Yesterday, in an e-mail to my protegée and co-author Sara describing my frantic efforts to complete our project, I told her of a lunch break I took with my wife after what seemed a very productive morning:
“Sensing victory, I took a break and went to Weber’s with Kathy to hear Coach Harbaugh at the U of M Club of Ann Arbor’s kickoff luncheon. Kathy had to join to attend, bringing down the average age of the membership. The place was packed and Coach was in fine form, slimmed down, enthusiastic, funny, and coherent. If the team’s as good as he says it is, we’re in for a great season. Odd what sports will do. Kathy was all pissed off and sour at the U for how they’ve been treating her vis-á-vis retirement, teaching obligations, and vax mandate (but the U always treats you shitty at the end, maybe so you don’t feel too wistful about the job you had to leave behind). But as we left Weber’s she was all rah, rah, go Blue, Hail to the Victors! It helped that she bumped into JH as he was coming in, and asked after her former star student Andrew Vasartis, starting center and captain of last year’s team. He just got into med school and as a 6th year senior will be playing football while attending his first year of med school. As JH was discussing his players, he got to his glowing remarks on Andrew, beginning to say how very smart he was, then looked up and pointed to the back where Kathy was, saying “where’s that professor I was talking to, he’s the smart guy, isn’t he?”. Good thing she was sitting down, or she’d a been walking on air.”
Three authors hold their self-published books, from left to right: Elizabeth Hamilton, Dr. Robert Ike, and Elizabeth Spencer.
By Kathy Oswalt-Forsythe
Self-publishing options have opened affordable doors for many authors to gain audience for their writings. With original copy and some basic technical know-how, it is possible to make and create digital and print-on-demand publications. Three writers with local ties, Elizabeth Hamilton, Dr. Robert “Bob” Ike MD, and Elizabeth (Guetschow) Spencer have current titles available.
Schoolcraft resident Elizabeth Hamilton published her third book with the late Harriett Swartz, “Have Camera Will Travel in the Historic Village of Schoolcraft Michigan.” The book presents Hamilton’s photography and features snippets of life in Schoolcraft. A percentage of the proceeds will go to support the Schoolcraft Historical Society and is available at Wrapped in Gratitude.
Dr. Robert Ike, a 1970 graduate of Vicksburg High School and retired rheumatologist and professor at the University of…
Sorry to subject you with poetry, but this just came to me as I arose from my nap this afternoon. I love mornings, and always arise at 4 or 5 to embrace them. So much different than when a 6 AM alarm was my call when I was working. I just don’t sleep much in my old age. Maybe it’s old Ben “There’ll be sleeping enough in the grave”. Even if I’ve overdone it on the sleep deprivation, there’s the promise of an afternoon nap. Oh those blessed naps! But here are my thoughts on the benefits of early arising.
Oh my lord, there’s things I gotta get outta bed.
Oh, but no, that’s where but I wanna lay my head!
Got to say, there’s things I really wanna do.
So my butt I drag, on to all those things to do.
Oh email, so things I just wanna say
Who knows what I wanna write down today?
Amazon, just things I gotta have today.
What else have I left on my screen to see?
News a ‘comin’, just what went down tonight?
Wunderground. Will the weather be alright?
Sports and scores, who won and lost and why?
Then we gotta eat today, freezer’s sayin hey?
Kitchen’s full of last night dishes, wash ‘em up!
Sweetie’s gonna want her cap, warm it up!
Old glory’s waitin’ by the door, put ‘er up!
Neighborhood’s gotta see what side I’m on.
Then comes sunshine, with her smilin’ face
Coming to her cup, in its place.
And suddenly, all is in its place
Cue Dave for Sousa, march apace!
Dave is Dave Wagner, or favorite DJ on WRCJ https://www.wrcjfm.org,, Detroit’s classical music station. For some time, Dave has featured the “Sousa-alarm”, whereby at 7:15 or so, he plays a John Phillips Sousa march, often by the Detroit Symphony Band, which recorded a multi-CD set of all of them back in the 70s https://www.amazon.com/Complete-Marches-John-Philip-Sousa/dp/B00005RGK3. Dave always follows with vignettes of how the marches came about, which are always entertaining. If you’re not up and at ‘em by the Sousa-alarm, your arousal is surely in jeopardy! On to the day we go, energized. I recommend it heartily.
And it came to pass last Friday, that there went out a decree from President Schlissel that all of U of M faculty shall be vaxed. By start of classes August 30th. Regardless of what, where, or how they taught. Or even if they taught. My dear wife, who must get one more term under her belt to retire with benefits after 22 years of service, is dead set against getting the jab. Not only does she wish to avoid the many often horrid complications of the vax, she realizes that the immune response raised by exposure to Wuhan spike protein does not protect very well against the new multiply mutated strains. Furthermore, she is deathly allergic to most everything. When she finally sought attention for her multiple allergies some years ago, she had an anaphylactic reaction to her first set of skin tests. Had the reaction not occurred right in the allergist’s office where they were equipped and trained to handle such a situation, her outcome could have been much worse than just the staff calling me to come pick her up as she was too shaken to drive home. Hence, she will be applying for exemption from the “vaccination” on medical grounds. She will also be applying for exemption on religious grounds. All three US COVID “vaccines” utilize cell lines from aborted babies at some stage in their development and manufacture (1). We are both strongly opposed to abortion in all forms, and find the use of aborted tissue for research and pharmaceutical purposes especially heinous.
But the latter exemption is a personal matter. A life-threatening allergic reaction is not. But Der Schliz is being a stickler, hewing to CDC guidelines (2) and exempting only those who have shown a reaction to some component of the vaccine. So if you’ve taken a jab and gotten myocarditis or a blood clot or whatever, no more for you! Gee, thanks. But might there be a way to determine in advance if you might be allergic? It turns out there is. First step is to know what’s in these things. I’ve explained about the PEG encapsulated RNA and the adenovirus with the spike protein code spliced in (https://wordpress.com/post/theviewfromharbal.com/1649), but what else is in the stuff? Since you asked:
Table. Chemical components of U.S. COVID-19 vaccines (adapted from (3))
Pfizer-BioNTech
Moderna
Johnson & Johnson Janssen
RNA (for spike protein, synthesized)
RNA (for spike protein, synthesized)
DNA (adenovirus 26; contains inserted strand coding for mRNA of spike protein)
SM-102 (synthetic amino lipid which is used in combination with other lipids to form lipid nanoparticles.) C44H87NO5
1,2-distearoyl-snglycero-3- phosphocholine [DSPC]
1,2-distearoyl-snglycero-3-phosphocholine [DSPC]
cholesterol
cholesterol
acids
acids
acids
(none)
acetic acid
citric acid monohydrate
acid stabilizers
acid stabilizers
acid stabilizers
(none)
tromethamine & tromethamine hydrochloride
(none)
salts
salts
salts
potassium chloride
sodium acetate
trisodium citrate dihydrate
monobasic potassium phosphate
sodium chloride
dibasic sodium phosphate dihydrate
sugars
sugars
sugars
sucrose
sucrose
2-hydroxypropyl-β-cyclodextrin (HBCD)
polysorbate-80, sodium chloride
other ingredients
other ingredients
other ingredients
(none)
(none)
ethanol
The lipids (except cholesterol) are all jazzed up versions of polyethylene glycol (PEG) derived from the chemical in anti-freeze and used to make the nanoparticles that carry the RNA into cells. The J&J “vaccine” uses a modified adenovirus, one of the many common cold viruses, which is already equipped to penetrate human cells.
It turns out that most people who have had allergic reactions to any of the COVID “vaccines” were reacting either to PEG , polysorbate, or trolamine (tromethamine). Trolamine is also a component of some arthritis rubs, like Aspercreme (trolamine salicylate). It turns out you can get tested to determine of you’re allergic to any of these chemicals, a simple patch test for trolamine (4) and a skin prick test for PEG and polysorbate (5).
So if you find yourself under an edict similar to ours here at the U, have allergies, and are looking for a way out, I recommend seeking out an allergist who will do these skin tests. Not all allergists are equipped to do them. My wife’s allergist, in private practice, said she did not have the tests and referred us to U of M allergy. So our fingers are crossed. There are many other reasons not to get the jab, but I’ll save those for another post.
As we used to say back in the Nixon years “Fight the power!”.
5. Pitlick MM, Sitek AN, Kinate SA, Joshi AY, Park MA. Polyethylene glycol and polysorbate skin testing in the evaluation of coronavirus disease 2019 vaccine reactions: Early report. Ann Allergy Asthma Immunol. 2021 Jun;126(6):735-738. doi: 10.1016/j.anai.2021.03.012. Epub 2021 Mar 26. https://www.annallergy.org/article/S1081-1206(21)00188-5/fulltext
I hadn’t thought about Kinky Friedman – the Kinkster – for a long time.
We’d had a CD stuck into the player in our Wrangler for years. Today, it seemed to spring to life. I guess all those jostlings on the back roads knocked it back into place. And who were we trying to listen to way back then? The Kinkster, his CD “Old Testaments and New Revelations” containing a lot of his old good stuff. “We reserve the right to refuse service to you” got us laughing and wanting more. That had to wait till later. We had WCBN (the student’s network) Down Home Show to listen to. That wonderful compendium of country music from across the spectrum and years is a can’t miss at our house. Afterwards, we were hungry for some more country music, so I proposed a Kinky symposium. We finished off the CD we’d had in the Jeep, enjoying some of his best*. We have 2 other of his CDs “From one good American to another (’95)” and “Kinky Friedman’s bi-polar tour (’13)”. For years we’ve had “Pearls in the snow (’98)”, a tribute album with other artists with better voices covering the Kinkster’s best. I bought that album ‘cause Don Imus recommended it. Kinkster was a regular on Imus; how I miss that old bastard.
Kinkster hasn’t confined his prodigious talents to music. Yes, I’ve been watching him since college, when his “Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed” helped sum up my views on women’s liberation. Kathy doesn’t like the tune. My Wikipedia says it was Commander Cody who got him his big break in ’73. No wonder I like him. He’s written a number of mystery novels, which all sound like fun though I’ve never read any. In 2006, he ran for governor of Texas. He received 12.6% of the vote, placing fourth in the six-person race. During the campaign, he offered a doll which would spout Kinky’s campaign phrases. I bought it and have it somewhere. I recall one of the slogans: “I support gay marriage. They should have a right to be as miserable as the rest of us”. He’s since made a couple of strong bids for Texas agricultural commissioner.
The Kinkster hasn’t toured for a while. He’ll turn 77 in November. He released a new album, “Resurrection”, 2 Octobers ago. I’m hoping he’s just laying low till the Mr. Corona thing gets sorted out (think he’ll have something to say about that?). In the meantime he’s got a treasure trove of recordings to tap into that harken back to a time when you could say what you think and think what you say. Those were the days.
Old home week* got even more fun, if that could be possible, when I read Kathy Forsythe’s e-mail Saturday morning asking “Do you have a blog?”. Kathy, editor of the South County News, is writing a story for the August issue about Vicksburg and Vicksburg-connected folks who had self-published their books. Kathy, VHS class of ’76 and an English teacher at the high school, assumed the post upon the passing of Sue Moore May before last. Sue had cut her chops as a newshound doing child labor for her dad, Meredith Clark, publisher of the now defunct weekly Vicksburg Commercial ( 1). In our ‘burg, news of doings at the high school were always a big deal, so I found myself in there a time or two. I had ‘em send the paper to me at my dorm at Michigan, much to the amusement of my more sophisticated dorm mates. Sue married Tim Moore of Simpson Lee Paper, with whom she begat Chris, who has come back to the ‘burg to transform the abandoned Simpson Lee paper mill into an entertainment and meeting venue, a garagantuan project (front page and pp24-33) (2). One of the highlights of reunion weekend was a tour of the mill arranged for the classes of ’70 and ’71. We were fortunate enough to have Tim in our tour group. Mid tour, he sat and told us about the complex process of paper making. He was joined by Chris, who didn’t say much, but clearly adored his dad.
Sue divorced Tim but remained a force in the village. She was amongst a group of folks convened by Village president Bill Adams to bring forth a successor to the Commercial-Express, the last iteration of the Commercial, then owned by the Kalamazoo Gazette, who finally closed things down in 2012. The group asked Sue to edit what emerged as South County News (3) in June 2013. The monthly is every bit as charming and informative as the Commercial was, and features color!
I’d made it into SCN twice, once when Sue wrote about me (4), and a few months later when I wrote about her (5). The paper is free, but I send ‘em a donation every so often and make it onto the back page on the list of supporters.
When I published my first book in May (6), I e-mailed Kathy Forsythe in case she wanted to tell her readers that that doctor from April 2020 had finished his project. When I hadn’t heard from her in June, I e-mailed her again, hoping that that piece would be in the paper when members of the VHS class of ‘70 descended on the ‘burg for their 50th plus one reunion*. She wrote that that issue was full, but that she’d be writing a piece for the next month about locals who’d self published; all she wanted from me was a pic of me holding my book. You got it Kathy! I’m giving her 2 choices.
My new dear friend, Judy, a Vicksburg classmate, was a medical transcriptionist. She understood the lingo but took her understanding of COVID from the MSM. I’ve been working on setting her straight. When she came back from a recent exchange stating that was her understanding was that Plaquenil (which she had to look up as hydroxychloroquine) didn’t really work, I had to step in. Here’s what I wrote.
So if you have my first book https://www.amazon.com/Musing-through-Pandemic-Year-Corona/dp/B098GV14KY/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=%22robert+ike%22&qid=1627004171&sr=8-3, you can answer a lot of your questions about Plaquenil. There’s even a post – “1919” – describing a passage in a North Dakota medical journal describing the positive effects of quinine (precursor to Plaquenil) and salicylate (aspirin, an NSAID), in treating patients with Spanish flu. The old is new again. Plaquenil does not help patients already sick in the hospital get better. Plaquenil is what you take, maybe with Zithromax, when you first come down with COVID. The U was their stubborn assed selves, taking a very “anti” attitude when it looked like using it in hospitalized patients didn’t help. Once you hit that ER door with respiratory problems, it’s too late, Jack. The time for it was in the outpatient setting, which is where the corrupt useless AMA totally blew it. The atmosphere got so bad that docs prescribing it at all were identified as pariahs. This crap about taking it from the mouths of lupus and rheumatoid patients who truly needed it is total BS as the stuff is easy to make and the several manufacturers could just cook up their vats and make more, which is what they did. PDJT took it and still got COVID, but he beat it in less than a week, helped along by some steroids and remsevidir. That was standard treatment at the time, not something they ginned up just because he was Prez. Some of the increased hospital numbers at the time rose because, instead of turning folks away till they got sicker, they brought them in for this treatment. Later, the hospital numbers fell as they figured how to give this stuff as an outpatient. I don’t know if you watch the Johns Hopkins site https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/data/state-timeline, but I follow ’em like sports scores. In some states lately, there’s been a very slight uptick from an extremely low baseline in new cases. Not in Michigan, but deaths remain flat. As expected (to anyone who knows virology), the virus has mutated into an effete shadow of its former self, as happens with all viral epidemics! Delta schmelta. As would have happened with this one much earlier had they not tried to “flatten the curve”. The once mighty and fearsome spike protein of the virus has gone flaccid with many mutations, which also means that immune systems primed to recognize it by those mRNA vaccines no longer do so and thus offer no protection against new strains. So further vaccination is a waste of time. Thus the outcry for reinstitution of restrictions and more vaccinations. Give me a break. Let the fuckin’ virus run its course and go from a Wuhan bioweapon into another common cold agent where it started. That’s where evolution is taking it. As we so often say, not often enough, let nature take its course. “Follow the science”, for chrissake.
I today brought home from Staples some paper copies of the second edition of my first little book The Accident so I could have some for the Kindle-less. They look great but lack one functionality of a Kindle, the ability to access any link. There are only four links in the book, two to songs that emphasize a point, and one to a book about the history of the village of Vicksburg, one to my Amazon author page, and an article in the local paper about my beginning research for this book. I’ll be sticking the URL of this post inside the front cover of each book so readers can access those links by coming to this page. After the obligatory reproduction of the book cover, I list those links.
You really have no right to write about how great a party was unless you’ve got a good hangover from it. I had that thought as I dragged myself out of bed this morning. With that biologic memory of last night’s blowout fading as we crept into Saturday afternoon, I figured I better get cracking before the rest of ‘em do the same.
Planning started way back in February. That’s when Kathy announced that, after 32 years attached to the U (22 with a paycheck), she’d be cutting the cord and hanging ‘em up at the end of winter term. All those years of service deserved a proper retirement party, and I wasn’t going to rely on the School of Kinesiology to throw one, especially as their hatches were then still battened down by Mr. Corona. Right from the get go, I figured that party for a twofer, having it on her birthday in mid July, when surely we’d be over our viral syndrome. It would be at our very favorite place in town: the outdoor court at Casa Dominick’s, complete with the statue of the little boy peeing into the fountain. Plenty of time to collect names of folks from all walks who studied with her, played with her, worked for her, or were taught by her once upon a time. I’d sprinkle in some of my friends who knew us both, always liking her better, of course. Knowing I’d need some help, I convened a “committee” composed of her boss the associate dean Tom, fellow doctoral student Marvy, and fellow student, bridesmaid, and the woman who hired her to teach for a year that turned into 10, Pat Van. We’d assembled a healthy half hundred or so by St. Paddy’s day, so the first announcements went out. The list was fluid, and I kept adding to it right up to the week of the party. I wasn’t for sure about the date yet, so these first ones were just a warm up. Having learned how some people hate batch e-mails https://whttps://theviewfromharbal.com/2021/04/02/batch/, I took care to send each invite individually. That made it even more fun, as with each transmission, I’d get to remember the person to whom I was sending it, some I hadn’t thought about for decades. Only one person didn’t have an e-mail, so I sent a snail-mail letter to 5 time Olympic diving coach Dick, with whom Kathy had coached in the early 80s when she convinced Stu that he could use an assistant coach for the women’s swimming team, which eventually won 5 Big 10 championships under Stu. Why let an All-American backstroker go to waste? Her colleagues and students were far flung, from California to Boston to Florida and most stops in between. Of her two bosses at NASA, one had been to space many times but was planted on terra firma now, mostly, while the other was building a better way to get there. The was a smattering of past and present star Wolverines. There were plenty of professors, a few (medical) doctors, and even a one-time chancellor of the entire California State system. Fortunately, we both knew a few normal people we could invite. I began asking Richard, owner of Dominck’s, about access to his courtyard. He’d been closed since ol’ Gretch slammed the door on bars and restaurants April before last. Even though that courtyard would have been tailor made for outdoor dining, he was so worried about COVID that he never considered it. In March he asked me to call him back in April, when he told me to check in when he opened sometime in May. He didn’t. Kathy and I would take the kilometer walk from home to check status of ol’ Richard’s place, but it was always closed and quiet, with no signs saying when it might be otherwise. We satisfied our cravings for an outdoor beer going to the open air Garage Bar on Church, a couple blocks east. While sitting there on a late afternoon in early June, who would walk by but that skinny gray old hippie Antoine, Richard’s busboy and a good buddy of ours. We pumped Antoine for all he knew, which was plenty. They’d be opening sometime after the 4th. When I asked him about having something there July 16th – I’d thrown myself and my support staff a retirement party there 2 summers previously after I’d had so much fun at the one my Division had for me there – he pulled out his cell phone, punched it, handed it to me and lo and behold I’m talking to Richard. So the cone of silence had been broken, but I kept the talk low enough all Kathy learned is that we were going to have a party there on her birthday. I think she did hear me give the crowd estimate at about 40, but later said she figured I’d misspoke as there was no way we’d get 40 people to her birthday party. She remained pretty much in the dark, just where I wanted her, right up until party week when a couple hints trickled out from guests whom, apparently, I had not properly briefed. With a date, time, and location set, it was time to send out the specific announcement, which looked like this:
Come help her celebrate!
Yes our K.C. may not be retiring just yet – couple half-time terms for a proper victory lap and those bennies yet – but the party seemed like such a good idea when I proposed it last St. Patrick’s Day, I decided to throw it anyway. Hey, it’ll still be her birthday! Richard Devarti co-operated by lending us his courtyard at Dominick’s, even though we’ll be in the middle of art fair.
So now just the facts, ma’am:
Who: Kathryn Irene Clark M.S, Ph.D., M.S, our KC
What: A party! Celebrate her birthday, and her retirement from the U. Sure, it won’t happen for another year, but she’s officially stated her intention!
Where: Casa Dominick’s N 42 deg 18 min
812 Monroe Street W 83 deg 42 min
Ann Arbor, Michigan 48104 Alt 840 ft msl
sandwiched between the law quad to the north across Monroe, the B-school to the east right across Tappan, and right next door to Medical Marijuana Tournaments & Creative Rec LLC (walk-ins welcome)
free parking for U retirees and holders of at least a blue pass in the B-school parking structure nearby on Hill. Otherwise try the side streets south of Hill. Or park distantly and take a nice walk.
When: July 16, 2021
4 – 8 P.M. EDT
Why: because we love her!
Hope to see you there! If you’re really planning to come, please let me know at scopydoc52@yahoo.com so I can give Richard a head count. That way, he’ll have enough beer. And sangria.
Bob Ike (Mr. Clark)
Confirmations, and a few regrets, flowed in after that. I think I sent out that announcement at least 2 more times. Another apparent COVID casualty was the Ann Arbor Art Fairs, an annual debacle when hordes of out-of-towners descend onto our town to buy overpriced knickknacks from vendors lining our blocked off streets. All those people have to eat and drink, so local restauranteurs love the event. Good townies get the hell out of dodge. Even though the beautiful paper art picture that hangs above our fireplace came from art fair, we haven’t gone for years. I’ve learned to avoid the trap where I’d end up springing for a hunk of jewelry for her from art fair, into which the birthday I’d forgotten up to then conveniently falls. Without art fair to snarl traffic, eat parking, and crowd courtyards with tourists, our afternoon at Casa Dominick’s would be more comfortable and peaceful.
When ol’ Gretch announced that indoor dining restrictions would be lifted as of July 1st, we knew we had a green light. After a couple of walk bys well after the 4th found a still closed Casa, we began to get nervous. When Monday of party week found a similar façade, we were relieved to see a round pizza cardboard posted to the right of the door saying they’d open on July 13th, tomorrow! That capped a pretty good Monday that started with my excuse of needing a new computer charging cable to get me out of the house carrying the bongo board I’d give to Marvy to bring into the party. One of the guests would be #23, who before he racked up more yards than any Wolverine running back before him was a freshman in Kathy’s Motor Control class. She used the bongo board to demonstrate balance, and #23 was an ace at it. He remembered that class, and his performance, well and was pleased he’d get another chance to show it and was flattered when I wrote I’d be asking him to autograph it.
Art Fair weather is usually pretty predictable: beastly hot and humid, punctuated by a drenching thunderstorm or 2, usually brief. Thanks to Climate Change, this week was cool and the rain predicted was to come without ‘bolts but would last and last. As I made menu choices and other arrangements with Richard on Thursday, he assured us we’d be fine on the second floor covered deck (we were), even without the pissing boy, which he said he had named Oscar in honor of his postman. He did warn me that he had no mechanical conveyance to transport guests to the second floor. Thus, any so sufficiently impaired to preclude a stair climb, before or after the party, would need to be carried. Even though there would be some pretty creaky folks in our crowd, I figured they could all negotiate a flight of stairs, at least at the beginning. I sent out one last e-mail that evening, batch this time, but using “BCC”, passing on the detailed traffic and parking snarls the city had been so kind to delineate, announcing the sign in book (not for contact tracing!) and name tags that would await them and also giving them a peek at the menu choices I’d made.
As I carried Kathy’s cappuccino to her still in bed Friday morning as I sang Happy Birthday, we couldn’t help but notice it was pouring rain, just as Weather Underground had predicted. I set about tying up what were more loose ends than I’d anticipated. She didn’t know there was to a hard start to the party, but by 3 was getting antsy to go. 3’s the magic time as that’s when my retiree pass will get me into any University parking structure, including the big one at the B-school two blocks from Casa. I wasn’t finished yet, so I said we’d leave around 3:45 and we did. We hit the door right at 4, Richard sitting at a receipt and notebook covered table by the bar. He pointed us upstairs where a few pitchers of beverages and Pat Van and husband John awaited us. I poured a glass and set about setting up the welcome table. That morning, I’d found in our shelfful of blank journals, ledgers, and notebooks the perfect spiral to hold our guests’ signatures.
Not only has Kathy worn her share of share of Speedos en route to her All-America and after, Stu, the coach she worked under, left coaching to be marketing executive for Speedo. Fortunately, she’s never made me wear one.
There were two more things for the guests: the name tags, of course, and 3 piles of our business cards. We weren’t aiming to sell anything – although Docere can claim 8 books: her scientific writing text (1), her 2 children’s books (2,3), and my 5 Amazon/Kindles (4-8) along with 6 multimedia posts (9-14) – just give the guests a memento and a way to contact us.
This wasn’t one of those surprise parties where the place is packed with guests before the guest of honor arrives to be shocked by a boisterous “surprise!”. Yesterday afternoon, the surprises just trickled in, one after the other. Vic! Katerina! #23!! Austin (her 6’11” TA) watch your head! And after several more, all the way from Tejas taking a break from building space capsules, Puck!, an inveterate Domer wearing a green Lockheed Martin Orion shirt, but carrying a similar one in blue for Kathy, just her size. She’s wearing it today. The crowd really was from all walks, and we found all sorts of things to talk to each other about. #23 and I discussed 70s era medical practices vis-á-vis the Bo/Dr. Anderson affair before Joel my medical historian friend stepped in to carry the conversation who knows where. My aerospace accountant high school friend Rod, who now runs a home improvement business, found common ground with the men who designed (Gary) and rebuilt (Brian) our house in ’04-5. Katerina and I shared stories of our ill treatment by the U at the ends of our careers. My high school friend Jim, who like Rod and his wife Chris, came all the way across the state for this, could always talk to anybody, even me, and did. He found my outspoken Romanian colleague Elena fascinating and texted me this morning he wants to have her children. Matt might have something to say about that. Although the crowd was heavy with academics, they were from many different departments and schools. Much Kinesiology, of course, but also Physiology, History, Internal Medicine, Rheumatology, Nursing, and even another institution (Washtenaw Community College). All were so siloed, hearing what each other was up to was usually an eye opening experience. A special bunch had started, and sometimes spent, the bulk of their lives in the water. It made for a choice group picture. Left to right, there’s Vicki (Dick’s daughter, an Olympic caliber diver in the early 80s, her younger brother Bruce a silver medalist in ’84), Stu (4 year All-America (breaststroke) Michigan letterman in swimming and also water polo, and 5 time Big 10 champ as womens’ coach), Kathy (women’s ass’t coach ’81-3), and Dick, NCAA champion diver and winner of the national trampoline title as a U of M student, he coached the U of M Diving team ’58-’02 and USA divers in 5 Olympics (’64, ’80,’84, ’88, ’92).
There was no formal program. Undisciplined multiple simultaneous conversations were the rule and all the music this party needed. #23 never got to demonstrate his bongo board prowess, let alone sign it. Nurse Therese, who got to know Pat Van through John her husband, a fellow Spartoon who lived in the same dorm as Therese, just not at the same time, learned that Pat had some prepared remarks about Kathy, as I knew beforehand. Pat has done this sort of thing for decades, usually delivering her remarks about the retiring in rhyme. Pat was sorry to tell me she had so much to say about Kathy that prose was the best she could do this time. It would be a shame for the crowd not to hear it. Therese had to point this out to me a couple of times before I tapped the glass, not knowing if it would quiet this crowd. But it did, just like at any wedding. Pat said her piece, which was touching, moving, heartfelt, and thorough. I doubt that anybody in the crowd knew all that about Kathy. I even learned a few things. Here’s what Pat said:
“Kathy Clark, AKA KC, came to A2 in 1981. Little did she know of the various ways her student jobs would one day lead her to preparation work with NASA. As a volunteer swim coach, she worked with the one-day-to-be legendary team of Kimball, Isaac and Urbanchek. (PAUSE) She also baked fragels and bagels at the Famous Bagel Factory. The most interesting early work experience was as a U of M nighttime security guard. Armed with only a flashlight, she walked the corridors of empty buildings to reach various check points to confirm all was safe. Her collection of unique work experiences were likely helpful preparations for adventures such as riding NASA’s “Vomit Commit”, taking off and landing on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier, and, of course, her history as a collegiate All American swimmer which led to her ability to pass the swim test she would need to fly with a Navy pilot to have access to the ship.
KC had the “honor “of teaching a freshman requirement science class. Some of her students did not make the job easy. They might not have liked the class or were only remotely interested in the topics. I expect this experience helped her to achieve the finesse to speak to international scientists and politicians during her years at NASA.
(PAUSE)
I met KC in 1984. I was just starting as a non-traditional grad student and was trying to find a mentor for one of the classes I was assigned to teach. Back then many grad students were required to teach activity classes. One of my classes, Dance for Fitness, was a mystery to me. Someone suggested I meet with KC and directed me to Tim White’s where she was conducting research. As I walked into the lab and proclaimed who I was and that I wanted to locate KC, Dave Geenan nicked the carotid artery of a rat they were operating on – whereupon blood spurted everywhere. I immediately exited the lab with the lame comment that I’d catch up with KC later. Well, we eventually did meet. (PAUSE) And a friendship blossomed.
During the time KC was earning her PhD, she was introduced to her now husband, Dr, Robert Ike. They were married in October of 1986. I was a member of the wedding party and, although the weather was inclement, the event was spectacular! For some 30 plus years, KC and Bob have parked at my house during home football games. Now that’s friendship! Through the years, we’ve met many of their family members and KC and Bob watched our son grow up.
While working to complete the requirements for her PhD, KC created an experiment to send pregnant rats into space on one of the missions to the Space Station. NASA took notice of her abilities, although they nixed the idea of creating an image of a pregnant shuttle. She rose through the NASA ranks to Chief Scientist for Human Space Flight and Senior Scientist for the Space Station. Her knowledge of space and space travel made her an ideal companion for us to share a trip to the Smithsonian’s Spence Museum. While she and I were walking around the museum, KC was explaining the various exhibits to me and I suddenly noticed that she had attracted a following group of tourists who were eager to learn the various details she was sharing with me. Fun day.
During his reign as governor, John Engler appointed KC to the Michigan Tech Board of Trustees. Not being someone who wastes time, KC has also become an author, served on many educational societies and acted with UMs “Talk to Us.” She’s a pilot, and has returned to UM to teach some required courses, Scientific Writing is part of MVS curriculum. Along the way she earned an MS in lunar geology.
KC’s success has come full circle. She and I have even been occasionally known to consume an adult beverage in this very establishment. (PAUSE)
Happy Birthday KC. I look forward to your true retirement in 2022.”
More talking, drinking, and eating and eventually the tables were bare and the deck was empty except for Puck, Brian, Elena, and Matt. It was only 8, but dark. Puck, with my assistance, had secured an AirBnB somewhere in Tenure Town (Burns Park). We drove him there. His flight back to Dulles was too early to allow a breakfast meet up, sadly. Then somehow, our Patriot got us home, leaving but one tire rut under the pine tree.
Despite my admonition to guests “No presents! Your presence is gift enough” there was loot to be gathered from the table as we left. Many touching cards, the one from Rod containing perhaps the best gift of the night, a raffle ticket for a trip to space on Virgin Galactic https://www.omaze.com/. Several bottles of wine, of which we drained maybe 2 in the afterglow. Perhaps accounts for this morning’s brain activity. All in all, it was just like the Irish Rovers first sang a year before Kathy hit AA (but Tom Paxton wrote it) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-KDSxqJ_0o
Next year, we’re going to do it all over again, when she “really” retires.
9. Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. John Sinclair Freedom Rally performance. (from Ten for Two, premiered 4/1/72. Produced by John Lennon and Yoko Ono). Posted to YouTube by RW Ike 3/3/21. Available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZ21BHiSlJ4
10. Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. Seeds and stems again blues (from Ten for Two, premiered 4/1/72. Produced by John Lennon and Yoko Ono). Published on YouTube by RW Ike 3/4/21. Available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eb_Bz4SssxM
11. Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. Jailhouse Rock. (from Ten for Two, premiered 4/1/72. Produced by John Lennon and Yoko Ono). Posted to YouTube by RW Ike 3/4/21. Available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0rYQ97fJBU
12. Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. Everybody’s doing it (from Hollywood Boulevard, premiered 4/25/76. Produced by Jon Davison). Published YouTube by RW Ike 3/4/21. Available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YI73MfmDYSM
13. Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. Hot Rod Lincoln. (from Ten for Two, premiered 4/1/72. Produced by John Lennon and Yoko Ono). Posted to YouTube by RW Ike 3/19/21. Available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8TeHA4UL_8
14. McCoy SS, Ike RW. Labial salivary gland biopsy by Dr. Sara McCoy (silent). Posted to YouTube by RW Ike 7/17/21. Available at: https://youtu.be/O7hxT6OLfH0
Kathy and I have decided to celebrate Bastille day by making some genuine French fries, even though we knew they were mainly a Belgian thing, or maybe not https://delishably.com/vegetable-dishes/Is-it-French-Fries-or-Belgian-Frites. We acquired the genuine McDonald’s recipe https://www.food.com/recipe/mc-donalds-classic’french-fries-copycat-433745, and had the necessary beef tallow on hand (secret ingredient) https://wordpress.com/post/theviewfromharbal.com/1384. Prior to 1990, all McDonald’s fries were fried exclusively in beef tallow. If you’ve noticed a drop off in quality since then, there’s your explanation. But in the Harbal kitchen, we know no such boundaries! A couple days back, we bought a couple Russet potatoes, peeled them, and ran them through the mandoline, a French slicing contraption Kathy bought me a couple years ago which is tailor made for this duty. The potatoes had to be brined, then frozen, which prevented us from eating them on “National French Fry Day”, which our WRCJ DJ friend Dave Wagner had proclaimed Tuesday morning. But the waiting was worth it. All my remaining stock of tallow went into the pot, knowing it could be strained and reused up to ten times. Many more fries to come. Then, after my candy thermometer registered 3750 as the recipe specified, we danced in half of the 6 oz of potatoes we had frozen. We eagerly watched them turn brown, removed them to a colander, then did the same with the rest. They didn’t get to cool very long before we began snacking and oh my! These were McDonald’s fries on steroids! Brown, crisp, and absolutely exquisite! This is a dangerous thing we’ve discovered. It is easy to procure and prepare Russets for this fat bath, which we seem to have the capacity to replenish many times. How many more meals will we have when we ask ourselves “do you want fries with that?”?
fries awaiting consumption. The cookie tray was just someplace to rest ,and had nothing to do with their cooking.
Bob Ike's blog 