Month: May 2023

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5/31/23

Did you hear about the incredible discovery in Loch Ness? No, I’m not talking about the Loch Ness Monster. It turns out that Loch Ness has a more believable claim to fame, even though you may find the truth in this case to be stranger than fiction.

The news out of Scotland this week is about a 75-year-old woman who can feel no pain. (NY Mets fans everywhere take note: At last a remedy for our suffering may be on the way.) This latest X-Men prospect is Jo Cameron, and studies have confirmed that she lives a pain-free life. She doesn’t even feel anxiety or fear. So, what’s the source of Ms. Cameron’s amazing abilities? After six years of investigation, researchers are finally prepared to say that Ms. Cameron has a rare mutated gene.

That’s quite a secret she’s been keeping all this time. I’m sure when she experienced pain-free childbirth that she must’ve had some clue she possessed superhero abilities. So, why didn’t her doctors raise any flags?

The medical community didn’t take note of Ms. Cameron’s mutant abilities until she turned 65 and sought treatment for an issue with her hip, which involved severe joint degeneration, although she experienced no pain. She demonstrated her abilities again a year later when she had surgery on her hand, a surgery for which treatment is normally very painful.

“I had no idea until a few years ago that there was anything that unusual about how little pain I feel, ” she said. “I just thought it was normal. I would be elated if any research into my own genetics could help other people who are suffering.”

But when she reported she had no pain, her doctor wouldn’t even refer her to another doctor, stating that another doctor wouldn’t touch her unless she had pain.

Following the latest analysis, however, scientists are finally ready to say that Ms. Cameron’s mutated genes have the same biological mechanisms that are thought to allow wounds to heal more rapidly. Even Ms. Cameron confesses that when she was growing up, she often didn’t notice cuts and tended to heal very quickly. She noticed burns only when the burns were severe enough for her to smell the burning flesh. That definitely qualifies her to be an X-Men (move over Wolverine).

It turns out that the rare gene is well-known to pain researchers. Scientists have found mice that experience the same reduced pain sensation, accelerated wound healing, enhanced fear-extinction memory, and reduced anxiety.

“Now that we are uncovering how this newly identified gene works,” one researcher said, “we hope to make further progress on new treatment targets.”

Researchers encourage anyone else with these same abilities to come forward.

“Yes, step right into this sealed laboratory,” said every evil scientist in the world.

If this were a Hollywood movie, this would be the part of the story where the innocent benefactor with the super blood gets kidnapped so that her blood can be extracted and sold to the highest bidder. So, if you do have this pain-free ability, I think you should give pause before you call attention to yourself.

Better yet, contact Funny Travel Tales for a free consultation.

#thePurpleProcrastinatoroffersbodyguardservices

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5/30/23

I hate putting the goat mouth on cruising. If you don’t know what “goat mouth” means, it’s when you lie or speak negatively about something and your words come back to bite you in the ass. In other words, it’s like a jinx.

As I’ve said many times on this blog, we love cruising. My fantastic neighbors Bev and Steve got us hooked in 2012, and we’ve been cruisers ever since. Bev’s a travel agent (CruisingSmart.com), and she taught us a long time ago that if you sail on a smaller ship you’re going to feel the waves more. Sure enough, we booked a small ship (the Carnival Sensation) for our very first cruise, and we could feel the ship sway when the sea got rough. It didn’t both Donna or I much, but Brad and Leah were nauseated, which we addressed by buying them sea-sickness bands (they work by pressing on an acupuncture point on the wrist).

Problem solved. But the point is that boats are going to rock. Which brings me back to why I’m going to risk goat-mouthing myself today. We’ve got three cruises coming up this year, and I don’t want to get anybody mad at me because I’m sure the cruise lines generally prioritize the safety of their passengers, but what the Carnival Sunshine passengers went through this weekend was ridiculous.

While sailing from the Bahamas to its home port in Charleston, SC, the Carnival Sunshine opted to sail right through a storm. Even Aquaman doesn’t do that. Do they not show episodes of Gilligan’s Island at cruise-ship captain school? The YouTube video below provides a glimpse of conditions on the ship during the storm.

Passengers aboard the Sunshine described shattered glass, water pouring into rooms and hallways, and cabin furnishings being pitched about. Passengers also complained about a lack of communication from cruise staff. One passenger tweeted that it sounded like the ship had been split in two when a huge wave struck it.

The storm surge lasted for 12 hours, which included 80 mph winds with up to 17-foot swells. After surviving the experience, one passenger stated that he “was surprised he was still alive.”

Don’t expect to find that quote in the Carnival brochure. But the facts are that the captain (or the captain’s boss) made the decision to sail through a storm rather than attempt to go around it or remain in the Bahamas for another day. (I’ve been to the Bahamas. They are very accommodating people.) I’m sure the decision to tackle the storm will cost Carnival financially. But I feel worse for the passengers who were subjected to such a terrifying experience.

In the days to come, maybe more information will be provided about why the ship made the decision it did. I assume passengers will be compensated in some way for their unforgettable voyage. Just don’t expect any of them to be in any particular hurry to see The Little Mermaid movie.

#seacaptainssufferfrompierpressure

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5/29/23

You may have asked yourself, “Why do Americans honor their veterans on two separate holidays?” Is it so no one can question our patriotism? Are we just trying to outdo other countries? Are there actual differences between those two holidays? Inquiring minds want to know.

Veterans Day, not to be mistaken for Veterinarians Day, is officially observed on November 11 (always), regardless of the day it falls on, and honors Americans who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces. Memorial Day also honors Americans who have served, but celebrations are held in much warmer weather, on the last Monday of May. So, it that the only difference, the weather? One holiday occurs right before summer and the other before winter?

Come on. This is the U.S. We’ve got a backstory for everything.

The holidays, although they commemorate the sacrifices of thousands of American service members, are distinctly different. Memorial Day is the older of the two holidays, having its roots in the Civil War. First known as Decoration Day, it was instituted by former Union Army Maj. Gen. John A. Logan in May of 1868, three years after the Civil War ended, as a time for the nation to decorate the graves of the war dead with flowers. (We visited General Logan’s statue in Logan Circle during our last visit to Washington, DC.)

The general said he inaugurated the observance with the hope that “it will be kept up from year to year…” The first large observance was held that year at Arlington National Cemetery.

On the other hand, the establishment of Veterans Day as a national holiday had a different purpose. It stemmed from the armistice that ended combat in World War I on Nov. 11, 1918 and honored all who served in the U.S. Armed Forces in that war. Officially called “Armistice Day” in 1926, it became a national holiday 12 years later.

The holiday would probably still be known as Armistice Day if World War I, “The War to End All Wars,” had lived up to its nickname. Instead, it was followed by World War II, which prompted requests for a holiday to honor those who served America in all wars instead of just World War I. In 1954, President Eisenhower signed the bill that officially changed the name of the holiday from Armistice Day to Veterans Day and broadened its purpose.

So, the short answer to what’s the difference between Memorial Day and Veterans Day comes down to this: Although both honor the sacrifices of innumerable individuals who sacrificed themselves to preserve the freedoms all Americans enjoy today, Memorial Day remembers those who gave their lives, while Veterans Day honors all who served in the U.S. Armed Forces.

All veterans deserve to be honored. So, to all my friends, neighbors, and readers who are veterans, thank you for your service. But I want to give a special silent salute to the veteran that Donna and I encountered on last month’s trip to DC.

He was one of two elderly veterans being escorted in wheelchairs when we encountered him in the hotel elevator. When Donna noticed the commemorative Armed Forces baseball cap that the man closest to her was wearing, she thanked him for his service. That’s when things went sour.

She meant to honor him. Instead, the man’s frown deepened and he uttered a scornful comment, something about how meaningless her statement was. Donna responded with a polite smile. Then the elevator door opened and we parted.

For those veterans who take offense to being thanked that way, we beg your pardon. A 10-second elevator ride doesn’t allow for many deep conversations. The comment wasn’t meant to diminish your value or the sacrifices you made. We understand that some veterans don’t like to be thanked or would prefer an alternate greeting.

#wewishyouwell

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5/26/23

Looking at the sketches above fills me with hope that one day my doodles, like Walt Disney’s, will one day lead me to my own worldwide, mass media, and entertainment conglomerate with a myriad of amusement parks named after me. Just kidding. The parks don’t have to be named after me.

If anything, the parks should be named after Donna. As Mark Twain said, “Behind every successful man there is a woman…” I couldn’t agree more. Donna’s always back there somewhere pushing and pinching, helping and hollering. But I digress. The point is that whenever I have a problem, Donna’s first instinct is to fix it, even when she probably shouldn’t get involved.

If you sense a story coming on, you must have ESPN (or some other sports network). In my last blog post, I talked about the time I worked at Disney, which didn’t turn out to be the flowers-and-sunshine experience I thought it would be. In fact, it was the opposite, due largely to the intense hatred I somehow inspired from my coworker next door. I know. It’s hard to believe lovable me could provoke anything but admiration, but it’s true. I was like Dorothy and my coworker was like the Wicked Witch of the West, except not as nice.

Let’s just call her Cruella, so I can maintain plausible deniability if she reads this. Cruella had one rule: Keep the noise down, and by “keep it down” she meant she wanted silence. I discovered that during my first week at Disney when I called Donna on my lunch break to tell her how things were going. As soon as I’d completed my call, Cruella marched into my office.

“You can’t do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“You can’t talk on the phone while I’m working. How do you expect me to concentrate?”

“I’m sorry. Was I too loud? I can try to talk quieter.”

“No, that won’t do. Wait until I’m not here to make your calls.”

I had a cell phone, of course. But I also had a ton of work. And jumping up from my desk every time I wanted to make a call just wasn’t convenient. Cruella’s request for silence seemed ridiculous. But instead of complaining to my boss, I did my best to comply. Meanwhile, Cruella used her office phone to make calls all the time, mostly to doctors to complain about her bad back. I used those opportunities to make whisper calls to Donna but hung up as soon as Cruella got off her call.

Frustrated, I whined to Donna on my ride home and continued my tirade over dinner.

“I can’t even have visitors in my office. When someone comes by to drop off work, sometimes I’ll engage them in conversation. But as soon as they leave, she storms into my office and tells me that if I want to have conversations, I should take them down the hall.”

Donna listened intently. When she spoke, she froze with me the stare of an assassin.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. What’s her name?”

I had no idea why Donna wanted her name, but I knew better than to question her. Days passed and nothing changed. I worked in silence like a prisoner in isolation. I had no friends or time to even think about making friends. All I had was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Then one day, Cruella didn’t come into work. My boss said she’d call in sick with a bad back. I felt like Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption. I put my feet up, I cranked up some music, and I said heck to the consequences. I was going to enjoy myself. It was a great day.

The next day was the same, and so was the next. When my boss told me that Cruella had quit, I was stunned. My mind immediately flashed to Donna. Was it her doing? Had she somehow made calls behind the scene that brought about Cruella’s demise.

“Hello, IRS? Yes, I’d like to leave an anonymous tip about some fraudulent medical deductions.”

Or had Donna simply called Cruella and told her that she was the winner of the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes. All she had to do was get to Peru to claim the prizes.

For a time, I even speculated that voodoo might’ve been involved. But I never saw Donna sticking pins into anything. And Donna claims innocence to this day.

“What? Who me?”

Whatever powers she employed, my problem with Cruella went away. Unfortunately, I inherited all of Cruella’s work. With twice the work to do, I found myself in an untenable situation. In short time, I began applying for other jobs, and within three months I was an ex-Disney employee.

But I learned a valuable lesson from that experience. I learned that some jobs were just not meant to be. I also learned to be wary about wishing ill of anyone in earshot of Donna.

#itmustbeniceitmustbenicetohaveDonnaonyourside

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5/25/23

For many people, the mention of Disney conjures up strong feelings. (At this point, you can insert any opinions you have on the political battle between Disney and Ron DeSantis. I’d rather spare my readers any more talk on that subject, so let’s continue.) Disney might remind you of some great vacation you had, or about spending time with your kids at the parks or on a cruise, or about those Disney movies that have become required viewing. But strong feelings aren’t necessarily good feelings.

Just ask the employees who belonged to the 7,000 positions Disney just eliminated in its third wave of layoffs this year (the first coming in March, the second coming in April, and the third coming this week). The job cuts, which represent roughly 3% of Disney’s global workforce of 220,000, will save Disney roughly $5.5 billion. And even though Disney recently raised admission prices at the parks, they lost billions of dollars during the pandemic.

Thus the layoffs, which are part of Disney’s “cost-saving measures” to create a “streamlined approach to our business,” said CEO Bob Iger.

It’s ironic that Iger should talk about streamlining considering that Disney’s growth has dragged down because of its enormous investment in “streaming,” which is a very crowded market. The company has quickly become a major player in the fiercely competitive online video business, amassing 235 million paid subscribers across Disney+, Hulu and ESPN+. But the high cost of producing content has left its streaming assets deep in the red. The company reported a $1 billion loss in its direct-to-consumer arm in the first quarter of 2023. 

“In tough moments, we must always do what is required to ensure Disney can continue delivering exceptional entertainment to audiences and guests around the world,” Iger said.

That’s such a Bob Iger thing to say. Did I mention that when I worked for Disney in 2005 Bob Iger was the CEO? He worked for Disney from 2005 to 2020 before being rehired again in 2022. My tenure at Disney was considerably shorter, and I was never rehired, nor did I ever expect to be considering the circumstances surrounding my departure.

I worked at Disney for three tumultuous months. I came home with headaches every day, the commute was long, and I was despised by the person working in the office next to mine. So much for pixie dust.

Otherwise, I enjoyed my time at Disney. The perks were generous, my boss was kind, and I received high praise for my work. Did I mention the perks? Oh, I did? I guess what I’m trying to say it that I didn’t care about the perks. I hated my job.

For some people, Disney is The Happiest Place on Earth. It wasn’t for me. I recognized that right away, which is why I started looking for another job almost as soon as I got there. As far as I was concerned, my job at Disney was like a bad relationship. Disney was that high-maintenance partner who makes a million demands, tires you out, then wonders why you’re not happy to be in her company. I plotted my escape.

I don’t like thinking of myself as the villain in this story, but sometimes it feels like I was. My boss certainly could’ve used more notice that I was leaving. But I’d found another job quicker than I’d expected, so I couldn’t afford to stay longer than I did. Was it my fault that I got another job on Christmas Eve?

At the department holiday party, the mood was festive, the catering was fantastic, and there was a touch of Disney magic in the air. Maybe it was black magic. I don’t know. People exchanged gifts and handshakes, but I was terrified. I didn’t know how to tell my boss I was leaving, so I put it off. Suddenly, she announced to the room that she was heading out and wished us all a Merry Christmas. I ran after her and squeezed into the elevator. It was just me and her.

“Did you have a good time, Michael?”

“Couldn’t have been better.”

“That’s good. I’ve got some last-minute Christmas shopping to do, but otherwise I’m looking forward to going home and relaxing. Got any plans this weekend?”

“Uh, yeah. My plans include leaving Disney. I got another job. I start next week. I’m sorry.”

You try saying that to somebody and see if your knees don’t shake. I felt like throwing up as I watched her eyes widen in panic. When we reached the ground floor, she waved a feeble goodbye to me and pressed the elevator button to go back upstairs.

“Damn. Now I have to find a replacement for you. I can’t go home until I do that,” she mumbled sadly.

I’d just overturned any plans she’d had for a relaxing evening. As the elevator door closed, I knew she might have a long night ahead of her. She was a very responsible boss and frequently prioritized the department’s needs over her own. I hope things turned out okay for her and the team after I left. But it was a business decision. Nothing personal.

Which takes us back to those 7,000 Disney employees who’ve been laid off this year. That was a business decision too. So, I suppose Bob Iger and I share that in common. We both cut our losses with little regard for the consequences. But does that mean we made the right decision?

Like I said, sometimes I feel like the Disney villain in this story.

#Disney’slayoffdecisionissocoldDonaldDuckputonpants

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5/24/23

According to the Orca Behavior Institute, humans have had NUMEROUS negative interactions with orcas. Duh. And water is wet, right? What species on this planet don’t humans negatively interact with?

Orcas are hunted for food in small numbers, or killed to control their population, or threated by contaminants in the ocean and seas. “You call that news?” said every other sea creature that’s ever lived.

Here’s how the orcas situation is different.

Earlier this month a group of orcas decided to fight back. They attacked a yacht in Spain and sank it. Although they’re known as killer whales, orcas are highly intelligent, social mammals in the dolphin (not whale) family. So, what could’ve prompted the attack? Have we finally pushed orcas too far? And, if so, are authorities prepared to say, “You’re gonna’ need a bigger boat”?

In this month’s incident, the orcas in question rammed the hull of a yacht and shook the rudder, prompting the Spanish coast guard to tow the ship to port where it sank. The incident is the third case in recent years of a vessel sinking after a seemingly orchestrated orca attack, prompting some to theorize that the orcas were motivated by revenge, payback for all the underwater noise pollution or the overfishing of their food supplies. Perhaps it’s a delayed reaction to the Blackfish documentary.

“I wouldn’t rule out that orcas can feel anger or revenge, but I just haven’t seen any evidence that that’s what’s going on here,” said the director of the Orca Behavior Institute.

The most plausible explanation is that the orcas are simply playing a game, another expert said. Orcas, apparently, can get caught up in fads or gamelike behaviors, which they can spread throughout the groups they travel in, which are called pods. So, the speculation is that one orca interacted with a vessel, found it fun or stimulating, and then told two friends about it, who told two friends, who told two friends… In particular, something about the ship’s rudder captured their attention.

Fortunately, the aggressive behavior is not likely to spread to other pods because orca pod populations don’t intermingle. This particular fun-loving, ship-sinking pod contains about 40 orcas and dwells off the coasts of Spain and Portugal. That’s a lot of killer whales playing Monkey See Monkey Do. But here’s the question: Do orcas even know how to end the game? Can someone call a timeout?

Experts hope the game will end on its own. But I don’t see how anyone can pin their hope on being able to predict what amounts to rowdy Spring Break behavior.

“The games are popular for a while,” the Orca Behavior Institute said. “They kind of come out of nowhere; all the whales are doing it, and then it suddenly stops for no apparent reason. And so hopefully for people’s sake and for the whales’ sake, that’s what ends up happening here.”

Uh-huh. Uh-huh. So that’s the best the scientific community can come up with in terms of a solution, hoping that the ship-attack fad will peter out? Does no one realize how long it took for the bell-bottom fad to go away? No, wait. I think they’re back.

Either way, if orcas keep sinking boats off Spain, somebody better come up with a way to distract them. Perhaps someone should set up an underwater screen and show them the new Little Mermaid movie.

#nowhalesgetkilledintheLittleMermaidright?

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5/23/23

The news this week is full of stories about Tyrannosaurus rex. Although the T. rex lived during the Late Cretaceous period (no, Jurassic Park isn’t accurate, but it does have a better ring), it more recently lived at my house during the ’60s. That’s when I owned almost every conceivable plastic dinosaur, although T. rex was my favorite.

I must have stepped on that dinosaur barefoot a hundred times. Hard plastic provides the kind of pain you don’t forget. That’s how you know you love something. Yet I never threw any of my dinosaurs away. That was my mom’s job, and every time she did toss one, I’d fish it out of the garbage. I was especially protective of my T. rex. Still am.

That’s why this week’s scientific discovery about T. rex has me up in arms. A new paleo-biomechanics study proposes that the dinosaur ran slower than previously estimated, in the ballpark of 10 to 25 mph. So, once again Jurassic Park has misled us. Remember the scene where the jeep had trouble outpacing the T. rex? (Jeep manufacturers probably want a rematch now). But even more demeaning for the mighty T. rex is the new estimate of its walking speed: 3 mph. I can walk 3 mph backward.

And, as if that weren’t emasculating enough, scientists are also now saying that T. rex‘s mouth didn’t look like we thought it did. T. rex has always been portrayed with razor-sharp teeth jutting out of its jaw, even with its mouth closed. That depiction was based on its closest relative, the crocodile. Also, scientists assumed that the dinosaur’s teeth, which grew up to six inches long, were too large to fit inside its mouth. The new theory, instead, proposes that T. rex‘s teeth were covered by lips.

Not according to that great purveyor of dinosaur knowledge from my youth, Hasbro, Inc. Are today’s scientists trying to tell me that my beloved T. rex plastic toy wasn’t anatomically correct? Apparently so.

The new version of T. rex has scaly, lizard-like lips covering its teeth. (Oh, please, not lips like Mick Jagger!) To confirm their theory, scientists analyzed the teeth of T. rex‘s direct ancestor and found that the enamel was almost intact. This would not have been the case if the tooth had been exposed to dry air constantly like the teeth of crocodiles, which go through as many as 3,000 teeth during their lifetime because they’re not protected by lips. However, T. rex required two years to replace just one tooth, proof that it had lips like other reptiles.

Hmm. I don’t know why scientists always have to suck the life out of childhood fantasies. But even hiding their teeth, T. rex is still pretty scary looking. All it takes is one look at T. rex‘s modern descendant, the iguana, to know that you don’t want to mess with any lizard, especially, if you find one in your toilet hissing at you, which is what happened to one Florida resident recently.

Iguanas don’t care whether they have lips or not. The one in the photo just wants to know when filming starts for its breakout movie Iguana Park.

#IguanaParkisthepropertyofMichaelRivera

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5/22/23

Mermaids have been on my mind lately. No, it’s not because the live-action movie The Little Mermaid opens on May 26. Although that’s definitely going to cause some hubbub worth mentioning in a future post.

The reason that mermaids are featured in today’s post is because those iconic sea creatures appear prominently in some of Virgin Voyages logos. What’s Virgin Voyages? It’s the latest excuse Donna and I are using to get excited about another cruise.

Donna secured reservations for our June Virgin Voyages cruise yesterday, aboard a ship scandalously named the Scarlet Lady, and it’s all we’ve been talking about ever since. In past posts I’ve confessed how Donna and I don’t really enjoy cruising with children, which is why Celebrity Cruises is one of our favorite cruise lines. They cater to an older crowd, although children aren’t prohibited.

With Virgin Voyages, however, no passengers under the age of 18 are allowed, which is music to our ears. It means we don’t have to deal with snot-nose kids pressing all the buttons on the elevators or long lines for the self-serve ice cream station or pint-size Rembrandts drawing penises on our door (see my blog post “Celebrity Cruises“). Kids do the darndest things, don’t they? And what vivid imaginations they have. Who doesn’t love sailing with such lovable munchkins?

Is the sarcasm coming through? In addition to being kid-free, here’s a list of some of the other freebies that come with a Virgin Voyages cruise:

All Food—From casual to refined dining.

Beverages—Still and sparkling water, non-pressed juices, sodas, teas, and even drip coffee.

Wifi—Wherever you are on the ship.

Gratuities—Onboard tipping is on the house.

Fitness Classes—Yoga, meditation, cycling, high-intensity interval training classes, including sleeping through all those classes, are covered.

Shows & Entertainment—Supposedly, all the awe-inspiring shows we can handle.

Our itinerary includes sailing out of Miami, a stop in Key West (one of our favorite destinations), and then Bimini in the Bahamas, an island we’ve yet to visit.

I could go on and on, but then you might be tempted to make a reservation of your own and that would spoil my upcoming post. For those curious about a Virgin Voyages experience, I recommend patiently waiting for my review. In the meantime, if you absolutely must cruise, try one of those ships that caters to all those darling, screaming kids and hope that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

#kidsgivebabygoatsabadname

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5/19/23

Donna and I had a pizza lunch with my sister Naomi yesterday. Between chewy bites we got to talking about the story I’d written about her daughter Valerie and her search for her father Francisco (see When the Mountain Calls and When the Mountain Calls Part II). While I was writing the story, I had reached out to my sister with questions. But she was always busy at work and didn’t respond. Now she’s retired. So, when we started talking about the story yesterday, she was like a runaway freight train. I couldn’t stop her from talking. I suspect the cheesy pizza might’ve helped loosen her tongue.

“Let me tell you the real story,” she said.

We sat up in our seats. The “real story”? When someone tells you that, you’re supposed to sit up out of respect for the storyteller. But I couldn’t imagine what was left of Valerie’s story to tell. She’d grown up without a dad, gone to Puerto Rico on a whim, located him and a new family she’d never met, experienced love and happiness with her dad, and then watched him die. It’s your classic tale about lost love found and the inescapability of fate.

But my sister was part of the story. She was as main a character as Valerie and Francisco. And she wanted to have her say.

“I never talked bad about him. From the time she was very young, I told Valerie that her dad loved her. She’d ask me, ‘But if he loved me, why did he go away?’ I didn’t tell her the real reason he was gone.”

Naomi was 17 when she had Valerie. Francisco was 26. But she’d known him since she was 13. From the day they met, he was obsessed with her. Naomi told us that our cousin Elsa had introduced them when we used to go to my cousin’s house. But Naomi felt uncomfortable giving Francisco her real name. So, she told him her name was Rosa, so he wouldn’t be able to find her. (In Part II of the story, I mention how Valerie had seen the name “Rosa” tattooed across her father’s knuckles.)

Of course, he eventually tracked Naomi down. In fact, he went so far as to tell my mother that he wanted to marry Naomi when she turned 18. They never married, but they did live together for a brief time. That’s when Valerie was born.

“Maybe you shouldn’t put this in the story,” Naomi said. (Sorry, Naomi, but it’s an important detail.) “He was an alcoholic and he pushed me. That’s why I left him and went back to live with mom. But I never told Valerie about that. I didn’t know if she’d want to know her father if she knew he was an alcoholic.”

It was a stunning admission. Naomi didn’t want to discourage Valerie from seeking out Francisco, so she kept his alcoholism a secret. Had Valerie known, maybe she wouldn’t have sought him out. Which means she might not have enjoyed the 19-year relationship she had with her dad, or all the wonderful trips to Puerto Rico, or all the relatives she came to know. Naomi had made a quiet gamble on love in the hope that Valerie and Francisco would one day reunite. She didn’t do it for any reward or a pat on the back.

But she got one anyway—from him.

Shortly after Valerie reunited with Francisco, Naomi received a call from him. A lifetime had passed since she was his Rosa. He wanted to thank Naomi for not telling Valerie about his alcoholism. He also wanted to say that he still loved Naomi.

No, this is not the point in the story where I tell you that Naomi and Francisco got back together. That boat had long since sailed. But it must have been a satisfying moment for my sister, to know that she’d been part of something special. Valerie met her dad at 19, then miraculously spent the next 19 years making up for lost time with him.

Except alcoholism doesn’t care about lost time. It’s a progressive disease with a genetic component that affects men more than women. And when it hits, it hits hard.

Twenty-four million Americans 18 years and older make up the top 10 percent of people who drink more than 50 percent of all alcohol. To be part of the top 10 percent, a person would have to drink two bottles of wine with every dinner or 74 alcoholic drinks per week. Incredible but true.

My father was an alcoholic, so I’ve seen what it can do unless you can reverse course. My father was lucky. Francisco wasn’t.

Despite Naomi’s effort to keep Francisco’s alcoholism a secret, the damage was done by the time Valerie came into his life. Valerie’s story has a bittersweet ending, but at least she has a story, a story that gets fuller and fuller every time someone contributes to it. That’s the way stories should be.

Let’s have lunch again sometime, Naomi. I’ve got a bunch of Funny Travel Tales that I need to get your take on.

#animalstellboringstoriesbecausetheyonlyhaveonetail

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5/18/23

We interrupt your regularly scheduled blog for a moment. Why? Because the pain in my ring finger is too distracting to type. My ring finger is so swollen, I can’t even slide the ring up an eighth of an inch. I used to be able to slide it off easily.

But it’s been a while. In fact, I can’t tell you the last time I took my wedding ring off. Might’ve been when Hoover was president. Rings are powerful symbols and not to be tampered with. I suppose that’s why Sauron, the evil embodiment in The Lord of the Rings movies, was fond of saying:

One ring to rule them all,

One ring to find them, 

One ring to bring them all,

And in the darkness bind them

J. R. R. Tolkien might not have been talking about a wedding ring, and I’m more of a with-this-ring-I-thee-wed kind of guy anyway. But I share his sentiment when he describes the inescapable attraction of the One ring. That’s the way I feel about my wedding ring. It’s my “Precious,” although not in the freaky, obsessive way Gollum thought about his ring.

But when I looked at my ring today, I noticed that a situation had developed. My ring of power was choking the life out of me. Over the years, I suppose my fingers have put on weight like the rest of me. But I wasn’t used to seeing my ring finger so swollen. (I’ve been doing a lot of yard work, so that might have something to do with it.)

Oh, well. Time to get the ring resized, I said to myself. But when I tried to free myself, the ring wouldn’t budge. My finger hurt and turned purple, and I was suddenly faced with the embarrassing prospect of having to wake Donna up to announce that I needed a finger amputation.

“Oh, honey. Instead of going on that cruise we’ve been planning, how do you feel about investing in some life-saving surgery for me?”

I actually didn’t have to say anything to her. I just showed her my finger. She immediately left the room and returned with Vaseline. After a few tugs she determined two things: A) Vaseline wasn’t going to be enough, and B) I have no pain tolerance.

She applied some ice to my finger and left the room again. I saw her on her phone and assumed she was doing what most of us do when we’re searching for a quick solution to a vexing problem. We consult YouTube. Donna returned with scissors, twine, and a look of determination.

She grabbed my hand like a bear grabbing a beehive.

“This might hurt a little.”

Faster than I could say “I thought you loved me,” she slipped the twine under the wedding band and began wrapping it around my finger starting from the point closest to the ring. She wound it up to my knuckle (the bulging part of my finger), lubricated the string, squeezing it tight like a tourniquet, then began to unwind the string from the bottom. The motion of unwinding the string is what eventually got the ring moving.

In the YouTube video below, the person uses dental floss instead of twine to remove the ring, but any string will work.

Unlike in the YouTube video above, however, I yelped when the ring squeezed past the fat part of my finger. But I was so relieved that Donna was able to get the ring off without involving an insurance copay.

Big thanks to nimble-fingered Donna, who said I was of no help during the process, and to the ever-present YouTube. I can now type unencumbered by pain. Funny Travel Tales owes you a debt of gratitude, Donna.

#FrodoneverneededVaselineforhisring