I haven’t bothered with fancy electronic home security systems because we’ve always figured anyone breaking into our house at night would hear me snoring, immediately assume we were keeping captive bears and depart post-haste. For my wife it has been like pitching a tent in the infield of a demolition derby and trying to get a night’s sleep. She has developed a system of ear plugs and a white noise machine on her night stand, but even that is of limited effect.

Now an answer appears to have arrived. About a year ago I heard some people on the radio talking about a specially designed rubber mouthpiece that cut the snoring and let the user dispense with his CPAP machine. I checked it out online and the little device required a dental fitting and was going for more than $1,000. My wife admitted it was almost tempting to spend that kind of money, but in her wisdom she said that if the thing really worked that the price would undoubtedly come down. And so it has.

Earlier this month I saw a TV commercial for something that looked and sounded a lot like the product I’d heard about before, and now it was going for just $60! It’s called PureSleep and it’s a simple device that looks a lot like the mouthpieces I used to use in my football days except that it’s sturdier and is double-sided to fit over both my upper and lower teeth. Fitting uses the same process as those old mouthpieces as well, requiring only a pan of boiling water. The way it works is that you position the mouthpiece during the fitting process with your lower jaw extended as far forward as you comfortably can. Doing this opens the air way in your throat and reduces or eliminates the vibration that results in snoring.

Given the low price and a 30-day satisfaction guarantee that even offered to refund my shipping charges, I ordered one of the units on-line. As I was doing that I received an offer to buy a second unit for $40 (they’re designed to last about a year) with the same guarantee so I ordered a reserve unit and a box of fizzy cleaners to sanitize the unit each morning.

PureSleep says the product starts working immediatlely and I was eager to give it a try the other day when it finally arrived. I heated the mouthpiece, positioned my lower jaw slightly forward and bit down on the softened piece for about a minute, then ran it under cold water. That night I put it in my mouth when I went to bed. No question, it sure felt unusual. A few hours later I woke up with a cramp in my left jaw so I took it out for the rest of the night. The next night I did some limbering exercises before bed and re-inserted the PureSleep. I slept through the night without incident though my mouth was uncomfortable in the morning (I also had a temporary condition where my lower teeth lined up directly under my uppers for a little bit before receding to their normal position). The last two nights I have grown so used to the device that my mouth has relaxed (I think I was subconsciously feeling as if I had to stay clamped down on it for it to work) and my sleep has been undisturbed. Better yet, so has my wife’s!

The Reverend Mother reports that the noise volume has been greatly reduced, in fact what she hears is more like a soft breathing. I think that’s from the sound of my breath going through the slots in the middle of the mouthpiece, though and not necessarily from snoring (I can hear myself breathing as I’m drifting off to sleep). Now her problem is that since she’s not using ear plugs she hears all the noises in the house or from when I come to bed that used to be blocked out and those wake her up!

The device won’t help much if you have full-blown sleep apnea, but if you’re having a snoring problem (or, more accurately, your spouse is having a problem with your snoring) you should check this baby out. It’s affordable and no-risk and can bring “peace” to your household!

bookmark to:

Today is Tom Lehrer’s 80th birthday, and yes, he’s still alive. I posted a video from him several days ago, but thought I’d celebrate the occasion with another of his classics that has eerily remained relevant more than 40 years after it was written (the text inserted briefly in the middle of the video was not from Lehrer).







Edgy, cynical and more than a little liberal, Lehrer still had a gift for sticking his needle right in your funny bone. Despite his television exposure in the 1960s, he ultimately chose a lower profile in academia. In an interview he once said he would have gone crazy touring and doing the same songs every night. Besides, he said, “Political satire became obsolete when Henry Kissinger was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.”



Happy birthday to one of the greats!

bookmark to:

Fort Worth, Texas, Easter Sunday, 1958: an excerpt from my mother’s journal that she kept last year when my father was ill. It arrived in the mail yesterday…

When I was first pregnant with John, it was difficult for me to accept that we were going to have a baby so early in our marriage. We’d had two weeks while he was on leave after we got married. Then he was gone seven months and bingo! Pregnant! I was working, had been working before we got married. My salary was needed because as A1/c [Airman, first class. NW] the pay was meager. Benefits with medical, but buying groceries, paying for a car and putting gas in it, plus payments on our ‘palace’ on wheels that measured 8′ x 28′ including the hitch didn’t allow us to run the little oil stove at night. In Texas, there’s nothing to stop the north wind but barbed wire, so we turned it off around nine o’clock, went to bed when it started cooling down. Chuck got up at four a.m., ran on tip-toes and pranced while he lit the stove and got it started again. He’d jump into bed and touch me with his cold feet, wanting help to warm them. THANKS!

Before we knew it, I got up one morning hemorrhaging. Off to the hospital, admitted for three days, baby saved. How weird. This is October 11, 2007 and it was October 11, 1957 when this emergency happened. But, I had to quit work. No housework, not even sweeping. Stay off your feet and lay low. Then in November, I got the Asian Flu which was the first of the many flu bugs that started taking the nation for years. Into bed, racked with chills and fever, sick and afraid I was going to lose the baby I hadn’t thought I was ready for. Chuck said at the time he felt that I really needed him. I had been so darned independent and sure of myself.

John was born April 3rd, three weeks and two days early. He was six pounds, 1/2 ounce. We had some dreadful experiences after he was born. He was put into the incubator and Intensive Care. The pediatrician and obstetrician told me while I was still in a deep fog from being over anesthetized, “Mrs. Stewart, we usually take the mother to see her baby before she goes to her room from recovery. However, we are very concerned. He’s having some difficulty. We aren’t sure if it’s the heart or the brain, but for his sake we can let you see him through the window but you won’t be able to hold him.” So I said, “I understand, better safe than sorry,” and went back to sleep. I did see him through the window. It was hard to believe that this was our baby. But I was still so groggy that I was asleep in the wheelchair before I got back to my room.

The next morning, Chuck was there. “What’s wrong with our baby?” I cried. “He’s fine, Marilyn, he’s fine.” So throughout the day as I awakened more and more I was torn apart by wanting to hold him and not being able to. The girl in the room with me had her baby. She was a minister’s wife and they named him John Paul. The next day, about ten o’clock, a nurse came into the room. She glanced at the chart at the foot of the bed and said, “Stewart. Oh, honey, we nearly lost your baby early this morning. If it hadn’t been for the intern on duty that suctioned him and suctioned him, he wouldn’t be here. In fact, we don’t know if he’ll make it!”

I was terrified, but supposed to act like an adult, I don’t know. I called and called for Chuck. He didn’t answer. Visiting hours came and I was still calling and he wasn’t showing up. Where was he? Didn’t he know our baby was about to die? I was racked with anguish and anger, where was he when he should be here with me? It was Easter Sunday, too. About three o’clock I got out of bed and went to the window and looked out, as if I could see anything. While I was standing there, tears running down my face, I heard, “Marilyn, what are you doing!” I turned around and there was Chuck with my Mom. He had called Mom and Dad in the wee hours of the morning and told them what was happening. Mom got the first plane out of Indianapolis headed for Fort Worth. They were both upset that a nurse would tell me something like that. I bemoaned that I hadn’t even had a chance to hold my baby. And couldn’t they at least let me do that, just for a few minutes? They did arrange it. I held this tiny bundle that looked up with blurry eyes, a very unhealthy baby with jaundice. That scared me, too, but I’m a MOM, and he was the most precious thing I’d ever held, other than his Dad. “John Avery, you will make it, you WILL, do you know that?”

Mom stayed a couple of days after we got out of the hospital. A week after he was born, the pediatrician said, “I can’t believe that this is the baby that was so sick. This is a miracle. We didn’t expect him to survive but we released him to his parents with hope against hope.” Now look at you, John, you big old woolly bear. You still curl your hair with your fingers when you read, just like you did when you were a baby, and guzzling a bottle empty, contented and full.

bookmark to:

It was a grand time last night at Keegan’s, and not necessarily because my team – “Fifty Sense” – ended up tieing for first place in the 8:00 p.m. challenge.

Really, what was special was seeing so many MOBsters back at Keeg’s for the traditional Thursday night match – man, was the place LOUD and HAPPY last night. I’ll probably miss someone or some-two, but those in attendance included Learned Foot (or was that Joe Tucci?) from Kool-Aid Report, Derek and Guy from Freedom Dogs, Swiftee (Pair-O-Dice), Barry (erstwhile Watercooler Wisdom), John LaPlante (Policy Guy), Dan Stover (Northern Alliance Wannabe), Leo (Psycmeister’s Ice Palace – all the way down from St. Cloud), AAA (Residual Forces), David and Margaret (too many blogs to mention), Mitch Berg (Shot in the Dark) and Brad Carlson and his gal, Jen. Of course, Ben was there from Hammerswing, along with the complete Night Writer contingent of the Reverend Mother, Mall Diva and Tiger Lilly, plus special guest and commenter Princess Flicker Feather.

Turnout has been kind of sparse of late (and I’ve been missing-in-action as much as anyone), so it was great to see a lot of the gang in person again. With warm weather perhaps finally upon us and the return of the Paddy O’Furniture and the great outdoors to our favorite Irish pub, I hope to see similar gatherings in the near future. When I started blogging 3 years ago, coming to Keegan’s and meeting so many different people was an important to feeling like a part of the community, and led me to make some great friends (but you didn’t have to kiss me last night, Strommie). I may ultimately even get a son-in-law out of the deal.

Notably absent last night were representatives from Fraters, Nihilist in Golf Pants and Anti-Strib, and it seems like forever since I’ve seen Bogus Doug, Doug Bass or DrJonz. Even so it was a prestigious conglomeration and I hope the Thursday night regulars will soon be returning in force.

Also, for those (Marty) who mocked my “Toads” answer to a question about what animal South Africa is trying to exterminate, I’ll have you know my answer was based on having read this article during the week (Africa, Australia, who can tell the difference?).

bookmark to:

Missouri, the birthplace of Mark Twain, is a river state. Or, more accurately, a “rivers” state. Some 120 rivers — each with its share of streams and creeks that feed it — flow, course or meander across the state. And sometimes, they rise up.

Missouri absorbed at least 10 inches of rain between Monday and Tuesday this week, especially south of St. Louis which also happens to be the area we (myself, the Mall Diva, Tiger Lilly and Ben) are visiting. When we first drove through here Wednesday, however, the skies had cleared and everything looked normal. Until, that is, we got to the place on Highway 63 between Vichy and Vienna where the road passes over the Gasconade River. At this point the road and the river were vying to see just who would pass over whom. The roadbed was still high and dry, but the fields on either side were flooded nearly to the shoulders for about half a mile. People were stopping, gawking and taking photos.

We made it the rest of the way in to my mom’s house without incident or seeing serious water, but in a county that features the Meramec, Huzzah, Courtois (coat-a-way), Bourbeuse and Gasconade rivers and their tributaries such as Turkey Creek, Mill Creek and Bonne Femme (Ben liked that one) Creek, we were in the process of being surrounded. Nearer to St. Louis the rising Meramec closed Hwys. 40 and 149 and threatened Interstate 44, where sandbagging crews were busy lining the highway with sandbags in hopes of keeping this major artery open heading into the holiday weekend.

Closer to us, my brother spent the day on his cellphone, coordinating with the drivers of his four FedEx trucks, trying to keep them on the right side of the rising rivers so the trucks and drivers could sleep at home last night, even if the deliveries had to wait since most of these absolutely, positively wouldn’t float. We drove down to Steelville to visit my grandmother once we heard that MODOT, which had been watching the Hwy. 19 bridge over the Meramec, was going to leave it open for the time being. Crossing the bridge over what is normally a ravine we could see the water nearly up to the deck. One one side of the road there’s a local float-trip operation, and its campground and recreation area had water up to the basketball hoops and only the peaks of the green roofs over the picnic pavilions were showing.

It was kind of a strange experience. The day was beautiful, warm and sunny yet all around southern Missouri bridges and roads were closing as the waters kept rising slowly but inexorably, with the rivers yet to crest in several areas. Our own route into the area finally went under yesterday as well, leading me to map out an alternate way home for Ben and the girls, who had to head back this morning. As a bonus, this way takes them through one of their favorite little towns, Hermann, which also happens to rest beside the Missouri River. It’s a very high bridge, however. I told the girls that if the bridge is closed at Hermann they should just turn-around and come back because I’ll need Ben’s help to build an ark.

bookmark to:

Well, I put it off as long as I could, but finally I had to go to the DMV today to renew both my license tabs and my driver’s license. That’s kind of like waiting to go to the dentist until you need a root canal and bridgework. Anyway, I hoofed it over to the Hennepin County Government Center at lunchtime today, anticipating a gulag-like shuffle as if in leg-irons from one counter to another while hoping the re-education wouldn’t be too painful.

The first thing I noticed when I got there was that the HCGC has changed quite a bit in the four years since it last darkened my soul. The main reception area has been re-designed, and is airier, even bright. Rather than a bunker, the lady in the information booth was in a half-moon shaped desk that looked almost conceirge-like. When I asked where I needed to go she gave me directions with what almost appeared to be a smile.

I got to the motor vehicle area a little later than I had hoped to, and was thus expecting a long line. Instead, this reception area was also well-lit and pleasantly decorated and there was only one person ahead of me and he was quickly dispatched. I stepped up to where the state employee was conducting bureaucratic triage and distributing waiting numbers. This fellow as even jovial as he confirmed that I could get both of my missions accomplished by the same person at the same time, then he gave me my number and the form I needed to fill out and pointed me to a comfortable waiting area, around which were 19 service windows arranged in a semi-circle. Regularly a pleasant voice on the intercom would say “Number such-and-such, now being served at window 18” or similar. Did she say served?

A few minutes later my number was up and I went to my assigned window where the woman there was bright-eyed and smiling. In less than a minute she had done what she needed to with my forms and had me standing on the little blue line, looking into the camera. The bright flash left a dinner-plate sized spot in front of my eyes, but I was still able to examine my new photo. Something was wrong, however. “I don’t know who that old guy is on the screen,” I told the woman. “But I’ve never seen him before.” She actually giggled.

After blinking several times I was able to autograph the last document and then she handed me my brand new license tabs. Just like that I was on my way, my head swimming at the ease of the experience (and a little from the after-effects of the flash). I wasn’t so discombobulated, however, that I didn’t see the table of cookies and juice that had materialized in the waiting room. Blinking a few more times, I confirmed that, yes, there was a table full of cookies there – chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin and sugar – and a juice dispenser. No camera crews were in sight, either, as I surveyed the room. I considered the tray of cookies the way a cautious bear might sniff at an unexpected honeypot in a clearing. “What the heck,” I thought as I grabbed a chocolate chip cookie. It was soft and delicious.

Now that’s what I call my tax dollars at work!

bookmark to:

This evening was another late getaway away from the office in the dark, this time so late that all my favorite radio programs were already off the air for my “drive-time.” Bummer. Plus it was cold. Damn cold. As I drove along an almost deserted street in the direction of St. Paul, I was surprised to see a train making it’s way in the cold, dark night across the battered concrete bridge over Hennepin at 18th Avenue. Though it was a diesel engine, not steam, the frosty air nevertheless produced white clouds and in that moment I was suddenly transported — or “trains-ported” — into a black and white photo that could have been done by O. Winston Link himself. Not only that, I was transported back to another time in my life, and another time in our country’s history. What I saw tonight looked very nearly like this, minus the swimmers:

My grandfather was kind of a nut about steam locomotives. He even worked for awhile as a fireman on a steam train during World War II, though that challenging experience apparently didn’t sour him on the big engines. Some 25 years ago I happened to read an article about O. Winston Link, a photographer who had set out in the 1950s to capture in the disappearing trains of the Norfolk & Western line, the last steam-powered railroad in the U.S. Photographing trains presented more than a few technical problems, such as lighting. As Link said, “You can’t move the sun, and you can’t move the tracks, so you have to do something else to better light the engines.” As a result he created a sequenced flash lighting system that he would painstakingly set out along the tracks hours in advance to get a shot with his 4 x 5 Graphic camera. Naturally, most of his shots were at night, creating some of the most evocative records of a bygone era. The article I read mentioned that a book of Link’s N&W train photos, entitled “Ghost Trains”, had been produced, and I knew instantly that I had to track down a copy for my grandfather.

This was way-back in the days before Amazon.com, or even much public awareness of the Internet. I followed some clues in the article, made some calls, wired some money and in a couple weeks’ time I owned a handsome, half-tabloid sized paperback of Link’s best photos. Plus — bonus! — a thin recording on vinyl of the sound of two steam trains plying their trade across the valley. Link was a gifted technician who had also been able to make several high-quality sound recordings of the locomotives that fascinated him so. My grandfather would insist on playing the floppy record for me, and I can see him sitting in his chair, his eyes closed, his head slightly cocked with that crooked grin of his as the trains chugged and hooted from his stereo. Something about the sound just suggested a cold, snowy night, and how good it felt to be warm and snug inside while our machines soldiered on.

Trains have always been about getting from one place to another. Sometimes it’s a raw display of intimidating force, and other times a surprisingly delicate balance of momentum, mass and friction. As my grandfather learned over the course of many hard lessons, there was as much art as there was science to getting a steam locomotive to operate at its best and to come to your hand. And like grandfathers, you can easily take them for granted and then one day they’re gone. Yes, trains are about taking you from one place to another, and sometimes you don’t even need to get on board.

When my grandfather died, the only thing I asked for was the book.

Here are a couple of O. Winston Link’s better known photos, but by all means visit the link above to view a slide show from this great American artist, or here to see even more images. Here’s another interesting resource for where you can buy images and recordings.

bookmark to:

I felt better this morning so I went to work. A mistake, I think. I was still getting alternate waves of chills and heat, and back-breaking coughing and sneezing despite my cold drugs. Some things still had to be done, however, so I isolated myself as much as I could from others and cranked on emails and conference calls till I could go home. I may have overdone it, though — I’m very, very tired and feeling kind of punk. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

bookmark to:

My fingers feel like they’re the size of bananas, my tongue feels like leather, my throat like I’ve been gargling razor blades and I think I’ve separated three of my ribs with my violent coughing. I had some plans for what to do with my President’s Day holiday, but I’ve mostly moved from one couch to another with a blanket and a box of tissues while drifting in and out of some weird dreams.

Yuck.

bookmark to:

Def con 4. From intelligence resource, codenamed King David:

SOUTH ST. PAUL, Minn. — A cow ran loose on Interstate 494 in St. Paul Friday morning. Traffic cameras picked up the cow at 494 and Concord Street around 9:00 a.m. Friday.

When captured later, the cow appeared to be suffering from amnesia—she kept referring to ‘Operation Tiger Lilly,’ and continually repeated that the Tiger was going to be taken down.

Special K: Execute defense plan Delta Tango. No survivors, but remains may be suitably aged and delivered to the bunker’s chef.

bookmark to: