Well, I was wrong about Carol’s mom. She wasn’t cremated when I said she was. In fact, Carol called the cremation place just this last Friday, from Manhattan where she was at a conference, and was told her mom had not yet been created. Seems that it took them a while to fix the cremator machine, and so they had a backlog of frozen stiffs and Carol’s mom was still a ways back. So Carol told them that her Uncle Bernie, who is an Orthodox Jew, had been waiting for weeks to say his prayers for his sister, since apparently you cannot say prayers until the body has been disposed of in some wise. So they bumped Carol’s mom up to the front of the line and also told her that since her mom was so tiny that they expected it would only take an hour and a half to do the deed, with your average person taking 2-3 hours. I guess that was supposed to be reassuring or something.
Below: that’s cousin Jacks Tingle. His son Jack sent me the picture. Brother Steve and I as kiddlings played with Jacks and his Brother Rusty at holidays, especially down at Grandma Tingle’s place. But once—it was a really big outing for us—we drove all the way up to Greenville and visited with them at their own place.
I used to hate it when Joan would say, you look just like so and so, or you have so and so’s mouth or cheekbones or something. As far as I was concerned, that other person, whoever it was had MY mouth or cheekbones.
But there is a family resemblance here. Jacks is clearly a Tingle guy. First the complexion with its pinkish hue. Then through the eyes, the mouth, and that big chin. Well, I see parallels to my own face, though Jacks is more rounded than mine I think.
A number of years back Carol bought me this little compass to carry around with me because at that time I was really suffering because I didn’t know what direction I was going. Then I lost it, and yesterday I found it again, with a bit of Tabata’s—the dead cat’s hair stuck in it; I took out the hair and put it in a safe place and when I walked to the ocean I took it with me. In the first pic below the compass is pointed at the ocean—directly at it and the compass points South pretty much. But when I pointed it at the sun, mirabile dictu!—the compass said West. So I was able to confirm where the sun was: in the west. Which is where the sun is supposed to be when it goes down.