rob.nester

You will be missed

Clara Lucille Nester
02/23/26 - 01/23/06

The phone call from my parents came early, relating the passing of my maternal grandmother's father, with questions about helping to book a flight. I accompanied the assistance with a request to pass on my condolences. I don't do well with death in all honesty. I don't mean that I break down and cry and weep and moan for days - usually there is a brief period of weeping if it was a close relative. Otherwise, I'm, for lack of a better word, cold about it.

I think it stems from the fact that I'm not very religious, while a good majority of my family is. I don't really have much to say about the whole heaven or hell thing, and often they talk about the deceased being in a "better place", which I hope is true. It's just that I never really know what to say other than, "Yeah...".

But I called my grandmother today, figuring that since the funeral was yesterday she might want someone to talk to. We spoke for a few moments about how she knew her father was in a better place where he didn't hurt anymore, to which I replied, "Yeah..hopefully so" in my usual manner. Her thoughts and words quickly turned to her mother however and she became saddened. We shared the unspoken knowledge that, most likely, it wouldn't be long until she passed too; the combination of cancer and the loss of her husband of sixty years taking its toll.  She said that her mother couldn't imagine living without her husband. My grandmother remarked that she knew a bit about that feeling. She does too. She came home one day to find her first husband the victim of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. My grandfather, her second husband, died this past year on Good Friday of complications from diabetes (his kidneys had shut down). She commented that although she hadn't been married to him for sixty years, it was almost impossible to continue that first day after. My grandmother commented that my grandfather's death had left a whole in her heart; her father's death created another one. She said she didn't know how many more holes she could endure.

I should have told her that she had to endure them because I lost enough family members last year and so far this year wasn't shaping up much better. Maybe that's being selfish though, who knows.

Edit:
I thought about this post some more and in light of the fact that my paternal grandmother is in the process of dying as I write this, I realize that I don't have a problem with death, as I said above I'm ok with it. However, I have realized that the process of dying is what hurts the most. I hate to know about the suffering.

Ok, so while there have been all kinds of stories about how we have to “live differently” since 9/11, a recent entry over at putative.com had me dumbstruck. Apparently the long and short of it is that even empty containers might be difficult to ship, at least via FedEx if they “look too much like bomb-making materials”.

Evidently, you might have trouble even if the empty containers claim to house things such as “certainty”, “uncertainty” or “gravity”.

Ironically however, the post does note that Uncle Sam's own shipping division, the USPS had no qualms about taking the wrapped up box of containers.

The only thing that I've read recently was this post about a German farmer who was apparently solicited by the North Koreans to supply them with his super huge rabbits for a food source. Seriously, when you start looking at giant rabbits for a possible primary meat source, isn't that a sign that your society is screwed?

Sundays have always carried some sense of melancholy to me. Perhaps it's that feeling of impending doom for the coming Monday and it's associated bad connotations. Anyways, to add to this I was reading over at BoingBoing about how the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists will, on January 17, be moving the minute hand up on the Doomsday Clock for the first time since 2002.

The changing of the time is apparently in response to concerns that we might be entering a "Second Nuclear Age".

I think this would be considered a bad thing.

So, I was looking on IMDB and discovered that the Primeval movie is about a damn alligator. Makes me even more pissed...

Today has left me with two realizations:

1. Airports have an intrinsic dichotomy.
   I say this because of the fact if you're waiting for someone to arrive they are places of happiness and joy. That feeling of elation when the you see them arriving, that first hug; wonderful
   If, on the other hand you're taking someone there for a departure, well then my friend, airports - well, they just suck completely. My advice: make the drop off, tell them anything you'd want them to know if the worst might happen
2. The second thing that I have realized today is that Comedy Central apparently is being funded directly from the ad revenue from the upcoming Primeval movie (which I'm not linking to on purpose for reasons you'll soon learn).
   Ok, now I understand that movies have to advertise, and I understand that television stations have to earn revenue from ad time. No problem there, supply and demand and what all. What is driving me nuts is that for the past two days it seems as though any television show that has a target demographic of 18-24 plays the damn commercial for Primeval every single commercial break. If I have to hear Mr. Movie Voice one more time "...he's claimed over 300 victims..." I think I might be induced to go on a rampage of my own. I wonder how if it would be possible to find out who is responsible for this crap?

On the work front, things have gotten better. I was reading through some older posts and I'm happy to say that work no longer elicits the same dread and despair that it did in those earlier posts which, I suppose, is a good thing.