Farewell, Papa.

He was the captain of our family.

Here’s the obituary I drafted and Judy and Hamid completed:

Seymour Jack Kaber left this world, with courage and grace, on Monday morning, June 25th, 2007, at the age of 91. Seymour was born in Detroit, Michigan in 1916, to Hymen Kaber and Freda Friedman, immigrants from Doksycze Poland. After moving to Newport, Rhode Island, Seymour married Ida Aidinoff, the love of his life, in 1938. During World War II, he served in the United States Army and attained the rank of corporal. For forty-four years, he worked for S.Adelson Company on Thames Street, eventually becoming their General Manager. He also helped to develop and managed Adelson’s Catalog Showroom until he retired in 1976. Seymour was a good friend to many and known for his sense of humor, his ready smile, and his open heart. He was a man dedicated to his job, active in his community, and devoted his family. When his beloved Ida became ill with Alzheimer’s, Seymour cared for her unstintingly. They remained together until she passed away in 1998. Seymour enjoyed playing pool regularly at the Edward King House with his old buddies where they also shared meals and stories. A regular contributor to the Newport Daily News “Letter-to-the-Editor”, he wrote articles addressing social issues, memories of times past in Newport, and on the subject of Alzheimer’s – the latter of which generated floods of response from around the country. He also spoke about his experiences with Alzheimer’s at local community centers. Seymour is survived and celebrated by his four children: Farilyn, Hamid, Neil and Deborah, his seven grandchildren Michael, Matthew, Julie, Tevye, Moses, Jared, and Rachman and five great grandchildren Joshua, Trevor, Shifra, Gila and Rafi. Services will be held at Beth Olam Cemetary in Middletown RI on Wednesday, June 27 at 11am.

Papa and me

Death and Doom

I’ve been terribly depressed the past week.

My grandfather is dying, my father is sick, my uncle had pretty serious cancer, my aunt has a whole slew of maladies, my mother is talking about what to do if she becomes terminally ill, I’m a week behind with code at work, and my girlfriend’s work schedule conspires with my own to keep me alone.

Usually, I can deal with stress pretty well, but lately it’s been getting to me.

I need something good for a change.

The prognosis on my grandfather is that he won’t last the weekend. I was out there tonight, I’m going out again tomorrow to be with him.

My mood lately can be summed up with: *sigh*

Financial Janitor part 2

I looked up my car loan. I have $11,000 left on it, and the interest is 8.64% – high enough to actually consider cashing out some stock to pay it off.

Summer is always a low point for Staples stock though, so I may wait till September to do it, since the stock usually goes back up around back-to-school time, for obvious reasons.

Oh, also, the visioncare plan that Staples offers, that I thought I had missed the window for?
Apparently I already signed up for it the moment it was available.

Good work, past Tev! He’s constantly surprising me with his competence.

thoughts

I am sitting at my kitchen counter, sipping a mixture of coffee and Nesquick, and listening to the synthesized sounds of “it’s a small world” blare from an icecream truck drifting down the street.

My grandfather is dying.

I took the day off from work today to drive out and see him. I got up this morning and printed out some photos to complete a little photobook I had intended to give him earlier, but hadn’t finished for one reason or another. It made me run later than I planned, but he really loved it, so it was worth being a little late.

He’s in rough shape. His arms are dark and bruised-looking, and covered with sores. His dressing gown reveals the edge of a large bruise on his shoulder and chest. He has a tube going up his left nostril, and a breathing mask around his nose and mouth. I know somewhere he has IVs hooked up, probably a catheter as well. His breathing is thick, as there is fluid in his lungs. He says he is really thirsty, but he is not allowed to drink, since the water would just go into his lungs.

He tells me of his first date with Ida.

“We drove to the beach. We sat there, but dammit, I didn’t have the nerve to put my arm around her. It wasn’t until later… We were at her house, and her mother and sister went into the other room. It was cold out, I was getting ready to go. She was helping me get my coat on, and was leaned in close. Her face was very near mine, and I thought ‘Well, Seymore, it’s now or never!’ and I leaned in and kissed her. It was the most delicious kiss, ever. At that moment, wild horses couldn’t have dragged us apart.”

He misses her, terribly. Since she died, there has been a void in his life.

“I need my family. Without my wife… a man without his wife is nothing. I need someone to hug me. My parents never… never hugged me. Not once. I wasn’t abused, but… I can’t remember once having a conversation with my mother or father. They just didn’t talk to us.”

I show him the photos I brought. The book has a ribbon on the front and back covers, so it can be tied closed with a bow. Instead, he has me tie the very ends of the ribbon together, so he can use it as a wrist strap. He clings to the book, rubbing the fabric cover with his fingers, as if reminding his fingers of what it is to touch.

I stay with him for a couple hours, talking and holding his hand. A nurse comes in to change his bedding. “I’m going to get some rest after this,” he says, “so you should go now. I’ll just be resting. I’ll try to see you again.” I hug him and head out. As I walk past the ICU nurse’s station with a large lump in my throat, I hear his voice. “A good boy, such a good boy.”

Forget Safari, Get Lynx!

So Apple released Safari for Windows.

I think you’ll join me here in a collective yawn. The only thing this does is perhaps legitimize time testing web apps in Safari, since it’s now cross-platform.

But why not try something really different?
Get Lynx.

Lynx is a text-only browser from the dawn of time (ok, it was 1992, but neolithic time in terms of browsers).

Text-only browsing provides a refreshing change of pace from the bling-bling world of Flash-animated, image-laden websites. Nice, clean ASCII text is your only visual in the world of Lynx.

You can also get an idea of how clean the underlying design of a webpage is by viewing it in a text-only browser.

And if someone looks over your shoulder, it will probably just look like you are typing away in a shell, or viewing “man” pages (unix manuals).

So give it a try. You might like it.

Lynx for OS X
Lynx for Windows

This blog entry posted using Lynx.

ow

My neck’s been bothering me all day.

I switched pillows in the middle of the night, so I don’t know if it’s my new pillow or my old one that’s left me kinked.

King of Germany

I had a strange dream last night, partially based on watching The Jacket last night for movie night.

The dream was:

I am King of Germany. It is a figurehead position with no real power, but it is still a prominent position. I have just been appointed King, so not many people know yet that I am the new King.

I arrive at the castle. A cute security guard stops me, putting her hand on my shoulder. “You can’t get in there,” she says, “you need security clearence.”

“Like this?” I ask, putting my hand in the slot carved into the stone wall of the castle. A confirmation beep sounds and the steel door unlocks. She gives a little gasp. “Yup,” I beam, “I’m the new king.” I stride forward, but slip and fall on my ass. The walkway up to the metal door is a slick glass surface which slants upward. She holds out her hand, and I smile weakly. “Not that impressive,” I mumble, “I should have said something like ‘oh, you mean it only opens for the king of the frickin’ country?’ and *then* put my hand in the slot.” She giggles and helps me to my feet, and guides me up to the door.

I go inside, where there is an entry area. My personal assistant, another pretty woman, is there. She is the older sister of the security guard. She welcomes me and introduces me to the staff. There are a few generals whose names I forget, and a shifty-looking man in a dark brown overcoat. I can tell right away the shifty man is plotting against me. He is tinkering with a bomb-disposal-type robot. He reminds me of Rotwang from Metropolis.

I settle in as King, and things progress well. I have a relationship with my personal assistant, and I keep an eye on the shifty man. One day I overhear him plotting with one of the generals. They plan to assassinate me, I realize that I will face three challenges to overcome their plot. But since I know what they are plotting, I have the upper hand.

Then, I am poking around in the library, and discover a long-lost secret. The woman who is my personal assistant is actually the rightful heir to the throne. And I now have all the documentation to prove it. But first I will have to defeat the plot against me, as it’s due to happen tomorrow.

The day of the assassination. I figure out the codes to get into the air ducts. The ducts are not metal, but adobe or a lighter clay. They are a series of small round rooms connected with shafts. The rooms are not large enough to stand. Ahead is a walled-off section.

I know this is where the robot will pass through. I empty my pockets and realize I didn’t bring anything useful with me.

I see the bricks moving, and the robot breaks through the wall and rolls in. It has a triangular base with triangular tank treads, and an arm atop that. There is also a tube sticking out of the top, which has a camera that can be swivelled in any direction for remote monitoring. The robot is armed with a gun. The plan was to have it shoot me from a hiding space in the ducts, but I have intercepted it.

I fight the robot. It is pretty strong but clumsy. I manage to disable it, but the shifty man has moved the camera around remotely and has seen me. He knows that I know about his plan.

He is coming to get me. He arrives at the broken wall, he has a machinegun. I raise my hands, unarmed. He is about to shoot, but at that moment, the robot shoots him. I had taken the few moments before he arrived to reprogram the robot.

I take the gun from the robot and the machinegun, and find the general, and kill him.

The plot is undone, I have succeeded. Suddenly, someone hits me from behind. I slump to the floor, unconscious.

Some of the staff have tied me up. They have put me in a straightjacket and tied me to a seat in the back of a flatbed truck. I am facing away from the cab, and they are in the soundproof cab, talking, but despite the fact they are behind me in a soundproof cab, I can see and hear them. They didn’t know about the plot against me, so they think I have gone mad and am just killing people randomly.

They discuss putting me in the box, the morgue cabinet from The Jacket. I scream “no, no!” but they can’t hear me through the glass.

While they discuss my mental health and what to do with me, figures emerge from the shadows. It is another general and a couple soldiers. They were ones I had overlooked, co-conspiritors of the shifty man that I hadn’t known about. They have my assistant with them, she is brusied and they are shoving her around roughly.

“I found out,” growls the general, “I found out about the book.” He is referring to the book explaining her lineage. “I can’t allow the balance of power to shift.” He spits on the ground. “This is your fault, for digging around.” He turns and shoots my assistant three times in the chest and stomach. “Noooooo!” I scream, but it is too late.

The staff in the cab still don’t know anything because of the soundproofing, they don’t even realize they have been locked in the cab and can’t escape.

The security guard comes running, but is stunned by the sight of her sister dead on the ground. The soldiers tackle her and strip her clothes off. “We’ll have some fun with her,” the general smiles wickedly, “and then she’ll have to go, too. But first, let’s end this.” He raises his gun. I struggle against the restraints, but can’t move. He fires thee times, shooting me in the stomach and chest. My vision gets oily and blurry, and I see the security guard being dragged off by the soliders, who are laughing. My head lolls to the side, and I see there is a bomb in the flatbed, to destroy the truck and the staff trapped inside.

My vision goes as I fall unconscious, as the bomb begins to beep.

I wake up to my alarm going off.

Despite the dark themes, the dream never had the feel of a nightmare, it was more cinematic and felt like a dark action movie.

Found it!

After that last post, it occurred to me that there were some subdirectories on my psouth email that I hadn’t searched, and there it was! Now armed with both my original and upgrade serial numbers, I can set up Parallels tonight, either just before or just after movie night.