Tag: love

Popular Culture 20121012: Rituals for the Deceased

I originally was going to write about the new Dark Shadows motion picture, but circumstances have intervened.  It turns out that my dear friend’s mum’s twin brother died either late Wednesday night or early Thursday morning, alone except for his little dog.  My friend called me around 9:30 Thursday morning to go next door and try to comfort her mum, and I was honored to do so.

Her mum was a basket case.  She and her brother were Christmas Day babies, 65 years ago Christmas past.  I have a brother, but not a twin, and my brother and I are separated by 14 years.  She and her brother were separated by fewer than 14 minutes, so they grew up together.

I did comfort her, and she cried in my arms.  I could not do much except to try to let her know that I really care, and she appreciated that.  Now for the culture part.

Translator’s Little GOTV Effort 20120924

I write very little political material here because there are so many more people who are better at it than am I.  I generally write about popular culture, science and technology, and early life experiences.

That does not mean that I am apolitical.  It is far from it.

Please let me recount a recent experience (last week) that shows a little of what I do.  I am very low key, and affect only a few people at a time.  But I think that this is still important work.

My Little Town — Easy Decisions 20120919: Regular Blog or Time Well Spent

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a rural sort of place that did not particularly appreciate education, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

Tonight I did not post a blog, because The Woman and I spent just about all of our waking hours together, until five minutes ago, and it was just then 10:50 PM Eastern.  It was an easy decision.

As much as I love all of my online family, I must confess that spending time with her is much more important to me.  I sincerely hope that no one takes offense at that.  I think that I know most of you well enough to feel that you agree with me about this.

It started out slowly, just talking over the telephone, then she asked me to come and visit.  Of course I did!

What’s for Dinner? v7.06 The Cheesecake

As many of you know, last Tuesday was The Girl’s (henceforth referred to as The Woman) 20th birthday.  We had originally planned to bake a cheesecake together Sunday past, but she had a better idea.  She asked me very sweetly, “Do you know what would make this cake really special for me?  If you cooked it by yourself since it is my birthday cake”.  Of course I agreed!

I got all kinds of suggestions from the community here Saturday before last, and I appreciate all of them.  I finally took the basic recipe from the Kraft site and modified it, and the result was wonderful!

I shall give you the recipe first, then a photographic gallery with my comments about how to do this.  It is not hard to make a cheesecake that does not dry out or get weepy, but it is easy to mess one up irretrievably!  You should read the entire piece before trying the recipe.

It Would Have Been 35 Years Today 20120618

I am feeling a bit wistful tonight, so please bear with me.  On this date 35 years ago the former Mrs. Translator and I were married.  I was 20 and she was 19.  We had both been in relationships before, but as soon as we met we knew that we were going to be special to each other.

I was at a friend’s house one afternoon and a powder blue 1976 Camaro pulled into the driveway.  I do not recognize the car.  It pulled up to where my friend and I were and driving it was the most beautiful girl that I ever saw.

She was my “type”.  Petite, with long, dark, hair that had just enough natural curl.  Her voice was not shrill, but not masculine either.  As Goldilocks would say, it was just right.  I was 18 and she was 17.  It was not what is termed “love at first sight”, but we were immediately attracted to each other.

My Little Town 20120613: Fireworks

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a rural sort of place that did not particularly appreciate education, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

One advantage of living in a little town is that I could set off fireworks.  Arkansas has a quirky law that allows sale of fireworks only a few days per year, a week or so around New Year’s Day and a week or so around Independence Day.  I would get my parents, when I was little, to stock up.  Later I would stock up myself.

I have seen lots of folks who have been injured by fireworks (when I was little, many of the consumer protection rules had not been put in place).  Until adulthood I was never injured by any kind of firework (I DID come close a few times).

Dealing with People Who Lie 20120317

This is a very difficult topic for me, because I have now realized that I have to do that.  I wish that I did not, but I do.

Before I go on any further, let me say that I used to lie.  That was in my cheating days, and I really regret the cheating.  It destroyed my marriage, and I was married to one who still remains one of the most wonderful people in the world.

I lied to spare her feelings a bit, but honestly, to keep my ass from being trouble for the most part.  That is how liars work.  They lie to avoid the consequences of their actual actions.  But I really did, at least for some part, to spare her feelings.

A Transgender Valentine



Valentine

I used to hate Valentine’s Day.  It seemed like an excuse for people in relationships to flaunt them to raise themselves over the people who weren’t.  And at the time, be a transwoman, there did not seem to be any relationship in my future, near or far.

I was married to a woman for nearly 25 years when I came out.  Beginning transition completely destroyed that relationship.

Life goes on and I was pretty sure that it would go on with me being alone.  I resolved to adjust to that.  About the time I thought I had, I was contacted by a woman who read my submissions to an email list and wanted to get to know me better.  She was teaching English to the Japanese near Tokyo, so it was a very long distance friendship…which grew into a long distance romance and thence to a long distance relationship (LDR).

I wrote a poem about that.

“Cachaito”

Apparently, Cachaito Lopez is no longer with us.  From wiki:

Born in Havana on February 2, 1933, Orlando “Cachaíto” López first got actively involved in music when he was only nine years old. By the age of eleven he was involved with an orchestra with his aunt. His early desire was to play the violin, but his Grandfather Pedro insisted he take up the double bass, as there had been a long tradition of bassists in the López family – legend has it that there are over 30 bassists in its lineage; a trend that they did not want stopped.

About a decade ago, I was bompin’ ’round Jack London Square on a brisk, sunny day, a weekday, for some reason, and I wandered into some craft-store/kite shop, where some short-ish Hispanic gentleman was attempting to get some query across to the clerk en Espanol.  My “Landscaping Spanish” from days of old was horrendous, but I managed to figure out that he was looking for “hand-shirts,” or in other words, “gloves.”  

His name was Orlando “Cachaito” Lopez, and he was the bassist for the Buena Vista Social Club.  He was front-lining a gig at Yoshi’s that night, and wanted to protect his hand-parts from the frisky, brisky Bay.

Not Popular Culture 20111202: 90th

Normally on Friday evenings I write about popular culture, but no tonight.  I am very wistful for several reasons, on of which is that if she had lived, my mum would have turned 90 years old today.

Born to a dirt poor couple when her mum was only 18 years old (my grandmum and granddad married when my grandmum was only 16 years old), Geraldine Sandlin entered this vale of tears on 19211202.  It was cold, and in accordance with the custom of the time, she was born at home with relatives taking the place of physicians.

Pique the Geek 20111120: The Neurochemistry of Love

The subject of love has been investigated by philosophers, writers, dreamers, theologists, and a whole host of others throughout the ages.  With the advent of the “science” of psychology, the question was even further muddled.  Please do not get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for ethical psychologists, but some of the hypotheses that the likes of Freud proposed were just plain wrong and just confused the issue.

We are just beginning now to solve some of the puzzle, and it turns out that there is quite a lot of biochemistry (and not just neurochemistry) that is involved.  With modern chemical analytical techniques, precise measurements of various neurotransmitters can be made, and with functional magnetic resonance imagining (fMRI) actual images of the human brain in action can be had.

Using a combination of observations about how people behave during different stages of love and some results from these methods, let us take a look about how love works, how it can be one of the most exhilarating experiences that is, and how it can be so terribly hurtful when it goes wrong.  Are you ready?

Unity, Faith, and the Body of America

While riding on the bus here in DC recently, I’ve noticed another in a series of ad campaigns by atheist, agnostic, and non-theist groups.  The Freedom From Religion Foundation has been particularly persistent and prominent.  Their basic advertising technique displays a quotation advancing an anti-religious view from a series of important Americans throughout time.  They seek to best advance a basic message that religion and government have no part.  While I agree that a strict separation or wall between the two is necessary, I would not agree to remove moral teachings with a religious focus altogether from the process.  Real religion and spirituality, not its watered-down, adulterated, self-serving imitation is never plentiful.

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