Duotron 2: Fixing Issues, Updating Parts & Learning

Not a big post, but just an update to the ongoing Pinball Project.

First, I've worked through two fairly significant technical issues:

1. Specials Light not lighting, special not awarded
   This turned out to be a wiring issue (still not found, but fixed via a jumper from the head to the table, so probably in the Jones Plug / Receptacle used when one takes the game apart)
   
2. Two Player not playing all ballsTurned out to be some mis-adjusted contacts on the Scoring Motor, which spins some cams around for sequencing and timing. It's a delicate  behemoth (multiple cams and switch positions, driving 11 individual switches) and I suspect I'll get to know it better over time, as it seems to be the one place that gets the most wear and is most likely to malfunction. 

I've also replaced all the rubbers / rings, including the bumper at the top of the game, the springs and rubber tip of the plunger. One oddity - the captive ball in the center was delivered with multiple rings, with the possibility of ball-ball contact (a nice satisfying "click") - but the ring kit had a single 4" ring (see below) which seems to be the official way (based on the image on an old Gottlieb flyer).

After playing it both ways, I put the modified version back - the 4" ring made it way too springy and easy to score (the captive ball would tend to bounce back and forth on a single hit). The pins (green arrows in the image) seem like they may have been added to keep the ball captive without the 4" ring.

I also purchased replacement bulbs (both incandescent and LED) - ended up replacing the under-table (inserts and features) and back-glass lamps (indicators, score reels) with LEDs (cooler, less likely to dim / flicker, minimal aesthetic impact) - leaving the above table lamps incandescent (a nicer yellowish glow to 'em, even the frosted warm white LEDs seem to white).

I also replaced the pop bumper caps (new ones in the image above) - the old ones were quite faded. And I've slowly stocked up on infrastructure - ordering and receiving jumpers, multimeter clip-on probes, a couple of rechargeable work-lights (super bright and super handy, with magnetic base, retractable hook, and swivel lamps), some fine grit sandpaper and small files for contacts.

So...basically having a lot of fun with the beast, both playing pinball and working on it. I've pretty much scored every way possible (finally got an actual Special replay this evening while playing, as opposed to testing). Replays via points are easier to come by, as are end of game matches.

 

Duotron 1: Delivery and First Thoughts

So first of all, the pinball machine is here! Got delivered and installed yesterday. And although I suspect I will be perfectly comfortable breaking a machine down for transport using more traditional means (a van, a hand-truck) going forward, I'm glad I had this one delivered and set up. I pulled apart the storm door pneumatic closer and bracket, but otherwise it got through the door in one piece without too much infrastructure changes. 

It's rather larger than I imagined, in the space - plenty of room, but kind of glad I did not get the wide-body Genie - both because of space as well as aesthetics. I kind of wanted an older machine, both for the look / feel / sound, as well as the opportunity to work on it.

And work on it, I plan to. I've already started a punch list of things needing some attention - a lane relay that is intermittent / weak / sketchy contacts (the lane light is dim and flickers, the lane function works some of the time), a kicker lane that has not worked 1-2 times (but mostly does), a coin drop that's intermittent (one side works fine), a coin drop light that's out, a match light that's out (although figuring out which one right now involves me logging matches for a few games).

I've done a few minor things already - opened up the front, removed the safety bar and glass, lifted the playfield to poke around inside. I found a reproduction PDF of the instructions (3 Ball vs 5 Ball) and Bonus Score cards (12 versions), and opened up the back box to set the high score to a more challenging level (having won free games via points several times already, just monkeying around in testing).

I'm going with 3 Ball vs. 5 Ball because it's already a bit of an easy game

This already sheds so much light on my youth, now I understand how pinball machines can be set to award bonus plays more or less easily, and how the manufacturer provided the signage and tools to let the owner set 'em up as they wanted.

 

 Setting the bonus levels is kind of fun / interesting - there is a receptacle with 10 positions (representing 1000s) and 10 individual pins (representing 10,000s) - so to set 43,000, you insert the 40,000 pin into the 3000 receptacle. So you can only have one each of the 1000 levels and one each of the 10,000 levels - which is why the bonus levels are always such weird numbers (43,000 / 57,000 / 65,000), as opposed to nice round numbers (40,000 / 50,000 / 60,000)

I'm starting off with the 3 Ball recommended level - once I get better at the machine I might move it to a more challenging level. Or maybe not - it will be more fun for guests, and will save me from stuffing in quarters if I keep the credit reel tanked up 

 That's pretty much all I'm up for right now. But looking ahead, I've ordered a spare parts kit for this machine (which included some cleaner / polish, bulbs, rings and rubbers, spare fuses and bulbs), a reprint instruction manual and schematic, and some replacement covers for the pop bumpers (which are pretty faded).

And I've moved an LED light that was formerly over my work table, now right over the table to facilitate working on it, although I suspect I'll need a movable light as well to dig into the dark corners. 

Pinball Wizard (Rosebud Was Her Sled)

Maybe it's a "well past mid-life" kind of thing, or a bucket list thing. But for some reason I've been bitten by the pinball bug of late, and in fact, this afternoon put a down payment on an older (circa 1974) machine....

To quote The Who, "ever since I was a young boy, I've played the silver ball...", which is to say, I've been a little pinball crazy all my life. As a youngster, we'd plunk thin dimes (3 games for a quarter back then) into pinball machines at Wisehaven Swim Club in York, PA (which still exists, 50 years later). I'm surprised there were no deaths by electrocution, knowing how sketchy chassis and electrical grounding was back in the day, and us kids standing on concrete in wet bathing suits....water dripping down our legs.

We'd line up our coins on the machine to reserve our place in line, we'd stand beside the game watching the person who was playing. Occasionally some wag would wave his hands across the glass surface, chanting "mystery ball", tormenting the player. We little kids would sneak our way onto the machines in between the bigger, older kids, or end up with the dog machines. Boy did I love to play.

I've got memories of bumming coins to play at snack bars that dad took us to, in hotel / motel game rooms on family vacations, at roller rinks, movie theaters, bowling alleys. Pinball was everywhere they had space to slide a machine into, back in the day. I remember bowling alleys where I encountered my first video games (Pong, then Asteroids), and later the college game room (Lunar Lander, Asteroids, Defender) along with a few pinballs machines.

But ground zero for me and pinball were the arcades. Fun and Games in Framingham (also still in business, although much different in terms of size and scope) when I was in high school and during college trips home. Smaller arcades in Worcester when I was in school. Even an arcade in Southington (still around, but mostly a billiards room) when I first moved to Connecticut. I have yet to visit The Sanctum in Meriden, a pinball co-op which opens to the public on Monday nights, but it's on the list. 

Some combination of Facebook Marketplace and Craigslist has pulled me in lately - virtually tire-kicking machines that I might have played in my youth, in decent shape, and at an affordable price. I was drawn to a 1979 Gottleib Genie machine - a wide-body, one of the first electronic machines, with blue LED score and digital sound effects. I recall playing it as a young adult, and thought perhaps that it might be more reliable / less fussy than an older electro-mechanical game.

However, when I connected with the seller (an octogenarian who has a warehouse in nearby Berlin that I have driven by 100s of times, wondering what was inside), he asked "...are you interested in the older games?" I guess if you are reaching for "that summer feeling" (as Jonathon Richman sings about) then you go old-school: relays, mechanical reels, chimes, buzzers, and that satisfying "pop" when you win a free game via points, a special, or that delicious end of game match.

Also, my available space for a game is limited, and the wide body Genie might feel a bit cramped.

The proprietor was an old dude, probably same age as my dad would have been, still working it. I noticed his USN John F Kennedy carrier cap, heard him on the phone talking about navy veteran reunions - so I mentioned dad's service aboard carriers (helps to know the ships - Essex and Shangri-La) - and well, we were buds. I promised to show him Dad's cruise books, and if he knows of a good home for them, I'll happily pass them along.

He had a couple of older machines there (for a bit less money) - a 1971 Williams Gold Rush, and a 1974 Gottleib Duotron. The latter seemed in better shape, a bit less dated, and with nicer graphics (reminds me a bit of Jack Kirby space art), so I was drawn that way. The guy plugged it in, and I played a ball (the thing was seriously out of level) and well, the bells, the chimes, the lights - it hit all the nostalgic warm fuzzies. In 1974 I was 13, right in the heart of my pinball career.

There are probably nicer machines for less money out there, but this one comes with delivery and set-up, and the promise of on-going service, and who can argue with that? 

It was a total impulse purchase, but feels right. It's been a long time since I did something "unreasonable" like this - I don't take vacations or a lot of experiences. Hopefully this will give me some hours of joy.... I'll post a video once it's here and I get a feel for the machine. I'll invite elite friends (which is to say, anyone who feels like coming over) for pinball parties.

The engineering side of me is looking forward to owning and messing with an old pinball machine. Apparently there is a community of tinkerers and hackers (replacement parts, schematics, and self-help forums are around, as well as hacks to tweak the components, buff up the graphics, add LED lighting, etc.). And while it's not something I recall playing as a kid, it's not an entirely obscure game - you can even get Duotron swag via Cafepress: Shirts, mugs, bags, art and assorted other essentials.

I've even found a reasonably decent image of the sales flyer which I'm gonna print up and have framed.

I'm sure once the game is here and installed, I'll find time to make a video so I can share it in all its glory!

Up and At 'Em

When the universe gets you up early (up and at 'em around 4:00 am today) you stumble into unexpected projects. This morning - taking apart a plastic shelving unit that held a printer and paper shredder, and had become an office catch-all (paper, supplies, etc.) In it's place, one of those shelving units (might be a literature rack or mail center for a small office) - the one I've got is pressed board with cardboard dividers, solid enough and decent shape despite being 20 years old, 3 slots wide x 12 slots tall. 

 

 

The rack has sat on a folding table, buried behind boxes, since I moved in - woefully under-used. Since most of the things I had been piling on the old shelves were perfect fits (paper, envelopes, etc.) it make sense.

Of course, the rack was full of supplies I was using a lot in the first 15 years of my self-employment / consulting but perhaps not so much anymore. I'll document the canonical list (things I kept, things I tossed, things that have become obsolete over the past decade) over on my blog.

I've got the old shelves taken apart (waiting it's next assignment), the new rack emptied out, dusted, and moved to the new location. Gonna hold off filling it up (and sorting through the supplies) until I pick up some bricks at Lowe's to get this a few inches off the floor in case of water (never an issue but I am in a basement, so one never knows)

Election Day

"...voted for Eisenhower 'cause Lincoln won the war." ~ John Prine, "Grandpa Was a Carpenter"

I'm beginning to understand. I went to vote today, and finding myself pretty dis-empowered when it comes to expressing my displeasure (nay, rage) about the state of affairs at the national level (by dint of the electoral college and living in a blue state where my congresspersons and senators are all Dems), I find myself deciding to just vote against every Republican on the ticket, regardless of how much I might like them or feel like they are a decent choice on a local level. Call it the Party of Trump Electoral Tax.

I've been, in the past, pretty happy to cross party lines when the candidate is right; I've voted for Mayor Stewart in the past. But no more.

I get the feeling I will not be voting for any Republican for any reason for the remainder of my life, even if the opposing candidate is a llama in a hat. I'll choose not to vote in a particular race rather than vote Republican - the party is tainted, forever after.

This year, one of the candidates for alderman got pretty ugly about Mayor Stewart (who I'm fairly happy with, other than her party affiliation), so I simply voted for 4 candidates for Alderman rather than the directed 5 - left that one bubble blank.

I guess I'm old and cranky enough to vote against my best interests, just to make a point.

Killing off Cable - Part II

My blog (as dormant as it has been in recent years) still informs me when I last cut the cord - September 2013. At that time, I wired up an external digital antenna and beefed up my streaming capability.

I'm not really sure when I decided to re-enter the cable fray; guessing it was 2-3 years ago, perhaps around the time mom passed - was feeling a little punk / lonely and I had some extra mom legacy money. I also think the results of the 2016 election factored in, when I kind of tuned out of public radio (my usual 24/7 jam) because 45 was all over the news. So I signed up for a promotional package.

Sometime over the past year I realized that the promotional rate had expired, that I was paying full boat for cable / internet / phone package, and that I was stuck with a contract through the fall. To add to my frustration, Comcast had steered me into paperless billing and automatic payments, so I never really took notice of what I was paying (smart on their part, and more reason to be cranky about them as a corporate entity). So my promo rate (reasonable) bumped up to full boat (ugh) and then another $20 or so recently (contract expired? annual price gouging?). It was enough to get me to cut the cord, again.

Evidence of my energy in that direction - yesterday I called, cancelled, disconnected, returned the equipment, reconnected the antenna, and cleaned up / re-bundled the cables (and this on my busiest yoga day, teach two classes). They offered me a lower rate / better package (and I'm sure a lot of folks play the "I'm cutting the cord" card as a negotiating tool) but by the time I make the call, I've got a good head of steam up and I'm not likely to be dissuaded, no matter how good the offer.


I'm still paying a lot for a premium internet service (I regularly need to sling around 1 GB files for work) and a landline (also needed for work, I regularly get on long calls where I'd prefer not to be on mobile, and having a landline with speakerphone is useful) - but it's about $80 less than what I paid last month.

But more interesting to me is the social and cultural stuff that comes along for the ride. I've definitely dropped into the habit of planting my ass on the couch to channel surf. My vices: American Pickers, First 48, Live PD. Nothing I can't live without, and in the case of the law enforcement reality stuff, probably stuff that's brainwashing me. So no big loss there. The one thing I was a little punk about was MSNBC - I'm not watching regularly but it's nice to have - but I can stream shows the next day via Roku, and I realized that I've got the live audio stream of all the big news channels via Sirius XM (also on Roku). So no big loss there.

And there's just a little part of me that equates cutting the cable to my overall rejection of the culture - from relationships to career to holidays to religion to social events to television. Which is not a particularly good thing. But on the other hand, it's easy to practice non-attachment, at least to the things that most of the people in this culture are bound up in. 

Although I guess one could say I am attached to detachment. For what that's worth.

New Lights / Old Lights

Wandering through Lowe's the other day, I stumbled across some close-out LEDs - a box of four for 98 cents. Not cheap, unpleasant ones either - GE brand, warm color / temp, equivalent to 60W incandescent. I knew I had a couple of rogue CF bulbs floating around, so I bought a couple of packs.

Ended up replacing two CF hallway lights, which I had installed when I moved in (circa 2009), replacing the incandescent bulbs the previous owner had been using. Pretty sure they've not needed replacing; testament to the better reliability of newer tech lighting. Now both are LED bulbs.

Also replaced a bedroom table lamp, as well as the front porch lamp, both CF. I've gotten used to the warm-up of the CF bulbs (in a kind of kerosene lantern, coming up to temp sort of way) but truth be told it's nice to have the lights on full strength from the start, especially the front porch light (on a timer, but more of an issue when Elo needed to go out at random times, and during this time of year when the waning daylight forces me to reprogram the timer)

I also wandered out to purchase some LED bulbs for other fixtures - two three way floor lamps which had been fluorescent (the CF 3-way bulbs never really worked well) - the replacement LED bulbs (30-70-100W equivalent) are perfect - almost identical to incandescent in light level and color.  Sidebar: Does anyone prefer the brighter, bluer "daylight" bulbs? Not I. I like the warm yellow glow of incandescent lamps. 

I have two more CF bulbs to replace; both almost never used (overhead deck light, and back door light) - so I'll get to those when I can.

And I've stuck with older technology in one place - my yoga room, which has overhead track lighting and halogen PAR20 spotlight bulbs. I picked up some supposedly dim-able LEDs to try, but they were harsh and could not be dimmed that far down. I really love just a touch of light in that room when I practice in the morning darkness - the halogens dim down to practically candlelight. I'm not in there all that much (just to practice, and occasionally poking around the bookshelves or closet for something), and dimmed down, the bulbs do not consume much power, so I don't feel super bad about that. My one concession of style and comfort over economy and environment.

It's sort of interesting to have lived through (in one decade, in one residence) a complete transition of lighting tech (CF to LED). And it makes me wonder if there are stats out there about the reduced number of fires and overloads related to new lighting tech - does not take too many incandescent bulbs to overload a circuit, but a house full of LED lights could be handled by a single 15A circuit. And a hot (temperature) incandescent bulb was always a fire risk (clothing, window treatments, etc.) in a way that LEDs are not.

New Art

Today's mini project: hanging a large framed print up in my office. It's something my brother Tom gave me, I think he got it from his best work buddy who pre-deceased him (not exactly sure). It was a big deal to him to pass it along to me and he asked several times in the ensuing months if I had hung it. I never had the space for it (it's 24" x 36", kind of a back of couch in the family room kinda thing, a little oversized for my small condo) so it's been stashed in the corner of my basement office for a while. 

It's not exactly fine art (you can get your own copy for $15 at the link) and neither the balloons nor the baskets are really right (as a balloon crew person who sees scores of balloons each year, one notices such things) but someone spent some time and money getting it framed up. It has a Bob Ross "Happy Little Tree" or perhaps "Happy Little Balloon" feel to it.

I recently made some office changes; bought a wire shelving unit onto which I've moved much of my tech: cable modem, backup drives, specialty printers, UPS, etc. several of which were on a now removed wall shelf. That freed up some wall space and I thought "what the heck" - hanging it will honor both my brother and his friend.

The First Walk

Back out on the street this morning, for my first "litter walk" since letting Elo go. Definitely a moment for sadness and memories.

The litter walk and the dog walk have been two separate things, lightly linked by geography (overlapping routes, although the litter walk covers more ground) and origin. The litter walks began one day as I was walking Elo and noticed the street was particularly littered. "Someone should clean this up" rose my inner voice. And from a slightly different place in my head "Well, you're someone...." Whoever that was (and I have my suspicions) set me upon a mission that I've continued every since.

Elo's walks have taken on a rather contemplative tone in recent years. As a pup, he was a bit of a handful, pulling on the leash, turning to grab the leash for tug of war. Among the things I tossed this week were a cloth muzzle we tried when he was particularly naughty, a metal choker collar (hoping he'd not be able to bite it), and several leashes with partially chewed ends from his younger days. Later, we'd take long walks at Deming-Young Farm, where I'd watch and listen for Bobolinks, and we'd both keep an eye out for dive-bombing red winged blackbirds. Pretty sure I stopped those because one too many entitled dog walker would let his (men, always) dog off the leash, and Elo and the dog would get into it, and I'd get yelled at because my dog (on leash, under control) was aggressive and his dog (off leash, not under control) never had issues with other dogs. Won't miss that.

In recent years, as Elo's vision and hearing slowly dimmed, it was all about the nose, so walks became one prolonged sniff. I'd mainly let him go as long as he wanted (my own exercise in mindfulness and patience), with an occasional gentle "let's move along now" tug on the leash if he just seemed to park it.  Elo had a few local fans - dogs who would notice his passing and get excited / barky. Occasionally we'd pass another walker on opposite sides of the street, and Elo might notice, his tail alert, his back up, his old ornery self. But mostly, walks were peaceful and solitary.

Dog walks would be an opportunity to scout out the litter situation, notice things for future reference. Occasionally (if I had a pocket or a free hand) I'd pick up something glass to prevent it from getting broken. But mostly, I kept the two walks separate.

So, back out today - a fairly typical litter walk after days of rain and wind. Thankfully none of the neighbors or Elo's canine buds were out (I'm sure they've noticed that Elo has not passed by in a few days) but I'll catch them up when I see them. A little sadness as I passed the first spot at the edge of the property where he'd usually poop, and the second spot down the road a bit. The places he'd usually stop for a good long sniff, the place we'd cross the street. I'm sure the sadness will fade but this first time back out, was good to acknowledge it.

Taking Up Space

As I slowly disassemble the infrastructure that Elo and I had built up to support our long co-habitation, I'm noticing how much space the little guy took up in my condo and in my life. Had I inquired a few weeks back I would have said "not much, he's no bother" which would have been correct. But now that I'm packing things up, going through things, I'm finding all sorts of places he just kind of moved in and took over.

The first awareness was almost comically clear - dog beds. There were two in the living room (one came over from my former partner's place, Elo's second home when I traveled or had teacher training weekends). One in the basement office; I'd move it off to the side and Elo would pull it to a better (underfoot) location where he could keep an eye on me as I worked. Another was a spare I guess, finding employment in the bedroom, on the sofa, on the back deck. I spread all four out on the deck to air out, before deciding they were too worn, too fur covered, too smelly, and too hard to launder / clean - not worth keeping or passing along. But the recovered floorspace evident in this small island of dog beds was crystal clear.

Next, a small mat where Elo's food and water bowl lived in the kitchen. It was a larger woven cotton rug for a while until that got too worn and dirty, I picked up a small placemat designed for the purpose at Target a while back. Not really much in terms of reclaimed space - the bowls lived under ceiling hung pots and vegetable basket. But still, no longer on the floor, collecting fur.

Dog food - a bag in the basement with a big scoop that I'd use to transfer the food to a smaller Rubbermaid container. A big box of Milk Bone biscuits (my final purchase was a bit optimistic, I guess). I transferred the biscuits to zip lock bags in case I find a place to donate them, broke down the box. More closet space.

A basket of dog toys, tucked under an end table. I tossed pretty much all of the plush (some pretty beaten up, some hardly touched) but kept one little black and white dog which I think was a gift when Nipsy, Elo's predecessor passed. Elo might have played with it a bit, but it's in good shape, and has moved to the bedroom as a reminder of both dogs. I set the near mint dog toys aside for donation or future use, the basket may find another use.

Leashes. So many leashes. There were two retractable leashes, used for regular walks and bathroom trips, both in rough shape from his past life as a leash biter. As I type this I realize they can be tossed.  They hung from hooks affixed to the back of my door along with a little tray for poop bags and a hat with a light for evening walks. The hooks and tray can be easily removed but I might keep them for a while - handy place to hang my bag as well as the recently de rigeur reuseable grocery bags as they cycle from car to house to car. Two smaller retractable leashes, not regularly used and in much better shape, can be donated. A few other short and stout leashes - remnants from Elo's early days when he'd pull and bite at the leash and needed something shorter, stronger. And a couple of collars, in decent shape. Pass 'em along.

A set of lightweight, carpeted stairs, purchased along the way when Elo started to slow down a bit. He never actually learned how to use them, preferring to leap up and down off the high bed until the very end (and occasionally missing and falling back, terrifying us both and embarrassing him). They lived in the corner of the bedroom for a few years, I'd bring them out on occasion when he was not doing well, tripped over them for a few days of non-use, and go back to the corner. I gave them away through Facebook marketplace, guy with a Jack Russell terrier was delighted to have them.

Finally, one of those inexpensive plastic drawers on casters, repurposed from my long self employment, with stickers that read "floppy disks" and "blank floppy disks" and "random cables". It sat in my kitchen, a glass canister of dog biscuits and a Rubbermaid cereal bin of dog food on top, and in the drawers collections of poop bags, grooming supplies, nail trimmers, chew sticks, unused and long expired heartworm meds and flea/tick treatment, and some never used tennis balls, leashes, and rope chews. Emptied, vacuumed out, ready to come back to the office for it's next mission.

In its place, my kitchen garbage which has been underfoot and in the way for years, moved from corner to corner but never really finding a permanent, satisfactory home.

The one thing that I think I'm gonna keep is one of those infant safety gates, installed in the doorway of my yoga room to keep Elo out (because yoga pants are magnets for dog fur) while permitting the door to stay open in the summer for ventilation. It's been there nearly 10 years and I'm sure will leave marks when it's removed. And it has served a dual purpose: keeping Elo out, but also preventing me from turning that room into a dumping ground - it remains clean, empty (save two bookshelves, bins of yoga props, and a closet full of seasonal clothes and bedding). As I open and close it each day to do my practice, it will be a touchstone to remember that little dog, and the love and friendship he brought into my life.

It's weird, Elo has been gone less than 48 hours and I'm already deep into the "post Elo" life - doing a thorough dog fur cleaning of floors and carpets, pulling out quilts and afghans I did not want him to ruin, repurposing this found space, etc. It's not that I'm not mourning - I am. The tears come, lightly, sometimes racking and sobbing. But there's also the yogi in me: observing the attachments, the emotions, and conscious that as this being departs, with all of the commitments and complications that come with living with a dog, space is opening up. And I'm curious as to what will fill that space, what is next.

I was planning to fold into this posting some words about time and habits. But this one is long enough - I'll get to that one anon...

The New Normal

Mostly noticing the silence with Elo gone. I wrote this last night as I lay in bed:

Right now it’s the sounds I miss. The way Elo’s collar tags jingled, the lapping of water, the click of nails on the kitchen floor when I’m in the basement, the thump as he jumped off the bed or the sofa, the slow quiet steps up and down the stairs.

I also am realizing all the ways my patterns bent to him being here. Each meal an interaction as he waited for the bowl or plate. The last thing I’d do at night is let him out for a final bathroom trip before locking the door. Each morning I’d be puttering around in the kitchen and he’d make his way down the stairs, pausing a few steps from the bottom waiting for me to move to the door to let him out. He’d wait in the living room, when I had his food ready, I’d peek around the corner and make eye contact and he’d come into the kitchen. And he’d follow me up and down the stairs, to the basement office, the bedroom - my shadow, all day long - even as he got creaky and slowed down.

And now, in bed. He’d get his nerve up, leap onto the tall bed. Once in a while he’d fall back, I felt so bad for him, but he never figured out the stairs I bought for him. Then come to the head of the bed and wait for me to lift the covers so he could scurry under, on his side. Each morning in these last years, I'd get up and check to see if he was breathing "still with me, old dog?"

This morning, I caught myself turning the hot water faucet on to let it run and warm up, a prelude to wetting down his dry food.

I've been slowly collecting his things - decided to toss the dog beds (full of hair and smell, and not easily cleaned), gave away the bed stairs (which he never did learn to use, preferring to jump up and down). His food, biscuits, rawhide chews are packed up to go to the local pound if they'll take them. I've tossed many of the toys, packed up the "equipment" (brushes, clippers, nail trimmers). Still deciding what to do with leashes, spare collars, newish toys.

And I've decided to make lemonade out of these bitter lemons - I'm giving the floors a good cleaning (so much dog fur that defied even regular vacuuming; I've lived with it for 10 years). I put a new quilt on the bed that I've been saving for post-Elo life (he's been a bit rough on bed covers over the years). And pondering the ways that Elo has limited me - preventing most overnight trips, not being a very dog friendly pup, etc. and how my life might be different going forward, if I let it.

Goodbye, My Beloved Dog

It was a sad, difficult day. But also kind of perfect. On Sunday morning, my friend Kristen had passed along the card of a visiting holistic vet based out of Morris (western part of state) who turned out to be kind of an angel of death - so no need to take Elo anywhere (car trip, stress, cold, sterile). I've done that version a few times and it's always pretty horrible, no matter how nice and compassionate the vet is. She was amazing, turns out this is pretty much all she does. She assumed I got her name from my neighbors at the other end of the condo, who used her for one of their cats.

I cleaned up the space, put Elo's adopted quilt down (an old quilt purchased during a top surgery benefit many year ago). It's been my "cover up on the couch" quilt forever, and Elo had sort of claimed it over the years.  I lit some candles, put some quiet music on (Annie Wenz, a yogi / healer / musician who is a mainstay at Falcon Ridge), brought my meditation cushion down and just sat with him, breathing, metta, crying, making contact in turns. I read Mary Oliver's poem "Her Grave", about letting go of a dog, aloud.

He'd been pretty down since Sunday, so I assumed he'd be a lump on Monday, but was able to give him some beef broth, and he made it outside for a morning bathroom trip and then a short walk at noon. That felt like a blessing. I was not planning to post anything online but the vet called to say she was running behind, so I had time to take a few pictures and post some thoughts - it was nice to share it and to feel the love / energy heading inbound. I'm sort of working under the concept that all this sadness has to get out somehow and sometime, so might as well go with it, share it, express it, let it out.

The actual death was very gentle - Dr. Leah got down on the floor, I held him for a sedative shot (no drama) and he slowly dropped off asleep, then she shaved his leg and administered the final shot. No big drama (sometimes there's some hard breathing or nervous system movement).

She went outside to make space in her truck and got a small gurney, it was nice to have a few moment alone with him (no doubt planned on her part). We wrapped him in the quilt, put him on the gurney, and carried him out.

I'm not getting the ashes returned or do the whole paw print thing. I have enough stuff, his memories, his collar, and photos.

Also a house full of dog fur. I suspect Elo will be with me for a while...although now I'm faced with all the potential home improvements I've put off "until Elo was gone" - painting, carpets, floors.

I took it easy the rest of the day, a little nap, a litter walk, starting to gather up his things. Hoping to bring the food, chews, biscuits to the local animal pound along with some old towels that I've been meaning to donate, if they want them. Going through the toys, tossing some, keeping others. Packing up all the leashes and trimmers and brushes in case I find another pup. No plans either way, I need some space, but expect that if I'm meant to have another dog, it will come into my life and make itself known. He was not a big dog but took up space - I've got four doggie beds out on the deck airing out, a set of steps to get onto the bed that he never figured out how to use. So I'll be getting used to a more spartan home. 

I wish I could have taken today off, but long planned jury duty and no luck getting a last minute reprieve (where you call and they tell you to stay home). It will be fine - I'll bring stuff to read, to keep myself occupied.

And persistently, throughout the day, the refrain "This is why we do the work". So that we can meet stuff like this honestly, with compassion for ourselves, our friends or family members or animal companions, for all beings really. That we can feel the profound sadness and loss and know it's not the end of the world - that our sadness means we're still alive, feeling. But that our own mortality is right there with us. 

Letting Go

Holding space for this little guy as we wait for the vet. Candles, quiet music, metta, tears. It’s a beautiful day with the windows open. It’s also a sad day as I let go of my little buddy Elo. We got one last small walk in this noontime; a final, unexpected blessing.

He went down fast, another blessing. Sunday morning he was just different. Not eating, coughing, very swollen lymph nodes. It’s very clear that it’s time, and without a lot of drama or second guessing.

Mary Oliver says “A dog lives 15 years, if you’re lucky” Elo has lasted 16, a good run.

In the same poem “A dog comes to you, and lives with you in your own home - but you do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain,or the trees, or the laws which pertain to them.”

The poem ends “Finally, the slick mountains of love break over us.”

These tears, this profound sadness, wrapped around a core of gratitude for this being coming into my life, keeping me safe and warm and loved over so many years and so many life changes.

Gentle transition, dear friend Elo. I won’t leave you alone.

Grieving Tom

As we come up on four weeks since brother Tom's death, I've been chewing on my sadness and grief. I've noted before, it's a lot more complicated than the death of a parent (often expected and timely), or a sudden, unexpected death of a friend or sibling. Tom's life, and death, leaves strata of regrets, guilt, sadness, anger. It's been interesting sitting with that, exploring it.

First, there's the drinking. Tom died of complications related to cirrhosis of the liver - which affected his lungs (hepatic pulmonary syndrome), his kidneys (hepatorenal syndrome), low blood pressure, and sapped his strength and stamina. When Stage 4 prostate cancer was diagnosed, the good news (such as it was) was that the cancer was not going to be the thing that killed him.

We're not really children of alcoholics (that I'm aware of) - but in my own therapy work over the years I did notice a lot of ways or family of origin acted like an alcoholic family. Dad died in his 40s from heart disease, but smoking and drinking were certainly factors. So there was probably something there, maybe kept quiet, maybe a generation upstream. And so we look at how the family chose to deal with (or not) Tom's drinking.

Mom, when she was alive, set the precedent. In 2011/2012 when Tom's drinking first became an issue (causing work absenteeism and finally resulted in medical retirement) Mom would just not deal with it. There was some sort of story about a rare form of hepatitis (possible, he worked in a prison and was subjected to assaults by bodily fluids) but mom's official line was "I don't think he's drinking that much". I know when he was released from hospital back then he went to live with mom, who nursed him back to health - partly through food and companionship and a clean / safe place to live, but mostly through keeping him from being alone and drinking. Mom was in her 70s then, so not a spring chicken.

I don't recall visiting Tom at all during that time - not really understanding the nature of his drinking, knowing that Mom was kind of in charge of his situation. I did not know that it was tearing apart my brother (who would witness the mess and often be the family first responder, cleaning up bloody apartments and throwing out empty liquor bottles) apart. And my sister, who married a child of an alcoholic with not a lot of patience for it, was also kind of checked out.

What I do know is that while Tom may have stopped drinking for a time, he never really got sober. He blamed his drinking on his work, PTSD, etc. and refused the more traditional treatments (12 step groups, rehab, therapy) because as law enforcement, he was different. I recall trying to talk with him when his medical retirement came through - talking of second chances, with a monthly income, health insurance, etc. He could go get a small job aligned with his passions - trains, cars, guns, knives, hunting, barbeque, etc. or go back to school for something - to stay connected, make a few bucks, give him a reason to get out of the house. Unfortunately most of his social circles also revolved around booze, and it's no fun being the one sober person at the party.

When mom died, she let each of us know, individually, that she expected us to not abandon Tom. She knew he was difficult, she knew we were kind of done. It did not help that Tom was not able to deal with mom's year long transition from independent living to assisted living to death - he denied ("you're pushing her to the grave"), he pushed back, he disappeared. He was drinking again, of course - not sure if he had stayed sober until then or if booze had crept back in over the years. I do know that by the time we went to PA in the summer of 2017 to inter mom's ashes in the family grave, Tom was openly drinking, but professed to having 1-2 per day. Lies of course.

When you get sick or die, your heirs get access to your records, and we found a fairly reliable record of Tom's alcohol consumption - he made all his package store purchases by debit card. My brother and I are both numbers nerds, so we were able to chart it out. It's remarkably consistent (the slope of the line) - without a lot of fits and spurts, binges or purges. Looked like about a fifth of vodka per day. What was interesting was that Tom frequented three different package stores - mixing it up perhaps so that no one store owner might realize the extent of his drinking. I worked in a package store during my college years; we know anyways, trust me.

The gap around 5/1/18 was a family wedding in Texas; not sure about the gap early in 2019. His last purchase was 4/1/19; he got checked into the hospital on 4/8/19. Interesting in that we each heard some story given to the medical staff about stopping drinking many weeks or months prior to his hospitalization. We also noted that his dates were skewed - turning a 2012 hospitalization into "12 years ago" (2007 or thereabouts).

We were only able to download 18 months of data but it would be interesting to see how it looked during mom's decline and before.

Territorial

One of the regular encounters of my daily walks with Elo the pup are with catbirds that are nesting in the shrubs along the route. As we come into our territory, the catbird perches above us on a tree branch or utility line, and begins to scold us. When we continue along the road (presumably closer to the nest) the bird will swoop down at Elo, flaring grey and white wings, without actually making contact. Seems to leave me alone.

I am reminded of an ex's outdoor family cat, Loki, who would be periodically dive-bombed by the catbirds in the backyard. Loki, a tiny cat as cats go, would crouch low, occasionally turn on her back a flail her limbs, and my ex's father would watch with great interest and hilarity.

Elo, old, with failing vision and hearing, does not even notice. He's too intent on the one good sense he has, gathering all the smells. In a similar way, all the neighborhood dogs barking when he comes into sight are barely noticed unless he happens to look up or expect them - then his tail rises and he gets a bit animated.

The catbirds aren't the most territorial birds I've encountered. That would go to the red winged blackbirds, which used to nest along the perimeter of a nearby farm / field I used to take Elo to. They'd perch high in a tree, their warning call very noticeable, and they would dive bomb, from a great height, aiming for both my head and Elo's. As they came close, they'd flare their wings (like an airplane lowering the flaps) as a form of air brake, causing a big rush of air - scaring the heck out of Elo and I. I'd note their nesting area, listen for their call, and keep an eye on them.

They made an impression though - I've picked up several pieces of art representing the red winged birds over the years - striking.

I remain enamored with birds. I think because, as the descendants of dinosaurs, they remind me of the resilience of life, especially as we witness the next great extinction, caused by our own species' inability to regulate our own population, consumption, and waste.  When I see a flock of robins in the springtime - walking along the lawn, hunting earthworms, I see carnivorous dinosaurs. When I see flocks of canadian geese, I see groups of herbivor dinosours - gathered along a shoreline eating water plants. 

Familiar Places

The past three months, as we have worked through the steep decline and passing of our brother, have been an exercise in becoming very familiar with places, for a short period.

The first, Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital West in the Longwood section of Boston. Tom ended up there back in 2011 or 12 when his liver issues first surfaced, and that's where he ended up this time. He spent 5 weeks there - three weeks (about 1/2 of that time in ICU), a week home, another week back, another week home, a third visit for a week. Then off to hospice.

I grew up in the Boston metroplex and my family has remained there, but I was and am far from a regular visitor to the city - an occasional concert or Red Sox game over the years, maybe once a year in my adulthood. Yet the drive into Boston became almost pedestrian - Mass Pike to I-95 (which I still call Route 128) south, to Rte 9 East, direct int Longwood area. Minorly annoyed by $18 hospital parking (even with validation), I took the T in from Riverside a number of times, and got a parking app for my phone and a Charlie Card for my wallet.

I ended up spending two long days waiting with Tom in the ER for a bed (at the start of visits #2 and #3), and each time he'd be discharged we'd think "good-bye Beth Israel" but it would not be long until we were back.

We got very familiar with the Rosenberg and Farr buildings at the hospital: which door to go in, where we needed to check in, where not, where the best bathrooms were. We ate in the hospital maybe twice before finding far better food in the vicinity - Bon Me, Clover Food Labs, B.Good were all steps away, as was a large food court with less healthy alternatives.

The second place we got familiar with with Tom's apartment. Tom was a drinker, a collector, a borderline hoarder, and had a large collection of firearms - legal to own but not legally or safely stored. He had lived in his place for over 20 years and never really did much cleaning - he had owned ferrets, tropical fish, and (most recently) a cat - so the place was full of dander and fur. We (collectively, all cat allergic) could barely stand to be in there.

Unfortunately, it was the only place Tom considered returning to - so we spent many hours working on his place - cleaning, organizing, trying to make the place safe for Tom (thinking of things like oxygen and walkers) and habitable for help (us, visiting nurses, etc.) We never really succeeded - despite many hours of work on our part and $1000 spent on commercial cleaners, the place has remained almost unbearable to be in up until recently. Tom remained resistant to us cleaning / organizing / tossing stuff. The first night home from his initial hospital stay, he sat in his chair and directed me to go find and replace all the clutter we had moved (in order to have the commercial cleaners in). It was a Sisyphean effort to get the place cleaned up, one that we are only now (three weeks after his death) finishing up.

A minor location was the local dialysis clinic - Tom became a 3x a week patient and needed rides. He stubbornly insisted on driving himself the first time (probably the last time he drove anywhere) and we're lucky he did not kill himself or others. After that we took him. And even though he only went a handful of times (5x total), it was a chore to take him. He really needed to be in a wheelchair, but his apartment (narrow, cluttered, entrance steps) would not support one, nor would his ego. Ride services would not help him from house to car (he needed assistance) or they would transport wheelchair patients only. So we ended up taking him, and at the end it was too much for us (he's not small, and we're getting up there in years) - had the docs not terminated dialysis during his last visit to Beth Israel, we would have insisted he go someplace he could get transport to dialysis (would have been a big fight).

But yeah, we got familiar with the dialysis process - packing his bag with blanket, headphones, etc., getting him from apartment to car, driving to the center, going to get a wheel chair, getting him in the door and situated in the waiting room, picking him up after, reversing the process. Some folks end up doing that for months, years. Tom did not last that long, but we got used to it. We each took a day - Kevin was local, I came up from CT, Kathy from the cape. I ended up spending the downtime hours cleaning and organizing his place - sorting out gun stuff, knife stuff, clutter, etc. and trying to do it in a way that would not get him too pissed off.

Finally, we got familiar with the hospice facility Tom spent his last week at. It was a comforting place (after the busy and cold hospitals, and the cluttered and dirty apartment) and it feels a little bit like we took the place over for a week (which they are used to) - bringing in a lot of Tom's things for his room, providing 24/7 companionship, and hosting a family dinner and several smaller meals / gatherings. We'd bring in some food for ourselves, as well as some of Tom's requests to supplement their food. We wandered the place during overnights; got familiar with the medical staff, the volunteers, the visitors. And then boom - Tom died, all done.

Not sure why I'm writing this - it just struck me as odd how each of these places became suddenly familiar and essential - and just as suddenly, we transitioned to the next thing. I almost want to do a grand tour - visiting all the hot-spots of this sad adventure one last time, to say good-bye, to thank the places and people for doing what they could. 

The Things You Toss, The Things You Save

As we start to move towards the completion of cleaning up Tom's place and sorting out his many collections, mementos, and personal belongings, we start to hit the hard questions regarding what to do with the many pieces of history which he held on to.

Some things are easy. His kitchen was full of junk - the food got tossed (most was expired), the dishware, cookware, appliances were nothing special. We donated anything salvageable. We took a few things (brother Kevin took a tiny cleaver). But mostly, gone.

Clothes too, mostly tossed or donated. Tom held on to clothes that were out of style, no longer fit, etc. for decades. There were various gifts, unworn, with tags affixed. We tossed what was soiled or torn, donated what was decent. I took a small collection of Falcon Ridge staff tee-shirts (mine were used to make a quilt, so the replacements were welcomed). But mostly, the clothes were easy to sort through.

The collections too - easy. Tom had a lot of firearms and ammo; most of that got sold. A pair of pearl handled revolvers went to nephew and his wife (who live in TX). A handgun went to a friend who helped make safe, sort and get the collection ready for sale. And a beautiful rifle (I'm not a gun person, but when I saw this gun I was impressed with the workmanship and clean lines) went to brother Kevin who bought it for Tom. The firearms cleared a good chunk of change.

The 700+ N-gauge locomotives and rolling stock, not so much, going for perhaps 10% on the dollar. The knives are out on consignment, but will not be an easy sell; he set aside some Buck Knives to give to cousins at the family reunion, and set some of his special knives aside (maybe we'll toss them in the grave when we bury him, like ancient warlords). The slot cars went to Kevin (for now) who wanted the track and a few cars for his son, but ended up taking the wall rack with 200 or so cars - not expecting much return, like the trains. We picked over his hats, donated the rest. We found scores of pieces of career keepsakes - nametags, pins, badges, insignia - we'll keep one piece of each type for the archives, toss the rest.

A large DVD collection (325 titles) were donated to DVDs to the Troops - which matches up deployed troops with DVD collections. Cost us $100 or so to box them up and ship them, but well worth it. We put a small note in each box about Tom. A while later we discovered a large VHS collection; still not disposed of. Hoping to drop off at a shop in MA that advertises for them (no money needed, just want to keep them out of the landfill if possible). His records, cassettes, and CDs were sold (along with his turntable, the real gem I think) for $200.

Three sets of golf clubs (one set to brother-in-law TQ, the others consigned), two ball gloves, a tired football, golf shoes, a dart board, two rolling tool chests, an air compressor - all consigned. Compound bow and arrows (give to relative? consign?). 

Now, on to the hard stuff. Tom had a bin and a few piles of treasures - baby book, family photos, etc. that have made their way into the family archives (a bin I'm curating, and have recently had to enlarge). Yearbooks were harder - his HS yearbooks we're keeping (he's in the two he has), his college yearbooks will be sold or donated (he's not in either). Three books from dad's military career (naval officer school, two cruise books from the carriers Essex and Shangri-La are a harder call (might sell, might keep). I've got a few hours of organizing and filing that bin. which now contains keepsakes from Dad, Mom, and Tom.

A special jacket (replica he had made up, based on Dad's frayed, worn, and long trashed navy aviator's jacket, festooned with patches from his ships, units, and cruises) is sort of the hot potato - nobody really wants it, but nobody is willing to get rid of it. There's a crocheted afghan that mom made up for him which is in a pile for me; I realized yesterday that I'll soon own three of Mom's handiwork - I have one squirreled away that was a wedding gift, mom made my ex Alex one which he's giving to me as he divests from stuff, and now Tom's. I don't dare use them so long as Elo is around (he'd trash 'em) but he'll be moving on soon enough. Maybe bring one to the reunion in case anyone wants something from Mom.

Pretty much everything else is going to donate or toss via (800) Got-Junk. Mom and Dad's headboard / footer (trashed beyond use, although he had been using them plus their 50+ year old mattress and boxspring). A bookshelf I recognize from being in my bedroom as a child (buh-bye). The family dining room hutch (which lived in my office once upon a time, I remember having legos and keepsakes in there) - gone (the matching buffet is Kevin's aquarium stand, the table and chairs long gone).

By all accounts, Tom's place is pretty close to being empty. I've got one more trip north scheduled for next Tuesday to pick up strays. After that, we're done. Less than a month. We're nothing if not efficient in our grief and complicated emotions....

Archaeology

We're making slow but steady work on Tom's apartment - consisting of equal parts collections (guns, knives, baseball caps, trains, slot cars, and a few other smaller groupings), the day-to-day things we all have (clothes, kitchenware, household furnishings, entertainment), and the things Tom has chosen to hold on to - which bordered on, but did not quite cross the line into, hoarding.

In some ways, it's like an archaeological dig - thinking of the ruins of the ancient city of Troy, which is actually many cities, in strata; the Troy of Homer's story is most likely Troy VIIa. So we're finding stuff that Tom stashed away years or decades ago, that have been mostly untouched ever since.

For instance, we found this wooden wine box of cassette tapes. Not sure how common using a wine gift / promo box for cassettes across the culture, but I worked in a package store in college; all my friends used them, I used them, and it spread to family, I have no doubt I gave this particular box to Tom.

Also interesting is the mix of purchased cassettes and recorded cassettes - a typical vinyl LP (two sides) would just fit on one side of a 90 minute cassette (45 minutes) so one would either put two albums from one group on a cassette or mix / match. Occasionally an album would be too long (so you'd either manually remove a song from the tape, or let the thing play out and cut off the last song) - later in the tape evolution 100 minute tapes were common, adding 5 minutes per side.

We ended up tossing the home-made tapes (except for a tape of The Nields first two albums, which I recognize as something I made for Tom), and selling his CD collection (again, I grabbed four Nields CDs), his albums and turntable, and the purchased cassettes for $200.

Note the real milk crate to store the albums in; back in the days before companies started to make plastic crates that would actually fit an album. Back in the say these things doubled as end tables, chairs, shelving supports, cable bins (for musicians). And of course, holding (and over time, warping) vinyl albums.

Post Tom: Day Ten

Hard to believe it's been 10 days since Tom's passing. It still seems very present; waves of sadness wash over me periodically bring tears, sobs really. At the same time, moving on with life, and spending still a lot of time working to make some sense of the jumble that Tom left behind.

Once Tom's obit was posted, I petitioned Facebook to convert his account to an In Memorium page - wanted some place to post photos, a link to the obit, etc. for Tom's friends and family. I've dutifully scanned in some old school and family photos, a selection of  photos from Tom's trip to Philmont Scout Camp in 1981, and a handful of excerpts from his Keefe Tech (high school) yearbooks. I collected two UMass Lowell yearbooks as well but have failed to find Tom in those at all; will take a second run at them soon. I doubt we'll keep the yearbooks but nice to pull out the photos and memories.

It's a bit sad how underwhelming the response to Tom's death has been. When he first posted about his illness (from his hospice bed) there was a flurry of activity from former co-workers - lots of "you got this buddy" and "get well soon" posts that make me wonder if his co-workers (federal workers, draw your own conclusion) actually understood what the word hospice means.

I announced his death in that same thread a few days later, and a big outpouring of grief and disbelief  - "I just talked to him a month ago, he did not say anything about being sick". A few memories of work (Tom retired in 2012) and more recent gatherings / reunions. But since then, no real response to additional posts. One timeline tribute, a few family comments to the photos I posted. 

Nobody has posted on his obit's memory wall at all. Not really super surprising; he's been out of the workplace for 8-9 years (his primary community), and drinking hard for a few years longer, and that create both isolation and friction. Three friends came through in the final months - two were Kevin's friends who had gotten to know Tom through poker games, TV sports parties, etc., and one was the son of the woman who lives with Tom's landlady (we told them he was sick early on in the process, since we were coming and going to his place and did not want her to worry).

Over the past few weeks I'd ask my brother Kevin about particular friends or communities - there'd be a story of a falling out, an argument, etc. Tom burned a lot of bridges over the past decade.

One of the books I took up for comfort in the week of visiting hospice was a Mary Oliver poetry compilation. The poem When Death Comes floated past my attention.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

In a lot of ways, Tom was a visitor to this world; I'm sure he's touches some lives, but he never really seemed to get much traction. And looking over a lifetime's transition from adorable cherub to curmudgeonly and addicted crank, makes me very sad.

We decided to not do much in terms of funeral, viewing, ceremony, etc. and that seems like the right decision - it would have been us and a smattering of family and our friends coming more for us than for Tom. We did not need nor want that. And since none of us has a particular religious affiliation (Tom's proclamation that he was a strict Roman Catholic in the hospital not-with-standing, he has not been to church in decades except for a dutiful holiday with Mom now and then) it felt specious to arrange a mass or other christian ritual. We'll have a priest do a graveside service in PA (where our more observant extended family might come).

Infrastructure

Spent a few hours at Tom's place this afternoon, mostly working on dis-assembling the infrastructure that he had built up over two decades of living in his space.

Power

Tom's place is basically an efficiency / in-law apartment tacked on to an older home. Two rooms, a galley kitchen, tiny bathroom, and a 3 seasons porch / mud-room / entrance (that Tom had filled with tools, supplies, sporting goods). The wall receptacles were limited at best, often two wire (no ground) and not really sufficient for modern life. Not surprised that Tom ran a few extension cords, but we pulled a ton of stuff out of there:

• Five AC timers (used for Xmas lights, but also some room lights)
• 4 plug-in receptacle adapters to convert 2 outlets to 6, at the wall
• 5 AC power strips
• 3 AC splitters (convert 1 receptacle to 3)
• 12 or so extension cords
• 2 high power extension cords 

In the course of his time there, Tom had two A/C units, a space heater, a fish tank, the usual number of modern electronics, and a few unusual appliances (a countertop dishwasher, a deep fryer). He also had rigged up some temporary things that became permanent - an extension cord / power strip that fed a window fan (up and over a doorway), power cords affixed to the headboard to feed portable electronics, power cords to his favorite chair for police / fire scanners and phone / computer supplies.

Quite frankly, we're lucky there was never a fire. I threw out more than 1/2 the things we pulled out - ground plugs cut off, corroded green. There are a few pieces that showed some signs of overheating. Between the clutter, the collections, the dust bunnies and cat fur everywhere - place was a firetrap.

Pretty much everything is disconnected with the exception of two living room lamps (plugged in directly to the wall) and a fan I brought in to air the place out when we are working there.

Cable and Phones

Similarly, the place was set up years ago, before the advent of cable modems and digital phone. There were two cable feeds from the basement - one in the bedroom (fed a TV on a dresser) and one in the living room that ran 2/3 of the way around the room, split out to feed a TV and a cable modem. I broke down both TVs, packaged up the cable boxes / remotes to go back to the cable company, and coiled / wrapped the loose cable feeds from the floor.

He also had a video switcher (a remnant of the days before flat screen / multi input HDMI televisions, when TVs had a single input) - with a handful of left/right/audio cables to switch in DVD, VCR, Roku box and who knows what. All wrapped up and bagged.

There were also a ton of phone cords around - two long runs, lots of short cords. He had at least three phones in the place, plus an answering machine, and a phone line over to where a computer once sat, in the days before broadband. All the phone cables were struck and tossed, the phones and answering machine bagged to toss, donate, or give away. The phones were still active when I was there but I assume they will be off soon.

And while there was no desktop computer evident (we've got one active laptop and two old laptops to dispose of) I did get rid of an old printer, an packed up a Boston Acoustics speaker set (woofer and two smaller speakers, wiring and power supply) which I'm assuming works and is still in good shape, although when was the last time computer components were white / cream?  Been a few years....

Audio System and Speaker Cables

Tom had the sort of overkill audio system of someone who grew up in an earlier time and was impressed by both quantity and size. There were four large Technics speakers in the four corners of the living room. He's had them a while - several show signs of being attacked by ferrets and/or cats. There were a couple of smaller wooden speakers. And there were two Realistic speakers that were the very first speakers I ever purchased (I remember bringing them back from Radio Shack strapped to my 5-Speed Schwinn bike rack). Why Tom kept them, who knows. They were prominently set atop his entertainment unit, not wired up.

There were speaker cables running all over the place (under the rug, around the perimeter) - with about 50% actually wired up / operating. All gone now.

Feeding this acoustic mess, a Sony surround sound amplifier - old school (big screw down terminals on the back). Add a CD changer, a DVD player, a VHS player, and a turntable (Kevin removed and sold with the records). All disconnected, dusted off, found, matched and packed up remotes and power cords, and wrapped all the audio patch cables.

Finally, up in the closet there were an old Technics receiver (not something I ever owned, but I bet I bought it for him back in the day) and a cassette desk (which no doubt works fine, just fell out of use). I had previously recycled a CD changer and DVD player, boxed up in the bedroom - which had either stopped working or simply been replaced and never tossed.

Pot Calling the Kettle Black

I'm sure when my time comes, people will be similarly challenged / amused by my own electronic hackery. I've got a small place, but in my own defense,, a home office / working out of the house perforce complicates things a bit.

I'm a bit less of a pack-rat though - I take regular trips to Green Monster recycling to get rid of old tech, and when technology improves, I transition over pretty cleanly. I've owned video switchers (for instance) but they are all gone now once I got a modern TV. 

My TV is fed via cable box, DVD, and Roku box (all direct connect via HDMI). The TV interfaces to my stereo (so as to provide better sound upstairs). I have "B" speakers running into the kitchen (so I can listen while I cook / wash dishes / hang out on porch without blasting the volume). And my stereo runs a line out to a small amp / speaker set-up in the basement (so I can listen to anything upstairs downstairs, as I work).

And I do have a full complement of audio inputs - CD player, video, MP3 portable (a dedicated Kindle Fire), cassette (presently in the basement for a project, but there's a spot for it). The one thing missing is a turntable, I lent mine out years ago. It's coming back to me soon, although I doubt I will hook it up except perhaps for a special occasion.

Post Tom: Day Four

It was the sort of farewell dinner that we're good at - coming together in our grief to remember our brother, to thank friends who stepped up at the end, to support each other. We three remaining Russells, a couple of partners, one nephew, and two couples - Kevin's friend Alex (who we've decided to adopt, he was amazing over the past months) and his girlfriend, and Tom's friends Jeff & Paula, who caught wind of Tom's illness near the end (Jeff's mom lives with Tom's landlady) and showed up big in the final few weeks.

Not a traditional memorial service by any means - I brought a bag full of photos that we passed around, we told stories, shared memories. No formal prayer or speeches or anything. More laughter and smiles than tears. We do the tears alone....

Figuring out how to memorialize our brother remains a challenge. The nature of his addiction and illness (let's just get it out there, alcoholism, resulting in end stage liver disease) meant he had stepped back from communities, friends, and life over the past decade. So while Tom would have wanted a big, classic wake and funeral with open casket and lines of mourners and all that - we knew it would be us, an empty room, a handful of people who did not know Tom, showing up for us. We neither need nor want that.

Similarly, there's no connection to our religion of origin for any of us. Tom professed to being a "strict roman catholic" in the hospital (mostly when it came to considering things like hospice, end of life decisions, choosing to pursue life extending treatments) but he's not been to church in many decades, and then only with mom. I'm sure the last time he showed up in the parish rolls was as a confirmee in his teens.

The nature of the post sex abuse scandal catholic church doubles down on the discomfort - Mom struggled with the lack of a resident parish priest (the parish is run by a nun these days, visiting priests, often from overseas, say mass and handle the sacraments), and Tom did as well. An older priest visited Tom in the hospital (at our request) to clear up some end of life issues (DNI, DNR, hospice care, all of which Tom thought were against catholic teaching) - he also performed the (choose one) last rites, sacrament of the sick, annointing of the oils and gave Tom communion. There was really no priest or parish to call on when he was in hospice care; a hospice chaplain stopped in a few times who Tom clicked with.

So, we're working on an obituary; I'll be putting together some sort of photo album. We'll convert his Facebook page to a memorial page and share things there. We're gathering pieces of his collection (knives, hats, coins) to share with cousins, friends, relatives who might want something to remember Tom by.

Later this summer, we'll travel to Lancaster, PA, to inter Tom's ashes in the family plot. (Mom had asked to be cremated so we could bury her over the summer when her family could be there, and there would be room in the plot for 1-2 of us kids). We'll get a priest for a graveside service, family from mom's side will be there. "It will be nice" as mom would say.

It might seem (from the outside) that we are taking this lightly, not honoring Tom. We're each dealing with deep, complicated emotions (sorrow, grief, anger, compassion, love), we're coming off several months of crisis mode as we dealt with Tom's illness (and his often erratic or irrational demand and responses around it), and we're looking at several months of work to peel apart Tom's life and belonging in a way that is respectful and honors the things he loved. Relationship Status: It's Complicated.

Post Tom: Day Three

I headed north again to work on Tom's place some more.

• Finished sorting his trains, a sort of advanced level version of Concentration as I would pick up a box, look at the description, and try to match one of the loose cars or locomotives. I did pretty well - there were probably 20-30 pieces at the end with no matching boxes (not bad for a collection that exceeded 800 pieces).
  
  Packed up in five boxes (including some accessories, some old copies of train magazines, a power supply, and a large cache of unopened accessories and parts. We trashed a small track layout, anything that was opened or loose, paint, solvents, brushes, etc. Still, an impressive collection. 
  
  These will come home with me next trip, I'll set up a spreadsheet to document what we have, and send to a few dealers to quote the whole pile.
  
• Packed away a dozen or so small match-box / corgi type metal cars. Not sure if they are worth much, but could not hurt to check.
  
• Packed away a handful of beer steins and beer mugs. Again, no idea of value, but worth checking out. I was (pleasantly) surprised that my own stein collection (long gone, but I thought Tom might have taken them) was nowhere to be found.
   
• Filed all of his musical CDs - found that many of the boxes we'd packed the other day were empty, and found 4 CD folders containing the disks. Another game of advanced concentration matching those up. Threw out the unmatched disks and cases.
   
• Piled four boxes of DVDs (perhaps 300 or 350) in my cart and brought home. I've made contact with an organization that facilitates DVD donation for troops deployed troops, have three names / addresses to ship them to, and ordered some special boxes designed to hold 25 DVDs per box. Will cost a bit to send them (USPS Media Rate, discounted to APO addresses) but worth it; Tom was a big supporter of the troops. Will put a little note about Tom in the boxes. 

Once I arrived home, gave Elo some lovings and attention, I ended up pulling everything out of the living room (all but the entertainment cabinet) and vacuuming (2x, plus edges / corners) and then using the new carpet shampoo machine (2x wash / dry, 1x rinse / dry, 1x dry only) - it did a pretty remarkable job considering the run is at least 10 years old, heavily traffic'd, and the place Elo has his accidents. I'm sure the pad is also dirty, but the top is clean, and I'll keep at it. I'm almost ready for visitors. 

Once Elo moves on I'm gonna get some laminate flooring for the kitchen and living room....

Post Tom: Day Two

As we start the onerous, painful, and occasionally surreal process of settling Tom’s affairs, we tentatively step up to the cavern of eternity, i.e. Tom’s apartment. I spent the yesterday there - disassembled the bed (that we initially found with two boxsprings and two mattresses, Tom needed a stool to climb in. He fought us but we convinced him to use just one boxspring and one mattress). Boxed up DVD’s to donate or sell (um, 400 of them). Started to box up his n-scale trains - over 700 pieces of rolling stock. Over 100 locomotives, most of which were in a display case so I had to figure out which box to put them in. It’s a big project.

 I jokingly proposed some rules for the project.

#1: if you find an unopened, new in box, or tags still on item that you gifted Tom, you get first dibs. We found a lot of gifts he never got around to using (many from mom, who isn’t participating)

#2: if you decide you want something, you need to tell the others the story - why, what meaning. A way to get to know Tom and each other better.

#3: if Tom wanted you to have something, and it’s not something you want or need, it’s ok to not take it. No guilt. He was trying to give his stereo system to me all week. I’m 58, I’ve lived on my own for 12 years, I’ve had plenty of time to put together an audio system that meets my needs.

What I brought home, today:

#1: a little stuffed kitty I bought him during his first long stay at Beth Israel, when he was really missing Grace, his kitty. It reminds me of his softer, gentler side

#2: some noise canceling headphones I bought for him during the same hospital stay. He did not use them then, but they were perfect for dialysis, glad they made his life a little better for a few days.

#3: a hand made Asian scroll that I had apparently bought him during a trip to Hong Kong, 20+ years ago. He had it hung below two samurai swords he had, he even saved the box for it (which I almost tossed by accident) and was quite proud of the display. I have no idea what it says, I ought up to try to figure it out.

#4: PBS Alone in the Wilderness DVD’s - something he asked for and I bought him for Xmas. He would have liked that sort of life, I think. It will remind me of him.

It’s a bit sad to be in his home with him gone, and we’re constantly finding something that brings tears. But we three share just enough OCD / ADD characteristics, and have been itching to get our hands on the place (to clean, to organize, to purge and declutter) since he first got sick, but he would not let us touch much. So there’s something therapeutic in trying to clean up his life a bit, contribute to him a little, even after the fact.

Post Tom: Day One

A huge THANK-YOU for the outpouring of sympathy and love that came my way yesterday. Tom's illness and death was not sudden; his path was clear back in early April when the nature and magnitude of his many diseases was made evident. And really, the roots of this go back to 2012 when his health first became an issue, and 2016 when mom began to fail.

What has been hard is carrying this quietly, at Tom's request. Through three stays at Beth Israel Deaconness Hospital in Boston, two frantic days of multiple ambulance rides and long waits in the ER, dozens of trips north to support Tom in the hospital and at home, to clean and declutter his home so that he could return there, to ferry him to and from dialysis. It's become the new normal for us, and we're a bit relieved to have our lives back. Many of our close friends were in the loop, but this has come as a shock to many friends and family, and especially to Tom's social network, who were as recently as Sunday commenting that "you've got this, buddy" and "sending prayers for a speedy recovery" (apparently not really understanding the nature of the word "hospice")

When hospice was finally forced upon him (dialysis was no longer effective) he went grudgingly. We worked to set up his room with his memories and familiar gadgets, and we committed to be with him 24/7 because he was not a good patient, refused to stay in bed, and was a serious risk for a fall which might have taken him back to the hospital. Better us to stay with him than to find himself in restraints.

This has taken a toll on all of us, as well as our families, partners and communities who have generously given us time, space, and resources to care for Tom in ways that perhaps many would have stepped back from. So in a lot of ways we're collectively catching our breaths, sighing in relief that none of us were taken down through this process.

We're still trying to figure out what's next. Tom has amassed a lifetime of memories and collections in two small rooms that he refused to let us touch or deal with - we'll be peeling all that apart in the coming weeks. Perhaps our first shock and sadness came in seeing how he had been living, and over the past months we'd shake our heads at new discoveries at just how dysfunctional his life had become, with dozens of picked up but never used prescriptions, a decade of unopened mail, unpaid bills, piles of non-functioning technology and appliances.

Even as we hold in our hearts the memory of the vibrant and much-loved child that came into our lives through adoption back in 1967, we also struggle with the problematic adult he had become, and are grateful that his illness did not end up causing harm to others. There were so many ways this could have gone very badly wrong.