Books read in December of 2022:
2022 Reading List Total:
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*= book I have read at least once in the past
+= book I have read before, but not this reprint/edition/translation
Currently Reading:
Books read in December of 2022:
2022 Reading List Total:
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It saddens me to report the death of one of our longtime pets, our beloved cat Amber, who some of you who have known me awhile knew well, and also knew was so very close to my heart and soul. At the time of her death she was 16+ years old. She’d been on the decline since March of this year (which was when she began throwing up her food more often, along with losing much weight), but things escalated very quickly over the last few days.
My mother adopted Amber from a shelter on April 19th, 2007 (prior to that, Amber had been living homeless on the streets of Providence): I think she was around a year or younger at the time. I can still remember the first day she was brought home, and I saw that pointy little face staring out at me from between the bars of the cat carrier: my gut told me then that here was a unique animal. She was a female tortoiseshell, a breed of cats known for being VERY demanding, high maintenance and possessing a dive-like attitude (though we didn’t know this when we adopted her). And boy, did she live up to the stereotype: when she wanted anything (be it food, water, attention, and so on), she was sure to aggressively let you know it in a vocal or physical way, and while she didn’t mind being petted, it was only on HER terms: pet her one time too often and watch out! She had a most curious face: when she was annoyed, it would often narrow to a point, but when she was happy, it would assume a very round and friendly shape (hence why we would oft refer to her “pointy face” and “round face”). More so than anyone else in our house, she attached to me very quickly, and tended to be way more patient with me than she was with almost anyone else at our home. It probably helped that I let her stay on my lap very often, almost every day we had her in fact (with the exception of when we were on vacation or things like that). A lot of my published books were typed with her napping on my lap, actually. Of all the pets we’ve ever had, she was probably the one I was closest to, and vice-versa, so needless to say, these last few months (and the last few days in particular) have been gut-wrenching, even though I’ve been bracing myself for it for awhile now.
As befitting a cat of her melodramatic nature, her death had, to me, an equally dramatic nature. We knew she was on her way out today when she stopped drinking water and was barely able to walk (she had quit eating food a few days ago), but I still wasn’t 100% sure that today, December 10th, would be the day she died. For the last few months, every day, I’ve been touching the statue of the Egyptian cat goddess Bast that I keep atop my computer desk and asking her to keep Amber alive for another day (along with my prayers to other entities, because when it comes to praying it never hurts to cover as many bases as you can). Today, breaking protocol, I said, “Bast, if it truly is her time to go, please take her, but give her a good death.” I also wished that if she would die it would be at home and not at the vet: because she had been a hardy cat all her life, she had only ever been to the vet a few times (only like 4 times really) in her 16+ years of life, and the last time she went (in July of this year), it had really traumatized her for a few days afterwards. About an hour before I left for work tonight, I spent some time in the family den with her on my lap (the family den being pretty much the place where she’s spent most of her time these last few months, when she wasn’t upstairs that is, upstairs being a place she would go almost every day because that’s where my room is: the last day she went upstairs was Thursday, after that the stairs were too much for her). As I stroked her fur I told her that I loved her, but that if it was her time to go, I understood, and that we would always be together in spirit. Then I went to work. I figured that was safe to do because I was working a shorter shift. But about halfway through my shift I got a call from home from my dad, saying that her condition had taken a turn for the worse and that I should consider coming home quickly. Explaining to my manager I had a family emergency, I promptly left work and headed straight home, though I had to stop for gas on the way as my tank was nearly empty. I got home at 7:10 or so and found Amber in the den on my mother’s lap, still barely breathing but very out of it. Not 10 minutes later, around 7:19-7:20 PM, my mom and I saw her take a big breath. We were talking about something or other after that, then looking down at Amber and noticing something amiss I asked my mom, “Has Amber stopped breathing?” Sure enough, she had. A few bodily spasms followed, but she had died. So at least I got to say I was by her side when she died, that I got to see her breathe her last breath, that I was the first to notice she had died, and that she died at home, surrounded by her loved ones, in a warm place. So yes, my prayers were answered: it was indeed a good death, or as good as such a sad thing can possibly be. I know she was in a stupor her last few hours and was probably not totally aware of her surroundings and what was going on, but in some ways it really did seem like she waited to die until I was there, that on some deeper level that transcends the merely physical she was aware that I had come back to see her off, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.
What more can I say? Amber enjoyed playing with her catnip toys, looking at the birds outside and clacking her jaws at them (her prior circumstances notwithstanding, she was a lifelong indoor cat), drinking water from the sink or tub faucet, climbing into boxes and bags (no matter how big or small), sunning herself in sunbeams/patches of sun, scratching at the old basketball jerseys on the doorknob of my bedroom door, burrowing under blankets in the winter months (or sprawling out on a heater), climbing onto high surfaces, getting stroked underneath her neck with a ruler or pen, playing with her fellow pet “siblings,” and, more than almost anything else, curling up into a ball on my lap and gazing up into my eyes with a look of content fondness on her face before drifting off to sleep... ah, that is a look that I will never forget and which I already deeply miss. As with many of our other pets, Amber had a variety of nicknames over the course of her life (some of which fell out of fashion as the years went by including: Paris, the Diva, Amberlina, Amberlina Jolie, Ambient, Tortie, Khaleesi, Peanut Butter Cup, Checkerboard Face (due to her distinctive facial markings around her nose/mouth), Pointy Face, the Old Lady, the Bag Lady, the Crone, the Buzzard, the Gargoyle, the Old Catfish, the Loudmouth Bass, the Little Bit, the Little Bitch, the Queen of Sheba, Lap Cat, Jersey Cat, Cranky, Pippy, and Pippy Longstocking. A bit of trivia I’ve never shared: my mother wanted to name her Penny. Amber leaves behind two siblings, Spencer the cat, and Sydney the dog. She joins in Heaven her “brother” cat Cooper and “brother” dogs Griffin and Joey. She was loved and will be greatly missed.
I’m reminded of a popular Sunday School hymn that I recently came across, reprinted as it was in the book CURIOUS MYTHS OF THE MIDDLE AGES:
“Shall we meet beyond the river,
Where
the surges cease to roll,
Where
in all the bright For-ever
Sorrow
ne’er shall press the soul?
Shall
we meet in that blest harbour
When
our stormy voyage is o’er?
Shall
we meet and cast the anchor
By
the fair celestial shore?
Shall
we meet with many loved ones
Who
were torn from our embrace?
Shall we listen to their voices
And behold them face to face?”
Anyway, here’s 25 pictures of Amber, a sort of “greatest hits” of some of my favorites... perhaps you might remember some of these?
Books read in November of 2022:
2022 Reading List Total:
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In previous entries in this series I've talked about Bernon Heights Elementary School, the grade school I went to back in the 1980's. What I haven't mentioned is that I didn't go to kindergarten there. For kindergarten, I went to a private Catholic school at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs Church (OLQM for short, though it has a new name now: Holy Trinity Parish). But I was only there for that one grade. After kindergarten my parents enrolled me at Bernon Heights: being a public school, I suppose that was the less expensive option. Later on, my 3 younger brothers also all went to Bernon Heights, and they got to go to kindergarten there. Growing up, I was very jealous about this, because it seems like they got the fun kindergarten experience, whereas my own kindergarten experience was kind of dour and serious.
Like many of the ancestors of Woonsocket's original French-Canadian immigrants, my parents were Catholics, and that’s how my siblings and I were raised as well. We even went to Mass every Sunday, at the aforementioned Our Lady Queen of Martyrs Church. I wasn’t baptized at this church (as at the time of my birth my parents belonged to a different parish, though they switched to Queen of Martyrs not too long after I was born), but I did receive my First Communion there (on May 14th, 1989), and my Confirmation took place there in 1996. A number of years ago I described Our Lady Queen of Martyrs in my short story collection Autopsy of an Eldritch City, though I used a different name for it there, Our Lady of Sorrows:
“Our Lady of Sorrows Church had been founded back on September 1953, though the church itself hadn’t been completed until March of the following year. The inside of the church was made from red cedar imported from Oregon (funded, as it were, almost entirely from small donations), and visually it resembled the interior of an ark. In the 1970’s, the decision was unfortunately made to modernize the place, and the tile floor was replaced by red carpeting. Also, two furnished reconciliation chapels adorned with bronze decorations were created for the sacrament of penance, and a special devotional chapel was erected near the main entrance. This devotional chapel was dedicated to the Virgin Mary (who, after all, was the Lady of Sorrows that the church was named after), and within it was a statue of the Blessed Mother, a statue that was continually spot lit and surrounded by red and blue votive candles. The fourteen Stations of the Cross could be found on the walls to the left and right of the main aisles in the nave. Above the doors leading to the vestibule was a large statue of Christ on the cross, while high up on the wall behind the altar was a statue of Christ resurrected. That was pretty much the extent of the decoration of Our Lady of Sorrows Church.”
For some reason, though (and while on the subject and all) I’ve always been nostalgic about my First Communion. I have even kept all of the cards I had received from my friends and relatives for my First Communion, though some I preferred more than others. One of my favorites was a white card manufactured by Alfred Mainzer, Inc. and given to me by my grandparents. On the front of this card there were the words “God’s Blessing on Your Communion DEAR GRANDSON” in gold gilt lettering, and below that was an oval-shaped image (also surrounded by gold gilt) which depicted a boy dressed in a white robe and his hands were held up before him, clasped in prayer, and floating in front of him was a golden grail, and emerging from this grail was a Communion wafer inscribed with the letters JHS, and this wafer was surrounded by a golden halo. Inside the card there was a generic inspirational message and a quote from the Bible, Proverbs 28:20, “A faithful man shall abound with blessings.”
Another card I received that day was a pale blue card, also manufactured by Alfred Mainzer, Inc., though this one was given to me by my parents. On the front of the card were the words “For you, dear Son, on Your Communion,” and below those words there was an illustration of another boy, this one clad in a white and blue robe, his hair blonde, and he was standing in the middle of some field and in his white hand he was holding up a fistful of palms and in his left hand he was holding a golden grail, yet another Communion wafer emerging forth from it like a tiny white sun. There was a biblical quote inside this one as well, from Isaiah 60:19: “The Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light.”I should stress that apart from attending Mass every week I wasn’t particularly religious (spiritual would be a more fitting term), and to be honest, the only reason I went was because my parents made us: it wasn't until my late 20's that I took a serious interest in the subject, though I suppose that it could be said that Christian iconography and symbolism has pretty much appeared in almost everything I've written. We did have a copy of the Bible in our home, the 1963 Saint Joseph Textbook Edition Confraternity Version with a green cover and red-lined pages, and every now and then when I was bored I would crack it open. I never read the whole thing, but there were certain sections that I would go back to over and over again because they had captured my interest. The Book of Genesis was a favorite: I liked reading about God creating the Earth from nothing, the Serpent’s temptation of Eve, the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, Cain’s slaying of Abel, and the story of Noah’s Ark and the Flood, though after that I found most of the rest of it boring. The Seven Plagues of Egypt fascinated me, as did the pessimism of Ecclesiastes and the Four Gospels of the New Testament: Christ was a source of endless fascination to me back then, and he remains so to this day. But my favorite book of the Bible, by far, was the Book of Revelations, which captivated me like no other section of the Bible did. The lurid descriptions of multi-headed beasts rising from the oceans to lay waste to the cities of Man reminded me of the Japanese monster movies I so enjoyed watching on Saturday afternoons (to quote from Revelation 13:1: “And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy”). One thing I loved about this Bible (so much so that in 2019 I would end up buying my own copy of it, off eBay), was how when you first opened the book, on the inner cover pages, there were pictures of Old Testament patriarchs and prophets, along with two images of Yahweh, one of which depicted Him as a very Illuminati-looking "Eye in the Pyramid." This was an illustration that fascinated me, when I was a child.