on Wednesday. It’s the gray car….

Halloween Celebrations
Many of ourgrandkids frolicked in costume at their school celebrations of All Hallows Eve. Each Halloween, Maggie Faith’s school ends the school day with a parade, followed by the song Thriller blasting from the intercom system while the kids dance. Sadly, I wasn’t able to attend because I wanted a chance to see Kaiya, Mylee, and Cole dressed up for the celebration. Cole’s school doesn’t allow for Halloween; instead, they call it Orange Day, and in lieu of wearing costumes, they wear orange. PC much? Cole wore Broncos orange for his school party, but changed into his dragon costume for Kaiya and Mylee’s parade…..

Weather or Not, Colorado Kids Trick Or Treat
We woke up to snow on the ground and cold temperatures yesterday morning, but by mid-afternoon, I didn’t even need a coat. The kiddies had to dress warm for trick-or-treating, but not like some years when it has been blowing snow and cold.

Pizza Sox
My sister Jen sent me this photo of her grandson Austin and some of his buddies. He was terribly excited about his socks, and who can blame him? Pizza on his socks?…..

Ciao.

Something To Talk About

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The other day I watched a video someone posted on Facebook about the challenges facing so-called Millennials — those born between 1981 and 1996 according to the Pew Research Center. The sociologist in the video talked about the challenges facing people of that generation largely stemming from parental and societal mores that existed at the time. You know, everybody’s special, elimination of winners and losers, participation trophies, etc. But I found the most interesting observations about which he spoke were connected to the challenges brought about by technology — primarily smart phones.

Smart phones are awesome. The ability to be connected to information at the drop of a hat never fails to fill me with awe. But even in my relatively technology-less life, I get frustrated at the people around me and their dependence on their cell phones or iPads. I will often pose a rhetorical question to Bill, for example, and before I know it, he’s looking it up on his phone. I don’t really want to know the answer, I’ll scream silently to myself. Sometimes I simply want to wonder about something.

The sociologist went on to talk about the new behavior at business meetings where all of the attendees enter the room carrying their smart phones. Each person sits down and begins immediately looking down at their phones, checking Facebook or Instagram or their text messages. They sit in that manner until the meeting starts, and then likely have their phones on their laps lest they miss an essential tweet. The conversations that used to take place among fellow employees while they wait for a meeting to start — Hey Jessica, how is your mom doing? Is she still in the hospital? or Did your grandkid ever hear back from Podunk University? Did they make the cut? — no longer take place. Instead, we only know what our coworker had for drinks and dinner the night before because the photos are posted on Instagram……

Back in my employment days, one of my jobs was to write and send out press releases on a regular basis. Because I had no administrative support, I was also responsible for inserting the press releases into envelopes, slapping on labels, and sealing the envelopes — 350 or so almost every week. It would have been an overwhelming job, but it wasn’t. Here’s why: the morning of a day in which I would be sending out a press release, I would walk around the office and let people know that I would be at the big conference table around 3, and invite anyone who had time to join me and help with the project.

At 3 o’clock, there were invariably four or five or six people gathered around the conference table working on what could have been a tedious job. The worker bees might be directors, administrative staff, or maintenance folks. We would talk about our families. We would discuss what we were all making for dinner that night. We would commiserate about politics — both “Big P” and “little p” politics. We critiqued movies and television programs. Sometimes, if the project fell on a Friday, we may even carry our discussion later to a nearby bar to solve the world’s problems over a martini.

And there wasn’t a cell phone in sight. I wonder if anything like that would happen in today’s work force?

Wimpy

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Growing old is not for wimps, said every person over the age of 60 at some point in their lives.

Take yesterday morning. No, really. Take it. (Badda bing.) Bill and I — who have admittedly been putting exercise on the back burner when it comes to our daily activities — decided we would go out for a walk. The day was going to be lovely, mostly sunny with a high of 78. These Indian Summer days are tricky, however, because the mornings are pretty chilly but the temps warm up throughout the day. So when we took off for our walk, it was 40 degrees and warranted the need for a jacket or sweater. By the end of our walk, we were tearing off our outer clothing like it was on fire because we were so hot.

Our plan was to walk over to the light rail station (about three-quarters of a mile from our house) and drop off our ballots at the ballot box located there. As we neared our destination, Bill said, “Let’s walk over to Panera’s and get a bagel.” Well, I was amenable, despite the fact that I knew it would add another half mile to our walk. After all, we both felt pretty good.

“I’m game,” I said, but I heard Jessie’s voice in my head. Many years ago when my niece Jessie was just a little girl, she took her three aunties on a hike to show off the skills she had learned in her after-school hiking club. As we were following her up the hiking trail, she turned to us and said sternly, “Now don’t wait until you’re tired to tell me you want to turn around.”Well Jessie, Bill and I did exactly what you told us not to do. As a result, by time we reached our street, we were dragging like we had just run a marathon.

Jessie and her dad — my brother Dave. She no longer bosses us around.

But that’s not what led me to write about the relationship between aging and wimpiness. It’s Medicare, my friends. Medicare is going to kill me. Perhaps that’s their plan because that would result in one fewer old person to collect the benefit, leaving more for the foolish generations who think there will be any money left for them. Take that, Millennials. Try selling your Participation trophies.

I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent person. I’m no Carl Sagan, but I’m also not Ed Norton of The Honeymooners fame. But this Medicare stuff is kicking my butt and taking names.

I think I have correctly signed up for Medicare. I got a card with a Medicare number, so I must be. (I don’t know how that flimsy card is supposed to last until my dying days, but that’s another story for another day.) I have dutifully sent a copy of that card to the Public Employees Retirement Fund for reasons I don’t know or care. They asked; I complied. But the process wasn’t particularly easy. I went up and down the stairs countless times, walking from my upstairs office to Bill’s downstairs office to ask him stupid things like Do I want Medicare Part A or Part B? or Did you know you have to pay for Part B? or Did you know Medicare won’t pay for flu shots? or How do I pay for my Part B if I’m not collecting Social Security?

Bill is nothing, if not patient, and he answered all of my questions without rolling his eyes (or at least held off until I had left the room).

Yesterday I signed up for my supplemental insurance plan, which I am getting through PERA. I was very excited to see that I could fill out my form online. I found the form quite quickly, and began filling it out. About every five minutes I would have to go downstairs to ask Bill for his social security number or his Medicare number. I got to the point where I was going to press SEND, when the computer informed me that I wasn’t able to file electronically since they needed my spouse’s signature. I would have to fill out the form on paper. Please. Paper? It’s the 21st Century.

I finally managed to print out and subsequently fill out the correct form, put it in an envelope with a stamp (how old school), and find a mailbox. I will hold my breath until my first doctor visit in 2019, and hope they don’t send me packing because they’ve never heard of me.

By the way, does anyone know how I pay for Part B if I’m not collecting Social Security?

Haunted House

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Typically by this time we have already made our way to AZ for our fall trip at which time we open up the house and prepare it for our winter arrival on Christmas Day. This year, because of a doctor’s appointment related to Bill’s participation in the clinical research study, we have postponed our trip until November 6, the day after his appointment, at which time we will fly to AZ rather than drive, and return to Denver about a week-and-a-half later. I’m happy to say that our AZ house has already been opened up by my niece Maggie and her family, who are using it as a stop-off between selling their house and moving into their new home. It makes me happy to think about our little house in Mesa being lived in by Austin and Lilly (and their parents, of course). The patter of little feet and all that jazz.

We are, in fact, having to remain pretty flexible this year as a result of the research study. Part of the requirement is that Bill meets monthly with the doctor in Denver, which means that he, at least, will have to fly back once a month. I reckon as his care partner, I will be accompanying him. It will be a chance to give the grands a hug and kiss.

Anyhoo, it has been years since we have been in Denver for Halloween. We always get photos, but it will be fun this year to see the grands dressed up for trick-or-treating in person. We will have to make do with photos for the Vermonters.

As much as I like to read a good thriller, I’m frankly not much for watching scary movies. I really never have liked them, though I was more amenable to them when I was younger. I’m pretty sure the last horror movie I saw was The Sixth Sense, a film that scared the devil out of me. There is a scene in that movie where the little boy who “sees dead people” glimpses a dead woman with half of her head shot off walk from one room in his house across the hall to another room. For the next six months, every time I stayed up later than Bill, I would come upstairs, stop at the top of the stairs, and then run like hell down the hall to our bedroom. Hand to God. If Court had come out of his room about that time, I am certain I would have had a heart attack.

So I ask myself why-oh-why did I think watching a scary movie Saturday night when Bill was not home was a good idea. Some time ago, I read (and reviewed) the book The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. I found the book sufficiently spooky, but readable. Netflix recently began streaming an original version of the story, not in one film but in a series of eight or so episodes. As a tribute to Halloween, I decided to watch the first episode. At home by myself. I seriously wasn’t more than six or seven minutes into the first episode when I heard a gigantic crash somewhere in the house. You’ve got to be kidding me, right? I nearly jumped out of my chair. I paused the program and carefully began searching the house for a ghost, or perhaps a serial murderer. I went to the top of the stairs, but the woman with half a head was no where to be seen. I even managed to gather up all of my nerve and creep carefully down to our basement, but there was no ghost there either.

I managed to convince myself that the noise came from outside, perhaps someone throwing a pumpkin into the street. But I wasn’t able to bring myself back to the movie. I removed The Haunting of Hill House from my Netflix list, and I watched The Princess Diaries instead. How scary can Julie Andrews be?

Yesterday morning, I went into our guest room to look for something in the closet. I noticed that the piece of art that I had hung up after our painter was finished with his work was on the floor, the frame broken into pieces. I’m unwilling to admit that I just did a bad job of hanging the picture. I’m pretty sure the woman with no head was in our house Saturday night.

Saturday Smile: Do You Still Have a Party Line Too?

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I mentioned in my Thursday Thoughts that Dagny, Maggie Faith, and I went geocaching this week. We took my beloved yellow bug and Dagny is now old enough to sit in the front seat. We were driving towards home when suddenly Dagny asked me, “Nana, what does this mean?” She was pointing to the in-dash radio system that came with my 2003 Volkswagen Beetle. “What does Stop and Eject and Rew mean?”

I started laughing, because as I often point out to people driving cars with fancy sound systems, my car is so old that it skipped an entire generation of music options: Not only does it not have blue tooth access to my playlist, there is not even a compact disc player……

I think maybe she thought there was a chance she was sitting in the ejection seat…..

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: And the Winner Is…..

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Back in June, I wrote a blog post in which I admitted that I had just learned that PBS was sponsoring a contest of sorts in which people would vote for their favorite book. Through some process that I never bothered to research, 100 books were nominated by readers like you and me as their favorite book — as my 8-year–old granddaughter Mylee would say — in the whole entire world. Let me remind you that it was expressly defined as the favorite book and not the best book. As such, books such as Fifty Shades of Gray and The Notebook were among the 100 that were nominated. As Jerry Seinfeld would say, not that there’s anything wrong with them.

Each day, readers were invited to vote for our favorite or favorites. I will admit that most days I forgot to vote. I will also admit that every day that I remembered to vote, I voted for the same book — Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier. Haters, don’t hate. I am a sucker for that book. It’s got everything: a dashing hero (never mind that he actually ends up being a murderer), a lovely, yet wimpering heroine (who remains nameless throughout — as Mylee would say — the whole entire book), an evil housekeeper (who may or may not have been one of Rebecca’s lovers), and a beautiful mansion on the shores of the raging sea in Cornwall, England (because Manderley, you see is most assuredly a character in the book. Rebecca has one of the best opening lines in any book: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”)

Alas, Rebecca did not win. And it probably didn’t deserve that honor, despite this reader’s love for the cleverly-written and decidedly creepy story. Instead, the winner was To Kill a Mockingbird.

The Pulitzer-prize winning novel by Harper Lee has been newsworthy for nearly 60 years. Most recently, a school district in Canada has banned the book from its curriculum, saying it is racist and hurtful to African American students. I choose not to weigh in on that controversy at this point but (cough) bulldoodoo.

Here are how some of my favorite books that were included among the 100 nominees fared: Little Women came in 8th; Jane Eyre was in the 10th spot; A Tree Grows in Brooklyn was number 13, and Then There Were None took 19th place. As for Rebecca, it did quite well, landing in spot number 25. As for Fifty Shades of Gray, it was 86th out of the 100 on the list.   

Click here for a complete list of the results.

Thursday Thoughts

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Treasure Hunt
Tuesday was the final day of their fall break, so I talked Dagny and Maggie Faith into going geocaching with me. When I say talk, please understand that all that is required is for me to ask, because you’ve never seen two girls more ready to tackle this very fun treasure hunt. The day was glorious, with a bright blue sky and temperatures in the high 60s or low 70s. As we walked towards our first find, Maggie said, “I love geocaching because you can be outside and get some exercise and fresh air and use your imagination to try and find the hidden caches.” I’m pretty sure the traditional trip to Sonic following a geocaching event helps sweeten the pot. We not only had a ton of fun, but we found seven caches out of seven searches. Some days you’re lucky and some days you’re not. I should have bought a lottery ticket. ….

Maggie’s cache is almost as big as she is!

Bon Appetit
Once a year about this time Bill and I go out to dinner with Dave, Jll, Allen, and Emma to celebrate the birthdays that are clustered around the end of the year. Each year we choose a different restaurant. This year I chose a French restaurant in honor of our newest daughter-in-law who hails from Paris, France. The restaurant — La Merise French Bistro — was lovely and the food was amazing. In fact, we had what might have been one of the best things I’ve ever eaten in my life as an appetizer. The moules mariniere — mussels with garlic and cream sauce to us Amurikins — were so good that as the waiter was getting ready to remove the bowl, I was digging in with my spoon to get the last drop of the cream sauce. While I love to hang with my grandkids, we always have fun at this all-grown-up meal. Happy birthday one and all….

Smile For the Camera
Speaking of grandkids, some photos just make me happy. Here is a photo of Bill with Joseph and Micah during their recent visit to attend Allen and Emma’s wedding reception that I look at about 10 times a day because it makes me smile every single time. Micah looks like Jimmy Buffett must have looked as a kid….

Eating With Chopsticks
Yesterday I had lunch with my daughter-in-law Alyx. We ate at a Korean restaurant. I don’t believe I’ve ever eaten Korean food before, but I knew I would love it because I haven’t yet met an Asian cuisine that I haven’t liked. And like it, I did. As an aside, Alyx showed me this photo of Kaiya, who is perhaps the fussiest eater I’ve ever met. She does, however, like Orange Chicken from Panda Express. And she eats it with chopsticks, thank you very much. Her Cambodian heritage comes through…..

Ciao.

Guest Post: I Dream of Jeannie

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By Rebecca Borman

For many years, Cocoa Beach, Florida, was a company town.  In fact, the area is known as the Space Coast because NASA has been such a big presence.  And there really is I Dream of Jeannie Lane and Borman Drive (named for the astronaut, not our family). My husband and I came to love Cocoa Beach because he worked for a company that supported NASA, and he went to Cocoa Beach often.  Once when I was with him we decided to buy a timeshare at the Resort on Cocoa Beach, which wasn’t even built at that point.  And, so, just about every year since the turn of the century, I and some combination of family have stayed there.

But, as Thomas Rhett tells us, life changes.  And so has Cocoa Beach.  NASA is still there, but the space program is not much talked about any more.  For many years there were signs in the elevator advertising upcoming launches, which could be seen from the Resort’s beach if the weather was clear.  It has been a while since I’ve seen one of those signs.  And, Cocoa Beach has grown; when our Resort was built, our view to the ocean was unblocked, but now several large condo buildings partially obscure our view.  Our favorite place to eat crabs, Crab Heaven, is gone.  It burned down and never had success in its new location, so it closed for good.

As Thomas Rhett also points out, change isn’t always bad.  For instance, while there are more people up and down the beach, the Resort beach is still uncrowded, because there are no more people staying there now than there were in 2000.  And while the faithful beach chair guy Smitty has retired, his replacement is just as nice and efficient.  And, I miss Crab Heaven, but its replacement is Ms. Apple’s Crab Shack.  Ms. Apple runs a tight ship, and she has the best crabs we’ve ever eaten.  The first time we went there, I mentioned that we used to enjoy the crabs at Crab Heaven.  “Where do you think they got those crabs?” she inquired rather testily.  Point taken!  Now, instead of eating in a restaurant we can choose our own crabs…large and even jumbo…and have them steamed with plenty of Old Bay Seasoning.  And then we pick crabs at leisure on our balcony at the Resort.  That is not a bad change!…..

And of course some things haven’t changed.  Ron Jon Surf Shop is still our favorite beach store, and it’s still the biggest I’ve ever seen.  At dusk, the view at the Sunset Grill hasn’t changed either.  And the beach is as wide and the ocean as beautiful as ever.  Body boarding is as much fun in 2018 as it was in 1999.  Sitting on a chair at the water’s edge and watching my grandchildren ride the waves is a good compensation for not being able to body board myself any more.  In fact, one of the best parts of our annual trips to Cocoa Beach has been watching Mackenzie and Carter grow to love the ocean and the Resort.  We’ve all changed, but our days on the beach and beside the pool rejuvenate us just as they have done for years.

“Life changes.  And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Meet George Jetson

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Sometimes — very often, actually — I think about what my grandparents would think about some of the technology now available to us. For example, one day last week, I had a Facebook Messenger conversation with a friend of mine in which we texted about the possibility of my taking her to a doctor’s appointment scheduled for yesterday. I’m not sure if I need your help or not, but I just wanted to see if you were available if necessary, she said via Messenger. I went to my Google calendar to check my availability. The only thing on my Google calendar was a tentative appointment to take this friend to her doctor. Hand to God.

The thing is, I’m no longer shocked to see these sorts of occurrences because it’s so commonplace. And I long ago decided to stop worrying about my lack of privacy because the reality is anyone who wants to can have access to my calendar or my shopping habits, as both are dull as dog poop. In fact, the most exciting situation I face is when I travel with a bag of Benefiber that I’m certain hotel housekeeping staff members assume is cocaine. I wonder if anyone has ever snorted it?

Last week when I learned I was going to be admitted to the hospital, I asked where my room would be located. The answer: the Surgical Robotics floor. Wait, what? My granddaughter Mylee participates in an after school club called Lego Robotics. I was hoping against hope that Surgical Robotics didn’t have anything to do with Legos. I’ve seen the things that Mylee builds with Legos. They always involve weapons.

Actually, I found that it isn’t a whole lot different once it was explained to me, though there is no sign of weapons. Apparently, an increasing number of surgeries can be done robotically. The surgeries — for things like hysterectomies or gall bladder removal and even coronary bypass — involve making a few little incisions into which the surgeon inserts very small instruments and a tiny camera. The surgeon then moves to another part of the operating room and operates the instruments robotically using the camera to assist him or her. Clearly, this completely unknowledgeable description of robotic surgery demonstrates that I am neither a robot nor a medical professional. All I know is if my colon resection surgery had been done using robotic surgery, I wouldn’t be having bowel obstructions today. Keep in mind, I didn’t go out last night and get my M.D. I don’t know if colon resection can even be done robotically. But a girl can dream, can’t she?…..

The other day, I excitedly explained to Mylee about being on the Surgical Robotics floor of the hospital and what that meant. She listened patiently as I spoke. When I finished my story, she said something like that’s nice Nana and then began explaining how Mikey the Ninja Turtle uses his nunchucks effectively to fight crime…..

Mylee crushed my hopes that she might become a robotic surgeon some day. Of course, by the time she grows up, people will be saying things like Can you believe human beings actually used to do robotic surgery instead of actual robots?