culture | Bertram's Blog

Making an Effort

February 14, 2022 — Pat Bertram

Valentine’s Day is a difficult day for people who are alone, especially those who are alone because of the death of their beloved.

For many who are left behind, it’s generally hard seeing couples you used to hang out with, doing things, making plans. It’s even harder when they tell you about it, with no regard for how it makes you feel. (It makes you sad, then mad, then sad again.) It’s hardest of all on Valentine’s Day, especially for the romantics who made a big deal about the day.

Jeff and I did not celebrate the day, which makes this no different from any other day for me, but it’s still, it’s hard to ignore this celebration of couplehood. So this year, I didn’t ignore it. I made heart cookies. I was going to pass them out to everyone I know, but making these embossed and painted cookies is a huge undertaking. Since I greatly underestimated how long it would take and the effort I would need to expend, I was only able to make a few. I reserved them for the woman I work for and another one or two people who are alone today. (Including me. Though I generally don’t eat cookies, I figured since I was one of those who are alone today, I might as well indulge.)

Making the cookies for some reason made the day seem more like Valentine’s Day when I was very young, where all the kids in my class brough valentines for one another. The valentines and the sentiment didn’t really mean anything back then. It wasn’t even something just between friends. It was mostly a break in the routine, something fun to do.

And so it was this year. Making these cookies was simply a break in my routine, something fun to do. Besides, I had a heart-shaped cookie cutter that had never been used, and what better day to use it than today?

Next year, perhaps, I’ll get started early and make enough to spread around a bit more, but for this year, it was enough — enough for me, I mean — to make an effort.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in culture, grief, life. 5 Comments »

The Clever North Wind

February 12, 2022 — Pat Bertram

At the beginning of the movie Chocolat, on a winter day, a sly wind blows in from the north, bringing a chocolatier and her six-year-old daughter to town, and the people and the place will be forever changed.

At the end of the movie, after all the changes, the narrator changes her tune, and instead of calling the north wind “sly,” she called it “clever: “But still the clever north wind was not satisfied. It spoke to Vianne of towns yet to be visited, friends in need yet to be discovered, battles yet to be fought…”

Yesterday, a north wind blew through here, though I don’t know how sly or clever it was. It simply blew, fierce and cold.

I suppose it’s just as well. As romantic as the north wind’s gifts might be, a chocolate store would be too tempting. I wouldn’t listen if it spoke to me of towns yet to be visited since I’m still settling into my not-so-new town (my three-year anniversary of moving here is coming up in another few weeks). I’m not actively looking for new friends in need or otherwise, though I am always appreciative when I do make new friends. As for battles or any kind of strife? Not my style. I’m more into peace and contentment and even laziness.

What my north wind did bring was frozen air. As I walked home from work, wrapping my coat tightly around me and bending into the wind to keep from being blown off my feet, I could see what looked like the beginning of a snow shower, but the barely visible ice particles never made it to the ground. At least not during my walk. There was some snow this morning when I woke, though luckily not enough to have to sweep away.

I always walk home from work (well, not always — there was one cold evening when it rained too heavily to be safe, so I did accept a ride then), but last night, I almost turned back to catch a ride. By then, I was halfway home so it wouldn’t have done me any good. I tried walking backward, as I used to do when the wind blew into my face, but apparently, as well as my knees are behaving, they didn’t appreciate the backward maneuver. Still, I got home safely, and though the wind blew through the night, by this morning it had moved on to tempt other folks in other place with dreams of towns yet to be visited, friends in need to be discovered, and battles yet to be fought.

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Posted in culture, home, life. Tags: battles yet to be fought, chocolat, friends in need yet to be discovered, icy wind, sly wind from the north, towns yet to be visited. 4 Comments »

Research

February 11, 2022 — Pat Bertram

“Research” is a rather innocuous word with various definitions, such as “careful or detailed study,” “studious inquiry,” and “collecting information about a particular subject.” This word didn’t used to present a problem, but nowadays, the word “research” has become a trigger for contempt of others.

Some people are contemptuous of those who find out their information via Facebook or other such sources, but the truth is, depending on who your friends are and how committed they are to the truth and serious research, you can be steered toward all sorts of interesting, scientific, and thought-provoking articles.

Some people are contemptuous of those who Google a subject, read an article or two and call it research.

Some people are contemptuous of those who read a scientific paper but don’t go beyond that to do any of their own thinking or collecting any additional information.

Because “research” is such a trigger word, I have become uncomfortable talking about the research I’ve done for my books, though my research was not of the Facebook or Google or reading a couple of articles variety. My research was done before I knew what any of those online things were — before I’d ever even used a computer — and entailed reading hundreds of books, presenting all sides of the issues I discussed in my novels, as well as spending a lot of time in libraries. It’s because of all the research I did for A Spark of Heavenly Fire, my novel of a pandemic that preceded the real world one by a decade, that I am leery of any “research” people currently tell me about and expect me to believe. There have been so many shenanigans over the years, and suddenly, we are to believe that those in control of the drugs (any drugs) have our best interests at heart.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that when the woman I take care of is napping, I read her Reader’s Digest Condensed Books, and recently one of the books that showed up was novelization of troubles in the pharmaceutical industry. Thalidomide, anyone? Fen-phen? Eugenics? DES? Statins?

Oops. I didn’t mean to get into that. This wasn’t supposed to be about my distrust of the drug companies but simply a discussion of how the word “research” has become an emotional quagmire. But despite the quagmire, I really don’t have to feel bad about calling the information I get for my books “research,” because if nothing else what I do certainly falls under the category of collecting all sorts of information about a particular subject, or even several subjects, since each of my three “conspiracy” novels focused on a different area of study.

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What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Posted in culture, fiction, life, writing. Tags: A Spark of Heavenly Fire, distrust of drug companies, pandemic, Thalidomide, the word research as an emotional trigger. 6 Comments »

Nothing Much to Say

February 9, 2022 — Pat Bertram

A Colorado lawyer who specializes in getting money for automobile accident victims advertises constantly when I am watching Judge Judy with the woman I help care for. I’m sure he’s on there other times, too, but obviously I wouldn’t know since I don’t watch during those other times.

The commercials first caught my attention (well, second since the first attention grabber is the prevalence of the ads) because all the people he features act as if they won the lottery. “I was in a terrible accident, but he got me $100,000!” Big smiles all around.

This reminds me of the movie Office Space where one character had been in an accident, was in a multitude of casts and wincing from the pain, but he threw a party because he’d won the “accident” lottery and would never have to work again. All the other characters were extremely envious of his disability.

What really prompted this post, though, is that this attorney’s most recent commercials target people in the armed services. He talks about having JAG lawyers on retainer, but he doesn’t speak clearly so I hear “jaguars.” Cars? Cats? He doesn’t specify, so I opt to believe he retains a bunch of fat cats (well, sleek cats) to help solve people’s problems, though what a feline could do, I don’t know except perhaps intimidate the opposition.

Can you imagine a lawyer going into court surrounded by jaguars? Now that would be an interesting trial to watch!

As you can see, I have nothing much to say. Even though the water discrepancy hasn’t been resolved, I paid my water bill for the 19,000 gallons of water I didn’t use, though I did enclose a note explaining the situation. I wanted it on file. (Too much Judge Judy, I think. Document everything!)

I also spent time on FB, trying once more to find a place to ask for a real person to check out my blog to see that it doesn’t go against their standards, but all I found were the myriad notes I’d already sent with a brief message from them thanking me for the message. Too bad I dislike Twitter and Pinterest (neither of them has ever brought anyone to my blog) otherwise I’d hang out there.

The good news (for me) is that’s it’s warming up again. This weekend should be particularly nice, so I will be able to go out walking without having to slosh through mud and icy puddles. Even better, the grass should be okay without any additional watering, so I will not have to do any work. I can just enjoy my time in the sun.

Hopefully, things will remain go okay so that I can continue to have nothing much to say.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: accident lawyers, JAG lawyers on retainer, jaguars on retainer, Judge Judy, lawyer advertisements, Office Space. 3 Comments »

Just a Kid

February 4, 2022 — Pat Bertram

One’s concept of old and young seem to change as the years pass. I remember when I was very young asking my aunt how old she was. I think she was in her forties, but she answered, “Twenty-nine.” Then she and my mother laughed. I had no idea what the joke was. To me, back then, twenty-nine was unfathomably old. And now? Unfathomably young.

For many years, I looked young for my age, so the one time I asked for a senior discount that was advertised, I thought there might be a problem proving I was old enough, but the clerk (just a kid) told me she’d already given it me. What a come down that was! I never bothered asking for a discount again; I didn’t think my ego could handle it.

Now I do look my age, even to my age-adjusted eyes. Even if I didn’t look old, I’d know I was because people seem so dang young. I watch the news sometimes with the lady I help care for, and it seems to me that people reading the news are a bunch of children playing at being newscasters. They’re not that young, from mid-thirties to early forties but still, they look like kids to me. But then, to the woman I care for, I look young. “You’re just a kid,” she tells me.

Not that it matters, really. I once was young, and now I’m not. It’s all part of the cycle of life.

Oddly, unlike my aunt, I never told anyone I was twenty-nine. Even when I was twenty-nine, I doubt I told anyone my age. The topic just doesn’t come up. Or perhaps other people aren’t as rude as I was when I was young. Come to think of it, I don’t know what prompted me to ask my aunt her age. I really wasn’t at all rude when I was young. I’m not rude now that I’m not young, either.

This last part has nothing to do with age, but is a follow-up to my water meter dilemma. The meter reader was just here. He checked the meter, and says it’s working fine, that I have no leaks though somehow the meter shows another 4,000 gallons used in the past three weeks, which is impossible. Normally, one person uses about 3,000 gallons a month, and that includes, all indoor and some outdoor water usage, which is what I use in the summer. But it’s winter, and in the winter, I use half of that amount.

I suppose this is more proof that I’m not just a kid anymore; if I were, I wouldn’t have to deal with this mess.

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Pat Bertram is the author of intriguing fiction and insightful works of grief.

Posted in culture, dealing with old age, house, life. Tags: average water usage, changing concept of young and old, eternally 29, everyone looks young to me, looking old. 6 Comments »

Living Alone

January 28, 2022 — Pat Bertram

As I was leaving the house this morning to walk to the library (in nineteen-degree weather!) it suddenly struck me as strange that no one cares when I leave. No one cares when I get home. No one cares if I stay home or stay away. Obviously, I care, at least to an extent, but for the most part it doesn’t matter because wherever I am, there I am.

A lot of people care, not just about me but also that I am safe and well and that we can visit occasionally, but for the daily comings and goings? No one.

I’m surprised it took me this long to realize the strangeness of this situation, though it really shouldn’t have been a surprise. The first couple of months after Jeff died, being alone didn’t seem strange, just so very, very sad. I couldn’t stand coming home to an empty house, not because it was empty, but because I forgot it was empty. I’d unlock the door as always, ready with an “I’m home!” and then it would strike me . . . again . . . that he was gone, and full-on grief would slam into me.

For the next few years, I took care of my aged father, and when he was gone, I was so busy clearing out the house and getting it ready for sale that I didn’t really notice that no one cared whether I came or went. When the work was done, that huge house was so empty that I noticed the echoes but not much else. Also, by then, I was involved with dance classes, so my dad’s house was mostly a place to spend the night.

The years after I left my father’s house were spent traveling or renting rooms in other people’s houses, and I was blogging about my activities, so I didn’t notice that no one was around to pay attention to my comings and goings.

When I bought this house, it was such a new and wonderful experience — both owning a house and making a home in a new place — it didn’t really strike me that no one particularly cared about when I left the house.

But now, it’s been almost three years since I bought the house. Although the thrill and the feeling of being blessed isn’t gone, I am more aware of being alone. (Not lonely. Just aware of aloneness.) That awareness could be why I talk to Jeff’s picture, and why I tell the photo when I am leaving, but a photo doesn’t care.

Now, almost twelve years after his death and all the moves I’ve made and all the things I’ve done, I’ve suddenly realized how strange this living alone is. It’s nice, of course, being able to do what I want and go where I want without regard to anyone else. But it’s also . . . not sad, exactly, but . . . strange.

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Posted in blogging, culture, life. Tags: alone but not lonely, living alone, no one to care when I leave the house, no one to care when I return home. 9 Comments »

The Privilege of Being a Caregiver

January 26, 2022 — Pat Bertram

Occasionally, I have time to read at work when the woman I take care of is napping, but I can’t read anything involving since I need to keep one eye (or ear) open in case she wakes and needs help. So I’ve been reading the forty-year-old Reader’s Digest Condensed books I found on her shelves. I read most of the books in unabridged book form when they were originally published, though I can’t recall many of the stories — that was about 15,000 books ago! I remember the covers, though, as well as the titles and authors, so that’s something, I suppose. Still, whether I’ve read the books before or not, reading them now gives me something to do.

Normally, I wouldn’t bother with the condensed books — it doesn’t take me very long to read a full-length novel, and though I can’t tell when reading the condensed version what has been edited out, I can’t really get into the story. The things that are left out must be the sort of thing that pulls me in and keeps me reading a book at a single sitting, because the condensed versions certainly don’t do that. Sometimes I go for weeks without a chance to read at work, so one of the stories I’m reading can sit there for ages without my being compelled to find out how it ends.

Normally, I wouldn’t have anything to say about condensed books because they simply are not a part of my life, but now they are. Sort of. In the same way that the news and commercials have crept into my life because sometimes I watch Judge Judy or the news with the client, which means lots and lots of commercials.

The good thing about the condensed books is I don’t end up with earworms or brainworms or sticky music or stuck song syndrome from them as I do from the commercials. You know what earworms and all those other terms are: they are all names for the bits of ditties that get stuck in your head that you can’t get out. The term earworm was created over 100 years ago, so apparently, this is an ongoing problem — one I got rid of after I stopped taking dance classes and before I started elder sitting. Oddly, the earworms that most infest my brain are from commercials for various drugs. No wonder people can remember what drugs to ask their doctor about — a whole lot of time and money is spent creating those earworms.

Sometimes I mute the commercial, but that is such an unfair trick to play on the elderly — they have no idea what happened when the sound suddenly stops. So I deal with the earworm, and the condensed books. They are such a small price to pay for the privilege of being a caregiver.

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Posted in books, culture, dealing with old age, life. Tags: brainworms, earworms, elder sitting, sticky music, stuck song syndrome. Leave a Comment »

Questioning the Science

January 23, 2022 — Pat Bertram

A couple of days ago, I saw a comment by a bestselling author who was rather scathing about people who question “the science.” It kind of took me aback because it seemed so . . . ignorant. Science is all about questioning. If it weren’t for questions, there would be no science. It’s the search for answers to those questions that create what we call “science.” Although some questions seem to have been answered, such as why an apple falls (though “gravity” itself still inspires questions) and if the sun is the center of the universe, there are others that haven’t been answered and perhaps never will be, such as what the universe is made of, how life began, what makes us human, what is consciousness, and a whole slew of other questions that make people try to reach beyond what they know.

According to Nasa Space Place, “Science consists of observing the world by watching, listening, observing, and recording. Science is curiosity in thoughtful action about the world and how it behaves.” It also says, “Science is not just a tidy package of knowledge. Science is not just a step-by-step approach to discovery. Science is more like a mystery inviting anyone who is interested to become a detective and join in the fun.”

Nowadays, though, “science” has reached the level of dogma, something that is incontrovertibly true, and anyone who dares question that dogma is branded a heretic. Of course, the word “heretic” isn’t used because it smacks of religion, and science isn’t religion, it’s . . . science. Or so they want you to believe. You’re not allowed to do your own thinking because . . . science. You’re not allowed to question the doctrine they’re foisting on you because . . . science.

But nothing is incontrovertibly true, not even truth (whatever that might be).

Supposedly, there are whole rooms full mysteries in the dark corners of the Smithsonian that don’t fit current theories about evolution, prehistory, whatever. Science only gives us the best possible explanation for observable phenomenon, and science can be manipulated to fit the scientist’s bias and, more probably, to fit the bias of the government or corporation funding the science.

Getting on a soapbox wasn’t my point in writing this piece, however. What prompted this essay is that yesterday, the day after I read that author’s comment, I saw her latest offering among the new books at the library. By habit, I reached out for it, because she was an author I sometimes read, but I couldn’t touch it. She’s nothing special and rather predictable, but that’s not why I could not force myself to pick up the book. It was the memory of her scathing remark about the stupidity of people who question the science.

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Posted in books, culture, history/myth, life. Tags: gravity, science and dogma, science as doctrine, science is all about questioning, unanswered questions, what is science. 9 Comments »

Mindful Routine

January 21, 2022 — Pat Bertram

What Socrates supposedly was referring to by his comment that “the unexamined life is not worth living” is a life spent under other people’s rules and under the rule of other people as well as being stuck in a mindless routine without ever stopping to figure out what you really want. Perhaps a life of mindless routine might not worth living (I certainly wouldn’t want to, and for the most part, I managed to live on my own terms), but for sure it would be unfulfilling.

Apparently, people in droves are coming to the same conclusion, hence the phenomenon known as “the great resignation.” So many employees did their jobs without really thinking about what they wanted because they had to work so they could pay their bills, and these resignees would probably still be stuck in their mindless routines if not for the Bob. The abrupt change in routine changed things for a lot of people and gave them time to actually consider what they were doing. It also illuminated the briefness of life, at least for some people, and made them realize they didn’t want to be doing the job they were doing. (It makes me wonder if the currently vaunted low unemployment rate is less about full employment and more about people temporarily opting out.)

Although the newscasters have talked about this so-called great resignation, there’s been no talk about a change in people’s marital status as far as I know, but I would think that the enforced life change brought about by the Bob could also affect marriages. I do know a lot of people, when forced into close proximity to their mates, realized their shared lives were less than satisfactory. Some were married to abusers and with the Bob had no way to escape even temporarily the trauma of such treatment. Others were simply bored. In a few cases, the couple’s love was rekindled. It will be interesting to see what sociological changes will come from people being forced to examine this part of their life, too.

It does seem odd to me that such major changes are taking place, not because the changes are incomprehensible (because they aren’t; they are totally understandable), but that they are so far removed from my own life. I did start working shortly after the Bob showed up, but that change in my circumstances had nothing to do with anything going on in the world; it was just how things worked out. And, of course, I have no marital status or couplehood to change because that was a done deal more than a decade ago. (In just a few weeks, it will be the twelfth anniversary of his death.)

Even when I think I don’t examine my life (as I talked about in my blog post yesterday), I do tend to think about things and to look inward, if for no other reason than to examine my life for a blog topic. Luckily, there are no great changes in circumstances or thoughts or feelings to discuss, though I am aware of small fluctuations during the day. This close to the anniversary, for example, I tend to tear up a bit now and again, but it’s not worth talking about because of the brevity of those moods. (I hate to use the word “mood,” because they are not moods so much as deep feelings rising to the surface, but there’s really no other word to describe such brief fluctuations in feelings.)

I do seem to be in a routine, however — working, blogging, reading, thinking — but it’s not the mindless routine that Socrates was against but rather a mindful routine.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Posted in culture, grief, life. Tags: a fulfilling life, how Covid changes lives, life changes, mindless routine, Socrates, the great resignation, the unexamined life. 2 Comments »

The Unexamined Life

January 20, 2022 — Pat Bertram

Sometimes I can only shake my head at myself. I used to think it silly when people wrote about such things as the weather or the mundane tasks of their day, and yet lately, I am writing about those very things. It used to be that I could justify such trite topics by trying to find a moral to my day’s tale or meaning in my activities, but I’ve noticed that I seldom do that anymore. Perhaps I no longer need to search for meaning in the mundane. Perhaps the mundane — the minutiae that make up most of our lives — is enough in itself. Perhaps living is enough.

We humans always seem to want more — more meaning, more money, more material goods — but whatever we have, whatever we do, should be enough because it’s all part of living.

I used to agree with Socrates that the unexamined life is not worth living, but now I don’t know how important such scrutiny really is. It is important to the person who wishes to live an examined life, as I used to, but obviously, it’s not important to those who simply live without questioning their motives and morals. (Whew! I sure am using a lot of “m” words in this post!)

But examined or not, every life is worth living, or at least it should be. Admittedly, this is easy for me to say because at the moment, there is nothing wrong with my life. In the years to come, I might change my mind about the worthwhileness of it all as I get feeble or wracked with pain or incur financial difficulties, but that’s straying from the topic of an examined vs an unexamined life. The more I think about it, it can’t matter except to those of us who do like to examine ourselves and our surroundings. After all, small children simply live. They have no need to examine their lives. For them, what is, is. There’s nothing beyond the moment. And no one would ever say that a child’s life — unexamined though it is — is not worth living.

It seems like I’m spending a lot of words to justify my blog posts that present the weather as well as my doings with regards to the weather (shoveling snow, watering grass, planting seeds) without delving into deeper meanings. I guess what I am saying is that I am okay with whatever ends up on the page, whether my words explore my inner worlds or my outer world or simply lay out the experiences of the day. No more shaking my head at my own inanity.

Oh, yes . . . the weather. I almost forgot! It was cold today and will be even colder tomorrow.

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