Thursday, July 17, 2025

song parody that got me fired

 When I was doing substance-abuse treatment, all those years ago, I had a certain number of clients how had histories of physical abuse with partners. All but one of the women were the recipients. I hated dealing with abused women, because, first, at the time, the folks on the referral lines (for emotional support, for shelter) always presumed that, as a man calling in, I was lying about being a counselor and having a referral, and instead wanted to find their location so that I could bring havoc down upon them, and second, because (in my experience anyway) the women always went back to the abuser. (I at least had some success in getting my alcohol and drug clients into recovery!)

Some of the men seemed to see the error of their ways... but most of 'em claimed that "she knew what she did; she made me hit her." I got so sick of hearing that refrain, that I came up with the following song parody:

You made me hit you,
I didn't wanna do it, I didn't wanna do it.
You made me hit you,
And all the time you knew it. You really put me through it.
You made me happy, sometimes, you made me sad,
And there were times when,
You made me get so mad.

You made me hit you,
I didn't wanna tell ya, you oughta go to hell ya,
I lost control, it's true (yes, it's true, yes, it's really really true).

I won't do that again, and that'll be my promise,
Until I do and you go sleepin' at your mama's,
You know you made me hit you.

(instrumental, because, of course...)

When the cops come we'll be runnin' helter-skelter,
I'll go to jail and you'll go to the women's shelter,
Because you made me hit you.

I sang it on a break at a state meeting, and was overheard by both my supervisor and department director. They were horrified that anyone in the counseling field could think such a thing was funny. Although it didn't actually come up in the termination, I'm sure this was part of the reason I got fired ten years ago.

It's good to be retired. 

Saturday, July 12, 2025

better than expected

Tom H sent out an email to a number of his regulars that he was leading a not-quite-metric-century (100km is about 62 miles, for those who don't speak road bike, so this was gonna be 59 miles). I was not sure I wanted to do it, because I haven't been in great shape... but these are friends of mine, and they've been agitating for me to come along. I signed up late, and I was in the car, all packed up for the ride, and a couple miles from home before I was really sure I was going to do it.




 Tom had ten. I took a position near the back, and we rolled out, first over the Kinkora trail, and then onto roads in Columbus.

I was wearing a Poland jersey with a distinctive graphic, and wasn't really ready when a car rolled up beside with the window down, and a couple of Eastern European faces were calling out the window, "Dzein dobry! Dzein dobry!", with great big smiles on. I called back "Dzein dobry!" ("Good day") to the Polish occupants of the car. The smattering of Polish I had for the recent trip has already come in handy.

We kept up a pretty fast pace on this flat ride. I was surprised to see average speeds of 15.4mph, then 15.8, then 16.0. That's far faster than I've ridden recently, especially on my own (but there are more hills on my 23-mile training route than there were in this whole 59-mile ride). I even attacked on one of those long, shallow hills, the way I used to be able to do a few years ago.

We had a water stop at the Brendan Byrne Forest.





 And then on to the stop at Nixon's, in Tabernacle. All the way, we kept up that fast (for me) pace.





 At Nixon's, we met a number of riders training for the Spellbound Century in two weeks... including two riders who looked to be about thirteen years old, on small road bikes built around 650b wheels, smaller than the 700c wheels common on road bikes. (No pics of them, to reduce the chance of weirdness around pics of minors.)

And back. I did well with the continued fast pace... until about mile 50, when I started to flag. The group had split into a fast group and a slow group, and a few of the slower riders, slowed further to keep me company for the last few miles.

Still, the ride page shows I completed the ride, with my average speed 15.8mph. 

I don't think I want to do another 60-mile ride soon; 45-50 is probably good enough. And I'm far better on the flat rides than on hills. But it's reassuring that I finished, with as good a showing as I had. 

Thursday, July 10, 2025

old & in the way

Hank Green is just the most recent example, but it's recently become inescapable to me that there are people younger than I who are smarter, better-spoken, or more accomplished than I, or all three.

 I live in an over-55 community, and its not true with the people I meet here... but whenever I gather with people outside this community, I'm among the oldest in the group. And there are always people with knowledge I don't have, attitudes and ideas I haven't thought of, stuff I haven't done (and may never be able to do).

I don't always like the way the world is going, but it's no longer the world of my generation. It's time to let it go. It's time for something new. And whether it will work out or not... will be the results of not only my generation's activity, but (primarily) the results of people younger than I am. I'll do my bit (like actively resisting the devolution of the US into fascism), and we'll just have to see what comes along. (I have faith that people will work it out. It may take time, it may be painful and bloody, but it will work out. The kids are all right.)

(The post title is a reference to what Jerry Garcia was doing before that other band he was in.) 

Sunday, July 6, 2025

along for the ride

 

I usually lead rides on Sundays, but I could not get it together to list anything for today. Partly it was having the All-Paces ride to lead on July 4; partly it was not having a route in mind (the favorite stop on one of my routes has closed on Sundays; another is longer than I think I'm able to go this year, although some of my ability seems to be returning). Partly it's depression and anxiety, generally. As some others of us are, I'm having a hard time.

Whatever. Al P and Joe M were leading a ride this morning out of Byron Johnson Park in Allentown. When I first looked at it, it had five registrants; by the time I actually signed up, there were fifteen... and when I looked this morning, it was capped at sixteen; Al probably looked at the registrations and decided enough is enough... so I got in just in time. (But there were fourteen when we departed.)









 

Four or five of 'em disappeared off the front fairly early on. The rest of us got spread out, and I fed my caretaking (and probably paternalistic) desires by rolling in the back and making sure we were all keeping up, kinda. 


 

Personal note of hope: I used to be good at ascending long, not-too-steep hills. Some of that ability came back today. I have had too inconsistent abilities lately to say that it's back for good... but on this day, this septuagenarian was riding OK. Even towards the end of the ride.

We stopped at that Charleston Coffee and the associated bagel shop.




 Al's decided on a more sensible way to make that left turn onto Pinehurst than trying to come out of the driveway across traffic; instead, he takes the left out of the other driveway onto Lakehurst, rolls up to the traffic light, and turns left onto Pinehurst from there. I'm planning to adopt that plan in the future.

And back to the park. You can see the ride page here

Most were faster than I, although I had more strength today than I showed, hanging out in the back. It was a good ride, on a not-too-hot day. 

On some days, doing a ride, with people you like, is the right thing to do to resist the evil and the crazy. 

Sunday, June 29, 2025

tech woes, but a good ride


My Garmin device, an Explore 2 (basic model that I mostly use for navigation and basic bike computer utilities), was several software updates and at least one map update out of date, so I did all of the upgrades yesterday. The map update disabled the current US map, and the new map installation aborted before it was completely installed. I didn't know it until I was en route to the No-Pace Ride I'd scheduled for today, and couldn't see the route, and got the message that the maps I had on the GPS (I later found they covered parts of Canada and Mexico) didn't include any of US roads smaller than the Interstate Highways (so I saw the NJ Turnpike when I crossed it, but otherwise the map was as blank as the are outside the Other Mother's house in Coraline [and if you don't know the reference, go read the book; it's worth it, despite Neil Gaiman]).

It was a non-crisis, as I know this route well enough to do it with no prompting (although I will need prompting for a ride I'm leading later this week). Still, The Excellent Wife (TEW), who was on the ride, had brought her second-best GPS as well as her primary one, and lent that to me so I had something. We DID find the route on it, and it DID have the prompts, although it didn't have all the special settings I have set up on my devices*.

*It doesn't surprise you for a minute that I have special settings on all my devices, does it?

I can never tell how many are going to come out for these No-Pace Rides. Today, I had fifteen.










 We did that same route I always do for these No-Pace Rides - I can't link to today's ride page for reasons to be described shortly (that's pretty heavy-handed foreshadowing, isn't it), but you can see it at this link. Twenty-one miles, and flat.

Usually the faster folks disappear off the front, but they were better-behaved (I guess) today. We mostly stayed together around the course, including the dodgy turn at George's Road and Culver. 

Shortly after that, I looked down at the GPS I'd borrowed from TEW to see a "low battery" message, and by the time we got to the stop at the McCaffreys on Southfield, the screen was blank.

Oh, well. I know the route.




 And back we came on Cranbury Station Road. I had one complain that she'd be slow in the heat and falling off the back, but she and another rider got chatty, and within the bounds of safety on that road, had a social ride all the way back to the start.

I really enjoyed that the group stayed together, and people appeared to get to ride with different companions throughout the ride. Despite the heat, we had a good time, and folks made appropriate noises like they might want to come out again.


I rode home from Cranbury, and went to the internet to try to find out why the map wasn't showing on my GPS, but there was little help to find... except for a reference to making sure the correct map was enabled in Garmin Express. I launched that on my laptop, connected up the misbehaving device... and saw that the US map was not enabled! I had to download it again, but on restart thereafter, my little street at home showed on the map, and the device behaved on a short around-the-block ride.

But with all this, I'm thinking I may ask pal Rickety about his experience with a Wahoo device.  

Sunday, June 22, 2025

rain, unexpected

 

When I planned this ride, there was no sign of rain in the forecast. (Literature students will recognize this opening as foreshadowing of a particularly heavy-handed kind.) When I left the house, the skies were lowering, but off to the northeast, and the weather in these parts usually blows in from the southwest. An d the phone weather app was still calling for cloudy, but no rain.

A couple weeks ago, I went on a ride with Tom H and his Insane Bike Posse. You didn't see a blog post about that one, because it was gruesome for me: I was weak and slow, partly because I hadn't eaten enough (but only partly). On that ride, the deli where Tom planned to break wasn't open at the time we got there (ad wouldn't be open for another hour); we rode six more demanding miles to another spot, where I ate enough to make up the deficit, but it was too late: I was still exhausted, and couldn't keep up. I finished, but there was no joy or healing in that ride.

So for this one, I chose a shorter route, and included in the description, "I'm not as strong or fast as I used to be, so I've shortened the route a bit." 

We went out of Veterans Park in Skillman. I had nine signed up, and two hangers-on who just showed up at the start.






 We headed up towards that Italian Bakery in Raritan that Eric H likes so much. On the way, droplets started to fall... We had two riders with flats prior to the stop, and I impressed one of them with my tire-changing prowess at roadside. Following that, we headed to the bakery in increasing rain.




 At the bakery, Mike V checked his weather radar, and initially thought we might skirt the bottom of the rain pattern, and not get too wet... and then decided no, we were probably going to get wet anyway.

I'm blaming the DOGE fiasco for firing all the federal weather-wallahs for the inaccurate prediction.

Wet we got. We shortened the already-abbreviated route. One rider appeared to be having trouble with the headwind (of COURSE there was a headwind in an unpredicted rainstorm), so Mike led the rest of the group back, and I stayed with the slower rider. The rain got into my glasses to the point they were nearly opaque, so I finally just put them in my pocket and rode without.

A couple of riders went off home on the way, and the rest talked in the parking to prior to leaving as if they'd had a good enough time. And the best part for me was that I wasn't nearly as crippled as I had been on Tom's ride a couple of weeks ago. I had eaten better, and it was a shorter ride... but I may simply be in better shape than I was then. (I'm 70, and it may be that I simply need to face the fact that I can't always do what I can sometimes do.)

Ride page

Wednesday, June 4, 2025

Poland trip, third post







May 30:

In the morning, we did another trip around Wrocław, including many beautiful buildings, the Love Bridge, and the University. We walked around the square for a time (including a trip to the local E Wedel for chocolate and a quick lunch), and then took a ride to Ksiaŋz Castle. The castle was built over centuries by the noble family of the region… but during World War II, it was seized, first by the Nazis, who were rebuilding it as a palace and bunker for Hitler, and then by the Russians. Almost all of the furnishings were stolen, and much of the building itself was destroyed, sometimes by new construction, and sometimes by simple vandalism. While the exterior and gardens are still amazing, the interior tour was a bit sad. I got pictures of a few of the best parts.











The structure reminds me of the Biltmore Mansion in Asheville: huge and gorgeous, but clearly a show of wealth and power, and for every person who lived like this, there were thousands of others living in shacks.

Then to the Peace Church in Świdnica. Built after the Thirty Years War in 1648, it is a Lutheran church, built by permission of the Catholics, who imposed restrictions: it could only be built of wood and earth (not stone), and the structure had to be completed in a year. The construction was completed in post-and-beam, wattle-and-daub, like every Tudor house in England. It his stood for almost 400 years. It’s a typical structure of its type on the outside; on the inside, it is filled with decoration, gilding, painting, and two organs. 



We had dinner at a restaurant run by the son of the minister, and took the bus back to the Wrocław hotel. 

May 31

Mostly a long day on the bus. We went a few hours to Torùn, birthplace of Copernicus. They have (of course) a statue of Copernicus, with the motto, “TERRAE MOTOR SOLIS CAELIQUE STATOR” (roughly, “he made the Earth to move, and the Sun and the sky to stay still”). Torùn is beautiful, with much of the city walls intact, buildings old and new in the square (including a Victorian-era post office and guild-office rebuild, both made to look like brick baroque), and statues whimsical and serious. Torùn is also known for gingerbread; we got some, but the chocolate at the E Wedel we stopped at was better.






Above: the tower IS leaning; there's a ground-subsidence issue due to the ground clay drying out in several cities we visited.


Then back on the bus to Gdańsk. When the Germans had it, they called it Danzig; it’s a port on the Baltic, and, as such, of huge strategic importance. It’s changed hands more times than the queen in a game of Old Maid. We took a boat ride on an imitation pirate ship (on the Vistula river? Really?), and then stopped while the guide gave us some WW2 history. 


Some of the first shots of the war were here. The Nazis sent in a huge ship to the river, supposedly in tribute, which then opened fire on the five guardhouses protecting the harbor. A force of 180 men were outnumbered almost 20 to one between the ship and land forces; the Poles had small arms and a mortar that fired three-inch shells; the Nazis had a battleship with four cannon that shot eight-inch shells. The small garrison at the guardhouses got the order to hold off the Nazis for thirty-six hours so that naval vessels in a nearby city could get away to Britain. After six days, the Poles were still holding off the Nazis. Each day on the radio, the message would go out, “Westerplatte broni sieŋ jeszcze” – “Westerplatte continues to fight”. It was a huge inspiration to the Polish at the beginning of the war, and I still tear up about it as I write these words. 


June 1:

In the morning, to the old town in Gdańsk. TEW has decided she LOVES Gdańsk (and is apparently unfazed by the clear superiority of Torùn). Gdańsk has been a major port on the Baltic for over a millennium, and many of the buildings in the old town reflect this: granaries (and buildings restored to look like granaries), and one of the first clocks in Europe, with only an hour hand, visible from the sea (it’s HUGE), because the ports were only open from 10am to 6pm. There is a huge basilica here, to Mary (of course), with a (15th century?) mechanical clock inside that, at noon, has a show where scenes from the bible appear, as do representatives of the major contemporary trades. The organist plays to accompany, and takes a break for Adam and Eve to strike the hour, then resumes as the figures parade off, and a figure of death takes their place as a memento mori. I didn’t get pictures of that, as the camera battery had memento mori-ed shortly before. We saw the guild hall (very ornate), and a statue to Poseidon – this is, after all, a port city.











In the afternoon, to Marbork Castle. Beginning in about the 14th century, Poles began building with brick instead of stone: stone generally had to be imported, where good brick could be made of the local clay. Marbork is the largest brick fort in the world. Built by and for the Teutonic Knights, a fighting monastic order, after the Crusades were over, it was bought by the Polish king at the time (which eliminated the problem of having to take it by force; after all, the loyalties of the many mercenaries inside at the time were directly tied to whoever was providing the funds that paid them).

Marbork is in the part of Poland that went to the Germans during the partition, and they rebuilt it to their needs. Then the war came, and much was destroyed (there are pictures, but you can largely tell by the lighter color of the reconstruction bricks), and the Soviets did nothing to restore it – all of the restoration has been done since Poland achieved independence. (I’m impressed by how much time, energy, and money to Poles put into restoring their heritage, with little thought to how it would enrich individuals).

Above, what it looked like after German, and then Russian, occupation. You can see the rebuilt parts by the color of the brick.











Because it was a monastery, albeit for a fighting order, it reminded me of my seminary days: there’s a cloister to walk around as you say your daily prayers, a fancy chapel in the best part of the building, a common room where the official and political business was done (including preferred seating for the most important offices). I kept thinking, “deus, in adjutorium meum intende; domine, ad adjuvandium me festina”, “God, come to my aid, Lord, make haste to help me”, in the doggy church-Latin (with the j’s) of my 1970’s education. 

June 2:

Many-hour bus ride from Gdańsk back to Warsaw, broken up by a “Be Our Guest” lunch (I think this is a Trafalgar Tours policy) at the Kwaśne Jabłko (that last word is so hard to pronounce, that even the Poles usually elide over it) farm and orchard. This is run by the cutest farming couple, deeply serious about the organic quality of their food, and sourcing locally. All of the food we were served was raised by farms within about a ten-mile radius, and they spoke eloquently (even in a second language) about the importance of multiple varieties of produce, keeping the land restored, and local eating. The unpronounceable name means “sour apples”, because they use the apples that grew “wild”, locally, to make hard cider. They say that while there are about sixteen varieties of apples sold worldwide in groceries, they have over forty on their farm, after decades of allowing apple trees to cross-pollinate. The owners were brilliant, and delightful.







Above two: I'm not generally one to Instagram my plates, but these were locally sourced and produced, and delightful.

And then in the evening to another Chopin concert, by chance at the same small hall we’d been to on the second night we were here. The pianist, another Japanese young woman, was technically flawless, but the woman we heard last week put on a better show. As we were leaving, TEW was able to get the name of the woman we’d heard last week, and may pursue the CD now.


Tomorrow, onto the plane to go home.