Category: Time

Farewell, Beloved Yossie

Yesterday suddenly and unexpectedly we lost our sweet cat Yossie to a presumed heart attack. She was twelve.

Yossie entered our lives as a rescue cat and she was apparently found by a dumpster. She was tiny and cute and immediately filled our home with her energy.

I bonded with her quickly and she became ‘my’ cat. She was as interested in and comfortable with me as I was her.

She seemed to change overnight from a sleek kitten to a giant cat but she never lost her looks. Everyone that met her commented on how pretty she was, and how expressive her face. I think this was partially because of her ‘mascara’ – the white fur that surrounded her eyes.

Yossie’s been all over this blog her entire life. Most any activity I did she involved herself in, and there’s endless photos of her playing with legos or assisting me with model kits or just resting in my lap while I played games. If I was interested in something, so was she.

She had her own routines as well. Here you see her propping herself up on the wall to wash her belly. She also had a daily ‘follow the sun’ routine where she’d move around the house with the sun shining through the windows. She loved her toys, her treats, and her naps.

Yossie was always gentle and sweet. Never angry, never sad. Always forgiving. Always loving. I’ll never forget her face, and her meows, and how she brightened up my life.

Yossie died in her sleep, curled up on the couch where I usually sit. She looked peaceful, and beautiful. We’re very sad now, because the hole she leaves will not easily fill, but at the same time I know Yossie had a wonderful life and was loved absolutely.

She would often dream while she slept, twitching and quietly meowing. I hope her last dream was a happy one, in which she was having fun with her toys and eating treats and with me – her ‘dad’ – happily by her side πŸ™

The School Libraries

Wasn’t it great, as a child, when we all shuffled off to the school library to borrow books? I didn’t care at all about the fact I’d have to write book reports (since I enjoyed those), I just wanted to read more books. And every trip to the library meant more books to read! It’s a big quaint looking back as an adult on the idea of little me borrowing from a no-doubt heavily gatekept collection of books, but in those days I always found something I enjoyed and read it from cover to cover.

Thats a recent shot of the library from my second primary school, St Joseph’s. I was at that school between the ages of about 7 to 11 and those were probably the formative years of my reading. I recall the short stacks for the ‘little kids’ (probably me at the start!) and then once you reached a certain age you upgraded to the taller stacks. I used to like book series in those days, and borrowed lots of Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and related books, as well as many classics like as Stevenson, Dahl, Dickens and Jules Verne. We had a list of books from which we had to borrow a certain amount (and review it), but I don’t remember every reading anything I wasn’t interested in.

I also borrowed anything like this (including this very volume):

I enjoyed fantasy, horror and sci-fi from a very early age (this was post Star Wars of course) but didn’t find much beyond the classics at school. I’d borrow those genres in abundance from the public library! However our weekly school library visit would include a sort of book discussion with the teacher and I very strongly recall one of these was about classic monsters (werewolves, vampires, frankenstein etc) which made me view that guy in a different light.

St Joseph’s was also when the Scholastic Book Club started (for me) which led to the Fighting Fantasy book obsession, which dovetailed into even more fantasy reading. I recall we read The Hobbit as a class book one year at St Joseph’s but I had already read it and I believe had even struggled with The Lord Of The Rings as a young child. When they were amongst the only fantasy in the school library I didn’t have a choice! I recall my Hobbit book review was full of drawings of runes and elvish script. (Wouldn’t it be great if I still had that and could scan and blog it?)

That’s the school library of my (juniour) high school St Mary’s. It’s a recent photo and shows that it has changed significantly. It’s brighter and contains far less stacks and books than it once did, and in my day was more of a (small) book dungeon heavily stocked with ‘important’ works of literature such as a budding mind may be expected to ingest. This was high school, and we had started things like Shakespeare, the english poets and Australian literature and the library was heavily stocked with this sort of thing.

But it still had a few of the sorts of genre books one may expect – such as John Wyndham’s works – as well as a section that was a mishmash of strange uncategorizable books (possibly donations thinking back on it) from which one time I borrowed this:

These were the days in which the Guinness Book Of Records was still a phenomenon and it was perhaps not surprising that the wretched TV show spawned a book series (6 volumes!). I remember this book in particular since it had been heavily annotated by a previous reader who expressed their skepticism at most of the contents. This puzzled me (“Who would write in a book?”) and eventually would inspire me (I later used to do the same thing, leaving occasional reviews of novels in the blank final pages.) and, thirty-five years later, has apparently stuck with me.

On my recent visit to Australia I was talking with Kirsten about the library at St Francis Xavier’s – my high school she now teaches at. I have very dim memories of the place – possibly only going when required to – and if it contained any popular literature at all I don’t recall. I studied advanced English courses in high school and (had to) read a lot of material for the courses, but I believe I either bought the books outright or borrowed them from public libraries. This was the only time in my life I recall reading books I had no interest in, which was of course tempered by simultaneous reading of the stuff I did like (fantasy and horror in those days mostly). I wrote a book review in year 12 of a Graham Masterton novel and my teacher essentially forced me to read F Scott Fitzgerald for the next review which irritated me a little πŸ™‚

It’s not that I didn’t visit the SFX Library, it’s just that I don’t recall borrowing much. There were study rooms in the back I used to occasionally use, and I think we sometimes held student council meetings in a library room. The books though… I think I mostly ignored them.

That’s the library at my Australian university, known as the ‘Auchmuty library’. For a few years I had schedules with massive gaps between classes, and spend vast amounts of hours in this library. The basement stacks were a goldmine of unusual books including loads of genre pulp (much of which I ignored in those days…) and – to my eternal joy – a voluminous collection of Lovecraftian hardcovers. Looking back I imagine this was the Akham House output from the early days, and I imagine it’s proximity to the pulp was perhaps because it was a collection donated by a fan of the weird fiction of the 60s/70s (which in those days included the Conan, Tarzen and John Carter series). I was still to naive and inexperienced to recognize this fact, but I did read all of the Lovecraft stuff, including the books of his letters and related musings. My memories of Newcastle University are still strongly intermingled with my fandom of the Lovecraft Mythos, and I wonder if all those books are still hidden in the basement of that library?

I could go on and on about libraries – Charlestown Public Library deserves a post of it’s own – since they almost certainly helped foster not just my love of books but my love of book collecting as well. But that’s enough for now πŸ™‚

My Junior Year

The vast majority of my students are ‘juniors’ which is what we call 3rd years here in the US. Experienced students therefore; slightly more likely to focus on studies than other pursuits. One of them said yesterday that for various reasons she thought junior year would be her best year in college.

My original junior year was 1992. I was a ‘pure mathematics’ major then, in the thick of studies. Do I remember it as my best year? Do I remember it at all?

I found the above photo online, and it shows 4 University of Newcastle (UON) math department professors back in 1992. The occasion was to celebrate a $20,000 grant for new computer equipment. I had classes with the two in the right and possibly the second from left as well. I don’t recall the lessons at all, except that class sizes were small and I never found the work very challenging.

I don’t remember doing homework or taking exams. I don’t remember enrolling in classes or getting my grades. I don’t remember a single classmate and aside from an infamous nudist computer science professor I don’t really remember any of my instructors either. (Were it not for that photo I never would have remembered the guys that taught most of my classes!)

What I do recall from my university days are long bus rides, somewhat uncomfortable lectures (there was no AC in the classrooms), very inexpensive lunches at the campus center (sausage roll and a can of Coke) and many, many hours spent between classes in the library or computer rooms.

I don’t remember any strong feeling of studying toward a goal in those days. I would just attend classes (always math or linguistics, which I had bizarrely kept taking classes in) without much thought of why or what I wanted to ‘do’ with my life. A professor guided me toward an actuarial scholarship during 1992 which – after going to Sydney for qualifying exams – I was surprised to be offered before turning it down when I realized I wasn’t actually interested.

Of course 1992 was when KLS visited Australia, and while I hadn’t at the time decided I’d leave Australia I wonder if the seed had been planted?

My leisure time in those days was spent playing games (it still is…), hanging with friends and using the nascent internet. I had a big collection of friends in those days, many of which had cars or lived nearby so I was rarely without someone to bother πŸ™‚

I also took advantage of student train fares to take frequent day trips to Sydney and have more vivid memories of them than I do of my daily university grind! I expect in those days I may have supposed my future lay in Sydney (there was a brief investigation into law school…) but I can’t recall thinking of what I’d do there.

By the end of 1992 I’d started the (hellish!) immigration process and turned my eyes to distant shores. For many this would have been a very stressful prospect, but I recall embracing it with the optimism I’ve gone through most of my life and as a result feeling even less pressured by school.

1992 in retrospect was a year in which I was lazily learning to be an adult without the associated challenges. My junior year and last full year at UON – and in Oz – was carefree, relaxing and overall one I hold fuzzy but warm memories of. I suppose I would have to say that yes, it was my best year of my first college career, and I suspect were I able to pop back and ask the me of ’92 how his life was going he’d say “Pretty good!”