“Another one rides the bus,” pt. 2; R.I.P. two mainstays

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The bus took Samuel to school this morning for the first time.

I’m pleased that we got this sorted out within the month. The bussing in this district is not well thought of.

That said, the half-dozen dispatchers and drivers Karin & I talked to this week were all wonderfully helpful and kind.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

R.I.P. Nevin Longenecker, distinguished high school science teacher. (No, really. Distinguished.) I used to drink coffee with him in the Social Studies lounge before I’d go off to make photocopies for lesser pedagogues.

He ended up coming to my wedding. When it was discovered that his was the longest-lasting marriage in attendance, he was obliged to give a little speech.

I knew teachers in the school who had no idea how remarkable his record was. He didn’t toot his own horn – at least, not to me.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

R.I.P. the iconic Dame Maggie Smith.

“I believe I am past my prime” (The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, 1969).

No: Her prime was just beginning.

Lots of pictures of Beethoven

When I wrote that Samuel’s been saying “Beethoven is so sleepy,” I didn’t realize he’d go on talking about Beethoven for days and days. When Samuel gets sad, he says, “Beethoven is so sad.” When he’s scared, he says, “Beethoven is so scared.” When he pulls my hair, he says, “Don’t pull Beethoven’s hair.”

Beethoven has become the all-purpose surrogate.

When Samuel wants breakfast, he says: “Let’s go to the kitchen, Beethoven.” “Have some candy corn, Beethoven.” (I’m not sure when we last had candy corn in the house. I think our supply was eaten by the mice.)

Really, what kid wouldn’t be obsessed with Beethoven. There’s the music, of course – Samuel’s favorite compilation is Beethoven for Babies – and then there’s this portrait that comes up on Spotify.

I wondered what Beethoven looked like in other pictures.

I found some.

Little boy Beethoven. Not so unlike Samuel.

Youthful Beethoven.

(These are from the chronological sequence on this webpage.)

Beethoven standing by a park bench.

Beethoven resembling Marcelo Bielsa.

Brooding Beethoven.

A bust of Beethoven: no doubt, the one on Schroeder’s piano.

This artist, Hadi Karimi, makes 3-D likenesses of famous people. Beethoven, appropriately, is a subject.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

My school friend, Hoku, has brought his family for a visit, one county to the north of us. I’ll do my utmost to see him.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Now, some sadder news. Our congressional representative, Jackie Walorski, died in a car crash today. The South Bend Tribune published this report.

The cold

Today’s was a record low temperature in South Bend (−15°F). When it’s like this, what else is there to write about?

I left the apartment for three minutes to take the trash out to the dumpster. My mustaches froze.

On the map, it looks as if Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio are the coldest of the contiguous states. Minnesota and North Dakota are ten degrees warmer than South Bend. So is Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. What’s the point of not applying for teaching jobs in the beautiful Upper Peninsula, if this is how South Bend’s weather is going to be?

This morning, before I got out of bed, I made two important philosophic breakthroughs.

An impending life-change

Today, Karin went “out on the town” with her little sister, Brianna. I stayed at home. Karin and Brianna were going to eat lunch at a buffet that I suspect of having made me ill (with vomiting and the like) not long ago. Also, they planned to visit the kitties at the Humane Society. My own eagerness for going to the Humane Society has been weakened since Ziva came to live with us. Two kitties are enough for me.

This time, Karin took to a large, orange-white male. She photographed Brianna holding him.

“He looks like Jasper,” I said, examining the photo.

“I guess he does,” said Karin.

(Notice, also, Brianna’s blue eyebrows.)

We aren’t going to adopt this feline. This isn’t our impending life-change. No, the city has decided to tear down our building to make room for a new fire station (you can read the news here). We’ll have between 45 and 50 days to find somewhere new to live. This affects me most – our current building is very near to where I work, and I don’t drive – but it’s bad for both of us. We won’t find a cheaper rental. We won’t be compensated by the city: We’re renting month-to-month, and the city isn’t kind to monthly renters. We may have to accept an unfavorable new lease.

I often ask for prayer for Ecuador. Please pray for our country to defeat Colombia on Tuesday. Pray for Ecuadorians to elect a good president on April 2. But pray, also, for Karin & me to find a decent place in which to live.

A visit to the E.R.

When I woke up today, it was minus-thirteen degrees F. There was no school, thank goodness. When Karin left for her job, she had to struggle to open her car door because it was frozen shut.

At this moment, I’m at home, figuring out my Bethel students’ grades, which are due tonight. The kitties are glad I’m here. We snuggle together. Right now, though, they’re fighting.

Karin & I were away most of the weekend. From Saturday afternoon to Sunday morning, we celebrated Christmas with Karin’s father’s family. Then we went home; but, a little later, we had to go to the hospital because Karin had stabbed her arm with a knife. She’d been using the knife to dig food out of a pan. The stab-wound looked about the size of a nickel, and it bled plenty, and, inside it, we could see a ghastly white tendon (at first we thought it was a bone).

Mary – rather jubilant, having just received an “A” in her Anatomy and Physiology course – drove us to the emergency room. We waited until it was Karin’s turn to be sewn up. The waiting room was quiet. Then someone began to play a TV show on his phone. There was a faint odor of marijuana.

I read in the South Bend Tribune that my students on Bethel’s basketball team had been robbed while deep-sea fishing. Those students had taken their exams early, I recalled, so that they could travel to Miami.

At last, Karin was sewn up by a doctor and a youngish nurse who cracked jokes that were full of medical jargon. Then the doctor left the nurse to finish things. The nurse asked Karin where she worked.

“At _____,” said Karin.

“Which branch?” said the nurse, and Karin told her. “I worked at that branch for nine years,” said the nurse. “I was the manager.”

How miserable, I thought. To be at the mercy of some healer; and then to find out that this person not only could do your job as well as you do it, she actually has done your job, and probably better than you do it, and for nine years.

But Karin took it in stride. Karin is much humbler than I am.