Author Archives: kzmclain

How Many Inventors Does It Take To Screw In a Light Bulb?

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This has been a week of disappointments. In a single week, I learned that Thomas Edison didn’t actually invent the light bulb and that White Man screwed the indigenous people in ways I never dreamed in the early days of this country. My shock at both of these truths clearly indicates that I wasn’t paying attention in grade school. I blame it on the fact that I needed glasses which, I might add, my parents provided but I was too vain to wear.

Still, I’m pretty darn sure that Miss Gaspers taught me that Thomas Edison invented the light bulb in second grade. I think I might have been wearing a pilgrim’s hat and drawing turkeys by tracing my hand at the same time.

Bill and I went to see The Current War yesterday afternoon. If you haven’t heard of the film (and frankly, I’m pretty sure only a handful of people have), it tells the story about the battle between George Westinghouse and Thomas Edison, and their second-runner-up, Nikola Tesla. (And it’s no wonder Tesla was largely ignored. Look at that man. Have you ever seen a shadier-looking fellow?)…..

Yesterday was actually not the first day that I learned that Edison didn’t necessarily invent the light bulb. Back in 2016, I read (and reviewed) The Last Days of Night , a novel by Graham Moore, which remains one of the best books I’ve ever read. I was hopeful that the movie would be as good as the book. It definitely wasn’t, but Benedict Cumberbatch played Edison, and I would watch anything in which he stars as I think he is a great actor with the bonus of being drool-worthy.

Edison was a genius, but what he really excelled in was buying patents. He purchased the patent for the light bulb, and then went on to make it work. The rest is history.

Towards the end of the movie, he and Westinghouse (who, at least in the movie, were sworn enemies) were in the same room at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893. They had both bid to provide the electricity for the worldwide event, and Westinghouse won. Westinghouse asks Edison what it felt like to hold the first light bulb that burned for 13 hours. I, of course, can’t quote the lines perfectly, but basically what he answered was that he had no feelings whatsoever because it was like magic. Up until then, none of his light bulbs had lasted more than 10 minutes. As the minutes went by and then the hours, he said it was like something completely unimaginable.

That speech made me think about that age-old question about who has seen the most amazing changes in their lifetime. Though it’s hard to argue that Baby Boomers haven’t seen the world change more than any other generation — can you say TECHNOLOGY? — I always think about the question Bill’s aunt asked him when he was just a boy and was listening to his transistor radio.  How is the music getting in that box?

Magic is the only way I could answer that question. Imagine what it must have been like to go from gaslight to electric light. Magic.

As for the way we treated the Indians, that fact is well documented and well known. While we might not have learned much about that in school, it certainly has become clear to us all. But a book I am reading (and which I will review on Friday) called  One Thousand White Women reminded me that our forefathers reneged on many a treaty when it became clear that money was to be had.

By the way, the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair was called the World’s Columbian Exposition, and it was held to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ discovery of America. The irony isn’t lost on me. But the Chicago World’s Fair is known in the McLain family for the fact that Bill’s grandmother and grandfather met at the fair, where he was a trolley car operator and she was a passenger. Once again, the rest is history.

A Tree Grows in Jericho

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Geocaching is one of my favorite activities with my grandkids. You will recall from earlier posts that geocaching is a virtual treasure hunt using a GPS system in which you are looking for tiny little containers that usually house nothing more than a piece of paper on which to sign your name.

The caches are generally located in fairly hard-to-find places, some that require, ahem, let’s say adventurous activities. Our geocaching quests have included Addie climbing along the side of a bridge over a creek (don’t tell her mom; I don’t think she knows about that one), walking through a tunnel that was owned by Denver Water (the bed upon which we walked was dry, and I prayed really hard the entire time that Denver Water wouldn’t decide to open up a valve and send water shooting through the tunnel while we were helplessly trudging through), and reaching under bushes or into holes that could (but didn’t) contain danger.

One such geocaching escapade in 2014 took Alastair and me into a well-populated park not far from our house. The description of the geocache fully disclosed that finding the cache would involve climbing a tree. Well, it certainly wasn’t going to be moi who would climb the tree. Alastair was 9 years old, an age at which climbing a tree seems fun. We located the tree, and before you could say Zacchaeus-the-tax-collector, Alastair proceeded to begin his journey up the tree, flip-flops and all…..

Zacchaeus, of course, was the evil tax collector from Jericho who was so excited to see Jesus speak to the crowds that he shimmied up the tree as fast as Alastair. His prize wasn’t a geocache. Instead, he not only earned the  chance to see Jesus in person despite his short stature, but he also received an invitation to join Jesus at dinner. This, of course, raised all sorts of Jewish eyebrows.  Jesus would rather eat with a sinner than someone as holy as us.

The thing is, Zacchaeus was as excited with his prize as Alastair was when he grabbed the geocache container that was hanging at the top of the tree. In fact, Zacchaeus was so excited that he immediately promised Jesus that he would pay back the money fourfold that he had collected under questionable means. Not only that, but he would give half his possessions to the poor.

I’m sure that Jesus was absolutely DELIGHTED that Zacchaeus not only had seen the evil of his ways, but was turning over a new leaf and instead of taking, would be giving from that point on. I, like Jesus, admire this man for turning greed into generosity, something I keep saying I’m going to do, yet somehow still look the other way at people holding signs.

But while I might have missed the point of the gospel story, I have to admit that I am equally impressed that this man could climb the tree so quickly, and apparently come down without breaking any important bones. Alastair made it up and down the tree pretty quickly too. But it would have been more difficult for Zacchaeus. After all, being a tax collector and all, he probably was older than 9, and he was likely wearing a long robe.

But he probably wasn’t wearing flip flops.

Friday Book Whimsy: September

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Once in a while, I’m in the mood for a tome. A real multigenerational novel that has surprises and family drama and things that work out in the end. And, it takes many luxurious reading hours to get to the end. I am especially fond of an epic novel if the writing is good.

 And it is no surprise that the writing in September, by Rosamunde Pilcher, is better than good. Her writing is extremely readable, her stories are complex and interesting, and her characters are likeable. She was one of my mom’s favorite authors, and if she was good enough for my mommy, she’s certainly good enough for me.

The story revolves around a ball/party that one of the characters decides to throw in honor of her daughter in September. There hasn’t been such a gala in many years, and the event brings home unexpected people. Violet Aird has been an important person in many people’s lives, and much of the story revolves around her. Her granddaughter Alexa is one of the unexpected people who is coming, and bringing her new boyfriend.

But the story mostly revolves around Pandora, who left the village years and years ago and never returned. Now, she is returning for this party. While happy she is coming, everyone wonders what is causing her to make an appearance after so long.

Well, you have to wait until the end of the novel to find out.

My favorite novel by this author is The Shell Seekers, so it was fun that there was a connection from that book to this book. The main character in The Shell Seekers was the grandmother of one of Alexa’s boyfriend’s grandmother. This story takes place in Scotland, always a good locale for an epic novel.

I read the book in the fall, and that added to the fun, given the novel’s title.

I recommend the book, and many of Pilcher’s (who passed away in February of this year) books.

Here is a link to the book.

Thursday Thoughts

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Time to Breathe
Since we landed in AZ a week ago tomorrow, we have really not had a moment to sit back and relax. Until today. Because today I haven’t a single plan or commitment. Perhaps I will even have a minute to run a dust cloth over my furniture and cook a real dinner. I might even have a minute to actually go to the grocery store and stock up on milk and yogurt and bleu cheese olives — you know those things that make the world go round.

Snow Day
Yesterday morning, I checked the websites and learned that all of my Denver grandkids had a snow day due to a significant snowstorm hitting Colorado. Sometime around 9:30, I FaceTimed Kaiya, who answered my call with a cheerful hello. It was 9:30 in AZ, which made it 10:30 in Denver. There she was, still in her pajamas and relaxing in her bed. What are you going to do today on your day off,  I asked her.  This, she replied. Good job, I thought.

Steeeeerike Three
Though we’ve been here nearly a week, I hadn’t had a chance to see my sister Bec. Why? Because she and her son Erik traveled to Washington D.C. to watch Games 4 and 5 of the World Series in her old home town of D.C. She is a real and true Nats fan, and was happy to watch her team, even though they lost both games. She has been a fan through good and bad years, and has remained loyal throughout. I was happy that she was able to participate in a couple of games. The good news of course is even though she watched two losing games, the Nats came through last night to win the Series and become baseball’s national champs….

World Series
Every year during the World Series, I am reminded of the old days, when the World Series games were during the day, and probably not on television. I clearly remember that the boys in our grade school were allowed to bring their transistor radios to class to listen to the games. It seems like it was always the New York Yankees v. somebody else circa 1963-64. I don’t remember who they rooted for, but I do remember being amazed that the nuns didn’t seem to mind a bit. Perhaps they had money on the game and were secretly happy to listen.

Ciao.

Oh, the Weather Outside is…..

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Yesterday, as the snow fell in Colorado, the sun was shining outside our AZ windows. The weather was a pleasant 74 degrees, and my friend and I even felt a tad chilly as we shared a bottle of wine on the patio of a favorite Italian restaurant yesterday afternoon. Admittedly, a glass or two of red wine warmed us up.

And we kept abreast of our Colorado families’ weather condition. As the afternoon progressed, the snow kept falling in Colorado and so did the temperatures. While we sipped our wine, she got a video featuring her little 2-1/2 year old twin granddaughters waving to their daddy as he shoveled the snow. Hi Daddy, they shouted to him. Cheers, we said to one another. Because we were in AZ wearing sandals and capris. And feeling sorry for our loved ones who were shoveling snow.

The schools in Denver and its suburbs closed early yesterday, and it won’t surprise me if they are closed altogether today. While I don’t miss the cold and snow, I do think fondly about those winter days when you are snug and warm inside your house with a pot of beef stew simmering cheerfully on your stove. But my fond memories fade as I think about how someone has to go out into that cold and snow and shovel. I don’t even let myself think about driving on those icy streets. After all, it’s MY daydream, and it doesn’t include shoveling or driving.

I remember when I was in elementary school and the snow would start falling. Man, how I prayed that it would fall all night long, thereby giving us a chance for a snow day. Snow days are better than regular days off because they are so unexpected. We would rise early and turn on the television. We would sit three feet from the screen, watching with hopeful hearts as the school and business closures rolled across the screen. When the names beginning with S started showing up, our hopes soared.

And there it was! St. Bonaventure Grade School is closed! We could stay in our pajamas all day. Life was good. I wonder if there is the same level of excitement when instead of watching the names roll across a screen, you just click on a link. It seems to lose something, doesn’t it? Instant gratification can’t match the joy of waiting to be grateful.

Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

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When Bill was a kid, he watched Friday Night Fights with his dad. He said the two of them would sit in the pretty little den at the back of their house, and his dad would smoke a cigar while watching the fights. Imagine that….smoking a cigar in the house. At any rate, that experience nurtured Bill’s love for boxing. He hasn’t watched boxing for many years now, but he enjoyed it during the days of Mohammad Ali and Joe Frazier and Sonny Liston and George Foreman. Now boxing is just stupid. Those are my words, not his.

Fast forward 60 years or so, and you will find that same Bill learning that he has Parkinson’s disease. In his optimistic Bill-like manner, he takes it in stride and starts studying things he can do to help slow progression. He tries many different strategies, and for the most part, has been successful at keeping the progression slow. But as I have mentioned before, the one thing that his movement disorder doctor says again and again is that the single best thing to do to slow down Parkinson’s progression is aerobic exercise. Yuck. Parkinsons’ disease sucks. Aerobic exercise sucks. Put them both together and you have misery to the second power.

Lots of people have the disease. One of the best-known Parkinson’s patients was Mohammad Ali. Yes, that same man who Bill watched on Friday Night Fights with his dad. Ali’s disease likely resulted from getting bashed in the head a million times. That’s my theory anyway, but I didn’t go out and get my medical degree last night.

While we knew that aerobic exercise was good for those with PD, we recently learned that boxing is one of the best physical activities. It provides plenty of aerobic activity, but it also helps with balance and motor skills. And since Mohammad Ali lived in the Phoenix area for many years up until he passed away, this area provides lots of PD-related programs and activities.

So, I recently googled “Mesa boxing Parkinson’s” and was delighted when something called Rock Steady Boxing showed up in my feed. It appeared that Rock Steady provided exactly the exercise he was seeking. In addition to boxing, they offer voice strengthening, small motor coordination and stretching. Yesterday, we went to check it out. While we were just going to see what it was like, he actually jumped in the deep end right away and gave it a go…..

Bill was hitting the bag so hard that I couldn’t get a clear shot!

Next time he will be wearing actual exercise clothes, which will make it significantly easier!

I think in addition to the exercise, he will enjoy being with men and women who also have PD. There is satisfaction from being around people who are sharing the same experiences as you. As for me, it will be nice to talk to other care partners from whom I can learn.

Keep your fingers crossed. But most of all, don’t get on Bill’s last nerve. He will have mad skillz.

A-Hunting We Will Go

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A-hunting we will go,
A-hunting we will go
Heigh-ho, the derry-o,
A-hunting we will go. – Thomas Arne

My parents sold their bakery in Nebraska and moved to Leadville, Colorado, the summer of 1973. I was a freshman at the University of Nebraska, and didn’t go with them. At least not at that time.

Colorado was obviously different from Nebraska in many ways. But Leadville, Colorado, was like moving to a new country where you don’t know any of the customs or the language. It was a completely new ball of wax, so to speak. Nearly everyone who had a job worked at the molybdenum mine some 20 miles out of town. The citizens of Leadville weren’t wealthy. The mine paid decent wages — the best in town — but it didn’t produce millionaires, at least not for those who put on a hard hat and took the elevator down to the mines every day.

The workers were paid every other Friday. The miners brought their paychecks in to Safeway to be cashed. They bought their groceries for a two-week period using cash. They stopped at the various businesses to pay their bills, again in cash. Perhaps they put a bit in the bank. And then they spent the rest on more nefarious ventures. I’m generalizing, obviously, but that scenario was true for many Leadville residents.

elmer fudd hunt illustration

The families in Leadville, many of whom were Hispanic, took the fall hunting season very seriously. They stored their freezers with the venison and/or game birds (using every edible part) that they had bagged, and fed their families out of the freezer for the next 12 months from their success.

The first time I came to visit my family in Leadville was during fall break in October 1973. Mom and Dad picked me up in Denver from the airport. As we headed up up up into the mountains and the air became thinner and thinner, traffic began to slow down. Pretty soon we were in a traffic jam that would rival any big-city mess. A trip that would generally have taken a couple of hours took nearly four hours.

“What on earth is causing this traffic backup?” I asked my parents. They pointed out that nearly every car had a dead animal or two tied to the top. It was hunting season in the mountains, and it was an eye-opening experience for me.

My dad had never been a hunter. In fact, he really didn’t care about guns. I think he owned a shotgun and I know he hunted a time or two for pheasant, but it was just to humor my Uncle Ray, who enjoyed the sport. Dad might have even taken my brother Dave hunting once or twice, but Dave’s appetite for guns was about like my dad’s. The bug didn’t bite him either.

I was thinking about hunting season because Bill and I drove from Denver to our AZ home last week. We stopped in Raton, New Mexico, because this traveler had the Big Time Theory that as long as we were on the other side of Raton Pass, the snow wouldn’t be a problem. As it happened, we drove the next day in a blowing snowstorm. Oh well. That’s why I’m not a meteorologist. That, plus I don’t own any cocktail dresses.

Anyhoo, we had dinner that night at a steakhouse in this New Mexico town that is a few miles from the New Mexico/Colorado border and called home by some 6,000 people. I couldn’t help but notice that the restaurant was filled with mostly men, and what’s more, every single man was wearing a hunting cap of some sort. Which, I might add, they didn’t feel the need to remove despite the fact that they were in a restaurant.

And I thought to myself that they, too, would fill their freezers with deer and/or elk meat just as the hunters from Leadville. In fact, they might have been having the last beef steak they would enjoy for some time.

I also hoped that they enjoyed the blue Jello that was featured as part of the salad bar…..

A just reward for bagging an elk.

Saturday Smile: We Made It!

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It took us three days, and a drive through a snowstorm, but Bill and I made it to our AZ home mid-morning yesterday. We were greeted with massively overgrown bushes and a house that smelled like it had been uninhabited for nearly six months. But we also were greeted by my niece Maggie, her husband Mark, and Austin and Lilly. I’m not sure if they were happier to see me or my now-full pretzel jar and a cookie jar full of Oreos…..

No matter, it’s good to be getting settled for a bit in AZ. Stay tuned for our AZ adventures.

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Cold Way Home

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The Cold Way Home is author Julia Keller’s 8th book in the Bell Elkins mystery series. Keller’s wonderful novels appear to be a well-kept secret. And it’s a secret that should be let out to the masses, or at least the masses who like mystery drama, because Keller is a wonderful writer.

The books are somewhat dark, if realistic. They take place in the small town of Ackers Gap in the mountains of West Virginia. The troubles we hear about regularly on the evening news have been taking their toll on this community. Opioid and heroin addiction is claiming many of the young people who still live in this almost-ghost-town. The coal mines have shut down, and there are few jobs left for the people of the town. I have followed Bell from the beginning, when she was the district attorney. As the novels went on, more and more secrets from her past were revealed. Now she is no longer the district attorney, but has started an investigative business with her friend and former sheriff Nick Fogelsong, and a former deputy assistant who is now a paraplegic from a drug-related shooting.

Their first case is a doozy. A woman is found dead at a long-abandoned mental hospital located out in the middle of nowhere. The mental hospital was rumored to have used experimental (and horrific) medical practices during its time of operation. The woman was killed with a hatchet and no one knows why she was killed, or even why she was at that particular spot.  I will admit that the murderer’s identify was about as unexpected to this reader as in any mystery novels I’ve read. I literally gasped out loud when I learned the truth.

Keller’s writing is exceptional. Her descriptions are so clear and eloquent that you can hear the trees as they blow and feel the cold in the air. The story is told from all three of the private investigators, and the three couldn’t be more unique. The author weaves their personal stories into the novel, making us feel almost like they are our friends too.

I love this mystery series, and have recommended it to many. The Cold Way Home is no exception.

Here is a link to the book.