austin_dern

My father's cousin died this week. It was one of those things not surprising except in details. She was, I believe, a few years older even than my father, and living alone, and apparently sometime last week she fell and may have had a mini-stroke. I don't know the order of those events. But from there it wasn't an unpredictable path.

I wasn't close to her --- I'm not sure I'd seen her since I was a teenager, although when would I have had the chance? --- although you can see some affinities between her personality and mine. Particularly that she was a scientist, with a staggering number of biochemistry papers published. Industrial rather than academic, but it's still citable work. And settling down to live somewhere without intending to move the rest of one's life, which I guess she managed. Not so fun and I hope not reflected in me was a growing paranoia, to the point that when I started sending Christmas cards out I was told not to send one to her (actually to my aunt whom she was watching over) before she'd given clearance.

This, I think, takes away the last family link to the part of central Jersey where I'd grown up. There's probably some people with a common great-grandparent who might be in Middlesex County somewhere but I don't know of any of them.

Coincidental to all this was some frantic group-texting among my family to figure out a spot for a gettogether this year. Especially after missing last year's for our rabbit's illness this feels important to get to. My sister had suggested somewhere that she could add on a trip to Cedar Point or Kings Island --- I don't know if she's ever been to either --- which opened the conversation to ``places near a Great Lake''. So I tried pitching Mackinac Island or Traverse City, but that hasn't got much beyond one of my brothers discovering Traverse City has the world's largest cherry pie tin and wondering who has giant apple pie tins. I told them they're not prepared for how cherry-oriented the Traverse Bay area is.

Well, let's look at a regular half-dozen pictures from Camden Park, then.

Another picture of the Flying Scooters and the Moon. The arcade is in the background on the lower left there; the gift shop with its giant plush buffalo to the left of that.

The West Virginia Grille appeared to be a cafeteria. We didn't go in and I'm not sure it was open. Note on the right the Adena Mound.

Here's something we noticed in-between two buildings. I assume it's props from a Halloween event. It was fenced off, though, so this is the best look I could have.

And here's another pavilion, one near the Big Dipper. The grassy area in the distance is where I took those pictures of the river.

I'm not sure if this is the far end of the same pavilion or a nearby one. But it is near the turnaround for the Big Dipper.

Looking back here at the pavilion and a smaller hill of the Big Dipper.

Trivia: Milton Berle was the center of at least a half-dozen radio shows over thirteen years in the medium, none of which was a ratings success. After the failure of the last in 1949 he tried television. Source: On The Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio, John Dunning.

Currently Reading: Quantum Mechanics: The Theoretical Minimum, Leonard Susskind, Art Friedman.

With our trip to Washington called off there were a couple questions, like, would I go back to work? I decided to take the time off, though. I haven't had a vacation where I just stay and do nothing, not even amusement park trips, since ... unemployment, and that sucked. Taking time just to myself and to do as I pleased was a lot of me doing what I do ordinarily on the weekends or holidays anyway but it felt like more for being a choice.

Another choice. bunnyhugger's brother's wedding fell apart. Not from any romantic problems or anything; it was paperwork. There was some trouble getting the documents that the marriage license required and there wasn't time to sort it out so why not just come and hang out instead? With some encouragement from me bunnyhugger agreed to go out herself and hang out for the weekend and see the sights of Kingston, New York. I could stay home and keep watch on Roger.

The drawback is if I wasn't driving how would she get to upstate New York? The obvious alternative is fly, which bunnyhugger would rather not do and would absolutely not do at the prices for getting a flight week-of, thank you. With that out, the next alternative is the train. bunnyhugger has taken Amtrak out east as recently as fifteen years ago and it's always been. Um.

It's always started from the Toledo train station at 3:15 am, because --- thanks to 9/11-based security theater --- the train that used to run from Michigan through Ontario into New York stops at the national border. The alternative for some reason runs once a day when only the daft would go. And, worse, the bus that takes one from the East Lansing train station to Toledo leaves at like 7 pm, to allow for a sensible five-hour margin to make your connection. But since I was off, and willing, I could drive her to Toledo for the small hours of the morning. She insisted I take a nap in the evening, to be ready for that, and it wasn't a bad idea. I felt more refreshed than I expected following it, and she'll probably be angry when she reads this because she never has naps that good. It was a little bit weird driving the Route To Cedar Point (more or less) at that hour of the night, but easy enough driving.

Toledo's Amtrak station was built in the late 40s in the last era of passenger railroad travel being a thing anyone wanted, and by reports it's a marvelous International Style passenger palace. Unfortunately the areas built as passenger facility are now walled off as paid event space. Passengers instead sit in what used to be the baggage sorting area and you can tell. While it didn't have the dismal-bus-station vibe bunnyhugger remembered, and it had some nice little historical plaques and exhibits and such, it was not a place to hang out for five hours.

The train was a few minutes late, but hoped to make up the time. We hugged on the platform, and I saw her get on the train, and the train leave. I stuck around for a couple minutes out of some primordial instinct of ``what if they have to turn around for some reason?'' which of course they did not. And I drove back, taking it slow (and taking a rest break at some truck-stop gas station) because even after a nap it was still past 4 am. I got in a bit before 6 am, to a very confused Roger who mostly knew everyone was in the wrong places at the wrong times. Haven't stayed up that late since the awful night I killed my car. This time, despite Roger's problems and that I was going to bed alone, was a lot better.

I guess you can see Thanksgiving and some rabbit pictures now.

The dining room table, set for dinner. I'm not sure it ever looked this good.

And here's Roger, in his pen, waiting for his own dinner.

Is the attention I'm giving him worth just the one ear raised? Is that all?

No! I'm worth two ears raised! Hooray!

A little while later. Roger has somehow managed to get his food ball --- the yellow sphere, with pellets inside --- lodged up off the ground. I know it looks like it's resting on the corner of this Quaker Oaks box but no, it's wedged between the cage and his litter bin there. You see him in the background there looking all proud of himself.

You'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he gives the expression yes, he knows how he did it, but he'll never tell how.

Trivia: Wilbur Wright bought the 16-foot white pine spars for the brothers' 1899 Glider from a Norfolk, Virginia, sawmill for $7.70. (He had wanted spruce pine, and 18-foot spars, but neither spruce pine nor 18-foot lengths were available.) Source: First Flight: The Wright Brothers and the Invention of the Airplane, T A Heppenheimer.

Currently Reading: His Majesty's Airship: The Life and Tragic Death of the World's Largest Flying Machine, S C Gwynne.

PS: What's Going On In The Phantom (Weekdays)? How can Elon Musk steal the Moon? June - August 2024 Of course it's not Elon Musk, not for real, but, it is the Moon. Well, it's Africa, anyway.

So despite difficulties I did get a solid plan for meeting up with my brother and his family, to spend a couple hours at the University of Michigan's Museum of Natural History. I haven't been there since they moved to the new, modern, less interesting building. bunnyhugger was not able to go, as she had a commitment to work at the bookstore; as it turned out, they wanted to meet early enough in the day --- fitting their drive from Detroit to Wisconsin --- that had we hustled a little maybe she could have made it. But she'd have had to get up early and we'd have had to have a lot of things go right, including spending less time in the museum and much less time stuck in traffic.

This was the first time I've seen my brother, or his wife or nieces, in person since we gathered for my aunt's funeral in 2018. So right away it was off to a better start. The kids have reached middle school and high school ages, although I was still able for example to stymie Younger when she looked over a cast of a dinosaur's head and, observing the missing teeth, pointed out she had lost 14 teeth herself, and saying that I thought that made her sound careless. Younger also displayed an interest in knowing whether the adults thought various dinosaurs were cute or not (her mother was on the not-cute side of nearly everything). Also in evaluating dinosaurs to see whether we could beat them. I did ask ``beat them in what'', but she wasn't taking that bait.

My nieces were curious about what it's like to grow up with so many siblings, and what I remembered of life before their father was born. I had to admit, I didn't remember anything from when I was that young. (It's a question I could not have thought to ask my parents or uncles or aunts: both my mother an father were the oldest children.) Older wanted confirmation of the story that before our youngest sister was born, their father had said he hoped the new child would be ``a giraffe''. I could attest that yes, this was true: I hoped for a girl, our middle brother a boy, and the youngest, their father, a giraffe, which I agree would have been the most interesting choice. Also Older mentioned how she's started a new instrument, the baritone. The baritone what, you may ask, as I did. Just the baritone.

We did not explore the whole of the museum. I didn't even get to see if they still had a weirdly judgemental view of squirrels (the old museum had text explaining how squirrels were among the most primitive of rodents, a view I guess was valid in 1938 or whenever its old text was written). But as a person who's more than once hung around a museum until over a half-hour past its closing time that's probably for the best. I also caused some delay when I pointed out the jigsaw-puzzle Pangaea puzzle in one of the activity rooms, prompting Younger- to spend enough time failing to put continents in their place that her father started to just tell her where to put North America already. Younger was of the opinion all the continental plates ``look like America'', which does complicate placement.

Afterwards, seeking my recommendations for a place to eat in Ann Arbor, I named Ashley's and they agreed that looked like it should have stuff kids could eat. This was boneless chicken wings and a burger, plus nachos with queso, although they did try a couple of the Stilton fries I got, at my recommendation. (Their parents did not.) They were also canny enough to pick up fries stuck by the melted cheese to more fries, but were gracious enough to let me unpeel the surplus fries from the one they really wanted.

Also I got my father in future trouble, by telling the story of the time he told us boys that if we jumped off the high diving board he'd buy us ice cream, and we overcame our fear to do it. Afterwards, he declared that he had already bought us ice cream, earlier in the day, so his part of the deal had already been satisfied. Neither of my nieces were happy with my father's action that one summer day in like 1985 so he's sure to hear about it when they talk next. I should maybe give him a heads up. Also, their mother felt the need to explain that I was exaggerating when I said the diving board was about 2,500 feet high and airplanes had to divert around it, as they seemed to be accepting that sure, yeah, you see diving boards that high in the cartoons so that would happen. I choose to believe they were going along with the gag and their mother was worrying for nothing.

Older also wanted to know if her dad's hair had ever been blond, and I said that I believe it was when he was very young. Did I remember when it turned black? ... No, I'm afraid I don't. And did I ever wish that I didn't have their dad as a brother? There, no, no, I didn't. Their other uncle yes, but not their father.

So I'm glad I had the chance to see everyone. Would have preferred that they been willing to divert like an hour north and see me closer to home, although not literally at home since it's not really big enough for that many guests at once. They're also going to drive back home, of course, although since they don't plan to stop in Detroit on the way back they probably will be even farther from here. Guess I'll catch them in another five years.

Now to look at Saturday afternoon at Anthrohio. The first event?

The cake decorating contest! Here it's in prep, waiting for icing to be distributed and people to arrive and all.

And here we are, at work, spreading icing on and somehow everybody else doing better at crafting lines and stuff.

Our figure: a bunny looking at a UFO that kind of looks like a Christmas ornament from the 60s.

And here's our finished cake, alongside some of the other early finishers. Note the starship Enterprise in bagel and hot dog buns there.

More of the finished cakes, with, on the right, one that went way overboard in using Oreos and crushed Graham crackers for a pattern that has nothing to do with the theme of Space Or Whatever.

Here, other people take more time to finish their decoration.

Trivia: The Skylab 3/2 astronauts installed a twin-boom sunshade during an EVA on the 6th of August, 1973, after which the cabin temperature for the space station stayed around 68 to 75 degrees Fahrenheit reliably. Source: Skylab: A Chronology, Roland W Newkirk, Ivan D Ertel, Courtney G Brooks. NASA SP-4011.

Currently reading: Lost Popeye Zine Volume 25: Popeye and Paradise Peak, Part 2, Tom Sims, Bela Zaboly. Editor Stephanie Noelle.