Category Archives: Uncategorized

Shake It Up Now

Posted by Tata on

At orderforeverlazy.com, one learns that ugly pajamas in alarming sexist colors are the new black. And black is so not making eye contact.

I do not even know what to say about this horror show. It’s true that one of my goals is to spend life in fashionable pajamas, but these ain’t them. For one thing, I once wore a union suit and a vintage tuxedo jacket to work at the library, about which there is still talk. For another, I now have better tuxedo jackets.

And Some You Can’t Disguise

Posted by Tata on

Well, it’s happened again: the New Brunswick Police shot and killed an unarmed Black man.

Investigators recovered a bullet from scene[sic] where New Brunswick police fatally shot a man last week, and relatives are cooperating in the investigation authorities said today.

In a statement released late today, Middlesex County Prosecutor Bruce Kaplan said two dozen investigators from his office have interviewed 37 people about the fatal shooting of 47-year-old city resident Barry Deloatch.

“Many of these witnesses who were identified and-or[sic] came forward did so because of the assistance and encouragement of community leaders, and because of some of Mr. Deloatch’s relatives, who are cooperating with law enforcement,” Kaplan said in the statement.

Relatives of Deloatch have participated in several rallies protesting the shooting and demanding an investigation by an agency outside Middlesex County.

Relatives have said a witness told them Deloatch was shot as he ran from police. Residents have said they will continue demonstrations.

Note the prosecutor’s emphasis on the word cooperation. In early accounts, the police would not talk to the family, leading to understandable and familiar community outrage.

“Let’s face it, New Brunswick has had a troubled police department for a very long time,” Deborah Jacobs, a local representative from the American Civil Liberties Union, said at the meeting. She asked people to sign a letter by ACLU urging the federal government to probe the shooting.

Jacobs also showed the crowd a “bust card,” detailing the rights a civilian has when stopped by police.

The New Brunswick-area branch of NAACP organized the meeting Wednesday. “NAACP has been involved with this from the outset and will continue to be involved until justice has been served for Barry Deloatch and processes are in place to stop these wanton killings in our community,” NAACP president Bruce Morgan said in an email announcing the meeting.

The call for an investigating agency outside Middlesex County is a smart one.

Coral That Lies Beneath the Waves

Posted by Tata on

It’s a simple request.

Mary: Please save bottles with tops or lids. We’re having a Harry Potter party for my daughter’s birthday, including potion-making.
Tata: POTION-MAKING! Before high school?
Mary: Yeah. Wine bottles would be helpful.
Tata: I’ll get right on that.

Pete and I save bottles for special projects like infused oils, vinegars or vodkas. It took about a week of soaking and peeling to get the labels off and the aroma of adult libations past out. Yesterday, I told Mary I was ready to contribute to her container collection and I’d bring the bottles to work. I wrapped them in brown paper for adorable, scurrilous effect and stuffed them into one of my bicycle paniers. It weighed a ton. The ride to work this morning was more work than usual. Thank Ishtar I am strong as an ox and no one cares if I smell like one.

Tata: You sound glum. What gives?
Mary: Fighting with a vendor.
Tata: Need me to beat up someone for you?
Mary: No, but it’s so sweet of you to offer. I have to wait for a conference call. Can you send those bottles by campus mail?
Tata: As Queen of Bubble Wrap, I will!

I wrapped the bottles up in all sorts of packing materials, addressed the box and forgot about it. Half an hour ago, the mailman was slinging boxes from a table to the floor. I bolted across the room, but the box addressed to Mary was already gone. Then I made the most unpopular statement of the day.

Tata: Should I have mentioned that box was full of glass?

When I Last Saw You Laughing

Posted by Tata on

Sunsets: puke-inducing kitsch when painted on a van, but flaming awesome when observed with one's own eyes on a balmy summer evening.

We got on a boat just past a sign that discouraged pirates from parking. Pete’s dad complained for whole minutes.

PDad: I don’t like my jacket. I’m not wearing it.

Tata: Put on your jacket, cranky!

I couldn’t decide if I were under-drunk or over-sober, but perhaps both. At no time did I hork over the side, no one whistled the Gilligan’s Island theme nor said anything about needing a bigger boat. Everyone in our party of eleven seemed off-balance, including the sleeping five-week-old. The boat putt-putted down a channel and out into a bay, where suddenly the sun seemed brighter and we all got better-looking as the whole venture turned fabulous. The boat zipped along parallel to a jetty then out toward a lighthouse. The minister’s wife sidled up to me. “It’s haunted,” she whispered confidentially. That seemed kind of personal. The captain turned the boat and we zipped off to another lighthouse, where the engines died and Pete’s dad married his longtime companion. The infant howled every moment the engines were silent. Just before the ceremony started, Pete handed me the camera and told me to go crazy. I put down my cane, slid all around the deck and took about seventy-five pictures, many of which we will regret, if we know what’s good for us. I held up the camera and took a picture of myself. Behind me, a voice asked, “You can take pictures of yourself?” I turned around and three cameras clicked pictures of persons holding them. This was before eight people drank four bottles of champagne. A pod of dolphins swam past us, on some vital errand, of course.

I am very funny. Perhaps you've heard.

You will be pleased to hear we stumbled off the boat and drove literally fifty feet to the restaurant, where a bar band launched into a lumpy, sour version of Nights In White Satin we heard from the parking lot.

PDad: What’s with the cane?

Tata: Sometimes I’m fine and sometimes I lurch a little.

PDad: Faker!

I grabbed a column and hung from it until I could breathe again.

PDad: The last person I said that to didn’t laugh.

Then I couldn’t breathe AT ALL.

Three hours later, after the band lost interest in horrifying us and wandered away, slices of wedding cake appeared at our places at the table. I took a few bites and sent up the white flag. Sober and over an hour away from my hotel room, I started barking orders since experience tells me that overtired drunks take growling for an invitation.

The bathrooms are full of country music, I said. Be careful!

Just package the cake in its original box, I said. Thank you!

The minister and his wife walked home. The rest of us piled into two cars. The bride and her daughter, also sober, drove us all home. We talked about Latin music and civil engineering. This was the first time in my life a wedding didn’t give me hives. I can’t say the same about the band.