The Big C: Cancer or Comedy

I was talking to my doctor and he said they did a 360 degree scan of my head and they couldn't find a thing.

I had a PET scan yesterday and the results came back positive. I have pets. I can't even imagine what the CAT scan will reveal.

I asked my radiation oncology nurse if I would be able to serve as my own nightlight. She said no. I asked her if my food gets cold would I be able to place my hands over it to reheat it. She said no. I asked her if I got bit by a spider would I be able to swing from buildings. She said no. I asked her what fun is there then. She said I could take home my mask when I'm done with treatment. Halloween 2015 - look out!

I've decided that when my radiation treatment is complete I'm going to join the army - as a depleted uranium shell.

My doctor said when I'm done with the radiation therapy, there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to enjoy a long and happy half-life.

I think I'm the only cancer patient on Earth that GAINED weight during therapy.

For those of you who'd like to catch my show, I'll be in the oncology waiting room all month!

Houston, We Have A Message

In his 2014 book Neil Armstrong: A Life of Flight, author Jay Barbree recounts the following story:

That Christmas Eve in 1968 was extraordinary not just for Neil and Deke and the others in Mission Control, but for the billions that had been brought together before their television sets. They were seeing wondrous never-before-seen video of the moon moving quietly below Apollo 8's lunar orbit when Bill Anders spoke: "For all the people on Earth," he began soberly, "the crew of Apollo 8 has a message we would like to send you."

He paused briefly and began reading from the verses of the book of Genesis: "In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth..." As Bill concluded the fourth verse, Jim Lovell read the next four with Frank Borman concluding with, "And God called the dry land Earth, and the gathering together of the waters He called seas. And God saw that it was good."

The moon with its view of the distant, soft blue marble of life had become host to poets, and Borman signed off with, "And from the crew of Apollo 8, we close with good night, good luck, a Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you -- all of you on the good Earth."

Slaughter of the Innocents

When 59 Children Died On Christmas Eve 1913, The World Cried With The Town Of Calumet, Michigan

By Curator: Brandon Weber

A little-known piece of history that Woody Guthrie documented in his haunting song, "1913 Massacre."

In July 1913, over 7,000 miners struck the C&H Copper Mining Company in Calumet, Michigan. It was largely the usual issues of people who worked for a big company during a time when capitalists ran roughshod over their workers — a time when monopolies were a way of life. Strikers’ demands included pay raises, an end to child labor, and safer conditions including an end to one-man drill operations, as well as support beams in the mines (which mine owners didn’t want because support beams were costly but miners killed in cave-ins “do not cost us anything.”)

Six months without work left many miner families with little food for the holidays and no money for presents, so the Ladies' Auxiliary of the Western Federation of Miners held a Christmas party for the kids. 500 children and 200 adults showed up that day, Christmas Eve 1913. It was held on the second floor of Calumet’s Italian Hall; the only way in and out was a very steep stairway.

As darkness fell and people began to go home to their family celebrations, some of the children gathered around the stage as presents were passed out — for many, it would be the only gift they’d receive this year. In the middle of this festive celebration, someone — possibly more than one person — opened the door at the bottom of the staircase and yelled, “FIRE!”

Chaos ensued. As everybody headed down the stairs to the exit, the door was blocked from the outside, and children and adults were trampled, then suffocated, by the throng of bodies trying to escape the “fire” — which didn’t actually exist.

In all, 73 people, including 59 children, died, most of them Finnish immigrants. The youngest was Rafael Lesar, 2.5 years old. The oldest was Kate Pitteri, 66 years old. Some families lost all of their children, like Frank and Josepa Klarich, who buried their three daughters, Kristina (11), Maria (9), and Katarina (7). Their little crosses are lined up in a row over their graves in a cemetery west of Calumet.

The culprits who yelled into the hall that day to start the tragedy were never identified, but it’s widely suspected that it was allies of mine management or the owners who did so to disrupt the miners’ party. Nobody was ever prosecuted or even arrested for causing the massacre. It is always thus: Those with money and power control the narrative, silence the truth, and thwart justice.

Italian Hall was demolished in the 1980s, but especially during the holiday season, the people of Calumet still talk of that night, 101 years ago, when so many innocents perished.

What's left of Italian Hall — the archway

Woody Guthrie, "1913 Massacre"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oz7oguguIZE

Festival of Lights

No matter how you spell it, have a safe, happy, healthy, and joyous Hanukkah, Hanukah, Hannukah, Hannukkah, Hanuka, Hanukka, Hannuka, Hannukka, Chanukah, Chanukkah, Channukkah, Channukah, Chanukka, Channuka, Chanuqa, Chanuka - and my personal favorite - Xanuka (brought to you by the same people who gave us Xmas).

Happy Christmas To All

Happy Saint Nicholas Day.

Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of children was born on March 15th in the year 270, and died on December 6th, 343. How the deeply spiritual, austere Bishop of the early church transformed into the chimney shimmying, sleigh riding, North Pole residing, fat man of today is a long story bred mostly by the imaginations of American advertising illustrators.

Due to the many miracles attributed to Nicholas' intercession, he is also known as Nikolaus the Wonderworker. My wife and I so love the Christmas holiday, we named our first born child after the Saint, using this unique spelling.

Saint Nicholas had a reputation for secret gift-giving, such as putting coins in the shoes of those who left them out for him, a practice still celebrated in many European countries, and the forerunner of stockings hung with care from mantelpieces.

One legend tells how during a terrible famine, an evil butcher lured three little boys into his house, where he killed them, placing their remains in a barrel to cure, planning to sell them off as ham. Saint Nicholas, visiting the region to care for the hungry, not only saw through the butcher's horrific crime but also resurrected the three children from the barrel by his prayers. (Wikipedia)

Another legend relates the story of a poor man who had three daughters but could not afford a proper dowry for them. This meant that they would remain unmarried and probably, in absence of any other possible employment, would have to become prostitutes. Hearing of the girls' plight, Nicholas decided to help them, but being too modest to help the family in public (or to save them the humiliation of accepting charity), he went to the house under the cover of night and threw three purses (one for each daughter) filled with gold coins through the open window of the house. (Wikipedia)

Because of this tale, depictions of Saint Nicholas often showed him carrying three bags of gold, which later became three gold balls. For this reason, Saint Nicholas is also the patron saint of pawnbrokers.

Traditionally, Saint Nicholas Day is the official start of the Christmas season, and many people use this day to begin decking their halls.

So the next time you see a right jolly old elf with a pack of presents slung over his back, or hear a hearty "Ho Ho Ho," give a thought to the original gift-giver, Saint Nicholas.

GRIST

Water turns the wheel

grinding corn into meal,

which is taken by the wife

and baked into the staff of life.

All gather at the table,

as snow settles on the gable.

Father says a prayer to God,

ends Amen, gives a nod,

the warm, fragrant loaf is broken,

while many joyous words are spoken

by children with a happy sound,

for another year's come 'round.

Water turns the wheel

grinding corn into meal.

Franklin Creek State Park Grist Mill - Franklin Grove, Illinois

Don't Move

I've been waterboarded!

I was instructed to arrive at the Cancer Care Center yesterday morning, and I dutifully showed up ten minutes early. (I always show up for my appointments ten minutes early, but it never seems to shorten my wait times.) The oncology nurse directed me into a small room where I had to change into a hospital gown, no mean feat in a wheelchair. I was then brought into the CT scanning room and had to transfer onto a narrow plastic table. The nurse got me positioned and then she pulled my gown halfway down my arms, effectively pinning them at my sides.

"Don't move," she said.

The nurse explained that they would be making a mold of my head to hold me in place during the radiation treatments.

She told me to close my eyes and mouth. The next sensation I felt was a boiling hot, dripping wet, plastic mesh being pulled tightly over my face and ratcheted down to the table!

"Hannibal Lecter has nothing on me," I thought.

Fingers molded the web into my eye sockets and along the contours of my nose. "We're going to do a targeting scan," said the nurse. With the ubiquitous, "Don't move," I heard the door click shut behind her.

The table vibrated and began to move. The technology of modern medicine has a sound all its own. From the infamous beeping of hospital monitoring equipment, to the horrific bangs and magnetic buzzes of the MRI, to the electronic whirring of the radiological scanner. A soul-chilling thrum surrounded my head and the table slid forward, although I quickly lost all sense of direction.

After some indeterminable amount of time, the whirring slowed and the table stopped shaking. (Now I was the only thing shaking.) I became aware of someone by me. "You did great," said the nurse. "I'm going to walk down to radiology and make sure they look at the pictures right away. Will you be alright for a few minutes?"

"Umm maawaa humpf," I replied through my nose.

As she was leaving, she turned back and said, "You're doing great... Don't move."

By this time I was frowning without moving my lips and shaking my head without motion. I started laughing inside at the absurdity of the situation, how all the moments of my life and the millions of random events and possibilities, had led me to having my head pinned to a table, left alone with no one but myself for company.

After several minutes the nurse rushed in saying, "I'm so sorry, I just talked to the doctor and he told me you're claustrophobic." She quickly released the clamps and removed the hardened mask from my face. "I have a prescription for you for Xanax," she said.

"A day late and a dollar short," I thought.

I blinked and licked my dry lips. The nurse slowly got me into a sitting position and I transferred back into my wheelchair. After I got dressed (no mean feat) I asked the nurse if I was good to go. "Yep. You're all done for today," she said. "You did great. You didn't move."