I've been somewhat absent from most of the online world for a short time now, and I guess I ought to post something about that. Not a word of explanation so much, because I'm not sure I can explain it this time more than any other. Really, I guess what I'm asking for is a bit of your indulgence.
For some reasons which are external but others no doubt on account of a familiar, tiny but reckless monster of my own, I am finding myself in kind of a dark place. If you've read my book or even this blog (or its online journal forefathers), you know that it's not the first time. You also know that I'll work my way through it, and take care of my personal and professional responsibilities as I do so. I've negotiated these waters before, through much worse storms.
I'm not much of a fan of those weeping, self-indulgent, never-ending depression posts on some blogs, and I know how very little you'd enjoy reading that sort of thing here. So I'll simply say that if I seem scarce for a few days, I hope you'll keep the faith a bit longer and be here when I come back. Because I always come back, and I do so renewed. And often with an amusing beard to show for it.
Thank you. I love you all, and shame on me for not telling you that more often.
Showing posts with label robly matters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label robly matters. Show all posts
July 20, 2009
June 30, 2009
Guest Blogging: Marketing Tips For Authors
For those of you who are writers, particularly of nonfiction, I wrote a little somethin' somethin' for Tony Eldridge's Marketing Tips For Authors.
I wrote specifically about developing a platform, which for nonfiction writers can be sort of a twitchy concept. "To even be considered for publication, you must have a great platform!", we're told, and yet it seems to be one of those terms that means whatever a particular agent or editor or publisher thinks it means.
Well, now you can add my particular take on the matter. That ought to keep everyone nice and confused. My work is done.
I wrote specifically about developing a platform, which for nonfiction writers can be sort of a twitchy concept. "To even be considered for publication, you must have a great platform!", we're told, and yet it seems to be one of those terms that means whatever a particular agent or editor or publisher thinks it means.
Well, now you can add my particular take on the matter. That ought to keep everyone nice and confused. My work is done.
June 24, 2009
I have a face made for radio
If you're in the Dallas area, or if you like to listen to streaming programming on the web (and really, who doesn't), you can catch me on the radio this afternoon at 2:00pm central on the North Texas Kids Radio Show with Dr. Minette Riordan.
You might be tempted to think it's the End Times just hearing the words come out of my mouth, but I will be on The Word, KWRD-FM 100.7 Christian Talk Radio. Weirder things have happened.
Anyway, I think the interview went really well, and I don't think I said anything that will upset any tenderhearts out there in Radioland. If you don't happen to be listening on the radio, I'll post a link to the podcast afterwards.
So there you go.
You might be tempted to think it's the End Times just hearing the words come out of my mouth, but I will be on The Word, KWRD-FM 100.7 Christian Talk Radio. Weirder things have happened.
Anyway, I think the interview went really well, and I don't think I said anything that will upset any tenderhearts out there in Radioland. If you don't happen to be listening on the radio, I'll post a link to the podcast afterwards.
So there you go.
-----
June 16, 2009
Calling Mister Furious
My apologies for the length of this post. Sometimes it's good to get things on the record.
So Julie received a call this morning from a "legal mediation" company with a Very Serious Legal Issue to discuss with her. The person leaving the message on voicemail said "I don't even think you're aware of what's going on!" So, you know, very scary, and before breakfast, even.
(UPDATE: Apparently they called Julie's parents this morning, too.)
She called the number and got a high strung, angry gentleman at "the Office of the CRA". She was informed that she has an old credit card outstanding debt of over $9000, and unless she gave him her bank information RIGHT THAT INSTANT, the matter was going to go to court and the debt would be reported to the IRS as additional income, and no, we won't send you anything in print, and no, you can't have a moment, you need to give us that information right now now nownownownow!
Julie, not suffering from a head injury, declined to give Mister Furious our bank account numbers, thereby denying the Office of the CRA a sum so vast that they might actually be able to invest in not one but two tacos from Taco Bell. (But sorry, no beverage.) She did, however, keep talking, or rather she tried, but mostly she just listened to this guy with his unresolved anger issues. A few interesting points came out of his frothy rage, however:
After Mister Furious hung up on Julie, I called them back to try to find out who they were and where they were calling from. I got Mister Furious again, except now he was using a different name. He refused to give any information and said he could only talk to Julie, not me. When I handed the phone to her, she was told that if we called them back again, it would be considered harassment. (Really? Because on this saved voicemail message, it really did sound like you were rather insistent that we call you.)
So there you go.
Here's the thing about this. I think this company is operating under an outdated business model. I suspect they're not entirely unaware of the issues at play since they demand payment information right then, during the call. Because if you have time to go online and start Googling their information, particularly the phone numbers from which they called and which they asked for a return call, you might find some interesting tidbits of information, both from other consumers and from legal websites.
So in order to help "the Office of the CRA" improve their procedures and have more success in scaring the crap out of unsuspecting marks, here's just a sample of what turns up in about two minutes of Googling.
Google: 866-553-0428
CRA Collection Company, Inc.
1150 Lancaster Boulevard
Mechanicsburg, PA
(866) 553-0428
"does anyone know who this company is?? they somehow got my sister's number and is asking for me, claiming to be a law firm."
"who is this company? they are looking for someone who is not at my number and had even called my son in OK looking for this person. They say how important it is and that it is a very serious matter which needs immediate attention. Does anyone know who this is?"
"Paul from CRA called looking for me under a name I have not used in years. I have been divorced, remarried, and 3 kids since using this name. My oldest is in high school now. I live in a new state and number is unlisted. This is just crazy."
"I got a call from this number at my moms house. I have not lived at home for over 16 years. A Ms. Thompson is the caller and she tries to be very intimidating and almost a bully, but she will not give any specific details. My mom is ready to turn it in to the authorities."
"I just got a message from a Mrs. Karis at 866-553-0428. She left a message saying that she was looking for "RO" (married name) from "the city I grew up in." Which was strange because I haven't lived there in over 10 years. And I wasn't married when I lived there. I just felt it was very strange since any account I have with my married name I know is up to date. Do you just ignore this type of call? Or should I call back and find out what's going on? I would hate to think that they will be after my family members next."
Google: 831-274-2477
"A lady called wanted me to relay a message to someone that's supposedly left our phone number as a contact. She just gave a six-digit case no. When I asked for what matter is it related to, the lady started yelling and became extremely rude and said it's none of my business. Caller ID showed the call was from 831-274-2477. She wanted the person to call back at 1-877-407-9274 with just a case no. What a rude scammer!"
"I just received a call (on the cellphone I use for the company that I work for). I do not know how "Kristin" got my phone #. She says she is with CRA company. She was rude and obnoxious and said that she had an urgent call for me, though I never identified myself. She also threatened that she would report me for not identifying myself or my company name. I don't have any debts that need collection, so I don't know why anyone would be phoning me- especially on my company cellphone."
Google: 877-407-9274
"This has never happened to us! I'm glad I wasn't being too gullible tonight! They call from the same phone number 1-866-460-4260. The guy said he name was John Shelton. The guy said that he needed to speak to my husband urgently concerning a legal matter. My husband called back and spoke with a female (sounded white). We had to ask for a company name = CRA. They were unable to tell us what that stood for. They were very on edge, argumentative, and sounded threatening at times...claiming they would turn us into the IRS, if we didn't settle this now. They said that this was a last attempt to collect on a credit card debt before legal action would be taken. They stated that this was on his credit report and needed to be taken care of now. They said they only take credit/debit payment (Go figure). The card/debt they were referring to has been taken care of and the card has been canceled for many yrs, and we know for a fact that it is not on the credit report. My husband hung up on the woman, and she called right back from a different #. She said, "Mr. XXXXX, I can't help you with this, if you keep hanging up. What other legit company would ever do that. She was asking for his SS# and all kinds of stuff! I just want to turn these low life losers in, so they can get caught! It's a shame!"
"Calling all of my daughter's relatives, threatens to serve paper's, she is going to be arrested, calling her elderly grandparents, parents, says it is on excessive debt on a non existant credit card debt of a limit that she was never approved for. The woman "FLIPPED" out, was YELLING, CALLED my daughter CRAZY, would not confirm any information. "
"CRA woman became agitated when i asked for her address, refused, said she'd only been calling for a month, that they were not a collection agency but a 'mediation service.' supervisor Stephanie Martin came on line, said they'd never called me before today, i'd be taken off list. i said i'd been trying to stop calls for a year and a half. also refused address then hung up."
"Harrassment
"866-452-9518 called my neighbor advising her that I gave them permission to contact them to get info about me. My neighbor knew better than this and told them she has nothing to tell them. They then proceeded to advise her that they are going to press charges if I do not call them back. I called them to tell them to NOT call looking for me ever again & I Never gave them authority to call my neighbor advising them that I said they could. The guy started yelling at me sayibg he wouldn't have to call if I paid his client monies owed. I asked what client? What monies? He refused to answer and continued yelling. I hung up the phone. I will be reporting them to FTC as well."
"These people called my Uncle\'s ex- wife from 1988 and initially stated that they wanted to deliver a package and needed to verify the address. That did not work so the called again and stated that they were calling from the office of CRA and some investigators needed to speak with him immediately. I called them back multiple times and they hung up on me whenever I asked what CRA stands for and what type of company were they. Finally they advised me that they were the Consumer Recovery Associates."
"These people caled me 8 months ago, had the wrong first name, middle initial and SS#, told me it was a mistake. They have since reported nick name, alternate SS# to the credit bureau and are now harrasing me again. I think these people are scum. They also stated I made the last payment from an address I had 9 years ago just 6 years ago so it is within the statute of limitations, what idiots! I complained to the FTC and the VA Attorney General! I hope the hard inquiry comes off my credit report and they leave me alone for good. This account is apparently outside the SOL anyway."
Here's a big one:
"If you receive a call from this number, you have been called by junk debt / collection agency that buys debt from original creditors that has been written off or settled and is beyond the statute of limitations in most states. They are trying get the money for themselves, not the original creditor.
They are reportedly a serial violator of the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (FDCPA). They may be illegally using credit information obtained from Experian or other credit reporting agencies.
This company has been known to contact and harass people they believe may know the person they are trying to reach including distant relatives, ex-spouses and possible former co-workers.
NEVER answer these calls if you see this as a caller ID. NEVER return these calls. NEVER give them ANY information about the person they are seeking or refer them to others.
Any "positive" comments you read in these notes about the company may have been written by employees of the company.
The company is:
Consumer Recovery Associates
2697 International Parkway #4
Suite 270
PO Box 2916
Virginia Beach, VA 23450-2916
The following is the most comprehensive information gathered about this company from various sources on the Internet.
***If you've been called by a number not on this list or by someone using a different name, please copy this list, add the number/name in the correct order and repost it in its entirety.
Company Names that CRA reportedly uses:
CIA and Associates
CC Associates
Consumer Credit Association
Consumer Recovery Associates
Court Company
CR Associates
CRA Associates
C&R Associates
C & R Associates
Farm CIA & Associates
J Lamb and Associates
and possibly GC Services
Phone numbers that CRA reportedly uses:
(list redacted because it is crazy long.)
Individual names that CRA reportedly uses:
(also redacted for length, but the woman who left the voicemail, Mister Furious and his Furious Twin are all on the list)"
And finally...
Pennsylvania Consumers Challenge CRA Security Systems' Collection Practices
Bradley v CRA Security Systems, Inc.
CASE ID: 3131 | CREDIT / DEBT | 02/06/2004
A statewide class action has been filed in Pennsylvania against CRA Security Systems, Inc. and their parent company, Capital Recovery Associates, Inc. The action is brought on behalf of all Pennsylvania residents who received a form type collection letter demanding immediate payment of the consumers' alleged debt. The action is brought under the federal Fair Debt Collection Practices Act and seeks statutory damages as well as injunctive and declaratory relief.
According to consumers, CRA used language in its initial collection letters that was confusing and deceptive. Federal law requires that all collection services include a notice in their initial collection letters that informs consumers of their right to investigate the validity of a debt within 30 days. Although CRA's letter contained this notice, consumers allege that other language in the letter overshadowed the notice and rendered it ineffective. Specifically, the letters requested immediate attention by remitting payment. Consumers allege that by demanding immediate attention and payment, they were unable to determine if they were given 30 days to investigate the validity of the debt, or if they were required to pay immediately. Additionally, the letters were allegedly "signed" by Richard Lyons. According to consumers, there is no viable evidence to suggest that a Richard Lyons reviewed their debt or that Richard Lyons is even employed by CRA. However, consumers claim this "signature" is meant to convey to them that the debt had been reviewed by an actual person. According to consumers, CRA also routinely charges allegedly illegal fees for returned checks. Finally, even after repeated attempts to dispute the validity of the debts, many consumers claim that CRA never provided them with validation.
Under the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act, any unfair, misleading or intimidating language is forbidden in collection letters or other forms of communication. The consumers allege that the language used by CRA fulfills this standard. They claim that CRA's language overshadows and renders ineffective the 30 day notice of disputing the validity of the debt. They claim that CRA's use of a signature that is allegedly bogus conveys a false and misleading impression that an actual person has reviewed their account, when in fact the letters are "form" type and mass mailed. Finally, consumers claim that CRA typically ignores all attempts to dispute the validity of the debt and continues with coercive efforts designed to elicit immediate payment. According to consumers the potential class is quite numerous, numbering in the thousands, and perhaps tens of thousands.
So there you go! Best of luck, Office of the CRA. Also, we filed reports with the Attorneys General of Texas, Virginia and Pennsylvania. You really should check out this Internet thing. I didn't even have to put my pants on!
So Julie received a call this morning from a "legal mediation" company with a Very Serious Legal Issue to discuss with her. The person leaving the message on voicemail said "I don't even think you're aware of what's going on!" So, you know, very scary, and before breakfast, even.
(UPDATE: Apparently they called Julie's parents this morning, too.)
She called the number and got a high strung, angry gentleman at "the Office of the CRA". She was informed that she has an old credit card outstanding debt of over $9000, and unless she gave him her bank information RIGHT THAT INSTANT, the matter was going to go to court and the debt would be reported to the IRS as additional income, and no, we won't send you anything in print, and no, you can't have a moment, you need to give us that information right now now nownownownow!
Julie, not suffering from a head injury, declined to give Mister Furious our bank account numbers, thereby denying the Office of the CRA a sum so vast that they might actually be able to invest in not one but two tacos from Taco Bell. (But sorry, no beverage.) She did, however, keep talking, or rather she tried, but mostly she just listened to this guy with his unresolved anger issues. A few interesting points came out of his frothy rage, however:
- The credit card on which she had supposedly defaulted on $9000 in debt was one that was closed out a very very long time ago. Years ago, in fact, and the debt had been settled. More importantly, and this will perhaps not surprise you, the limit on that card was nowhere close to $9000. It might have been a thousand. Because, you know, credit card companies may not be smart, but none of them are dumb enough to give the Fabulous Rummel-Hudsons a $9000 line of credit. Certainly not way back then, during our wilder, dumber days.
- The contact address they had was that of Julie's childhood home, where her parents still live. It may have been listed at one time as a reference address, but it hasn't been listed as her home address since back when she was receiving lunch money.
- He repeatedly called her "Julie Hudson", which has in fact never been a legal name of hers. You can try a bunch of different combinations, but that's actually the only one that won't work.
- The most interesting piece of information came when Mister Furious heard me talking to Julie (probably suggesting creative and possibly physically challenging anatomical activities she should suggest to her caller), he said, "You can listen to me, or you can listen to your boyfriend there..."
After Mister Furious hung up on Julie, I called them back to try to find out who they were and where they were calling from. I got Mister Furious again, except now he was using a different name. He refused to give any information and said he could only talk to Julie, not me. When I handed the phone to her, she was told that if we called them back again, it would be considered harassment. (Really? Because on this saved voicemail message, it really did sound like you were rather insistent that we call you.)
So there you go.
Here's the thing about this. I think this company is operating under an outdated business model. I suspect they're not entirely unaware of the issues at play since they demand payment information right then, during the call. Because if you have time to go online and start Googling their information, particularly the phone numbers from which they called and which they asked for a return call, you might find some interesting tidbits of information, both from other consumers and from legal websites.
So in order to help "the Office of the CRA" improve their procedures and have more success in scaring the crap out of unsuspecting marks, here's just a sample of what turns up in about two minutes of Googling.
Google: 866-553-0428
CRA Collection Company, Inc.
1150 Lancaster Boulevard
Mechanicsburg, PA
(866) 553-0428
"does anyone know who this company is?? they somehow got my sister's number and is asking for me, claiming to be a law firm."
"who is this company? they are looking for someone who is not at my number and had even called my son in OK looking for this person. They say how important it is and that it is a very serious matter which needs immediate attention. Does anyone know who this is?"
"Paul from CRA called looking for me under a name I have not used in years. I have been divorced, remarried, and 3 kids since using this name. My oldest is in high school now. I live in a new state and number is unlisted. This is just crazy."
"I got a call from this number at my moms house. I have not lived at home for over 16 years. A Ms. Thompson is the caller and she tries to be very intimidating and almost a bully, but she will not give any specific details. My mom is ready to turn it in to the authorities."
"I just got a message from a Mrs. Karis at 866-553-0428. She left a message saying that she was looking for "RO" (married name) from "the city I grew up in." Which was strange because I haven't lived there in over 10 years. And I wasn't married when I lived there. I just felt it was very strange since any account I have with my married name I know is up to date. Do you just ignore this type of call? Or should I call back and find out what's going on? I would hate to think that they will be after my family members next."
Google: 831-274-2477
"A lady called wanted me to relay a message to someone that's supposedly left our phone number as a contact. She just gave a six-digit case no. When I asked for what matter is it related to, the lady started yelling and became extremely rude and said it's none of my business. Caller ID showed the call was from 831-274-2477. She wanted the person to call back at 1-877-407-9274 with just a case no. What a rude scammer!"
"I just received a call (on the cellphone I use for the company that I work for). I do not know how "Kristin" got my phone #. She says she is with CRA company. She was rude and obnoxious and said that she had an urgent call for me, though I never identified myself. She also threatened that she would report me for not identifying myself or my company name. I don't have any debts that need collection, so I don't know why anyone would be phoning me- especially on my company cellphone."
Google: 877-407-9274
"This has never happened to us! I'm glad I wasn't being too gullible tonight! They call from the same phone number 1-866-460-4260. The guy said he name was John Shelton. The guy said that he needed to speak to my husband urgently concerning a legal matter. My husband called back and spoke with a female (sounded white). We had to ask for a company name = CRA. They were unable to tell us what that stood for. They were very on edge, argumentative, and sounded threatening at times...claiming they would turn us into the IRS, if we didn't settle this now. They said that this was a last attempt to collect on a credit card debt before legal action would be taken. They stated that this was on his credit report and needed to be taken care of now. They said they only take credit/debit payment (Go figure). The card/debt they were referring to has been taken care of and the card has been canceled for many yrs, and we know for a fact that it is not on the credit report. My husband hung up on the woman, and she called right back from a different #. She said, "Mr. XXXXX, I can't help you with this, if you keep hanging up. What other legit company would ever do that. She was asking for his SS# and all kinds of stuff! I just want to turn these low life losers in, so they can get caught! It's a shame!"
"Calling all of my daughter's relatives, threatens to serve paper's, she is going to be arrested, calling her elderly grandparents, parents, says it is on excessive debt on a non existant credit card debt of a limit that she was never approved for. The woman "FLIPPED" out, was YELLING, CALLED my daughter CRAZY, would not confirm any information. "
"CRA woman became agitated when i asked for her address, refused, said she'd only been calling for a month, that they were not a collection agency but a 'mediation service.' supervisor Stephanie Martin came on line, said they'd never called me before today, i'd be taken off list. i said i'd been trying to stop calls for a year and a half. also refused address then hung up."
"Harrassment
"866-452-9518 called my neighbor advising her that I gave them permission to contact them to get info about me. My neighbor knew better than this and told them she has nothing to tell them. They then proceeded to advise her that they are going to press charges if I do not call them back. I called them to tell them to NOT call looking for me ever again & I Never gave them authority to call my neighbor advising them that I said they could. The guy started yelling at me sayibg he wouldn't have to call if I paid his client monies owed. I asked what client? What monies? He refused to answer and continued yelling. I hung up the phone. I will be reporting them to FTC as well."
"These people called my Uncle\'s ex- wife from 1988 and initially stated that they wanted to deliver a package and needed to verify the address. That did not work so the called again and stated that they were calling from the office of CRA and some investigators needed to speak with him immediately. I called them back multiple times and they hung up on me whenever I asked what CRA stands for and what type of company were they. Finally they advised me that they were the Consumer Recovery Associates."
"These people caled me 8 months ago, had the wrong first name, middle initial and SS#, told me it was a mistake. They have since reported nick name, alternate SS# to the credit bureau and are now harrasing me again. I think these people are scum. They also stated I made the last payment from an address I had 9 years ago just 6 years ago so it is within the statute of limitations, what idiots! I complained to the FTC and the VA Attorney General! I hope the hard inquiry comes off my credit report and they leave me alone for good. This account is apparently outside the SOL anyway."
Here's a big one:
"If you receive a call from this number, you have been called by junk debt / collection agency that buys debt from original creditors that has been written off or settled and is beyond the statute of limitations in most states. They are trying get the money for themselves, not the original creditor.
They are reportedly a serial violator of the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (FDCPA). They may be illegally using credit information obtained from Experian or other credit reporting agencies.
This company has been known to contact and harass people they believe may know the person they are trying to reach including distant relatives, ex-spouses and possible former co-workers.
NEVER answer these calls if you see this as a caller ID. NEVER return these calls. NEVER give them ANY information about the person they are seeking or refer them to others.
Any "positive" comments you read in these notes about the company may have been written by employees of the company.
The company is:
Consumer Recovery Associates
2697 International Parkway #4
Suite 270
PO Box 2916
Virginia Beach, VA 23450-2916
The following is the most comprehensive information gathered about this company from various sources on the Internet.
***If you've been called by a number not on this list or by someone using a different name, please copy this list, add the number/name in the correct order and repost it in its entirety.
Company Names that CRA reportedly uses:
CIA and Associates
CC Associates
Consumer Credit Association
Consumer Recovery Associates
Court Company
CR Associates
CRA Associates
C&R Associates
C & R Associates
Farm CIA & Associates
J Lamb and Associates
and possibly GC Services
Phone numbers that CRA reportedly uses:
(list redacted because it is crazy long.)
Individual names that CRA reportedly uses:
(also redacted for length, but the woman who left the voicemail, Mister Furious and his Furious Twin are all on the list)"
And finally...
Pennsylvania Consumers Challenge CRA Security Systems' Collection Practices
Bradley v CRA Security Systems, Inc.
CASE ID: 3131 | CREDIT / DEBT | 02/06/2004
A statewide class action has been filed in Pennsylvania against CRA Security Systems, Inc. and their parent company, Capital Recovery Associates, Inc. The action is brought on behalf of all Pennsylvania residents who received a form type collection letter demanding immediate payment of the consumers' alleged debt. The action is brought under the federal Fair Debt Collection Practices Act and seeks statutory damages as well as injunctive and declaratory relief.
According to consumers, CRA used language in its initial collection letters that was confusing and deceptive. Federal law requires that all collection services include a notice in their initial collection letters that informs consumers of their right to investigate the validity of a debt within 30 days. Although CRA's letter contained this notice, consumers allege that other language in the letter overshadowed the notice and rendered it ineffective. Specifically, the letters requested immediate attention by remitting payment. Consumers allege that by demanding immediate attention and payment, they were unable to determine if they were given 30 days to investigate the validity of the debt, or if they were required to pay immediately. Additionally, the letters were allegedly "signed" by Richard Lyons. According to consumers, there is no viable evidence to suggest that a Richard Lyons reviewed their debt or that Richard Lyons is even employed by CRA. However, consumers claim this "signature" is meant to convey to them that the debt had been reviewed by an actual person. According to consumers, CRA also routinely charges allegedly illegal fees for returned checks. Finally, even after repeated attempts to dispute the validity of the debts, many consumers claim that CRA never provided them with validation.
Under the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act, any unfair, misleading or intimidating language is forbidden in collection letters or other forms of communication. The consumers allege that the language used by CRA fulfills this standard. They claim that CRA's language overshadows and renders ineffective the 30 day notice of disputing the validity of the debt. They claim that CRA's use of a signature that is allegedly bogus conveys a false and misleading impression that an actual person has reviewed their account, when in fact the letters are "form" type and mass mailed. Finally, consumers claim that CRA typically ignores all attempts to dispute the validity of the debt and continues with coercive efforts designed to elicit immediate payment. According to consumers the potential class is quite numerous, numbering in the thousands, and perhaps tens of thousands.
So there you go! Best of luck, Office of the CRA. Also, we filed reports with the Attorneys General of Texas, Virginia and Pennsylvania. You really should check out this Internet thing. I didn't even have to put my pants on!
June 3, 2009
SoCal with the RumHuds
A courtesy note for stalkers...
-----
Robert, Julie and Schuyler will be in Costa Mesa, California for the 2nd Annual Microcephaly Convention, June 18-21, 2009. If you aren't attending the conference but would like to meet the Rummel-Hudsons, join us on Thursday afternoon or Sunday morning for a little informal get-together.
June 18, 2009 | 12:30pm
-----
Southern California Meet-up with the Rummel-Hudsons
Robert, Julie and Schuyler will be in Costa Mesa, California for the 2nd Annual Microcephaly Convention, June 18-21, 2009. If you aren't attending the conference but would like to meet the Rummel-Hudsons, join us on Thursday afternoon or Sunday morning for a little informal get-together.
June 18, 2009 | 12:30pm
The Beach Pit BBQ
1676 Tustin Avenue
1676 Tustin Avenue
Costa Mesa, CA 92627
June 21, 2009 | 10:00am
West LA Farmers Market in Santa Monica
11360 Santa Monica Blvd
West Los Angeles, CA 90025
RSVP to info@schuylersmonster.com
June 21, 2009 | 10:00am
West LA Farmers Market in Santa Monica
11360 Santa Monica Blvd
West Los Angeles, CA 90025
RSVP to info@schuylersmonster.com
May 31, 2009
Two Out of Three Authors
"Two Out of Three Authors..."
New at Gregory's Bistro
in Historic Downtown Plano
Tuesday, June 16 - 7 pm
1022 E 15th Street, Plano, TX
Meet local authors Karen Harrington (Janeology) and Robert Rummel-Hudson (Schuyler's Monster) for an entertaining night of stories, writing advice and thoughts on a year in the life of a debut author.
Admission is free, but come early as seating is limited. Gregory’s Bistro is BYOB.
Karen Harrington is the author of the suspense novel Janeology, a unique blend of legal drama and psychological suspense that poses the question, how much of what a person does is due to nature and nurture?
Karen’s writing has received recognition from the Hemingway Short Story Festival, the Texas Film Institute, the Austin Film Festival and Writer’s Digest. Prior to publishing her novel, she was a corporate speechwriter for EDS and Greyhound Bus Lines.
Robert Rummel-Hudson is the author of the memoir Schuyler's Monster: A Father’s Journey with His Wordless Daughter. The book tells the story of raising a little girl with a disability and learning to become the father she needs.
Robert has been writing online since 1995. During that time, his work has been recognized by the Diarist Awards. His story has been featured in articles in the Austin Chronicle, the New Haven Register, the Dallas Morning News and the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. He has been featured on American Public Radio’s Weekend America, WFAA’s Good Morning Texas and KERA’s Think with Krys Boyd.
April 28, 2009
A little light reading
A surprising number of people have emailed me to ask for a copy of the keynote address I delivered to the Texas Speech Language Hearing Association's 2009 Convention at the beginning of the month.
The requests have mostly been coming from people who were there, which is nice. I would have thought it would have been enough fun just sitting through it once.
Anyway, if you're interested and have absolutely nothing else to do with your time, here it is, in all it's verbosity. Click and enjoy.
Anyway, if you're interested and have absolutely nothing else to do with your time, here it is, in all it's verbosity. Click and enjoy.
April 27, 2009
Unthinkable
The tragic story of Maddie Spohr has been making the rounds online, and it's one about which I have been conspicuously silent. Better writers than myself have written about Maddie and the unique role that social media has played in her story getting the attention that it deserves, so I'm not going to add much further, except of course to explain why I haven't had anything to say about it until now.
Quite simply, it's not a topic I can think on at great length before my mind begins to feed on itself. Losing a child is one of the very few topics that I would classify as unthinkable.
The other night (and here's where you get to judge me a little), Julie and I were watching Grey's Anatomy together. We watch each other's shows together sometimes. Julie's finally off the hook with Battlestar Galactica, alas for my Friday nights, but I still join her for American Idol (which we both mock mercilessly, as if we ourselves aren't sitting there watching it along with everyone else) and Grey's Anatomy. I don't want to like it, and there's plenty about the show I don't care for, but there I am on the couch with Julie every week. It's sort of pathetic. BSG really has left a big hole in my tv heart.
(Having said that, if you really need a Grey's Anatomy SPOILER ALERT at this point, you are more pathetic than I, and I'm glad you exist in the world.)
Last week's episode included the story of a terminally ill little girl and her desperate father, a man trying so hard to find a miracle cure for his daughter that he comes very close to missing her final moments. "This next part, she needs her daddy for this part," says one of the characters, and as the little girl slips away, she does so in her father's arms as he comforts her with a description of Mexico, on the trip they'll never take together now. ''Just relax and we'll be there soon,' he says.
Well, you can imagine how I reacted to this. We both sat on the couch with tears in our eyes, staring for just a tentative moment into that void where parents usually refuse to even glance. I finally looked over at Julie and said, "You know if anything ever happened to Schuyler, I wouldn't make it."
"I know," was all she said.
I occasionally hear about what a strong father I am, simply because I've stood behind Schuyler and fought for her all this time, but it's false praise. It doesn't take strength to fight for Schuyler. The honest truth is that it's the easiest thing in the world to do. It's my pleasure and my privilege to do so. It's easy because it's a multiple choice question with only one answer, but more than that, as corny as it sounds, I get to participate in the life of the most amazing human being I've ever met, or will likely ever meet. I get to live with that person every day of my life. Who wouldn't sign on for that? That's not strength. That's selfish opportunity.
When I read about parents like Heather Spohr and Vicki Forman, I get a glimpse of what true strength really is. It takes strength to face the one thing that no parent should ever have to face. It takes strength to go to that funeral, and most of all it takes real strength to get out of bed the next morning, and the morning after that, and all the mornings that follow.
One day, hopefully not terribly soon, Schuyler will have to say goodbye to her poor sad father. If the universe proceeds the way it should, she'll say goodbye, and she'll put on a pretty dress and then she'll put me in a box or an urn and she'll give me back to the earth. It'll be a hard day for her, and I'm genuinely sorry to put her through that, but it'll be a sad page from The Way Things Are Supposed To Be.
To me, as weak as I am, the alternative is unthinkable.
Quite simply, it's not a topic I can think on at great length before my mind begins to feed on itself. Losing a child is one of the very few topics that I would classify as unthinkable.
The other night (and here's where you get to judge me a little), Julie and I were watching Grey's Anatomy together. We watch each other's shows together sometimes. Julie's finally off the hook with Battlestar Galactica, alas for my Friday nights, but I still join her for American Idol (which we both mock mercilessly, as if we ourselves aren't sitting there watching it along with everyone else) and Grey's Anatomy. I don't want to like it, and there's plenty about the show I don't care for, but there I am on the couch with Julie every week. It's sort of pathetic. BSG really has left a big hole in my tv heart.
(Having said that, if you really need a Grey's Anatomy SPOILER ALERT at this point, you are more pathetic than I, and I'm glad you exist in the world.)
Last week's episode included the story of a terminally ill little girl and her desperate father, a man trying so hard to find a miracle cure for his daughter that he comes very close to missing her final moments. "This next part, she needs her daddy for this part," says one of the characters, and as the little girl slips away, she does so in her father's arms as he comforts her with a description of Mexico, on the trip they'll never take together now. ''Just relax and we'll be there soon,' he says.
Well, you can imagine how I reacted to this. We both sat on the couch with tears in our eyes, staring for just a tentative moment into that void where parents usually refuse to even glance. I finally looked over at Julie and said, "You know if anything ever happened to Schuyler, I wouldn't make it."
"I know," was all she said.
I occasionally hear about what a strong father I am, simply because I've stood behind Schuyler and fought for her all this time, but it's false praise. It doesn't take strength to fight for Schuyler. The honest truth is that it's the easiest thing in the world to do. It's my pleasure and my privilege to do so. It's easy because it's a multiple choice question with only one answer, but more than that, as corny as it sounds, I get to participate in the life of the most amazing human being I've ever met, or will likely ever meet. I get to live with that person every day of my life. Who wouldn't sign on for that? That's not strength. That's selfish opportunity.
When I read about parents like Heather Spohr and Vicki Forman, I get a glimpse of what true strength really is. It takes strength to face the one thing that no parent should ever have to face. It takes strength to go to that funeral, and most of all it takes real strength to get out of bed the next morning, and the morning after that, and all the mornings that follow.
One day, hopefully not terribly soon, Schuyler will have to say goodbye to her poor sad father. If the universe proceeds the way it should, she'll say goodbye, and she'll put on a pretty dress and then she'll put me in a box or an urn and she'll give me back to the earth. It'll be a hard day for her, and I'm genuinely sorry to put her through that, but it'll be a sad page from The Way Things Are Supposed To Be.
To me, as weak as I am, the alternative is unthinkable.
April 25, 2009
Dumb Man Tweeting
Most days of the week, I listen to a program on my local public radio station called Think. It's been one of my favorites since it first aired a few years ago, thanks to the amazing host, Krys Boyd, who interviewed me on the television version of the show last year, in what was ultimately my favorite media appearance. A few days ago, I turned on the show to find that the guests were Jake Heggie, a composer who wrote a celebrated operatic version of Dead Man Walking about ten years ago (which is being performed in Fort Worth next month), and Sister Helen Prejean, the memoirist and activist who wrote about her early experiences as spiritual advisor to death row inmates in Dead Man Walking. Both the opera and the movie are based on her book.
Sister Helen has been one of my heroes, ever since I was in college. Until that time, like a lot of Americans, I hadn't given the reality of the death penalty much thought. I don't think I was even opposed to it when I was young. It seemed clear to me, you know? Someone kills, they deserve to die. Reading Prejean's book and especially seeing the movie, I realized that the issues are much more complicated than that. I eventually became a committed opponent to capital punishment, even attending a few protests and, much later, helping exonerated death row inmate Kerry Max Cook during his book tour. (That experience was sort of a beating, culminating in being rudely shoved out of the way by Robin Williams. At least I got a good story out of it.) Put simply, Sister Helen Prejean was a driving force in opening my eyes to a cause that I have come to believe in deeply. She's one of my personal heroes.
So when I saw, via a feed from the radio station, that Sister Helen was on Twitter and had posted a message about the show, I immediately sent her a tweet. (God, I hate using that word. I feel like I'm turning into Elmo every time I say it.)
I posted a message to my feed, because what is Twitter if not a place to showcase my bonehead moves?
If pressed, however, I'll have to confess to Schuyler that the message said:
I'm swell.
Sister Helen has been one of my heroes, ever since I was in college. Until that time, like a lot of Americans, I hadn't given the reality of the death penalty much thought. I don't think I was even opposed to it when I was young. It seemed clear to me, you know? Someone kills, they deserve to die. Reading Prejean's book and especially seeing the movie, I realized that the issues are much more complicated than that. I eventually became a committed opponent to capital punishment, even attending a few protests and, much later, helping exonerated death row inmate Kerry Max Cook during his book tour. (That experience was sort of a beating, culminating in being rudely shoved out of the way by Robin Williams. At least I got a good story out of it.) Put simply, Sister Helen Prejean was a driving force in opening my eyes to a cause that I have come to believe in deeply. She's one of my personal heroes.
So when I saw, via a feed from the radio station, that Sister Helen was on Twitter and had posted a message about the show, I immediately sent her a tweet. (God, I hate using that word. I feel like I'm turning into Elmo every time I say it.)
- @helenprejean Thought it was wonderful! Also, you're one of my heroes, which feels like a weird thing to say on Twitter, but there it is.
- A farting pug is driving me out of my own apartment. That hardly seems fair. I hope my central nervous system will restart with fresh air.
I posted a message to my feed, because what is Twitter if not a place to showcase my bonehead moves?
- I sent a twitter message to one of my personal heroes, only to realize that my previous tweet mentions dog farts. (This hero? Is a nun.)
If pressed, however, I'll have to confess to Schuyler that the message said:
- Dog farts don't bother me. Well, mentioning them doesn't! Thanks for the tweet.
I'm swell.
April 10, 2009
"Faculty"? Yeah, that should annoy a few people...
Celebration of Faculty Creative Works from 2007-2008
The Office of the Provost and the UT Arlington Library announce the first annual exhibit to highlight recent books, art exhibit catalogs, music recordings and patents of the UT Arlington faculty and staff. Provost Donald R. Bobbitt and Dean of the Library Gerald Saxon will toast all exhibition participants at a reception honoring these individuals.
The depth and breadth of scholarship and creativity at UT Arlington is a great source of pride on campus and beyond. The exhibit will open with a faculty and staff reception on Tuesday, April 14, from 5 – 6:30pm in the sixth floor atrium of Central Library.
For several years the library has sponsored an annual lecture series called "Focus on Faculty," featuring a half-dozen talks a year by award-winning faculty. This exhibit takes it to the next level and features more than 80 entries, recognizing works completed in the 2007-2008 academic year.
A booklet cataloging each entry will be available, and the exhibit will remain in place through May 31, 2009. The exhibit is free and open to the public. Hours of the Central Library sixth floor atrium are Monday, 8am to 7pm and Tuesday through Saturday, 8am to 5pm.
(Of all the recognition I've received for the book, the ones at my old university mean the most to me, no doubt because of my less-than-stellar performance as a student. That's right, kids. Stay in school. It's more fun than actual work.)
April 6, 2009
TSHA Convention 2009
(Photo by Shannon Sakmary-Best)
So yes, it turns out that 2500 people is, well, a lot of people.
I got a sense of that fact when we went to the sound check the day before the Keynote Session of the 2009 Texas Speech Language Hearing Association Convention. We were looking for Ballroom D, but when we peeked in the door to Ballroom G, we saw that I would in fact be speaking in Ballroom All-Of-Them. The partitioning walls had been retracted and the entire room was open. Three giant screens loomed over the stage, two of which would display my slide presentation (mostly photos of Schuyler, because I'm no dummy) and one which would show my head all giant-sized as I spoke. When we showed up the next morning, the room was full and some people had even been turned away. It feels surreal even to say that, but there it is.
I'm happy to report that the speech went well, I believe. I got a great deal of positive feedback from people afterwards, and no one booed or threw any of their breakfast tacos at me. The book signing sessions immediately following were crowded and friendly, with Schuyler signing in pink and generally charming everyone. (Again, I'm no dummy; I understood who people were there to meet.) I spoke to a local public radio reporter without sounding too idiotic, and we even visited the state capitol building to meet the governor (who was a no-show, sadly; I wanted to see Schuyler give Rick Perry one of her tackle-hugs) and other representatives about some upcoming bills that are of great interest to speech language pathologists and their patients.
Everywhere we went for the next two days, people would come up to us and say that they cried or were inspired by the speech, and I can't even begin to tell you how much that means to me. It's a powerful thing for me to hear because the fact is that we're not that different from any other parents out there who have fought and will continue to fight for our disabled kids. If we're different at all, it's because 1) the book has given us a voice where so many parents have none, and 2) Schuyler's story has a very rare happy ending, or at least a happy beginning. As a result, the idea that I could represent other parents is a humbling one, and one that I take very seriously.
The Texas Speech Language Hearing Association is made up primarily of SLPs (speech language pathologists, if you're not into the whole brevity thing). They represent one leg of the crucial balance for kids with disabilities who attend public schools, with teachers and parents making up the other supports. It's a wobbly tripod under the best of circumstances. I acknowledged in my speech that the two biggest obstacles for SLPs as they attempt to implement therapies and technologies are teachers and parents.
Teachers are overwhelmed by their class loads and by the labyrinthine system put in place by school boards and state-mandated testing and No Child Left Behind, and can be resistant to new technologies and therapeutic approaches. Much of the time they're just getting used to the last Big New Thing that came at them. And parents often feel overmatched by the capital-E Experts they face when they go in for their kid's IEP meeting. Until they take up the fight, educate themselves and become empowered, special needs parents serve as a kind of wind drag on the process, which is unfortunate and even frustrating, because we should be leading the fight, not following hesitantly behind.
Part of why I wanted to deliver this speech was to make the case that when empowered, special needs parents become a powerful force for change and progress. "No one is a quicker study," I said, "than the special needs parent." Julie and I couldn't help Schuyler much; we weren't qualified or trained to do so in a meaningful way. But without our persistence and our self-education and our willingness to be a pain in the ass when it was necessary, Schuyler wouldn't have been helped. She wouldn't have had the opportunity to become who she is today, and who she's going to be tomorrow, or in ten years.
And that's not because we're such swell parents and should be lauded for our efforts. It's because that's our job. And if you're a parent of a special needs kid? It's your job, too. If your kid gets into the finest program in the country, or if they end up in some awful place where they get parked in the corner and are simply fed and watered like a plant until they turn seventeen, the fact remains that eventually, they won't be anyone's responsibility but your own.
And when the school can look up at your kid, shrug and say "Not my problem", you as a parent had better not be standing there thinking that it's time for you to get involved. Because by then, it'll be too late. You will have squandered your opportunity to save your child, and you will get to take over the feeding and watering and regretting the wasted years.
-----
To the SLPs represented at the TSHA conference, I said this:
What does the future hold for kids like Schuyler? I wish I knew. There are so many kids out there like Schuyler, so many stories, many of them sad and most of them overwhelming, and yet the one thing that I truly believe these kids have in common is that none of their future stories is written. I watched Schuyler defy the expectations of her earliest teachers and doctors, and I've learned to trust in our ability to be a pain in the ass on her behalf. Her support in Plano has been so solid and so consistent that there are times when I forget, for just a moment, how many times she could have been left behind, in general special education classes where she wasn't taught so much as cared for. I forget the devil of low expectations so often assigned to her, and how hard we had to fight to throw those expectations off. If Schuyler has flown as high as she has despite the limitations that were consistently placed on her, can you imagine how far she and all her fellow students might go if, from the very beginning, they could be given an environment that focused not on what they can't do, but on what might be possible? Can you imagine that world where parent/teacher meetings didn't consist of "Here's why we can't try that" but instead simply "Why not?"
As parents of broken kids yearning for repair or compensatory development, we go into battle against our children's monsters clutching whatever weapons we can find. Rubber swords if necessary, nothing but our hands if need be. If we seem desperate at times, it's because we are, we are absolutely desperate, and you'll find that most of us will do whatever it takes to defeat those monsters, or to muzzle them, tame them, to put them on leashes and just manage them. We just don't want to do it alone. We need you. As educators and SLPs, voters and taxpayers, as fellow citizens of the world and children of God, you can be our heroes. We're desperate for heroes most of all. All of you can be the ones who step up beside us and say "Here's a real sword, let's take care of this."
-----
It was an honor and a privilege to speak to so many people, particularly ones who work so hard to help Schuyler and her friends. I would also humbly suggest that it is THEIR honor and privilege, as it is mine, to work with kids like Schuyler. The work is hard. The rewards are immeasurable, and go all the way down to the soul.
Before the speech
The line at the book signing
Signing books with Schuyler and her pink pen
Schuyler signing the governor's guest registry
Schuyler with PRC's Tracy Custer
(Photo by Shannon Sakmary-Best)
April 1, 2009
The Big Room
Okay, so here's where I'm be speaking in the morning, as seen from the back of the room.The room is so big that the screen behind me will display my big fat head, just so the people in the back can say "Wow, he's not so easy on the eyes, is he?"
(Click on the photo so you can see it in detail. That's Schuyler and me, goofing around at the podium while everyone else is trying to work.)
I'm not paralyzed with anxiety or anything, but yeah, this gargantuan room is a little daunting. I keep thinking of the giant underground hall in Lord of the Rings, as if that giant fire monster is going to show up halfway through and start trashing the place.
I'm not paralyzed with anxiety or anything, but yeah, this gargantuan room is a little daunting. I keep thinking of the giant underground hall in Lord of the Rings, as if that giant fire monster is going to show up halfway through and start trashing the place.
I'm looking forward to speaking in it, though. Well, perhaps after I read through my speech again, just one more time.
See you on the other side...
March 10, 2009
Casting of pods
If you liked my last entry but found the whole "left-to-right eyeball tracking" thing to be a distraction, you'll be pleased to know that QN Podcast (The Podcast Formerly Known as Quirky Nomads) featured the entry in their March 9th edition, "Ambush". Thanks, Sage!
You'll be even more happy to know that it's not my yokelly voice this time. It's encouraging how much smarter I sound when someone else is reading.
You'll be even more happy to know that it's not my yokelly voice this time. It's encouraging how much smarter I sound when someone else is reading.
February 25, 2009
"a point upon a map of fog..."
Note to my delicate and sensitive readers:
So there's a part of my San Francisco Adventure Story that involves injury, blood, general nastiness, pain and even partial accidental amputation. I'll save that part for the end, so that those of you prone to the vapors can stop reading. (And also so my extra-nasty readers can skip ahead. You know who you are.)
My trip to the San Francisco Bay Area was, I believe, an outstanding success. I managed to schedule a surprising amount of productive-type behavior into five days, and I got to see a lot of what is an absolutely beautiful city, even when it's shrouded in rain. Which it was, by the way, beginning the day I arrived and lifting, I suspect, at roughly the same hour that my return flight took off.
The night before I left Texas, the Dallas area was rocked by tornados (tornadi?), so I don't know, maybe it's me.
I'd be the worst sort of jackass guest if I didn't stop right now and express my gratitude to Ian Golder and Monique van den Berg for putting me up (and putting up with me) for the duration of my stay. Five days is a long time to have a house guest, but they never complained and not even once gently suggested that perhaps I'd be more comfortable if I got a room at a hotel or one of the city's many fine homeless shelters. More importantly, their giant dog never tried to eat me, which I also consider the sign of a polite host.
(Actually, the truth is that I have something of a Bigdogaphobia, thanks to a horrible childhood attack by, ironically, the one breed of big dog that doesn't seem to bother me now, a Great Dane. I used to have scars on the back of my legs that told the tale, but I am far too old and fat to be able to look back there now. My thanks to Ian and Monique, and Goulash the Giant But Gentle Dogzilla, for being sensitive to my weird dog issues.)
The first night I was in town, I spoke to Monique's writing class at the College of San Mateo. If you're wondering what possible situation I might consider to be absolutely surreal, it might be speaking to a class that is studying personal narrative by way of my own book. Yes, my book was the assigned text; the students were reading it and taking tests about it and having classroom discussions about it. I could try to spin that experience into some fancy, existential parable, but in all honesty, it was just extremely damn cool to be me that evening. I highly recommend it.
I agreed to help workshop some of the personal narratives written by the students, and to be honest, I was nervous about it. I had no idea what I was going to say if I had to workshop an essay that was, well, bad. But here's the thing: none of them were. Everything I read had a real sense of voice; everything had something to say and a concept of how they wanted to express it. I was legitimately impressed, and only resented their youth a little. Damn kids.
The next day, we visited schools. You knew that already.
I'd never been to San Francisco before, but there are a number of people in the area whom I knew but had never met, in that nerdy internet way that was weird a decade ago but is just now The Way Things Are in the World. My signing at Book Passage in Corte Madera gave me the opportunity to meet some of them in the flesh, as well as see some people I'd met previously and at least one friend from high school. I know I'm going to screw this up and forget someone, but I'd like to thank Shannon, Ian & Monique, Annie, Kate, Alison, Halsted, Kara, Char, and the AMAZING Edith Meyer, who once again showed up with food, this time cookies, shortbread and a lemon loaf that I think I would have knocked down an old person to get to.
Most of all, however, there were two other special guests. Courtesy of Skype and a good sound system set up by Dana, the awesome events person from Book Passage, Julie and Schuyler appeared on my laptop and answered questions and generally charmed the pants off of everyone. So if you weren't there, well, you missed a lot of charmed, pantsless people. Your loss.
I had a great time in San Francisco, and I'd love to return soon. There's a possibility that Schuyler might attend a summer camp for kids who use Big Boxes of Words, although I might have to discover buried treasure or lost mob money to make that a reality.
I hope it happens.
Okay, I mean it now. Tender-hearts stop reading now. I'm serious. If you don't like the rest of this, don't leave me any crybaby comments. You've been warned.
So yeah, I cut off the end of my finger.
The morning I left for California, I was packing my toiletries and had already put my razor in a side pocket of my little bathroom bag. I decided that it would be a good idea to store my toothbrush in the same pocket (NOTE: This was not actually a good idea), and as I pushed my toothbrush in, it stuck on something, my hand slipped, and my middle finger (aka "The Bird") on my right hand made a rather abrupt and rude introduction to the little Precision Trimmer blade on the top edge of my razor, which if you're into detail, is that funky five-blade "Fusion Power" thing from Gillette.
(Because, you know, it has five blades. How could I use something that just had four, or even three blades -- pshaw! -- all the while KNOWING that there were five blades out there, PLUS that one nasty little trimmer blade on top? Get fucking serious.)
I just went to the Gillette site to see what that little top blade is called, and ran across the following line in the ad: "So comfortable, you barely feel the blades."
I felt the blade.
Now, before you begin to wonder (as you inevitably will) if I immediately went to the emergency room, well, here's the thing. My plane was leaving in about an hour and a half. You just read about the wonderful time I had in San Francisco, and also how many professional commitments I had there. I couldn't just NOT go, all because I cut myself with my razor, and not even shaving but PACKING.
Also, in my own defense (and Julie can queasily back me up on this), it bled. A lot. So much so that I couldn't actually see what I had done. It hurt more than I thought a cut should hurt, and it would not stop bleeding for anything, no matter how much pressure I put on it. But still, I just thought it was a deep cut, right? And when we bandaged it up tightly, the pressure made the bleeding stop. I figured, it just needs some time to settle down. So we threw my bags in the car and drove to the airport, my finger hurting wildly but no longer squirting blood like a Monty Python sketch.
It wasn't until I got past security that I noticed that the bleeding had begun again, seeping through the bandages like, well, like a poorly bandaged wound that really should have been seen by a doctor. If before was a bad time to go have it looked at, then sitting outside my gate with my shoes off wasn't much better. I found a bathroom, decided against removing the bandages (which I still think was probably a smart move on my part, and one that my fellow travelers and bathroom-users would probably agree with) and simply applied MORE bandages on top on the poor little Dutchboy-like original strips that were bravely losing the fight against the flood.
Surprisingly, this second bit of first aid (would that make it second aid?) held, and I made my flight without incident. It wasn't until I attempted to change the bandages before class that I realized how bad it was.
Because it bled again. Badly. And now I saw why.
Okay, so first of all, sit down. Then imagine the very tip of your finger, or my finger really, if that makes you feel better about it. Imagine a piece about the size of a dime (which constitutes most of the tip of your finger, really) and about the thickness of two quarters. Now imagine it connected by a tiny piece of skin. Now imagine it NO LONGER connected by that tiny piece of skin. Imagine it instead stuck to the inside of a bloody bandage, a small not-bloody circle in the middle of a brownish-red tragedy.
And if you're REALLY into detail, also imagine taking your killer razor out of your bag to inexplicably use it against your own stubbly face, despite the fact that it has tasted human blood and may just want more more more. Upon examination, you find that it is surprisingly not at all bloody, because when you cut yourself, your "Ow ow, holy shit, ow motherfucker OW!" reflex kicked in quickly enough to get you to the sink before any real bleeding began. What you do find is what appears to be a small piece of clear plastic stuck in the blades. But when you fish it out, you remember that most clear plastic doesn't have little fingerprint ridges in it. Then you sit down again. And maybe not eat for the rest of the day.
Apparently I cut it twice. One was the big cut, and one was a little bit shaved off the tip, waiting for me to discover it later.
So yeah. I cut off the end of my finger.
Now, I didn't cut off a major, life-changing chunk of my finger. I'll have a flat spot, that's certain, but I can still count to ten and Schuyler can still paint all my fingernails. Still, the cut went deep into that part of the skin where the nerves live, and they do not like being exposed like that. Two weeks after the cut, it is healing up nicely (amazingly, no infection, which goes to show that God really does protect children and stupid people), but you know what?
It still hurts. A lot.
It looks sort of cool, though. I'll leave that to your imagination.
My trip to the San Francisco Bay Area was, I believe, an outstanding success. I managed to schedule a surprising amount of productive-type behavior into five days, and I got to see a lot of what is an absolutely beautiful city, even when it's shrouded in rain. Which it was, by the way, beginning the day I arrived and lifting, I suspect, at roughly the same hour that my return flight took off.
The night before I left Texas, the Dallas area was rocked by tornados (tornadi?), so I don't know, maybe it's me.
I'd be the worst sort of jackass guest if I didn't stop right now and express my gratitude to Ian Golder and Monique van den Berg for putting me up (and putting up with me) for the duration of my stay. Five days is a long time to have a house guest, but they never complained and not even once gently suggested that perhaps I'd be more comfortable if I got a room at a hotel or one of the city's many fine homeless shelters. More importantly, their giant dog never tried to eat me, which I also consider the sign of a polite host.
(Actually, the truth is that I have something of a Bigdogaphobia, thanks to a horrible childhood attack by, ironically, the one breed of big dog that doesn't seem to bother me now, a Great Dane. I used to have scars on the back of my legs that told the tale, but I am far too old and fat to be able to look back there now. My thanks to Ian and Monique, and Goulash the Giant But Gentle Dogzilla, for being sensitive to my weird dog issues.)
The first night I was in town, I spoke to Monique's writing class at the College of San Mateo. If you're wondering what possible situation I might consider to be absolutely surreal, it might be speaking to a class that is studying personal narrative by way of my own book. Yes, my book was the assigned text; the students were reading it and taking tests about it and having classroom discussions about it. I could try to spin that experience into some fancy, existential parable, but in all honesty, it was just extremely damn cool to be me that evening. I highly recommend it.
I agreed to help workshop some of the personal narratives written by the students, and to be honest, I was nervous about it. I had no idea what I was going to say if I had to workshop an essay that was, well, bad. But here's the thing: none of them were. Everything I read had a real sense of voice; everything had something to say and a concept of how they wanted to express it. I was legitimately impressed, and only resented their youth a little. Damn kids.
The next day, we visited schools. You knew that already.
* * *
(photo by Monique van den Berg)
I'd never been to San Francisco before, but there are a number of people in the area whom I knew but had never met, in that nerdy internet way that was weird a decade ago but is just now The Way Things Are in the World. My signing at Book Passage in Corte Madera gave me the opportunity to meet some of them in the flesh, as well as see some people I'd met previously and at least one friend from high school. I know I'm going to screw this up and forget someone, but I'd like to thank Shannon, Ian & Monique, Annie, Kate, Alison, Halsted, Kara, Char, and the AMAZING Edith Meyer, who once again showed up with food, this time cookies, shortbread and a lemon loaf that I think I would have knocked down an old person to get to.
Most of all, however, there were two other special guests. Courtesy of Skype and a good sound system set up by Dana, the awesome events person from Book Passage, Julie and Schuyler appeared on my laptop and answered questions and generally charmed the pants off of everyone. So if you weren't there, well, you missed a lot of charmed, pantsless people. Your loss.
(photo by Shannon Kokoska)
* * *
The rest of my visit was vacation, really. We went to the Big Basin Redwoods State Park and saw many a mighty tree, and while I took lots of photos, it's impossible to get a sense of just how gigantic some of them really were. In person, it was "Holy shit, that's a big goddamn redwood!" When you look at the photos, it's more like "Oh, look. A pretty tree."
My last day in San Francisco was spent sightseeing in the city with Monique and attending a concert by the San Francisco Symphony, which was Monique's amazing Christmas present to me. The performance was conducted by Charles Dutoit, one of my favorite conductors who, with the Montreal Symphony, produced some of the best and most enduring recordings of the last thirty years. San Francisco Symphony performed Debussy's "Oh, look. A pretty deer.", Stravinsky's Symphony in C, and closed with Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, which is frankly a much better piece that R-K really had any right to compose, based on the rest of his output. Don't get me wrong, Rimsky-Korsakov was a brilliant orchestrator and wrote some fine music, by golly, but in Scheherazade, he really stepped it up. He did us hyphenates proud.
And of course, we visited the Pirate Supply Store at 826 Valencia, which (for zoning purposes) serves as a legitimate business front for the writing center founded by Dave Eggers. I bought pirate flags and a t-shirt and the obligatory eye patch for Schuyler and Julie.
(photo by Monique van den Berg)
My last day in San Francisco was spent sightseeing in the city with Monique and attending a concert by the San Francisco Symphony, which was Monique's amazing Christmas present to me. The performance was conducted by Charles Dutoit, one of my favorite conductors who, with the Montreal Symphony, produced some of the best and most enduring recordings of the last thirty years. San Francisco Symphony performed Debussy's "Oh, look. A pretty deer.", Stravinsky's Symphony in C, and closed with Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, which is frankly a much better piece that R-K really had any right to compose, based on the rest of his output. Don't get me wrong, Rimsky-Korsakov was a brilliant orchestrator and wrote some fine music, by golly, but in Scheherazade, he really stepped it up. He did us hyphenates proud.
And of course, we visited the Pirate Supply Store at 826 Valencia, which (for zoning purposes) serves as a legitimate business front for the writing center founded by Dave Eggers. I bought pirate flags and a t-shirt and the obligatory eye patch for Schuyler and Julie.
"Pillage before plunder, what a blunder.
Plunder before pillage, mission fulfillage."
I had a great time in San Francisco, and I'd love to return soon. There's a possibility that Schuyler might attend a summer camp for kids who use Big Boxes of Words, although I might have to discover buried treasure or lost mob money to make that a reality.
I hope it happens.
Okay, I mean it now. Tender-hearts stop reading now. I'm serious. If you don't like the rest of this, don't leave me any crybaby comments. You've been warned.
So yeah, I cut off the end of my finger.
The morning I left for California, I was packing my toiletries and had already put my razor in a side pocket of my little bathroom bag. I decided that it would be a good idea to store my toothbrush in the same pocket (NOTE: This was not actually a good idea), and as I pushed my toothbrush in, it stuck on something, my hand slipped, and my middle finger (aka "The Bird") on my right hand made a rather abrupt and rude introduction to the little Precision Trimmer blade on the top edge of my razor, which if you're into detail, is that funky five-blade "Fusion Power" thing from Gillette.
(Because, you know, it has five blades. How could I use something that just had four, or even three blades -- pshaw! -- all the while KNOWING that there were five blades out there, PLUS that one nasty little trimmer blade on top? Get fucking serious.)
I just went to the Gillette site to see what that little top blade is called, and ran across the following line in the ad: "So comfortable, you barely feel the blades."
I felt the blade.
Now, before you begin to wonder (as you inevitably will) if I immediately went to the emergency room, well, here's the thing. My plane was leaving in about an hour and a half. You just read about the wonderful time I had in San Francisco, and also how many professional commitments I had there. I couldn't just NOT go, all because I cut myself with my razor, and not even shaving but PACKING.
Also, in my own defense (and Julie can queasily back me up on this), it bled. A lot. So much so that I couldn't actually see what I had done. It hurt more than I thought a cut should hurt, and it would not stop bleeding for anything, no matter how much pressure I put on it. But still, I just thought it was a deep cut, right? And when we bandaged it up tightly, the pressure made the bleeding stop. I figured, it just needs some time to settle down. So we threw my bags in the car and drove to the airport, my finger hurting wildly but no longer squirting blood like a Monty Python sketch.
It wasn't until I got past security that I noticed that the bleeding had begun again, seeping through the bandages like, well, like a poorly bandaged wound that really should have been seen by a doctor. If before was a bad time to go have it looked at, then sitting outside my gate with my shoes off wasn't much better. I found a bathroom, decided against removing the bandages (which I still think was probably a smart move on my part, and one that my fellow travelers and bathroom-users would probably agree with) and simply applied MORE bandages on top on the poor little Dutchboy-like original strips that were bravely losing the fight against the flood.
Surprisingly, this second bit of first aid (would that make it second aid?) held, and I made my flight without incident. It wasn't until I attempted to change the bandages before class that I realized how bad it was.
Because it bled again. Badly. And now I saw why.
Okay, so first of all, sit down. Then imagine the very tip of your finger, or my finger really, if that makes you feel better about it. Imagine a piece about the size of a dime (which constitutes most of the tip of your finger, really) and about the thickness of two quarters. Now imagine it connected by a tiny piece of skin. Now imagine it NO LONGER connected by that tiny piece of skin. Imagine it instead stuck to the inside of a bloody bandage, a small not-bloody circle in the middle of a brownish-red tragedy.
And if you're REALLY into detail, also imagine taking your killer razor out of your bag to inexplicably use it against your own stubbly face, despite the fact that it has tasted human blood and may just want more more more. Upon examination, you find that it is surprisingly not at all bloody, because when you cut yourself, your "Ow ow, holy shit, ow motherfucker OW!" reflex kicked in quickly enough to get you to the sink before any real bleeding began. What you do find is what appears to be a small piece of clear plastic stuck in the blades. But when you fish it out, you remember that most clear plastic doesn't have little fingerprint ridges in it. Then you sit down again. And maybe not eat for the rest of the day.
Apparently I cut it twice. One was the big cut, and one was a little bit shaved off the tip, waiting for me to discover it later.
So yeah. I cut off the end of my finger.
Now, I didn't cut off a major, life-changing chunk of my finger. I'll have a flat spot, that's certain, but I can still count to ten and Schuyler can still paint all my fingernails. Still, the cut went deep into that part of the skin where the nerves live, and they do not like being exposed like that. Two weeks after the cut, it is healing up nicely (amazingly, no infection, which goes to show that God really does protect children and stupid people), but you know what?
It still hurts. A lot.
It looks sort of cool, though. I'll leave that to your imagination.
February 13, 2009
I am your San Francisco treat, baby
If you're in the Bay Area, this is your reminder to come see me tonight at 7:00, at Book Passage in Corte Madera. I think it's going to be a lot of fun. There may be some special surprises of the snack variety and just maybe, if I can figure out how to make it work, a special guest appearance of sorts. Oo, a teaser.
I'm having an amazing time in San Francisco. I spoke to an advanced composition class at the College of San Mateo, and afterwards we workshopped some of their own personal narrative pieces, all of which were really very good. I hereby repudiate all my cracks about "kids these days". I also visited the Bridge School and a program very similar to Schuyler's in Oakland, and it was an experience that I am still processing and will write about at length soon. Today I'm going to explore the city with Monique, and I'd be a terrible father to Schuyler if my day didn't include a visit to the Pirate Supply Store.
Oh, and I accidentally cut off the tip of my finger. I suppose I'll write about that soon, too.
I'm having an amazing time in San Francisco. I spoke to an advanced composition class at the College of San Mateo, and afterwards we workshopped some of their own personal narrative pieces, all of which were really very good. I hereby repudiate all my cracks about "kids these days". I also visited the Bridge School and a program very similar to Schuyler's in Oakland, and it was an experience that I am still processing and will write about at length soon. Today I'm going to explore the city with Monique, and I'd be a terrible father to Schuyler if my day didn't include a visit to the Pirate Supply Store.
Oh, and I accidentally cut off the tip of my finger. I suppose I'll write about that soon, too.
February 1, 2009
In which the author clarifies an important item.
From the comments to my last post:(After a six paragraph rant about the eeeevils of Socialism)
If Rob was a true socialist as he says he is, he does say he has a socialist heart. So I feel safe in making that assumption.
So Rob, will you keep the profits that you have earned in an honorable fashion from the sale of the book or hand them over to the state? Do you really have a socialist heart or are you just playing make-believe?
That's a fabulous question, thanks for asking! Here's the scoop!
No, I am not a Socialist, or a Marxist, or a Communist. (Is anyone anymore, really? Outside of places like South America or Albania?) What is perhaps confusing you in this instance is my use of Humor. In the past, I've been called a Socialist by conservative readers for a number of progressive positions I've taken. The most notable instance occurred when I argued in an admittedly ill-considered guest post on PajamasMedia that kids with special needs deserve an equal education and at least the option of a mainstream education in the public schools for which we all pay with our taxes.
The accusation was so funny to me that I began to sarcastically refer to myself as a Socialist, the humor (at least to me) originating in the idea that I was somehow a bad American, a Socialist and (best of all) an elitist because my political and social beliefs differed from theirs.
It was, in other words, a Joke.
The term "joke" is defined by Wikipedia as "a short story or ironic depiction of a situation communicated with the intent of being humorous". The definition goes on to set out the antiquity, anthropology and psychology of these jokes and even outlining the rules that govern them and the different types of jokes that can typically be found.
Whew! That's complicated!
I realize now how confusing my use of these so-called Jokes can be, so I've decided to explain a few more of them, ones that I know I've used in the past.
OTHER JOKES THAT I HAVE MADE THAT DO NOT ACTUALLY REFLECT THE TRUTH:
- Although she communicates using an electronic device and a synthetic voice, Schuyler is not actually a cyborg. She is not half human, half robot. In fact, the percentage of Schuyler's body that consists of any robotics whatsoever is exactly zero.
- Furthermore, Schuyler does not actually speak Martian.
- In fact, to the best of my knowledge or that of the scientific community at large, there is no such language as Martian. (Note: This could be disproven at a later date.)
- I did actually purchase new pants shortly before my book was published, after I forgot to pack mine when I took Schuyler to New York City to meet with my publisher. The pants I purchased, however, were in no way actually Fancy Pants, aside from coming from the Gap in Times Square and being priced accordingly. In reality, I do not own a pair of so-called "Fancy Pants", and I do not believe that I am actually a Fancy Pants Author, not even by virtue of metaphorical Fancy Pants, or some sort of "Fancy Pants of the Mind".
- I do not own a Cloak of Invisibility, nor do I believe people who ignore me in public places such as the mall or the Department of Motor Vehicles do so because I am actually invisible. I will not, therefore, don this Cloak of Invisibility in order to fight crime.
- When a car or truck on the highway in front of me drifts across the lanes with abandon, I do not in fact believe that the driver of said vehicle is the Flying Dutchman, doomed to wander the roads for all eternity.
- I do not actually believe that my car, Atomo, is "the Air-conditioned Hellcar of the Apocalypse", and I have no plans to drive it across a barren wasteland, Mad Max-style, following the inevitable collapse of our civilization.
- I also do not believe that my previous car, a VW Beetle known as "Beelzebug", was really the Devil or was in any way affiliated with Satan or any supernatural being associated with darkness or evil. (Note: The Volkswagen Corporation doesn't count, as they are not, by definition, a supernatural entity.)
- I do not actually believe that Christianity is a zombie cult, or that Jesus is an Imaginary Friend. (Note: Actually, I kind of do. I'm sorry.)
- Although I claim to quote from its pages from time to time, I do not believe there is actually a publication called The Journal of No Shit.
- In reality, I do not believe that the term "differently abled" refers to children with superhero talents such as the ability to fly.
- Although I publicly claimed otherwise, I would not have actually voted for John McCain in the last presidential election if he had used the words "dagnabbit", "new-fangled" or "old-timey" in any of the debates.
- I did not really believe that the tornado sirens in Collin County, Texas would go off as soon as the voting machine registered my vote for Barack Obama.
- I do not believe that every conservative Republican is a humorless pinhead, and will continue to make that determination on a case-by-case basis.
I hope this clears up any confusion, and thanks for writing!
January 19, 2009
Izzie Redux
It wasn't a huge surprise. She'd been slowing down a lot lately, which is probably why I was moved to write this post a couple of weeks ago. I didn't notice anything unusual when I gave my dwarf hamsters their favorite little yogurt treats yesterday; Isolde took hers from my hand and held it in her gimpy little paws, while Tristan took his and scurried suspiciously to the other end of the tank. Being unable to run, Izie had long ago decided to trust.
But when I checked on them this morning, I knew something was wrong. Tristan was up and moving around by himself, seeming a little out of sorts. But Izzie was nowhere to be found. I poked around in the bedding and found her curled up in the corner. She'd died in the night, apparently in her sleep.
Well, I'm a forty-one year-old, supposedly grown adult who probably shouldn't be overly sentimental about a hamster, but yeah, I'm pretty bummed. Izzie was a tough little critter, and her passing feels, I don't know, portentous.
More to the point, Schuyler likes to come and see the hamsters, mostly because she likes Izzie so much. Tristan is too twitchy and quick-footed for her, but Izzie would let Schuyler reach in and pet her and even hold her. As I said, when she lost her mobility, Izzie had long ago learned to trust the big hands.
When Schuyler woke up, I told her I had some bad news. I took her into our bedroom and showed her Tristan. She noticed immediately that he was alone; he was never without Izzie, not in the past year or so. I explained to her that Izzie had died in the night. Schuyler gave me a long hug, and for a moment I thought she might cry. But instead she just watched Tristan for a moment.
She looked up at me. "He's sad," she said, signing sad to me. "He needs a new friend."
So I suppose I know what we're doing today.
Goodbye, Izzie. For a tiny, broken rodent, you were weirdly inspiring.
Update, 3:45pm
Izzie is dead. Long live Zizzy.
(Schuyler's naming protocol is pretty straightforward.)
But when I checked on them this morning, I knew something was wrong. Tristan was up and moving around by himself, seeming a little out of sorts. But Izzie was nowhere to be found. I poked around in the bedding and found her curled up in the corner. She'd died in the night, apparently in her sleep.
Well, I'm a forty-one year-old, supposedly grown adult who probably shouldn't be overly sentimental about a hamster, but yeah, I'm pretty bummed. Izzie was a tough little critter, and her passing feels, I don't know, portentous.
More to the point, Schuyler likes to come and see the hamsters, mostly because she likes Izzie so much. Tristan is too twitchy and quick-footed for her, but Izzie would let Schuyler reach in and pet her and even hold her. As I said, when she lost her mobility, Izzie had long ago learned to trust the big hands.
When Schuyler woke up, I told her I had some bad news. I took her into our bedroom and showed her Tristan. She noticed immediately that he was alone; he was never without Izzie, not in the past year or so. I explained to her that Izzie had died in the night. Schuyler gave me a long hug, and for a moment I thought she might cry. But instead she just watched Tristan for a moment.
She looked up at me. "He's sad," she said, signing sad to me. "He needs a new friend."
So I suppose I know what we're doing today.
Goodbye, Izzie. For a tiny, broken rodent, you were weirdly inspiring.
Update, 3:45pm
Izzie is dead. Long live Zizzy.
(Schuyler's naming protocol is pretty straightforward.)
January 2, 2009
Izzie
Longtime readers will know that I love dwarf hamsters. I once even ran an information site about them, which just goes to show you that everyone loves something weird and has a secret passion. Mine, as far as you know, is dwarf hamsters. There's weirder stuff to like out there than dwarf hamsters. Trust me.
My favorite dwarf hamster is the Roborovski hamster, and not just because of the name. Roborovskis are the smallest of the hamsters, and they're quite a bit different from their cousins. They live about twice as long, they don't mate as often, and while they are much more active and twitchy, they are also much friendlier than other breeds of hamsters. I've never been bitten by a Roborovski hamster. They're not very cuddly except with each other and don't really like to be handled, but they are otherwise very sociable little guys and I just love 'em.
There is a special mutation that has recently been bred in Roborovskis that results in white-faced hamsters, and when I found one and brought it home with a normal Roborovski mate, I was as happy as I could be. The brown hamster I named Tristan, and the white girl Isolde. I quickly came to call her Izzie.
A few months after she came home with me, I found Izzie one morning, lying on her side in her cage. Her eyes were open and she was alert, but it was clear that something was terribly wrong. She could barely walk and dragged herself on one side. I was heartbroken. Strokes are fairly common in hamsters, and there's not much you can do for them when they strike, except just make them comfortable. I didn't know what else to do for Izzie; I certainly wasn't going to try to put her out of her misery. I mean, how would you do that, anyway? So I watched her sadly, and I waited for the end that seemed sure to come.
Over a year later, I'm still waiting.
This isn't the story of a poor dead hamster; she's still around and still kicking. This is the story of a pretty little thing that suddenly became a twisted, skinny little scrap with bugged eyes and a funny walk. Izzie didn't die, and while she didn't exactly get all better, she did figure out how to walk around fairly quickly, and how to keep herself steady when she drank from the water bottle. Tristan became very protective and nurturing to her, hardly ever leaving her side, and so for the past year or so, I've watched these two hamsters, named after famous but doomed lovers. They've written their own story, however, and so far, it's been a happy one.
Every day, I go to their cage and I find Izzie sleeping, curled up grotesquely like a dead bug, her eyes half open. She looks dead every time, and so I remove the lid to the cage and blow gently on her. I can't help myself. And every time I do, she pops up, rudely awakened, and looks up at me with her bulging eyes as if to say, "Dude. Fucking quit it already." She is unmoved by my concern.
Izzie's not a metaphor for some larger issue, as tempting as it might be to try to turn her into one. She's simply a tough little hamster who refuses to die like she was supposed to, and her fat little mate seems to love her without limits. Every day I watch them, and I wonder about this world in which it is the broken and the seemingly forsaken that fight the hardest, for an existence that the rest of us take for granted. So I don't know. Perhaps she is a pretty good metaphor.
She still hates it when you blow on her, though.
My favorite dwarf hamster is the Roborovski hamster, and not just because of the name. Roborovskis are the smallest of the hamsters, and they're quite a bit different from their cousins. They live about twice as long, they don't mate as often, and while they are much more active and twitchy, they are also much friendlier than other breeds of hamsters. I've never been bitten by a Roborovski hamster. They're not very cuddly except with each other and don't really like to be handled, but they are otherwise very sociable little guys and I just love 'em.
There is a special mutation that has recently been bred in Roborovskis that results in white-faced hamsters, and when I found one and brought it home with a normal Roborovski mate, I was as happy as I could be. The brown hamster I named Tristan, and the white girl Isolde. I quickly came to call her Izzie.
A few months after she came home with me, I found Izzie one morning, lying on her side in her cage. Her eyes were open and she was alert, but it was clear that something was terribly wrong. She could barely walk and dragged herself on one side. I was heartbroken. Strokes are fairly common in hamsters, and there's not much you can do for them when they strike, except just make them comfortable. I didn't know what else to do for Izzie; I certainly wasn't going to try to put her out of her misery. I mean, how would you do that, anyway? So I watched her sadly, and I waited for the end that seemed sure to come.
Over a year later, I'm still waiting.
This isn't the story of a poor dead hamster; she's still around and still kicking. This is the story of a pretty little thing that suddenly became a twisted, skinny little scrap with bugged eyes and a funny walk. Izzie didn't die, and while she didn't exactly get all better, she did figure out how to walk around fairly quickly, and how to keep herself steady when she drank from the water bottle. Tristan became very protective and nurturing to her, hardly ever leaving her side, and so for the past year or so, I've watched these two hamsters, named after famous but doomed lovers. They've written their own story, however, and so far, it's been a happy one.
Every day, I go to their cage and I find Izzie sleeping, curled up grotesquely like a dead bug, her eyes half open. She looks dead every time, and so I remove the lid to the cage and blow gently on her. I can't help myself. And every time I do, she pops up, rudely awakened, and looks up at me with her bulging eyes as if to say, "Dude. Fucking quit it already." She is unmoved by my concern.
Izzie's not a metaphor for some larger issue, as tempting as it might be to try to turn her into one. She's simply a tough little hamster who refuses to die like she was supposed to, and her fat little mate seems to love her without limits. Every day I watch them, and I wonder about this world in which it is the broken and the seemingly forsaken that fight the hardest, for an existence that the rest of us take for granted. So I don't know. Perhaps she is a pretty good metaphor.
She still hates it when you blow on her, though.
November 26, 2008
The Legion of Monster Slayers
The last time Schuyler visited Chicago, almost four years ago, we were taking her to see Dr. William Dobyns, the geneticist at the University of Chicago who had originally diagnosed her polymicrogyria. We went to see him in the hopes of getting some answers, and maybe a few possibilities, but what we got instead were some necessary but hard truths. We arrived in Chicago in January of 2005 in desperation, and we left in heartbreak.
Last week, Schuyler returned to Chicago in triumph.
The three of us travelled to Chicago for the American Speech Language Hearing Association's 2008 conference, as the special guests of the Prentke Romich Company, makers of Schuyler's Big Box of Words. PRC has been amazing to Schuyler, they've opened up her world in ways that we can only now begin to appreciate. It's not just Schuyler, but thousands of kids and adults who suddenly have a voice, thanks to this company and its commitment to a philosophy of giving users not just words, but language. When I wrote Schuyler's Monster, one of the things I had the opportunity to do was to stand up for all those broken kids who suddenly found voices and thank the people who made it possible.
Last week, we got to meet the people behind the Box. Schuyler got to meet the makers of her gentle miracle.
It's easy to be impressed by the enormity of the ASHA conference. I was told that thirty thousand people were in attendence. This is the exhibitors' hall, which you can see is huge and filled with booths, each representing a separate vision for helping someone. It really is impressive on a large scale. This is the Village made real.
But something happens when you actually get down onto that floor and start looking at the products being promoted. That's when ASHA becomes truly impressive, when you start to see the innovations that exist entirely to help people in need, mostly children, and when you meet the people behind those innovations.
I had the extreme honor of meeting Bruce Baker, who developed Semantic Compaction (or Minspeak) back in the 1980s. Minspeak is currently used by around 80,000 people worldwide. Its principles inform a number of communication techniques, including Unity, the language that drives Schuyler's Big Box of Words. In meeting Bruce, Schuyler was able to shake hands with the man who is literally responsible for giving her words. The fact that he reacted to Schuyler as if meeting her was a singular honor of his own speaks to the character and commitment of this man. I found a quote by Bruce just now that says it all.
"The most rewarding aspect of my work is getting to know people with complex disabilities who, though unable to talk, want to participate in life to its fullest." Bruce has given companies like Prentke Romich the tools to do just that.
With Richard Ellenson
In a speech I gave over the summer, I talked about how those of us who are parents of broken children have been ambushed by their monsters. We've become warriors for our kids because we were chosen to do so, by Chance or Fate or the bully God, and we need the doctors and the teachers and the speech-language pathologists who have chosen to properly arm themselves and go into battle with those monsters. Plenty of people can attest to the fact that I was perfectly happy being a selfish ass before Schuyler was born. I've always been humbled by the thought of those people who saw a need in society and stepped up to do something about it. I didn't choose this life; they did.
But it's not so simple. The truth is that most of these people, many of whom have become heroes of mine, have come to the battle with their own casualties and their own life lessons. They were chosen, too, and in being chosen, they've changed the world.
One gentleman whom I have wanted to meet for a long time showed up at the PRC booth late in the afternoon. Blink Twice CEO and President Richard Ellenson was a successful ad executive whose son Thomas was left with severe verbal limitations due to cerebral palsy. When traditional augmentative speech devices didn't work for his son, Richard stepped up and developed one that did, focusing on ways to communicate quickly and effectively.
The result was the Tango, and I've been extremely impressed with the work Richard has done. Despite her enthusiasm for the Tango when she got a chance to play with it, Schuyler's needs aren't really appropriate for this device; she's thriving on the language-building capabilities of the PRC Vantage. But I recognize very clearly that there are design and philosophical aspects of the Tango that are revolutionary, although like most great ideas that change the world, they seems obvious once you see them.
The Tango doesn't look or feel like an assistive device for a child with a disability. It uses natural-sounding language (and some very high tech magic to turn adult voices into children's) and kid-friendly graphics. More importantly, in a world where Schuyler and her friends are familiar with iPods and game controllers and the Wii, the Tango melds smoothly into their lives, not as a medical device but as part of their digital world. From a design standpoint, the Tango is just one more crucial and cool device for these plugged-in kids to recharge at the end of the day.
I talked to Richard about what I thought was the brilliance of the Tango. "If you walk around this hall, you'll see a lot of impressive and wonderful innovation," he said. "But all this technology says the same thing when you walk in a room with it. It says, 'I have a disability.'"
I love Richard because he brought his specific talents as an advertising innovator to bear on the problem that his son presented, and in doing so he made a difference. Everywhere I turned, I met people doing the same thing, for the same reasons. They were taking their life skills and unique talents and they were turning them into weapons against the monsters.
Including me, I guess, in my own small way.
When your life finds a sense of mission, it's humbling, and it's energizing. Mostly, though, it just makes you roll up your sleeves and get busy.
With PRC's Sarah Wilds
Easily, the most gratifying part of the experience for us was the chance to meet and work with the amazing people at Prentke Romich. For the past three and a half years, Schuyler's life has been changed and her horizons exploded by a device called the Vantage Plus. It's her Big Box of Words, and PRC makes it. When a company has such an astonishing impact on the life of someone you love, it can be a surprise to discover the humanity behind that company.
Prentke Romich has been very enthusiastic about promoting Schuyler's story, and while I recognize the benefit that they derive from her story and the exposure that the book has given to their cause, the fact remains that it is a cause, and one to which that we are thrilled to be able to contribute. When we met and got to know the people of the company, it became clear that the work that they do is their mission, and the passion that goes into that work is fired by stories like Schuyler's, stories that show how much of a difference they are making in the world. When they met Schuyler, their pride in her accomplishments was palpable. I know just how they felt.
Our gratitude goes out to our new friends Bob Nemens and Cherie Weaver from PRC's marketing department, and the rest of the PRC crew in Chicago, all of whom Schuyler fell in love with, as she tends to do with people of quality. Thanks to Trudi Blair, Judith Meyer, Angie Neveadomi, Sarah Wilds, Margaret Perkins (sorry once again for appropriating your name in my book) and Julie Packer for everything you did for us. Sarah and Julie P. in particular were subject to Schuyler's "I'm upgrading from my smelly old parents" affections. How sad for her that at the end of the day, Schuyler is always stuck with Julie and me.
Finally, I want to say what a pleasure it was to meet David Moffatt, President of PRC. That's a daunting thought, meeting the president of the company, but Schuyler saw right through to his big heart, and decided he was her new best friend in a hurry. David was incredibly generous for bringing us to Chicago, and was a gracious host to us while we were there. Meeting him and watching him with Schuyler, it became clear why he does what he does. Well, that's true of everyone at PRC.
Bob put together this little video to send to PRC people. I think the thing to notice is that while I'm being a big Chatty Cathy doll, Schuyler is serious and focused. She signs books like a professional, and is polite and cool. She appears to be taking care of business.
This was an interesting trip because while I was in familiar territory, it gave Schuyler and Julie the opportunity to take on very public roles. Schuyler was a champion, signing every single book that I signed (over a hundred in about two hours, I believe) and charming everyone she met. She spent a lot of time exploring different PRC devices, particularly the ECO-14 and the Vantage Lite, and seemed to take her role very seriously. She had all day Saturday to run around Chicago, gawking at the Bean and stalking dinosaurs at the Field Museum, but Friday was all business. When people ask how Schuyler is dealing with all this book business, I can tell them that she takes it seriously, and she is proud of the work we've done. The work we've done, and that we continue to do.
The conference was a new experience for Julie. From the very beginning, she has chosen to keep a low profile, both in my online writing and, to a lesser degree, in the book itself. I'm not sure I have the talent or the ability to tell Julie's story, which is very different from mine, so I've certainly been okay with her decision to lay low. But the thing that seems to escape some people (including the charmer at the conference who asked her how it felt to be "eclipsed") is that Julie is an incredible mother to Schuyler, and is every bit as involved in the decisions towards her care as I am. We play good cop/bad cop a lot, but we tend to trade roles and keep everyone guessing.
Julie's fantastic in whatever role she takes on. While I present a very public face and build an extremely visible platform from which to advocate for Schuyler and her broken brethren, Julie quietly but brilliantly does her work. Her work is God's work, really, regardless of whether or not he actually bothers to do it himself. In Schuyler's life, God is like a crazy uncle who might show up at Thanksgiving drunk and belligerent, or not at all. For Schuyler, God is optional. She has Julie, and that's enough.
At ASHA, Julie suddenly found herself presenting a public face, one that she'd really never been asked to show before now. I'm proud to say that she stepped up and was brilliant. She was articulate and informed, and she expressed the hardships and the victories of her life as Schuyler's mother with eloquence and clarity. I've never been prouder of her, or of Schuyler.
Team Rummel-Hudson was on last week. We get it right sometimes.
The design innovations I was talking about earlier in regards to Richard Ellenson are also reflected in PRC's newest generation of devices. Putting Schuyler in front of these machines was perhaps the most personally gratifying part of the trip. She has reached the point where she dives into the technology behind these devices without hesitation, and more importantly, she intuitively gets how to use them.
We came to an important decision at ASHA, after watching Schuyler explore two different and amazing devices. After exploring some funding possibilities that didn't exist four years ago, Julie and I have decided to attempt to move Schuyler up to the next generation of PRC device, in this case the Vantage Lite. In a lot of ways, it's not terribly different from her current device, but it has some new features and a new design that makes it easier to integrate into her daily life. PRC has paid attention to what its users need, particularly their younger ones, and it has created a device that looks and feels less like a speech prosthesis and more like a digital enhancement to her world.
And it comes in pink. Lord help us all...
Last week, Schuyler returned to Chicago in triumph.
The three of us travelled to Chicago for the American Speech Language Hearing Association's 2008 conference, as the special guests of the Prentke Romich Company, makers of Schuyler's Big Box of Words. PRC has been amazing to Schuyler, they've opened up her world in ways that we can only now begin to appreciate. It's not just Schuyler, but thousands of kids and adults who suddenly have a voice, thanks to this company and its commitment to a philosophy of giving users not just words, but language. When I wrote Schuyler's Monster, one of the things I had the opportunity to do was to stand up for all those broken kids who suddenly found voices and thank the people who made it possible.
Last week, we got to meet the people behind the Box. Schuyler got to meet the makers of her gentle miracle.
It's easy to be impressed by the enormity of the ASHA conference. I was told that thirty thousand people were in attendence. This is the exhibitors' hall, which you can see is huge and filled with booths, each representing a separate vision for helping someone. It really is impressive on a large scale. This is the Village made real.But something happens when you actually get down onto that floor and start looking at the products being promoted. That's when ASHA becomes truly impressive, when you start to see the innovations that exist entirely to help people in need, mostly children, and when you meet the people behind those innovations.
I had the extreme honor of meeting Bruce Baker, who developed Semantic Compaction (or Minspeak) back in the 1980s. Minspeak is currently used by around 80,000 people worldwide. Its principles inform a number of communication techniques, including Unity, the language that drives Schuyler's Big Box of Words. In meeting Bruce, Schuyler was able to shake hands with the man who is literally responsible for giving her words. The fact that he reacted to Schuyler as if meeting her was a singular honor of his own speaks to the character and commitment of this man. I found a quote by Bruce just now that says it all.
"The most rewarding aspect of my work is getting to know people with complex disabilities who, though unable to talk, want to participate in life to its fullest." Bruce has given companies like Prentke Romich the tools to do just that.
In a speech I gave over the summer, I talked about how those of us who are parents of broken children have been ambushed by their monsters. We've become warriors for our kids because we were chosen to do so, by Chance or Fate or the bully God, and we need the doctors and the teachers and the speech-language pathologists who have chosen to properly arm themselves and go into battle with those monsters. Plenty of people can attest to the fact that I was perfectly happy being a selfish ass before Schuyler was born. I've always been humbled by the thought of those people who saw a need in society and stepped up to do something about it. I didn't choose this life; they did.
But it's not so simple. The truth is that most of these people, many of whom have become heroes of mine, have come to the battle with their own casualties and their own life lessons. They were chosen, too, and in being chosen, they've changed the world.
One gentleman whom I have wanted to meet for a long time showed up at the PRC booth late in the afternoon. Blink Twice CEO and President Richard Ellenson was a successful ad executive whose son Thomas was left with severe verbal limitations due to cerebral palsy. When traditional augmentative speech devices didn't work for his son, Richard stepped up and developed one that did, focusing on ways to communicate quickly and effectively.
The result was the Tango, and I've been extremely impressed with the work Richard has done. Despite her enthusiasm for the Tango when she got a chance to play with it, Schuyler's needs aren't really appropriate for this device; she's thriving on the language-building capabilities of the PRC Vantage. But I recognize very clearly that there are design and philosophical aspects of the Tango that are revolutionary, although like most great ideas that change the world, they seems obvious once you see them.
The Tango doesn't look or feel like an assistive device for a child with a disability. It uses natural-sounding language (and some very high tech magic to turn adult voices into children's) and kid-friendly graphics. More importantly, in a world where Schuyler and her friends are familiar with iPods and game controllers and the Wii, the Tango melds smoothly into their lives, not as a medical device but as part of their digital world. From a design standpoint, the Tango is just one more crucial and cool device for these plugged-in kids to recharge at the end of the day.
I talked to Richard about what I thought was the brilliance of the Tango. "If you walk around this hall, you'll see a lot of impressive and wonderful innovation," he said. "But all this technology says the same thing when you walk in a room with it. It says, 'I have a disability.'"
I love Richard because he brought his specific talents as an advertising innovator to bear on the problem that his son presented, and in doing so he made a difference. Everywhere I turned, I met people doing the same thing, for the same reasons. They were taking their life skills and unique talents and they were turning them into weapons against the monsters.
Including me, I guess, in my own small way.
When your life finds a sense of mission, it's humbling, and it's energizing. Mostly, though, it just makes you roll up your sleeves and get busy.
Easily, the most gratifying part of the experience for us was the chance to meet and work with the amazing people at Prentke Romich. For the past three and a half years, Schuyler's life has been changed and her horizons exploded by a device called the Vantage Plus. It's her Big Box of Words, and PRC makes it. When a company has such an astonishing impact on the life of someone you love, it can be a surprise to discover the humanity behind that company.
Prentke Romich has been very enthusiastic about promoting Schuyler's story, and while I recognize the benefit that they derive from her story and the exposure that the book has given to their cause, the fact remains that it is a cause, and one to which that we are thrilled to be able to contribute. When we met and got to know the people of the company, it became clear that the work that they do is their mission, and the passion that goes into that work is fired by stories like Schuyler's, stories that show how much of a difference they are making in the world. When they met Schuyler, their pride in her accomplishments was palpable. I know just how they felt.
Our gratitude goes out to our new friends Bob Nemens and Cherie Weaver from PRC's marketing department, and the rest of the PRC crew in Chicago, all of whom Schuyler fell in love with, as she tends to do with people of quality. Thanks to Trudi Blair, Judith Meyer, Angie Neveadomi, Sarah Wilds, Margaret Perkins (sorry once again for appropriating your name in my book) and Julie Packer for everything you did for us. Sarah and Julie P. in particular were subject to Schuyler's "I'm upgrading from my smelly old parents" affections. How sad for her that at the end of the day, Schuyler is always stuck with Julie and me.
Finally, I want to say what a pleasure it was to meet David Moffatt, President of PRC. That's a daunting thought, meeting the president of the company, but Schuyler saw right through to his big heart, and decided he was her new best friend in a hurry. David was incredibly generous for bringing us to Chicago, and was a gracious host to us while we were there. Meeting him and watching him with Schuyler, it became clear why he does what he does. Well, that's true of everyone at PRC.
Bob put together this little video to send to PRC people. I think the thing to notice is that while I'm being a big Chatty Cathy doll, Schuyler is serious and focused. She signs books like a professional, and is polite and cool. She appears to be taking care of business.
This was an interesting trip because while I was in familiar territory, it gave Schuyler and Julie the opportunity to take on very public roles. Schuyler was a champion, signing every single book that I signed (over a hundred in about two hours, I believe) and charming everyone she met. She spent a lot of time exploring different PRC devices, particularly the ECO-14 and the Vantage Lite, and seemed to take her role very seriously. She had all day Saturday to run around Chicago, gawking at the Bean and stalking dinosaurs at the Field Museum, but Friday was all business. When people ask how Schuyler is dealing with all this book business, I can tell them that she takes it seriously, and she is proud of the work we've done. The work we've done, and that we continue to do.
The conference was a new experience for Julie. From the very beginning, she has chosen to keep a low profile, both in my online writing and, to a lesser degree, in the book itself. I'm not sure I have the talent or the ability to tell Julie's story, which is very different from mine, so I've certainly been okay with her decision to lay low. But the thing that seems to escape some people (including the charmer at the conference who asked her how it felt to be "eclipsed") is that Julie is an incredible mother to Schuyler, and is every bit as involved in the decisions towards her care as I am. We play good cop/bad cop a lot, but we tend to trade roles and keep everyone guessing.
Julie's fantastic in whatever role she takes on. While I present a very public face and build an extremely visible platform from which to advocate for Schuyler and her broken brethren, Julie quietly but brilliantly does her work. Her work is God's work, really, regardless of whether or not he actually bothers to do it himself. In Schuyler's life, God is like a crazy uncle who might show up at Thanksgiving drunk and belligerent, or not at all. For Schuyler, God is optional. She has Julie, and that's enough.
At ASHA, Julie suddenly found herself presenting a public face, one that she'd really never been asked to show before now. I'm proud to say that she stepped up and was brilliant. She was articulate and informed, and she expressed the hardships and the victories of her life as Schuyler's mother with eloquence and clarity. I've never been prouder of her, or of Schuyler.
Team Rummel-Hudson was on last week. We get it right sometimes.
The design innovations I was talking about earlier in regards to Richard Ellenson are also reflected in PRC's newest generation of devices. Putting Schuyler in front of these machines was perhaps the most personally gratifying part of the trip. She has reached the point where she dives into the technology behind these devices without hesitation, and more importantly, she intuitively gets how to use them.We came to an important decision at ASHA, after watching Schuyler explore two different and amazing devices. After exploring some funding possibilities that didn't exist four years ago, Julie and I have decided to attempt to move Schuyler up to the next generation of PRC device, in this case the Vantage Lite. In a lot of ways, it's not terribly different from her current device, but it has some new features and a new design that makes it easier to integrate into her daily life. PRC has paid attention to what its users need, particularly their younger ones, and it has created a device that looks and feels less like a speech prosthesis and more like a digital enhancement to her world.
And it comes in pink. Lord help us all...
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