I never tire of my view ...

Well, they promised us rain, and it's not bad.  I've been for two walks.

Happy New Year  :-)

Review of needles

One of the medications that keeps me alive (yeah yeah, I know, disservice to humanity) is injectable.  This means that I need to have a daily supply of 32 gauge by 4 mm needles.

I have settled on Novofine by preference, but, apparently, at the moment they are unavailable from the supplier.  So, the pharmacy has offered me samples of a couple of alternatives.  So, I'm taking the opportunity to review the needles.

One of the options is BD4 (or, possibly, just BD), which is the same design as a brand that goes by the name of Droplet.  I don't like these.  For one thing, the protective packaging, and particularly the inner guard, which has to be replaced when you dispose of the needles in the sharps container, is small, and thin, and oddly flexible, and it's hard to get the packaging reassembled, in order to dispose of it, without stabbing yourself.  (The flexibility means that it is soft, and, when reassembling the package for disposal, it is too easy to have the inner guard bend when you are pushing the needle into it, and therefore have the needle poke through the guard and stab you.)  In order to do so, I have to get out my reading glasses.  The Novofine has a much better design, and, in the early morning when I do the injection, I don't have to turn on full lighting, and get my reading glasses, in order to avoid stabbing myself while I use the needles if I am using Novofine, but I do when using BD4 or Droplet.  So, for me, personally, and, I suspect, for any other elderly persons, BD4 and Droplet are definitely not preferred.

Also, today, using the BD4 needles, I bled for the first time in a number of years.  The BD4 needles therefore seem to be somewhat rougher and more tearing than other types.  Given how often I am offered them, I suspect that BD4 and Droplet are somewhat cheaper.  They are definitely lower quality.

One of the sample options is Clickfine.  (Unfortunately, a very small sample size, of three needles, but ...)  According to the pharmacist, Clickfine is cut using a different technique, and therefore claims to be sharper, and therefore less painful.  I used one today, and, in terms of pain, didn't have a particular problem (although, because I don't have many Novofine left, I'm being very careful with my injections).  The Clickfine packaging design is, unfortunately, almost the same as the BD4 and Droplet, although the inner guard, while just as small and thin as BD4 and Droplet, is not flexible, and so there is slightly less chance of stabbing yourself through the inner guard.

Grief memes

I have been following grief accounts on social media, as part of research into, and collecting material for, bereavement counseling.  I have seen a number of, what might be called memes, small items, sometimes pithy sayings or epigraphs, sometimes material that might be a paragraph or two in length, sometimes accompanied by various forms of graphics, addressing the issue of grief.

Some of these items have resonated with me, personally.  Some of them have not resonated with me personally, but I have understood the point that they are trying to make, and therefore see their possible value for people who are grieving in a slightly different way than I am.  And some of them just seem purely silly.  At least to me.

Somebody has just sent me one such.  I am not sure whether this is supposed to be because I am bereaved, or because it is possibly a new year/old year/"you never know about life" type thing (and it's getting close to that time of year), but I found it rather silly and even annoying in places.  But I also know that someone sent it to me, and presumably thinks that it has some value, so I don't want to make too much fun of it.  But I will make a few observations about it.

It's one of those items that is distributed as a video file, even though there is only one image in the background, with a somewhat sentimental song playing as a soundtrack, and some text scrolling over the image laying out the idea.  The idea seems to be that life is like a train, and you get on the train, and you never know when other people are going to get on and off the train.

Okay, that's all very well.  You don't want to upset the other people on the train with you: I get that.  But the piece then goes on to say that you never know when you're going to get off the train.  Which, in terms of actual train travel, is absolute nonsense.  You bought a ticket.  To a specific destination.  There is a stop you are supposed to get off at.  And if you get caught on the train, beyond that station, without an additional ticket, there is going to be trouble.  This is not an unknown destination type of situation.  Trains don't work that way.

In addition, the people that you may meet on the train, while they may get on unexpectedly, at least to you, also have destinations, and stations at which they are going to get off.  This is not an unknown destination situation in the same way that grief is.  People just don't suddenly disappear off the train for no reason.  If you get into a conversation with somebody on the train, one of the first things that you ask people is where they are going!

However, as I say, I don't want to make too much fun of it, because what brings comfort to grieving people is inherently unknowable, in the same way that the meaning and intensity of loss and grief, or grief over a specific loss, is inherently unknowable for anyone outside of the actual mourner.  So, if "The Train" brings you comfort, then I am happy for you.

However, yesterday I came across this one.

Even though this demonstrates a fairly profound misinterpretation of quantum physics, and entanglement, yes, it can be a comforting thought in grief, and I'm glad that some find it so.

Not raining ...

It's not raining today.  It's been raining, and that has been enough to clear a lot of the snow from the sidewalks and the edges of the roads.  So it's a nice day to walk: at least, nicer than the past few days.

Friday was pretty bad, and Saturday was pretty bad, and Sunday morning definitely wasn't great, although Christmas dinner with the girls, and the visit, and the news, was pretty terrific.  And then Monday and Tuesday were pretty awful although that might have been post-celebratory let-down.  (Personally, I don't dread Christmas as much as New Year's: Christmas alone just means you have little in the way of immediate family.  New Year's Eve alone means you have no friends, either.)  So, today was nice.  Walking down to the men's breakfast, pretty much alone on the streets, but with almost no ice patches to worry about.  Heading down past the library to drop something off.

Now, I bow to no one in my love of libraries.  Libraries are wonderful institutions, and one of the signs of a true civilization.  And I definitely appreciate the local branch of our regional library.

At the same time, I have been somewhat bemused at the specific operations here.  I find it odd that our branch apparently has no interest in providing workshops or seminars for the public.  Seemingly of any kind.  I'd come to see that as a kind of base function of a library.  But it doesn't seem to be regarded that way here.  In addition, I find the demand to have the physical library card present to be interesting.  As a security maven, I appreciate the need for authentication.  But I also know that, fifteen feet from the desk, I can (and pretty much always do) use the checkout terminal to check out my materials, based on the fact that I have memorized my card number and PIN.  The only time I need to produce further authentication is when the library staff have misfiled something, and I have to ask for help.

At first I didn't realize the problem as I got close to the doors of the library, before it was open.  The drop boxes, outside, all had their drop doors open.  I wondered if someone had been so desperately fishing for books, that they had jammed the doors open.  But, no: as I got closer, and could see inside the bins, it was obvious that they were full.  *So* full that the drop doors wouldn't close any more.  In hindsight, this should have been foreseeable: the library was closed on Sunday, and then closed Saturday because it was also Christmas, and then closed Monday because it was Boxing Day, and then closed Tuesday because ... (well, I'm not quite sure about Tuesday), and then closed Friday because it was a snow day.  So, five days in a row.

But it does point out yet another operation issue here: even in the district, someone came in on days off (particularly long weekends), to ensure that bins and drops were clear.  (Presumably it only took an hour or so.)

Oddly, Sunday night, and Monday night, preceding two pretty bad days, were, in fact, really good nights.  Both nights I got something like nine hours of sleep.  So, it's somewhat ironic that last night I had really rotten sleep, but it was a reasonably good day ...

Grief, type of loss, meaning, and risk analysis

One of the common observations about grief, these days, in most grief books, programs, and counseling, is that everyone grieves differently, and uniquely.  However, one particular book, noting that the type of loss has a bearing on the intensity of loss, also happened to use the word "meaning."

This reminded me of one of the important lessons in security, in regard to the difference between threat, vulnerability, and risk.  Many companies will have a process known as penetration testing performed on their enterprise.  Pen testing (as it is known in abbreviation), is an activity where either a team within your company, or contractors who are hired from outside your company, attempt to make some kind of entry or intrusion into the systems which you deem necessary to protect.  This is in order to test your defenses, although one of the observations that most people miss is that this really only tests your ability to detect an intrusion, and not all intrusions at that.

Many people who contract pen testing feel that it gives them a handle on risk assessment.  This is a sometimes serious misunderstanding of the situation.  Pen testing can reveal threats and vulnerabilities but it can never fully identify the actual risk.  Risk involves the threat to a particular asset, and the outside penetration team does not, and inherently cannot, understand the value of the asset to the enterprise.

In the same way, it is inherently true that no outsider, and that includes pretty much everyone outside yourself, can understand the grief that you suffer as a result of a loss, because they cannot understand the importance of the asset in your life, specifically.  They may be able to see, if they really try (and few people ever do) the objective results of the loss you have suffered.  But the totality of importance of that loss, or losses, to you, is known only to you.  You are the only one who can understand your loss.

This is why my standard response to any attempt at comparing losses as to greater or lesser is always just "a loss is a loss."

Happy St. Stephen's Day

Friday we had a small dump, small enough that most people didn't think it worth clearing, so that meant that it froze over Saturday and the sidewalks became treacherous.  The roads weren't too bad, except that I had to be way out on them, and some of the drivers weren't too pleased.  Went to do the sound board for Christmas Eve, and nobody told me (until I got there to the sign on the door) that they'd cancelled it.  Did the sound board Christmas Day, and I'm free of *that* church.  Probably for some considerable time.

Unpromising start to Christmas Day: it had started raining Saturday, but the snow hadn't disappeared as much as I'd hoped, and Sunday morning the same.  (G2 called while I was shoveling the walk for the church  :-)  However, I got Christmas dinner underway for the girls, and that went well (except that my back was really sore, and I kept having to rest in The Chair).  Then the girls came, and then R and A brought the greatgrandson  over.  He had been overstimulated by all the visiting, but I started up the Roomba for him, and that, while it didn't enthrall him for the whole time, still seemed to be enough of a distraction that he managed pretty well for far longer than any of us thought likely.  R had gotten him a t-shirt saying "Promoted to Big Brother," and also blew the gaff on the news that S and D are expecting, so, by August, I may have tripled my supply of greatgrandchildren  :-)  After they left, dinner was late, but good.  (Based on something I'd seen in an ad, I had added yams topped with a mix of cheese, bacon, and green onion, and that was a hit.)

Heavy winds and rain started up just before 5 AM and woke me up.  However, I did manage to get back to sleep, and got more than eight hours in total, for the first time in a long while.  It rained heavily all night, and has taken away an awful lot of the snow, so, after I've taken care of various tasks, I may get out for a walk, and do some shopping before the rains start up again, as promised, about 3 PM.  (Shopping on Boxing day.  Huh.  I wonder if anyone else will be out ...)  The rain has just stopped, and, a few minutes ago, it even looked like the clouds might break, so maybe I'll walk sooner, and do the computer tasks later.

(Can't quite make out the rainbow.  *Definitely* got to get a better camera ...)

Nope ...

I never have been able to figure out when they will be there, or whether they will be there, or, if they are there, what doors will be open.  I've lost track of the number of times I've stood outside the church, and then walked from door to door in a vain attempt to find one that was open.  I guess they figure that the important people (ie., them) will know these details, and someone that you've asked to help run the sound board for a few weeks doesn't need to be told.  (They have, frequently, demonstrated that they really don't need any help with the sound board, and my assistance is basically irrelevant.)

I also assume that the sidewalks will be just as unshoveled tomorrow, and the drivers will be just as idiotic, as when, having checked frequently for any email messages that might have indicated that tonight's Christmas Eve service was cancelled, and not finding any, I slogged my way over, only to find a note on the door saying that there was no Christmas Eve service tonight.  So, having twisted my back slipping on ice on the way over, I think I'll soak in a hot bathtub tonight, and not worry about whether I'll wake up in time to get to the Christmas Day service, if they decide to have one.  (See above for the importance of my help.)

However, that was really just the capper on what has been one of the most disappointing Christmas Eves I can recall.  Not a complete disaster in every respect, but unproductive, slow, and without much of value.  (I suppose last Christmas Eve might have been worse, but grief tends to numb you, so I can't remember anything about it.)  I don't know how tomorrow could be any worse, so that's something to look forward to.  (Well, yes, I *do* know how it could be worse, but that doesn't bear thinking about ...)

Merry Christmas.

Photography

It's a lovely day today.  In parts of Port Alberni.  I'm seeing the sun shining on the mountains north of town, and on certain sections of the valley.  But they are quite a distance.  There is absolutely no way I can do justice with them with the camera on the cell phone.  I need my telephoto lenses.

I need to get a camera body.  I need to get an adapter.  I need to start working on some of the photography.  And, of course, I'm missing the opportunity because today, and what I'm seeing today, won't come again.  At least not in the same way.

I haven't had time to look into the possibilities for photography.  I haven't had time to figure out whether there is a store here in Port Alberni that sells camera equipment.  And the specialized adapters, and so forth, that I might need.  I haven't had time to look into, say, Amazon, to see if I can order some of that stuff online.  I've been fighting with the utilities, so I haven't had time.  And, because I don't have the time, and because I don't have the camera body, I don't have the opportunity to take advantage of these beautiful sights that I'm seeing this morning.

I've got to get a camera.

Whales from the ferry

For almost seventy years, man and boy, I have been riding the BC Ferries.  In all that time I have never, ever, seen any kind of whales or dolphins, even though it's a regular occurrence.

Well, now I have.  They announced that a group of humpbacks were over by some whale watching boats.  The group of boats was about a mile away, and, basically, all that could be seen was a bit of a disturbance on the surface of the water, and a couple of times the mist from a spout.  Once the curve of a back, and the tiny tail-end dorsal fin, could be seen as one dove.

A little later there was another group of at least three humpbacks.  They were slapping their pectoral flippers on the surface, so you could see a little bit more, but it was still a mile distant, so it was only really apparent what was happening if you knew what was happening.

Still, I have finally seen some ...

Review of Roomba 691 (I think ...)

I've bought a pet.  *My* kind of pet.

I bought a Roomba.

I'm up early, but it's a Sunday morning, so I'm doing a digital detox, so I've got some time, and I've decided to let the Roomba run while I get some reading done.  I wanted to read in The Chair.  However, on the first run (which I allowed it to do while I headed out), the Roomba decided that it was on a cliff (and reported that over the app), and quit.  The Chair has a rather thick power cord, and the Roomba tripped over that.  I have figured out a way to keep the cord off the ground and still plugged in, but it's not a setup that I can leave all the time so it means that I have to plug and unplug the chair if I'm going to use the Roomba.  And it also means that I basically have to leave the chair unplugged if I'm going to run the Roomba at random times.  A bit of an annoyance.  It is annoying how much picking up you have to do in preparation for a Roomba run.  There is, of course, the breaking of the caroler figurine, and it has also knocked over a picture that was leaning against a wall while waiting to be mounted.  (There's a folding step-stool leaning against a wall that it knocks over on a regular basis.)  I'm also concerned about anything left on any of the lighter tables, and I'm aware of any chords or anything else that would normally be on the floor, and how well tucked away they are.

The second run of the Roomba was significantly more effective, in terms of not getting itself stuck in areas, but it still seems to rely pretty heavily on "random walk."  Fortunately I don't have an Alexa, so the Roomba is not reporting to Amazon the dimensions of my home.

Just now the Roomba got stuck under a chair, and took about twenty tries, and a couple of minutes, to get itself out.

I find that it is surprisingly noisy in operation, although not as loud as other types of vacuum cleaners.  That's mostly on a bare floor: on carpet, it's a lot quieter.

I finally figured out how to open an empty the dirt trap but I will have to see what I can find in the way of instructions for how to clean the various parts, which seems to have to be done on a pretty regular basis.  There is a suggestion that some of the parts need to be replaced on a fairly regular basis, and I'm not quite sure what how I'm going to do any of that, since this model seems to have been discontinued by iRobot.  And I'm not absolutely sure what model it is, because the box said 691, but the app reports 675.  (The iRobot Website provides pretty much zero help.)

After six runs, the Roomba had not still not been able to find its home again, even when it reported, by the app, that it was low on battery and therefore returning home, or was paused, via the app, and, by the app, commanded to return home.  In one instance, when commanding the Roomba to return home, it did seem to seek in the general area of home, but then gave up.

So I did some more research.  And found, via other channels (definitely not on iRobot's Website), that the placement of the homes/docking/charging station is quite important.  Roomba's tend to home in on home via an infrared signal.  Therefore, the Roomba should have a clear view of the infrared signal, and, therefore, furniture should not be around the Roomba docking/charging station.  Some sites specify that there should be half a meter clearance to either side of the docking station, and a meter and a half clearance in front.  I am experimenting with placement of the docking station, since I don't have an abundance of bare walls, without furniture, with electrical outlets, as places to create a home nest for the Roomba, and for no other purpose.  My initial test is going to be slightly behind a large chair, but with a couple of clear paths to get to, and or see, the docking station for the infrared signal.  I'll see how well that goes.  I do have another option, with greater clearance in front, although with less clearance to one side.  We'll give it a few test runs and see how it goes.  (Having given it a few more runs, it can find it's way home when you command it to, if you make sure it has at least ten minutes of charge left, but it took it a long time to be able to dock itself when it decides it's getting low on battery.)  (After about a dozen runs, it *did* finally find it's way back on its own before the battery ran out, but then failed on the next couple of runs.  When it finally did it a *second* time, I kind of felt like I should feed it a dust bunny or something as positive reinforcement or a reward ...)

I can probably, in ten minutes, pick up more dirt and dust with the Dyson, than the Roomba does in an hour of random operation.  There doesn't seem to be any particular point in letting the Roomba run every day.  It doesn't seem to pick up that much dirt, unless it's been left, for a while, to accumulate.  I also find that the floor does have visible items on it, although I can't say, for certain, that this is immediately after a Roomba run.  But, at the moment, having a Roomba seems to be of more value for the entertainment, then for cleaning purposes.  (My little brother and his wife found it fascinating.)  (And so did my great-grandson: he was absolutely enthralled, and, whenever it went under a couch would get down on the floor, look for it, and call to it   :-)  (And watching the Roomba making *really* bad decisions about which way to go next can make you feel oddly better about how well/poorly you are doing with your own problems ... :-)

Having to leave the house Roomba proof (very similar to kid proofing a house), if you want to run the Roomba at random times, or, alternatively, picking up loose items, and ensuring that there is nothing that the Roomba can knock over, before you set it loose, does reduce the cleaning convenience value.

The Roomba also seems to have a predilection 1) for the living room, and 2) for getting underneath things.  It seems to want to spend time under the couches, under the big chair, or under the bed either in the master bedroom, or in the spare bedroom.  Since all of these items have dust skirting around them, allowing the Roomba to spend time under them doesn't seem useful in terms of cleaning utility.

There seems to be another "pet-like" aspect to the Roomba: while I was working on a fairly complicated piece of work, the Roomba was in my office for probably the entire half hour, and, every time it left, came back in again ...

Then again, every couple of days I can just let it run, and ignore it, and it does pick up *something*, so ...

Review of "A Path Through Loss," by Nancy Reeves

The third paragraph of the introduction starts talking about the benefits of, and need to, write about the process of grief, when you are grieving or mourning.  But, Reeves also makes references to the journal, which I initially took to mean her experience with writing a journal, until a specific reference clarified that she was referring to *this* book as a journal.  Which was, again, confusing, until I realized that the latter half of the book is, in fact, a journal, or at least space for some kind of writing.  This letter half does have subject headings to suggest certain areas or topics to write on, corresponding to various parts of the first section of the book.

Section three, entitled "Issues for Healing and Growth," is very path-like, as opposed to a well-defined roadway.  This is like a meandering path that jinks around disjointedly, touching on many topics.  It starts with energy management.  This is an interesting concept in terms of basic survival and adjustment needs, as opposed to the optional energy that you might have for life enhancement, but, while it has some possible value, it is poorly defined in the book, and it is difficult to see how people can actually use it to assist with their own grieving process.

The topic then jumps to children's experience with loss, and then spirituality, forgiveness, guilt, ritual, anticipatory grief, self care, complicated grief, and then helping others.  There are some issues that have utility in some of these sections, and others that may have less practical use.  But the disjointed nature makes it difficult in moving from one section to another.  (Then again, the grieving process is not exactly linear, and the bereaved are going to be feeling fairly disjointed in life, anyway.)  That ends the content part of the book, and then we have the journal part of the book, which is divided into similar sections.

I find it hard to know who might especially benefit from this book.  It does have some useful points, but is not exactly comprehensive.

Plant-based apples

I won't say who first brought it to my attention, since they were probably just doing a cut-and-paste anyways, but I first realized how far this marketing trend was going when somebody was giving away foldable travel blankets.  Imagine!  Being able to fold a blanket!  What an amazing new technology!

And then, today, Panago Pizza has announced that they are selling plant-based apple pies.  Plant-based apples!  This trend has gone too far!  Do they think that apples just grow on trees? ... Oh ... wait ...

What's next?  Breathable air?  Drinkable water?  Legged tables?  Readable books?  Fileable paper?  I mean, apparently you can take any inherent characteristic of a given product, turn it into an adjective, and that becomes a new marketing point!  And apparently nobody is paying any attention to how ridiculous this all is!

Sermon 1 - Be Ye Hackers!

I wish I was preaching this in a church where there was a children's moment, before they get dismissed to junior church.  That way I could ask them if they knew what a hacker was.  I'd probably start by asking them if they knew what a computer was, and if they had a computer.  And then we go on to the hacker business.  I'd probably get some odd answers, and when you're dealing with kids you have to be ready for odd answers, but somebody would probably say that a hacker is a bad person.  This is a teaching moment.  A hacker is not necessarily a bad person.  A hacker is somebody who knows about, and is excited about, and is possibly somewhat consumed with, some form of technology.  Hackers love their technology, and can make a computer, or some other technical device, do all kinds of things that other people can't make them do.  Hackers are intrigued with the technology, to the exclusion of other factors, like social graces, sometimes hygiene, and sometimes ethical standards.

I could, of course, ask you.  I am not so much a preacher as a teacher.  I am used to asking questions in class, and getting people to respond.  However, that's not usual in church.  It's a lot harder to get people to respond in church.  Or even to react to things that I say.  As a teacher I'm very used to getting questions and people reacting to things that I say, and having all of you sit there and not saying anything is sometimes a bit unnerving.

So, why am I talking about hackers in church?  Well, they say when you speak, speak about what you know.  And I know about information security.  So, I'm talking about what I know.  They also say when you do a sermon you need three points and an illustration.  So, yes, I have three points.  And to make them easier for you to spot they all start with an e.  And the illustration is "Be Ye Hackers."

Okay, you're still fixated on the idea that hackers are bad people, so why am I telling you to be hackers?  Well, let me tell you a little bit more about hackers.  These are my three points and, as promised, they all start with the letter "e."

So the first point is, hackers are Evangelical.  If you know somebody who is into technology you know that they are excited about it.  (Sorry that's another e.  It's hard to avoid them in the English language.)  Anyways, hackers are excited about their technology and they like it, and they want other people to like it, and so, they are evangelical.  They are always trying to get you to use the computer.  They are always explaining to you how the computer can do fantastic things.  They are always trying to evangelize you into the computer camp.

It's annoying, right?  They are always saying how great computers are.  They are always talking about computers.  They are always saying how computers could make your life better.

Does that sound familiar?  Does that sound like something that we, as Christians, should be doing?  Are we, in fact, excited about God?  About Jesus?  About the Christian Life?  About church?  Is it exciting to us?  It should be.  And we should be evangelizing about it.  We should be evangelists.  We should be telling the good news.  We should be telling people how God, and Jesus, and Christianity, and the church can make their life better.  That, after all, is what an evangelist is.  Someone who is telling the good news.

OK, think of it this way.  You meet a new friend.  This person is really interesting.  Not only that, but this person finds *you* interesting!  Interesting enough that they want to spend time with you.  You feel good about this, right?  And, when you've spent some time with this new friend, what's the first thing you do?  You tell *your* friends.  "Hey, I've met this really great guy (or gal).  He (or she) is really interesting, and is a really caring and helpful person!  You should meet him (or her)!"

Right?  Well, you've got this amazing friend.  This friend who is so amazing, he made the whole universe (and any other universes that might exist, if you are into that sort of thing)!  And this friend is so interested in you that He wants to be your best buddy!  Wouldn't you tell your friends, and anyone else, about this friend?  Wouldn't you boast about this friend, every chance you got?  All the time?

When you go to introduce a new friend to your friends, you do it right away, don't you?  You don't wait for your new friend to be "ready."  Because, you assume, you don't have to wait for them to recharge, or to have the right resources: you are introducing an essential "themness."  You are introducing the core of this person, something that doesn't change or need to be prepared.

That is the great thing about God: He is always the same.  He always loves us, and wants the best for us.  And He loves *everyone*: all His creatures and creations, and always wants the best for them.

Okay, when we do that, when we keep trying to introduce our friends, and relations, and colleagues, and even total strangers, to God, we might be annoying.  But if we really do have good news, we shouldn't be keeping it to ourselves.  We should be evangelizing.  And if we don't have good news to tell, if Christianity is not making our life better, then maybe we should be looking at our own Christian Life.  Maybe *we* need good news.

Besides, we are commanded to.  This is the great commission.  Mark 16:15 - He said to them, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation."  Is this not, aside from "love God," and "love your neighbor," the single new commandment we are given in the New Testament?

So that's the first reason to be hackers.  A second reason to be hackers is that hackers are exploratory.  Hackers are experimental.  (Sorry, I know, that's another e.)  Anyways, hackers explore their computers.  They explore the capabilities of the computer.  They explore what the computer can do for them.  They explore what the computer can do to make their lives better.  And more exciting.  And to give them abilities, and capabilities, that they didn't have before, and didn't know they could have.  They explore the computers.  They explore the technology.  They push its limits.

Which we should be doing.  We should be exploring.  Not necessarily computers, but God.  What is God?  What can he do for us?  What *will* God do for us?  What will Christianity do for us?  We should explore.  We should test the limits.  When was the last time you explored God, Jesus, Christianity, the church, what the church is, what the church can be?

We think we know.  But do we really?  Have we just accepted something that we were taught in Sunday school when we were four years old, and that's good enough?  What does God mean in today's world?  What does the church mean in today's world?  Is the church the same today as it was when you were four years old?

When was the last time you examined these issues?  When was the last time you explored these issues?  Are we really Christians, if we simply accept something without trying it out?  Can we say that we believe in God if we don't know who and what God is?  Can we say we follow Christ if we have never tried to figure out what that actually means?

We are supposed to check it out.  Psalm 34:8 - Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

There's a third point about hackers, at least in the time we're going to cover here.  Hackers are enthusiastic.  That kind of gets back to the annoying bit.  Hackers are excited about their technology.  They are enthusiastic about their computers.  They bubble over with excitement.

Do you know where the word enthusiastic comes from?  It's a word that means God within.  Originally, it meant a kind of a trance, or excited state, that meant that you were possessed by a god or a demon.  It was, in origin, a religious observation.  Here was someone who had been filled by a god.  Who had been taken over by a god.  The god had changed this person's behavior, and in a way that everybody could visibly see it.

How would you feel about that?  How would you feel about having a change in your behavior?  How would you feel about having people see that you were different: different than you had been before, and different from other people?  But isn't that what we should be?

Gloria was a singer.  A soloist.  But there was one minister, in one church that we knew, who would almost never let her sing in his church.  He even explained why.  He said that Gloria lifted people up with her song, and how was he supposed to get them "down off the ceiling" after she sang.

Excuse me?  Why would you *want* to get them down?  Shouldn't we be excited and enthusiastic?

Shouldn't we be filled with God?  Isn't that what the Christian Life is all about?  Having Jesus take up residence in us?  Having God make a change in our lives.  A change visible enough that other people notice that we are different than we were before.  That we are different from other people.  Isn't that what Christianity is supposed to be?  Isn't that what we should be?  Shouldn't we be enthusiastic?

When was the last time you were enthusiastic about Christianity?  When was the last time you were enthusiastic about church?

When I looked up a Biblical reference for this one, there was Acts 4:31.  It starts out, "After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken."  Have I shaken you?  Is this a little bit too much?  Because it goes on, "And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly."

Alright, have I delivered on my promise?  I have given you an illustration, and I have given you three points.  Have my made my case?  Do you agree that we should be hackers of Christianity?  Of Jesus?  Of God?

Anderson

Walking around town, I have discovered a few interesting things.  For example, some of the streets seem to have been originally designed to be much more important than they seem to be at present.  Maitland, and Morton, are, for example, broad thoroughfares that run unimpeded for some considerable distance through the town, but don't seem to have any businesses on them, or even any business districts associated with them.  Anderson runs a considerable distance, again, with nothing particularly important on it.  Anderson seems to have been laid out and planned, but is also interrupted by the high school, Roger Creek, and Dry Creek.  It also seems to have been laid out before someone laid out the numbered avenues, but whoever laid out the numbered avenues paid no attention to Anderson.  The two are just ever so slightly skewed.  Which makes for an interestingly narrow gap, at times, between Anderson and 12th Avenue.

I will have to learn the First Nation's name for Dry Creek.  First off, it seems it would be impolite not to.  But I may adopt it as a password.  It seems to contain a capital letter (not placed at the beginning of the word), at least three apostrophes, a number, and, as far as I can tell, a Simpsons character.

(Yup, another "leftover" post.  When I wrote it, I was at the library, checking the hours, since I couldn't do that online.  They have a good strong wifi signal outside the building.  They are closed on Sundays.  I had meant to bring back a DVD movie that I have finished, but, of course, I forgot to actually bring it.)

Grief Guys (4) introduction and articulation

This is probably what we will be using to explain the program to people, and to recruit members:

The primary purpose of Grief Guys is to provide processes, activities, and a place for men who are bereaved, grieving, or mourning.  This is an attempt to address the fact that men process grief in a different way from women, in many cases, and that most bereavement counseling and support that currently exists is structured in such a way that it addresses the intuitive process of grieving, which is more common for women than for men.  The instrumental style of grieving, more common for men, relies more on cognition than emotion, planning for the future rather than looking to the past, and deals more with activity than with expressing emotions.

This program is, quite frankly, experimental.  Those of you who are attending are helping us in producing the program, as much as we may be assisting you in your process through grief.  We definitely want feedback on the program, and we want to know your ideas on what is working, what is not working, and other types of activities that may be more beneficial for men in grief.  We ask for your patience while we are developing the program, and thank you for your participation.  And for all feedback.

The way that men process grief, and the style and processes that they use, is not completely distinct from the way women grieve.  Therefore this program will not be completely different from any other grief or bereavement program that you may have attended.

One year anniversary of Gloria's death

Gloria died one year ago today.  December 18th, 2021.  In 2021 that was a Saturday.  She died sometime between 7 and 10 PM.  I went to sleep in the chair beside her bed at 7 PM and she was still breathing.  I woke up at 10 PM and she wasn't breathing anymore.

Anniversaries generally are not a big deal for me.  I have trouble remembering birthdays, even my own.  I have trouble remembering even national holidays, except for the constant barrage of advertising that fills the public spaces to tell you that one is coming up.

So I didn't expect any particular problems with today.  However, having awakened characteristically early, but on a Sunday, when I generally try and avoid working on the computer, I tried to find various things to do.  I unpacked, sorted, and arranged to at least some semblance of order, my main (en suite) bathroom, which has not had a priority for me to clean it up, with the press of various other things that I have had to do since the move.  With that, and a few other chores, I managed to make it through until about 6:00 AM, and decided that I could head out to McDonald's and get a cup of coffee, and then head down to south southport and map some wifi hotspots, before I had to go and do the soundboard at Trinity.

So, having purchased my coffee (with the usual attendant comments about exactly how many cream and sugar there were to be in said coffee) and headed out from the Mcdonald's, imagine my surprise to have a fairly major grief burst.

It's now about an hour later, and I have been wandering around and mapping hot spots, and, despite the promises in the weather forecast that we should be preparing for snow, the southern skies are fairly clear.  It's about 7:30, so the sky is fairly light.  The sky to the north is quite heavy with cloud and it is easy to believe that, yes, soon those clouds will roll down and we will have at least some snow.  But the southern sky looks nice and I'm feeling a little bit better than I was an hour ago.

Well, off mapping more hot spots.  I suppose the only note to make here is that the hospice office has a nice strong shot open signal immediately outside the front door ...

Only, after I dictated that piece about Gloria, heading north away from the hospice office, I seemed to walk through a cloud of perfume.  Gloria, of course, did not wear a perfume, being allergic to Balsam of Peru, which is a component in a wide variety of perfumes.  From what I can remember, Gloria would not have been allergic to this particular perfume or scent, and, in any case, it wasn't particularly strong.  It's just rather odd.

And then, later, after I got to Trinity, I had another grief burst before the service, and one during.  (As well as a major scare when, halfway through the service, the snow started dumping down, and I was wondering whether I would need to walk to make *sure* that I got to Jericho Road for the Christmas play when I wanted to drive since that service would be ending fairly late, but then it ended by the end of the service, and, in fact, we had some nice sunshine during the afternoon.)

So, the Christmas play was a go, and went as well as could be expected, and the girls came, and we had a nice time afterwards.

Review of "The Depression of Grief" by Alan Wolfelt

 A few reviews ago, I stated that one blanket review would cover all of Alan Wolfelt's books.  Apparently though, I have to make an exception for "The Depression of Grief."  Now, Alan Wolfelt has a doctorate.  And I assume that that doctorate might be in psychology, although I may be wrong.  (Perhaps it's a doctorate in marketing.)  In any case, he has been doing counseling, running a counseling centre, and publishing books on psychology related counseling for a number of years.  So I was rather astonished to find that he does not seem to understand what depression is, at all.  He seems to think that depression is just a slightly more extreme form of sadness.  If you are sad too much, or too long, you are depressed.  That seems to be his way of thinking about it.  Which betrays a massive misunderstanding of the condition.  He also repeats the fairly common perception of depression and anxiety as being, perhaps, two facets of the same condition, and treatable by the same processes.  Which is something that I find highly questionable, and which other people have found problematic when they run into programs that purport to treat both anxiety and depression in the same way and at the same time and through the same processes.  But that is perhaps diverging a little bit from the central weaknesses of Wolfelt's book.

Again, this is not to say that "The Depression of Grief" is useless.  It probably won't harm anybody, and it'll definitely help some.  There is decent advice about steps to take, even if that advice is rather pedestrian and can be obtained in pretty much any book on the topic.

Unreliable Shaw "landlines"

When I was forced to go with Shaw, I got a "landline" phone with them as well.  I'm quite well aware that pretty much all the "landline" home phones you get these days are simply not of the same calibre and reliability as was available with telcos of the past.

Still, I didn't realize how ad it had become.

A friend called an left a message.  Shaw, as usual, did an end run around my answering machine, and, instead, I got notification of a voicemail.  That was weird, because I was definitely home when he left the message, and he called the home phone or I wouldn't have gotten the voice mail, so Shaw "landline" phones are not very reliable as phones.  (In fact, I was on one of the cell phones with another friend.  No, I don't accept that Shaw somehow is monitoring me and my calls with a completely different provider and decided not to bother me with the new call: that is completely beyond Shaw's extremely limited technical capability, as well as being pretty creepy.)  (This may also be way Shaw keeps doing an end run around my answering machine: maybe a whole *bunch* of calls are never coming in, at all.  I amy have to do some testing to see if I get *any* calls on my home phone.  Argh.)  I guess I'm just going to have to tell people that, if they really, really want to get me, *right now*, as opposed to leaving me email which I will get at some point, they will have to try all the phones and keep trying because I *do* have at least one of the phones with me at all times, although there are various reasons why I might not hear it.

Shaw got wind of this blog posting (well, I mean, I used their two Twitter accounts in posting it ...), and they wanted me to contact tech support.  So, I wasted half and hour on chat with them, and, as is usually the case, this resulted in the agent disappearing and the bot closing the connection without warning, before anything was resolved.

Review of "Grief" by Chris Mammarelli/Kevin Cross/Kevin Renwick

It's not about grief.  It's not about loss.  It's not really even about suicide.  (It *may* be about insanity, but, if so, it doesn't communicate anything about it.)  I have *no* idea why the author/directors/producers were trying to say, or why they thought it worth making this film.

Coffee (again)

I'm possibly becoming hooked on coffee.  Which is rather strange.  Possibly it's because of the ridiculous diet, and the fact that, even with all the sugar I put in it, a cup of coffee is still less calories than a sandwich, or a donut, or a pastry, or some other treat.  It also tends to last longer, in terms of how long it takes to consume it.  And, these days, it's nice to have something warm to hold in your hand while walking around in the freezing cold.

I'm also, at the same time, exploring other hot drinks.  There is the old standby of hot chocolate (to which I tend to add peppermint flavour, or buy the mix with the mint in it).  There is also Russian tea, which I started to drink in my university days, when it was popular.  It is not, of course, true Russian tea: it is simply iced tea mix made up with hot water.  It makes a nice, sweet, hot drink.  I'm trying out different varieties of iced tea mix, to see which ones are acceptable in this format.

I'm thinking, putting these together, that I should possibly cut back on the coffee, and start concentrating on ways to carry either the iced tea mix, or hot chocolate mix, in some kind of resealable container, since I already carry around an insulated travel mug with me, and all I would have to do is find a source of hot water.

Exhausted

I am exhausted.  Partly it is still grief.  Grief is exhausting, and death admin is exhausting.  And I've been on the run ever since.  I'm somewhat afraid to stop, in case unresolved depression is lurking in the background.  It's like that old line about don't look back, somebody might be gaining on you.  If I stop, I may never start again.

Partly it is, as K puts it, self-imposed craziness.  I am trying to build a life (no, not rebuild: my life is now so different that it is like a completely new life).  And, in order to start a new life, you have to line up a lot of things, most of which aren't going to work.  So I have to keep looking around for things to start, knowing that most of them *won't* start right away, and some may *never* start, but if I don't keep starting things, nothing will *ever* start.

Partly it is the second move in a year (yeah, I moved ten times in two years, but that was when I was in my late twenties, not as an Official Old Person).  And fighting, for two months, with all the utilities.  And now fighting "deficiencies" in my new house.  (For which the girls are doing *huge* amounts of the work, but there are still lots of things that I have to do myself.)

And I'm *still* not fully unpacked.  And every time I sit down, and look around, I see something else that needs to be fixed, unpacked, set up, read, thrown out, etc, etc, that I hadn't even *thought* of adding to a to do list   ...

Review of "Coping with Bereavement" by Hamish McIlwraith

McIlwraith's book, while not ignoring emotions, concentrates on activities, plans, and practical processes.  The very useful confidence building self-assessment tool is only one example.  Chapter three, on facing death, covers an awful lot of the death administration which is a major problem in the period immediately surrounding the death.  Chapter six, on relationship skills for those who have lost a partner, helps provide for a new social life with a number of practical strategies.  Chapter seven, on decision making skills, goes through a number of practical planning exercises and outlines.  Therefore, McIlwraith's book is probably most useful to men who are grieving, as it concentrates on the instrumental style of processing grief.  This is not to say that it will not help mourning women: it probably will.  McIlwraith's book is likely something that should be read most bereavement counselors, as it provides some balance with the instrumental style, as opposed to the much more common intuitive style involved in most literature on grief.

Cheating on Gloria

I was all set to sleep with Gloria last night, but the weather forecast was indicating that it wasn't going to be *quite* as cold as they had indicated earlier, so I decided to sleep with Helen.  I'll sleep with Gloria again later: even Environment Canada is predicting that it's going to go down to minus five this week, and the Weather Channel is saying minus eight.

Yeah, I know what you're all thinking.  Rob finally *has* cracked: we knew all along he couldn't be handling his grief as well as he was pretending.

No, it's just code.

Gloria loved all forms of sewing, embroidery, and quilting.  When we got married, she was working on a log cabin quilt.  She worked on it for years, on and off, and had pieced the top, but hadn't yet finished the border and the quilting when she died.

After she died I looked for the pieced top, to get it finished.  I couldn't find it.  I couldn't find it, because the girls had stolen it, and got it finished.  Which was awfully kind of them.

(And presented it to me on greatgrandson's first birthday, so I ended the day in absolute tears.  Little stinkers.)

I don't have it on the bed all the time, although it was, of course, made for our bed. 

I don't want to wear it out; I want it to last as long as possible.  I store it in a drawer (by itself) in the armoir by the bed.  And it's full-sized, and solid, and wonderfully warm when the nights are cold.  (And gorgeous.)

But then I won Helen.  And, although it's great, it's slightly thinner, and smaller. 

So it's perfect on nights when the temperature, outside, is hovering around freezing, or a degree or two below, and it's just a *bit* too cold to be under the duvet alone.

Review of "Life is Hard" by Kiernan Setiya

In "Life is Hard," Kiernan Setiya proposes that life is hard, but that studies of philosophy can help.

I found the first couple of chapters unconvincing.  It was interesting, in a somewhat academic sense, to see what the philosophers had to say about infirmity and loneliness, but it didn't really help much.

But it wasn't until chapter three, on grief, that Setiya really fell down.  Setiya, apparently, doesn't really understand grief.  He has read up on it.  He has read what a few philosophers say about it.  His experience of grief, chosen to start the examination of the subject, is of a romantic breakup in his early teenage years.  Hardly the stuff of deathly, or deathless, passion.  His mother is losing her mind to Alzheimer's.  His father-in-law has recently died, during the time that he was writing the book.  Neither of these seems to get have given him much personal insight into either the nature or the process of grief or grieving.  Some of the characteristics of grief that he considers universal, I have not experienced following Gloria's death.  I recognize some of the areas of grief that he discusses, but the strongest, and most common aspects of grief, he doesn't touch on at all.  His insistence on avoiding theodicy, or even the possibility of the existence of a spirit or soul following death physical death, limits what he can consider about the nature of grief itself.  And, nothing from the philosophers seems to be of any help at all.  He seems to tacitly acknowledge this, since the suggestions that, rather verbosely, close the first two chapters, are missing from chapter three.  He just seems to acknowledge that death sucks, and grief sucks, and that's about all that one can say.  If life is hard, and grief is hard, that is not terribly helpful.

Chapter four, on failure, is another case where a limited view of the titular subject means that the chapter as a whole fails.  Setiya notes the difference between telic activity, which has an end, and an object, and a completion; and atelic activities, which are ongoing, and essentially complete in themselves.  In terms of defining failure, he seems to see it as only telic activities in terms of failure: you try to do one particular thing, and fail to accomplish that.  His solution to this is to concentrate on the atelic activity of living well, and being a good person.  But, as Paul points out in the book of Romans, I try to do what I am supposed to do, and fail, and the things I shouldn't do, I keep doing.  So here is an atelic activity, of living well, which is also subject to failure modes.  And Setiya's recommendation that we pursue this "living well" activity, therefore fails.

The Gloria Memorial Christmas Quilt

The hospice society gave those of us who are volunteers a Christmas dinner.  Which was very nice of them.

As part of the whole do, they had collected prizes for, and arranged, a paper bag raffle.  You could buy tickets, which weren't terribly expensive, and put them in the bags for the prizes that you were interested in.  Then they had a draw out of the bags, from the tickets that had been deposited.

I wasn't terribly interested in the jewelry, or the wine, or the coffee machines.  But there was a quilt, a Christmas quilt.  Gloria loved quilts, and she loved Christmas.  So I put my tickets into that bag.

(I wasn't terribly interested in the carved wooden bells, until I found out, too late to do anything about it, that they were carved from yew wood.  The yew tree has been a symbol of death for quite a long time, so I thought that it would have been ironically appropriate for a hospice volunteer.  But, by that time I'd already deposited all my tickets, and they'd started the draw, anyway.)

I found out, later in the evening, that a former nurse, living in the area, makes a lot of quilts.  She had donated a car full to the chair of the hospice society, for the hospice society to use in fundraising events.  (The chair told me that it was a literal carful: she couldn't stuff any more quilts into the car.)  The chair had asked if Helen would mind if one of the quilts was used for the volunteer raffle.  That's how it came to be a part of the raffle: Helen said yes.

Anyway, I won the quilt.

Review of absolutely any book about grief written by Alan D. Wolfelt

In "Companioning the Bereaved: a Soulful Guide for Caregivers," Wolfelt briefly mentioned that the concept of "gardening" better describes the process of assisting mourners than the idea of diagnosing/assessing/treating.  Wolfelt is very eager to point out that we should not "treat" grief as a disease.  But he's less clear about what we *should* do.  He doesn't define "gardening," and, in fact, never mentions the idea again in the book.

Gardening is a complicated process; much more complicated than simply sticking the seeds in the ground and watering them.  You need to plan for your particular climate, and for the immediate weather, and possibly long-term over the next two to three months.  You need to consider soil conditions, structure, and nutrients.  You need to consider the availability of water, and plan to water at the appropriate time, and for appropriate periods.

Wolfelt's guide (well, all of his guides) stresses holistic involvement, and the soul, which seems to be just another word for holistic.  He desperately avoids any kind of structure, process, or direct advice.  You are to be kind, and listen, which is great, as far as it goes.  It wouldn't get very far in gardening.  You do have to be holistic, in terms of considering the entire environment in which you are planting and growing, but you have to consider a lot of things in detail.  Wolfelt does not do detail.

You do have to let the seeds tell you what they need.  However, in gardening, if you have provided the wrong thing, you pull the shoots up and throw them away and plant again with different crops.  You can't do that with the bereaved.

You need to learn a lot when you are gardening.  There are other people who have been at this longer than you, and have learned the tricks of the trade.  Many of them would state that they are not expert.  I assume that Master gardeners, who have gained the certification, if they are honest, would say the same thing.

It doesn't matter which of Wolfelt's books you read; "The Journey Through Grief," "The Understanding Your Grief Journal," "Understanding Your Grief," "Companioning the Bereaved," or any of his other, yearly, books; they all contain the same content.  Basically this boils down to listening to the mourning and taking a holistic approach.

If you think that I am exaggerating, I give you an assessment of a list of twenty principles, for companioning the bereaved, from the book "Companioning the Bereaved."  Of the twenty principles, two of them basically point out that there is no point in trying to bring the person back to normal, one says that you should take a spiritual approach, and five of the principles essentially are that you should take a holistic approach, one says that you should create conditions for healing, and one points out that you should take care of yourself.  *Eleven* of the twenty principles essentially say that you should listen to the mourner.  This is even more pronounced when he gets into his tenets of companioning the bereaved.  (I don't know what the difference is between a principle and a tenet in Wolfelt's mind.)  Of the eleven tenets, one says that you should take a spiritual approach.  The other ten tenets essentially say that you should listen to the mourner.

Wolfelt does not define spirit, or soul, or walk alongside, terms that he uses frequently.  He leaves all of these, and many more suggestions, completely undefined.  His lack of definition of them does use an awful lot of words to not say anything in particular.  The only terms that he does define are those he disagrees with, and, in those cases, his objections are to straw man type principles and practices which very few people would use in the way that he is attacking them.

This is not to say that Wolfelt's books are completely useless.  The advice to listen to mourners is good advice.  The statement that grief is not a condition which needs to be treated, or diagnosed, or assessed, is likewise good advice.  And, in all the books, there is definitely material about grief which is useful to present to the mourner.  It's just that the advice, while it may be reordered, restructured, or sometimes reworded, is always the same, and that the advice to be holistic, and to listen, is also always the same.  It does not matter which of Wolfelt's books you read, you get the same benefit from any of them.  So, if I could recommend one, I would just say, pick the shortest one.

Wolfelt's statement that grief is not a condition to be treated, via Western standard medical types of approaches, is somewhat betrayed by his proposal for what he tends to term reconciliation.  Reconciliation, when you do examine what he is suggesting, sounds an awful lot like treatment for grief.  It is the reduction of extreme grief and emotion, and the reconciliation of the fact of the absence of the loved one with in the current life situation.  So, it sounds like Wolfelt does have a treatment: the treatment is reconciliation.

Sore leg and clocks, again ...

My leg has been sore, ever since I helped out at the Salvation Army, moving fridges, and then a filing cabinet, yesterday.  I rested it for a while yesterday afternoon, and someone drove me to grief group last night, so that I wasn't walking on my sore leg.  But the rest yesterday afternoon was a bit broken up, and I did have to walk back from grief group.  I was hoping that the rest overnight, would is the pain a bit, but it was still sore this morning when I went out for the pastor's breakfast.  And then walking over to Johnson it was still sore.  It has eased off a bit during the walk, but then gotten a bit sore again.  But at least the fact that it eased off at one point does seem to indicate that it isn't anything serious.  We'll see how it goes as I'm walking up to the Bible study at First Baptist.  If anybody offers me a ride today I'll probably take it.  And I will definitely try and rest this afternoon, and have a hot soak in a tub this afternoon.

***

So, *that* was three weeks ago, as well.  And my leg stayed sore, and even started to swell and get warm and red (inflamed) for about two weeks after it.  But it did, eventually, settle down, and seems to be back to normal.

And I'm not quite sure what it is with Gloria's old clocks, but the only piece of the Royal Albert Petitpoint china that I kept was the clock.  And, like Gloria's sewing room clock before it, *that* clock has now decided not to run as well.  (At the moment I'm just keeping and displaying it in the china cabinet, but all those clocks have the same clock mechanism, so it must be possible for someone who isn't as hardware-challenged as I am to replace the mechanism ...)

Grief is schizoid

How do I put this?

I am, at the same time, married to Gloria, and Gloria is dead.  I have a life, which is being married to Gloria, taking care of Gloria, discussing everything with Gloria: and at the same time I am alone, bereaved, lonely, and in the wrong city.

But that's not right either.  I am both married, and not married.  I am in a quantum state of marriage.  I am in a quantum state of life.  My life, my old life, my original life, is over.  But I am still alive.  My old life is irrelevant.  At the same time, my old life has made me what I am.  Gloria has made me, to a large extent, what I am now.  At the same time, Gloria is dead.  Gloria is no longer discussing anything with me.  Gloria changed and modified me in all kinds of ways over the past three decades.  But that is no longer happening.

At the same time, my life is changing in all kinds of ways, very rapidly, and is completely different from what it was.  I am not taking care of Gloria.  I am not going to the same meetings, with the same people.  I am not shopping in the same stores.  I moved, or I was moved, from North Vancouver to Delta, and then from Delta to Port Alberni.  I have changed all kinds of things that I am doing.  I am no longer attending churches that I have attended, and where I know people, and where I have known people, for years.  I am doing church shopping, first in Delta, and now in Port Alberni.  I built volunteer jobs in Delta.  Now I am building volunteer jobs in Port Alberni.  I am obtaining volunteer positions in Port Alberni, in completely new areas.  I have the time to do all kinds of these activities because I am no longer taking care of Gloria.  That caretaking/caregiving part of my life is over.  It was the major part of my life.  Now the major part of my life is volunteering, with multiple organizations, and church shopping, and attending Bible studies.

I miss, really, desperately miss, Gloria.  I miss talking to her and discussing everything I am doing, and that she is doing.  At the same time, I am enjoying the volunteering, and researching, and writing, in lots of different directions.  And, on the third hand, I miss discussing all this new stuff with Gloria.

Currently there is a meme doing the rounds of the "grief" social media accounts, about how it's possible, and OK, to both grieve and be grateful (I assume this is because the Americans have just finished their tardy version of Thanksgiving) at the same time, and how we need a new term to describe this type of multitasking.  But, as the grief industry tends to say, repeatedly, mourners always feel that they are going crazy, anyway.  What's a little schizophrenia between the bereaved friends?

(Yeah, I'm way behind.  I started that three weeks ago ...)

My tree

Well, it's not really my tree.  It's the tree at the hospice.

A few weeks back, we had a decorating event at the hospice.  A bunch of the volunteers helped put up some decorations for Christmas.  For some reason, everybody decided to put up other decorations around the place, and nobody worked on the tree.

I've never been big on Christmas.  And it was always Gloria who did the tree.  She only asked me to do that lights.  (That was bad enough.  I mean, 600 mini-lights?  And, when a string goes out, testing all of them?)

But, she would often talk about why she did what she did in terms of building and designing the tree, and, over thirty-five years, I guess I picked up a tip or two.  So I started to put the tree together.  And everybody was off doing their thing (or things).  And I kept going.  And, basically, did the tree.

It's not a patch on Gloria's, of course.  But, apparently, I did get a few things right, because some people have said it looks nice ...

Review of "Good Grief" by Granger E. Westberg

"Good Grief" is definitely a Christian book and approach to grief.  This book, or more likely booklet or pamphlet, is quite short, and comes in a variety of physical formats, all of which contain the same material.  This book was written in 1962, and so doesn't benefit from more recent research in the subject.

The chapters of the book list various stages, although states might be a more accurate description, because the stages described may not come in sequence.  These stages are: one, a state of shock; two, emotions; three, depression and loneliness; four, physical symptoms of distress; five, panic; six, guilt; seven, anger and resentment; eight, resistance to returning to a more normal way of life; nine, hope; and ten, affirm reality.

The benefit of the book is, primarily, that it is short.  It does cover a range of important aspects to the processing of grief, but in a very terse manner.  The discussion of some areas, such as depression, do suffer as a result of the brevity.

Weepy weekend

It's been a weepy weekend.  I suppose that it started on Thursday.  Thursday morning was, and, on an ongoing basis is, a sort of a weird prayer meeting at one church.  I have not attended their Sunday services yet: I think I have mentioned the difficulty in doing church shopping in a place where all the churches meet, simultaneously, at 10:30 AM Sunday morning, and that's it, so you can only do one church a week.  Somewhat ironically, this church resulted from a split/breakaway, from another.  I am doing the sound board at the original church and the Christmas play at the breakaway.  At the time that I got involved in both churches, I had absolutely no idea of the relationship between them.  They were just the first two churches that asked me for help with specific tasks.

So, anyway, prayer meeting.  One of the people attending, at two different times, talked about things that reminded me of Gloria.  So, both times I cried.  Anyway, that's understandable: something reminded me of Gloria, and I cried.  But, maybe that set me up for subsequent grief bursts?  I don't know.

Later, Thursday afternoon, I had a disappointing experience with one of the midweek church events.  And then, in a group which had been, in a sense, prescribed to me, I got dumped on from a great height.  So that wasn't terrific.  It didn't precipitate any grief bursts, possibly because I was working out the anger at the time.  However, the emotional involvement of those experiences might have contributed to the weepy weekend.

Friday I had my counseling group.  This is not a group where I am receiving counseling, it's where I am doing the counseling.  It's not heavy duty counseling: it's a walk and talk situation, with a few guys, and basically I'm just there to listen, and lend a sympathetic ear.  Occasionally, when they say something that relates to my experience with Gloria, I might throw in that, just to keep the pump primed and keep them talking.  So that, at least, relates to grief, and may have contributed to later raw emotion.  Again, I don't know.  Otherwise Friday was uneventful: I had to wait around my place for someone to come and install shower doors, and, because of that, and because I didn't have any other events to go to, I was somewhat oddly productive, and have managed then, and subsequently over the weekend, to get most of the remaining unpacking done, and some cleanup around my place.  There was also a virtual meeting, with the Vancouver Security Special Interest Group (SecSIG), which may have served to remind me that I am alone here in Port Alberni with none of my friends.  But then again, after Gloria died, I lost most of my friends anyway, because pretty much all of them are absolutely terrified that I am going to talk about Gloria, or death, or grief, all of which are taboo subjects in our society.

So, Saturday I started having minor grief bursts.  But I had rather a lot of them.  And then, in the early afternoon, we were practicing the Christmas play, and I had rather a strong one.  And then some more subsequently.  And then Sunday, I had a couple more, and, while I was at the church setting up the sound board, and getting ready for the service, I had a really big one.  And all of a sudden realized that I was really, intensely, absolutely, desperately, lonely.  I have no friends.  I have no friends in Port Alberni.  Oh, I've met some nice people.  Of course, I never really had all that many friends anyways, and so it's not as if there are fewer friends here in Port Alberni then there were in North Vancouver, or Vancouver, or even Delta.  And, as I say, almost all the friends that I did have are absolutely terrified that I'm going to talk about Gloria, death, grief, etc, etc, and, if they are that terrified, and I can't talk to them, who needs them anyways?  I've lost Gloria, and that was the only person I wanted to talk to anyway.  Gloria was always my favorite person to talk to.  Gloria was my best friend.  So it's not exactly Port Alberni's fault.

Yes, I have been on many changes, and yes it's unbelievable, to me.  I thought I had written up something about this and posted it on the blog, but, looking back through the blog, I can't find it so I guess I haven't.  I think I've dictated something out, and haven't tidied it up, and edited it, and posted it, to the effect that it's very weird the way you feel during grief.  On the one hand I am Gloria's husband, and I am Gloria's caregiver, and that is my life, and, simultaneously, Gloria is dead, I have no job, I am in the wrong place, and my new life, which is not a rebuilding of my own life, but a completely new life, because it is so completely different, has all kinds of activities in it, and is just completely weird in comparison to my previous life with Gloria.  One of the things I did post on the blog was a screenshot of my phone showing my calendar, completely chock-a-block full, under the subject line "I've only been in town for five minutes."  On the one hand I am a grieving widower, with a dead wife, and displaced from my home.  On the other hand, I am an active volunteer with the local emergency support services, the local hospice society, on the board of the literacy society, the Privacy Officer for my strata, and volunteering at a number of churches, while church shopping.  Go and grieve in peace?  I don't have any bloody peace!

One of the things that all of the grief counselors, and grief books, tell you is that no, you are not crazy, everyone who is bereaved goes through this.  Or, alternatively, yes, you are crazy, but everybody goes a little crazy, and eventually you work it out.  What they don't specifically state is that the craziness is very much of the schizoid variety.  You are simultaneously living two lives: one the life that you had before, which is finished, but which you still remember, and for which you had all your plans and schedules and everything else, and the other, completely new, completely different life that you are actually living now.

Grief is weird.

Grief bibliography

This entry is primarily a reference for the Alberni Valley Hospice Society library, and will be added to, regularly, as I plow through it.  (Keep checking: I won't be making any specific note of additions.)

See also the caregivers bibliography: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/02/caregivers-bibliography.html

See also: End-of-Life bibliography: https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/05/end-of-life-bibliography.html

Review of absolutely any book about grief written by Alan D. Wolfelt https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-absolutely-any-book-about.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1466263/

"Be the Noodle" by Lois Kelly https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/02/review-of-be-noodle-by-lois-kelly.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1168926/

"Coping with Bereavement" by Hamish McIlwraith https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-coping-with-bereavement-by.html

"The Depression of Grief" by Alan Wolfelt https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-depression-of-grief-by-alan.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1605561/

"Finding the Words" by Colin Campbell https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/05/review-of-finding-words-by-colin.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/record/C__Rb1636524__Sfinding%20the%20words__P0%2C1__Orightresult__U__X7

"Good Grief" by Granger E. Westberg https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-good-grief-by-granger-e.html

"Grief" by Chris Mammarelli/Kevin Cross/Kevin Renwick https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-grief-by-chris.html

"Grief," by Svend Brinkmann https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/01/review-of-grief-by-svend-brinkmann.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1550893/

"Grief is the Thing With Feathers" by Max Porter https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/11/review-of-grief-is-thing-with-feathers.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1400527/

"Grief Share" program https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/01/review-of-grief-share-program.html

"The Grieving Brain," by Mary-Frances O'Connor https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/07/review-of-grieving-brain-by-mary.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1612830/

"I Don't Know What to Say" by Robert Buckman https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/05/review-of-i-dont-know-what-to-say-by.html

"It's Okay That You're Not Okay" by Megan Devine https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/03/review-of-its-okay-that-youre-not-okay.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1415508/

"Life is Hard" by Kiernan Setiya https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-life-is-hard-by-kiernan-setiya.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1623551/

"The Long Grief Journey" by Pamela D. Blair and Bradie McCabe Hansen https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/05/review-of-long-grief-journey-by-pamela.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/record/C__Rb1636122__S__Orightresult

"The Lost Art of Listening" by Michael P. Nichols https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/03/review-of-lost-art-of-listening-by.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1343287/

"Men and Grief," by Carol Staudacher https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-men-and-grief-by-carol.html

"Men Don't Cry Women Do" by Martin and Doka https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/02/review-of-men-dont-cry-women-do-by.html

"On Grief and Grieving" by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/11/review-of-on-grief-and-grieving.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1057374/

"A Path Through Loss," by Nancy Reeves https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2022/12/review-of-path-through-loss-by-nancy.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/reviews/Sb1400792/

"A Pocket Full of Happiness" by Richard E. Grant

https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/11/not-quite-review-of-pocket-full-of.html

"Searching for the Silver Linings" by Pamela Rosemary Adams https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/05/review-of-searching-for-silver-linings.html https://search.virl.bc.ca/iii/encore/record/C__Rb1025894__Ssearching%20for%20the%20Silver%20linings__Orightresult__U__X7

"Widower" by Elin Schoen Brockman https://fibrecookery.blogspot.com/2023/03/review-of-widower-by-elin-schoen.html

Snow

Yet another dump of snow last night.  Mostly between 1 and 3 AM.

There was a pass down our parking lot, about 5:00 a.m. when I headed out, seemingly nobody was up yet.  I shoveled the walkway enough that my neighbors on either side could get out to the plowed strip down the middle, and shoveled both sides of my car, and far enough down the side of my nearest neighbor's car that she could get out and into it.

The temperature isn't as cold as it has been.  I'm pretty sure the temperature is above freezing, and the snow is definitely slushy.  In the ruts where cars have driven through the snow, there are definitely pools and rivers of standing water.  When I headed out, just about nobody had even started to shovel sidewalks, although I started to see some activity of clearing sidewalks as I got towards the end of my trip.  The plowing trucks have been down major routes, for at least one pass.  But most of the residential streets have no clearing at all, as yet, so I had to pick my roots carefully to even to walk down the streets to get to the library, and then to my first meeting.  I wonder if anybody will be showing up for the meeting: I'm pretty early, because I didn't know how long it was going to take to get here.  Then I've definitely got a second meeting, and I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to get there.  But that's the rehearsal for the Christmas play, and, from the indications of the last rehearsal, we very definitely need the practice.

With the warmer temperatures, and the indications of the snow melt that I've seen already, I suspect that this snow will not last as long as the last batch.  The indications at the library are that there's only two or three inches on the ground.  And they're periods of rain forecast over the next few days, so I suspect that the roads will be fairly clear within a couple of days. But, for the purposes of walking, I certainly hope that some clearance takes place before then.  If people will get out and shovel their sidewalks today, there's a good chance that they will be completely free and clear by tonight.  But it only takes one person in the block not shoveling their walk to make the sidewalk impassable, and then you have to walk on the road anyways, because there's no way to get from the sidewalk onto the road with the pile of snow that has been plowed off the road and to the side.