You Are Batty If You Don’t Get Vaccinated

A rabid bat. Photo courtesy Chicago Tribune.

Did you read the news story? Earlier this month, an 87-year-old man in from Spring Grove died from rabies right here in Lake County. How did this happen?

He had been bitten by a bat. The bat was trapped and tested; the testing confirming the bat was infected with rabies. The man was advised to seek medical treatment, which might have been life-saving, but refused.

I don’t know the intimate details of why the man declined treatment. Perhaps it was due to his age and the nature of the therapy (multiple injections over a 14 day period.) But doesn’t his refusal remind you of something?

Suppose there was a “something” out there that could decrease the risk of your catching a highly contagious disease, a disease that might have serious health effects on you, and that you might transmit to your children, your parents, your friends, and your co-workers.

Suppose that “something” was an injection, or maybe two, with maybe an extra jab a few months later. Suppose the health risk of those shots was minuscule compared to the risk of the disease. Suppose it was the only thing in health care that was free! And suppose getting that the jabination might protect your loved ones, others around you, and the nation at large?

What in the name of common sense would prevent you from getting that “something”? Maybe you would wait a few weeks to see if there were any unanticipated harmful side effects in others. Maybe there would be a delay because it would be hard for you to take time off of work, or get child care when you went to get jabbed. But what if the “something” was available at virtually every corner–or that health care workers would come to you to administer it?

OK, there may be a few people with a legitimate history of severe allergic reaction to previous “somethings.” I can these those people hesitating. But other than that–why, oh why would you refuse?

Learn a lesson from the late bat-man of Spring Grove–refuse what is good for you, and you might just wake up dead.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

#mc_embed_signup{background:#fff; clear:left; font:14px Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; }
/* Add your own MailChimp form style overrides in your site stylesheet or in this style block.
We recommend moving this block and the preceding CSS link to the HEAD of your HTML file. */

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

//s3.amazonaws.com/downloads.mailchimp.com/js/mc-validate.js(function($) {window.fnames = new Array(); window.ftypes = new Array();fnames[0]=’EMAIL’;ftypes[0]=’email’;fnames[1]=’FNAME’;ftypes[1]=’text’;fnames[2]=’LNAME’;ftypes[2]=’text’;}(jQuery));var $mcj = jQuery.noConflict(true); ———————————–

Five Things Worse Than Going To The Dentist

#5 Waiting in a TSA line at O’Hare Airport

#4 Being woken up by the dog at 2:30 am

#3 Deciphering Medicare enrollment

#2 Buying a car

#1 GETTING A PHONE UPGRADE

Yesterday was the day. Verizon’s offer on discounts for trading in older iPhones for the new iPhone 13 models ends at the end of this week, so Barb and I decided that it was a good time to upgrade our beaten up, cracked, perfectly functional, old phones for some spiffy new ones. And of course, Laury’s phone was to be included, under terms of her “forever plan.”

The nearby Verizon dealer we tried to visit was closed, despite posted hours that indicated it should have been open. So we headed north on Milwaukee Avenue to where we remembered another dealer to be, only to find they had moved. A Google search identified the newest location, and we drove over. I should have known by then it was going to be a rough day!

One lucky break; there were no other customers in the store when we entered–we just beat the rush, customers who came in later than we did were facing two-hour waits.

With the store empty, we were pounced on by a sales associate immediately. Our pouncing sales rep surely recognized us as a big whale to reel in. He raced us through the various different iPhone 13 models, eager to sell us the iPhone Pro Max Super-Deluxe-Fancy-Pants-with Five Cameras model. He was clearly disappointed when we chose the more “mid-level” selections, but he was not to be thwarted in getting us to spend every possible cent.

The upgrade/option parade began. “Don’t you want more memory? Sure, this is enough for now, but maybe you will wish you had a few hundred more gigabytes two years from now. And your unlimited plan is OK, but if you pay $40 more per month you will get a more unlimited plan plus a bunch of streaming apps you probably won’t use. And don’t you need insurance? The cost per month is more than you are paying for the phones, but don’t you want the peace of mind?” The only hustle missing was the “let me talk to our manager and see what we can do for you…”

Somehow we resisted ~~all~~ most of his pitch. Yes, in addition to our phones, we did leave the store with an assortment of cases, screen savers, and a wireless charger that I will be returning today because it doesn’t work.

I won’t go into how much hair I pulled out transferring the data from my old phone to the new one. I am sure our incredibly slow home wi-fi has something to do with the 3-hour ordeal, but maybe Barb had it right when she told me my brain clearly lacked the memory and storage for another update.

I don’t mind. I may be growing oldish, but at least I have a shiny, new, blue, iPhone. If only I could get it to talk to my watch…

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

Have You Said Goodbye to a Forever Home?

Five years ago this month the trucks rolled up our Long Grove driveway. First came the moving vans, separating our furniture into two collections, one group to be placed in storage while construction of our new home was being completed, the other batch to furnish our temporary rental. This was followed by the We’ll-Get-Your-Junk mobile, hauling off the leftovers; rejects that not even Goodwill wanted. We locked up and said goodbye to our “forever home.”

I don’t think the term “Forever Home” existed when we built the house in the early 1990s. We just knew we were set to put down roots and stay somewhere for a long, long, time. It’s not that we had been nomads previously, anything but, but this was where we wanted to raise our children, and where we would reside while life’s passages took hold.

Our kids were barely beyond the toddler stage when we moved in. Twenty-six years later, in our last family photograph at that house, our nuclear family was supplemented by a wife, a fiance, and our first two grandchildren. The photo was taken on a sunny August afternoon and I like to think all our dazzling smiles were thinking of the wonderful times in that house, as well as the future ahead.

That house saw so much. Celebrations–birthdays, anniversaries, proms, election victories. Tragedies–the deaths of my father and sister. An important victory–Barb’s success against melanoma. And more pets than I can count on one hand.

The house changed over time as well. A small addition for the sake of a big piano. A foosball table that migrated from our over-the-garage bonus room to a finally finished basement, where our offspring and their friends could hang out. A remodeled en-suite bathroom that we enjoyed; a remodeled kitchen that we never got the benefit of.

But I admit that I grew restless after twenty-five-plus years. I grew tired of running the same 5K routes. The long slog to and from the tollway became more than I was willing to endure on a daily commute. And our neighborhood friends were leaving for their own downsizers, or for a home in the permanent sun of Florida or Arizona.

If you are a long-time reader of this blog and its predecessor, you know the process of convincing Barb, finding/building a new home, and selling the old one, was complex and not always straightforward. But we persevered.

And now our “forever home” is five years in the rearview mirror. But like the sign says, “Memories in the mirror are closer than they seem“–and worth cherishing.”

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise!

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

For Its Inventor, The Game of Life is over.

The Game of Life-the box top I remember.

Pink and blue pegs in a tiny plastic car. A pathway that took you to college and a job. A spinner that made a great, whirring, sound but needed it frequently oiling. Stock and insurance certificates. And $100,000 bills with Art Linkletter’s picture on it. It was all in The Game of Life.

I grew up in the mid-’60s playing Life with my family. It was faster-paced than Monopoly, less cerebral than Scrabble or Chess, and harder to cheat at than Go to the Head of the Class (yes, I memorized all the questions). And it was fun, twirling the spinner and hoping for the career with the highest salary. You could wind up a millionaire, or you could wind up in the poorhouse.

By the time we were raising our kids, Life had fallen well down the list of treats on family game night, far below our favorite, Sorry. Still, our first thought for the theme at Laury’s Bat Mitzvah was to base the celebration on Life. Only when the party designer couldn’t grasp the concept did we switch to an Animal Kingdom idea.

This morning I learned that Reuben Klamer, the man who invented The Game of Life, passed away on September 14th. He was 99 years old–almost making it to that ultimate life marker of a century.

It feels like another little bit of my childhood is seeping away. As the sole survivor of my first nuclear family, I have no one to share that time of my life with. There is no one who remembers the nightly dinner table (always starting with Campbell’s Soup, always including dreadful canned vegetables); who remembers the Sunday night’s watching What’s My Line (me peaking around my bedroom door into the living room); who remembers the weekly walk down Morse Avenue to Ashkenaz for kreplach soup, a toasted bagel, and a Coke.

So you see Mr. Klamer, the end of your days has made me nostalgic and a bit sad. I don’t know how you lived your life, but I know your Life was part of a wonderful time in mine. Wherever you are now, your spinning wheel will never stop whirring for me.

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

Ring-a-Ding-Ding, I Do Hate This Thing!

The sound of glass breaking. Once, then twice. I roll over, squinting to view the digital clock on my bedside cabinet. 2:37 a.m. I know from experience that no one is breaking one of the glass panels in our paneled front door. I know it is only the Ring app on Barb’s phone–the latest in modern security–letting us know a fern from our potted plant is waving past the sensor at our entrance. It’s another dream disturbed, another good night sleep lost.

Remember when we built this house five years ago, the original raison d’être for this blog? We put some technology in: wi-fi and soundbars and an electronic door lock. We have added tech through the years: Alexa now allows Google to track our every move and utterance, and we have a nifty motorized window shade. But we had resisted Ring.

Our front and side doorbells were nothing fancy. If someone pushed the doorbell button, Westminster chimes played. The tones were slightly different for the two doors, though I admit the dogs learned which tone was for which door better than I did. We would then stand, walk to the appropriate door and open it. Just like it has been done for millions of years.

A few months ago, while having some Wi-Fi updating done, we succumbed to temptation and had the Ring doorbell/security cameras installed, and added the app to our iPhones and Apple watches. And gave away a little bit of our sanity.

My wrist now vibrates every time Barb takes Cooper out for a walk. I get a tingle every time Barb goes out to water the flowers. I am alerted every time a goose waddles by and whenever debris gets blown by one of the doors.

Yes, I also now know important things such as every time FEDEX or Amazon makes a delivery to our home. But unlike many of our neighbors, we don’t do all that much online ordering. So far, deliveries have accounted for less than 1% of all the alerts–and the most frequent of those deliveries has been Lou Malnati’s Pizzas. And believe me, I don’t need an app to be watching for those particular deliveries (donations of thick-crust cheese and pepperoni, well done, gladly accepted!)

Yes, the installer gave us tips for minimizing all the nuisance notifications, but spoiler alert, the tips haven’t helped. Yes, I could totally turn the alerts off. Then what was the point of getting the contraptions in the first place? Good question!

So if I seem a little blurry-eyed on many a morning, if I keep checking my watch as another alert blazes through, you now know what’s going on. It’s just my head Ringing.

(Added note: I have received approximately 14 alerts while writing this blog. Ouch!)

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name

I Know What’s In The Vaccine. It Is Hundreds Of Years of Progress.

Dr. Edward Jenner performing his first vaccination against smallpox on James Phipps, May 14, 1796, oil on canvas by Ernest Board.Credit…DEA Picture Library/Getty Images

There is a lengthy meme circulating on Facebook that begins “I’m vaccinated and, no, I don’t know what’s in it.” I’m vaccinated as well, and I want to tell you that I do know what is in the COVID-19 vaccines, be it Moderna, or Pfizer, or even poor old Johnson & Johnson.

Have I read the list of ingredients? Have I checked for additives, preservatives, or carcinogens? No, because the vaccine contents that I know about won’t be listed on any label. The ingredients I speak of are the men and women, the giants of science, on whose shoulders the current tier of scientists and researchers stand.

Let’s start with the microbe hunters, who first identified and clarified the concept that there was a world of tiny organisms and that these might cause disease. Names like Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, Louis Pasteur, Robert Koch, and Ignaz Semmelweis. There is an essence of all of them in the vaccine.

Rosalind Franklin, James Watson, Francis Crick–the best known, but not the only, scientists whose work led to the understanding of the structure of DNA. Francisco Mojica, who added CRISPR to our lexicon as a way of manipulating DNA. There is plenty of them in today’s mRNA vaccines.

You must have heard of Edward Jenner, Jonas Salk, and Albert Sabin. Shall we call them the great-grandfather, the grandfather, and the father of vaccines? And what about all the scientists who have been striving for 30 years to create a vaccine against the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, the author of AIDS? Surely the blood, the sweat, and the brain cells of all these investigators are part of every “jab.”

That is how science grows. We take the knowledge of our ancestors and add on to it. We test new ideas, accept the ones that seem to work, discard the ones that don’t.

Accepted science changes! New data forces us to challenge each other, to consider new answers to old questions. And on top of that, nature is not constant. So while Newton’s Laws of Motion have stood the test of almost 350 years, the SARS-CoV-2 virus, with us for less than two years, mutates. It is not because the science is “bad” that recommendations about the vaccine and other matters related to COVID-19 need to be updated on a regular basis. It is because life, science, and the virus evolve.

So I will continue to put my faith in science–in the men and women who have made tremendous advances in our knowledge of the world around us. The vaccines aren’t perfect, but we have them because, as Isaac Newton himself said, we have been standing on the shoulders of all those giants.

Please forward or share on Facebook. If we can each convince one person to vaccinate…

Like what you read here? Add your name to our subscription list below. No spam, I promise! ___

Subscribe to our mailing list

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name