Barb Caffrey's Blog

Writing the Elfyverse . . . and beyond

Archive for the ‘Informational Stuff’ Category

This Month’s Health Update, Etc.

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Folks, I’ve been asked to give an update about housing and such, so this blog is that answer.

Because of my health cratering, I haven’t been able to find a new apartment or place to live. In addition, the finances aren’t exactly there either. I’ve been able to keep my health from further going off the cliff than it already was, but I haven’t been able to regain much, if any, energy since I moved out of Dad’s house in late August.

The doctors have run a number of blood tests. They didn’t find much. They have no idea what’s causing this.

What I’m trying to do is to keep my head up, work to tolerance, write when I can, and find something good in every day no matter how lousy I feel otherwise. (Usually, it has to do with my mother’s dog, Bratty, AKA Ms. Brat. She’s a sweet little thing, and she makes me laugh daily.) Sunsets are good. Conversations with friends are good. The occasional visit to my friend who lives nearby is good. Talking with my sister is good. Stuff like that, along with of course talking with Mom daily and enjoying a few laughs with her when we can find something we both enjoy or appreciate, helps me to keep going.

Is this what I wanted when I moved out of Dad’s house? Absolutely not.

The problem is, I need a health miracle that I don’t possess in order to regain enough energy to do all that I’m doing now (what amounts to two full-time jobs; trust me), plus find an apartment, and then somehow be able to afford that apartment’s first and last month’s rent. I’m hanging on to the stuff in storage in the hopes I’ll need it again, but my health has been so very bad, I haven’t checked on the storage since October. (Yes, you read that right.)

Dad used to say that doctors are only practicing medicine, with the emphasis on practicing. I think there’s a certain element of that going on here. I don’t fit the mold, whatever the mold is, and thus they have no idea what’s causing this level of illness beyond a few things I was already treating (and have continued to treat).

I don’t know what the answers are, here. I hope that when I feel better, I’ll be able to live better, have more time to myself, etc.

The question I often think about is this: Would Michael want this, for me? And the answer is, “Of course he wouldn’t.” But he’d want me to do my best, which I am doing, and he’d tell me that slow and steady wins the race (whatever the race is), and that if I can’t do it today, I’ll do twice as much tomorrow. And I if I still can’t do it tomorrow, I’ll do three times as much the day after that, because that’s just how I am.

I miss my husband very, very much. But I try to keep those words in mind, and I do the best I can as I move on.

Oh, one more thing: My three novels are out on submission to a new publisher, which is why they haven’t come back out yet. If the new publisher decides against them, I will let you all know. (The covers are of course not available to the new publisher, but he knows that already.) Then, I will get them back up…and we’ll all go on from there.

I hope everyone else is doing as well as possible, and I also hope that you can find something good about every day no matter how frustrated you are, and no matter how frustrating the world seems to be on any given day. Life is short. We have to do our best, whatever our best is that day.

That’s all.

Written by Barb Caffrey

April 24, 2026 at 1:45 pm

Posted in in general, Informational Stuff, Michael B. Caffrey, Widowhood, Writing

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Mentor, Friend, and Superlative Writer, Always…Rosemary Edghill Has Died

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There are some sorts of blogs I don’t ever want to write, and this is one of them. But I must.

Earlier this week, Sharon Lee posted that Rosemary Edghill (who also wrote as eluki bes shahar and James Mallory, among other noms de plume) passed away. Sharon knew Rosemary far longer than I, and Rosemary’s widow knew how to contact Sharon to let everyone else know as best we could.

This is a huge loss.

Rosemary was my first writing mentor besides my late husband Michael, and she championed ELFY (later turned into two books, AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE and A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE) fiercely and well. My husband was also mentored by Rosemary, and Rosemary, upon Michael’s passing, paid for an online obituary in perpetuity (as far as I can tell) so people could pay their respects to his memory, something I greatly appreciated.

But to say that isn’t enough.

You see, Rosemary helped writers of all sorts. She also raised dogs, King Charles Cavalier spaniels, to be exact, and competed with them in agility and other things. Later in life, she rescued dogs, especially the aforesaid King Charles Cavalier spaniels, and was a firm believer in lifelong pet ownership. (Which makes sense to me, completely.) She had many different careers, including an editorial internship at Avon Books (I think this was a paid internship), and she taught me much of writing as well as editing (especially after Michael died, as Michael was himself a good editor), along with the whole business of publishing.

She had a huge presence, did Rosemary. Just seemed like one of those people who’d never die, because they are so vibrant, so full of life even when laid low (due to illness, a broken leg, or whatever), that you can’t imagine them being dead. It just seems unthinkable.

As Sharon Lee put it, Rosemary was brilliant and sometimes difficult. Maybe we all are, we writers. I’m not sure.

I do know that Rosemary and I butted heads once and only once, and due to that, we were estranged for several years. (I felt terrible about this, but I respected her wishes in this, figuring she’d seek me out again when she could.) She eventually re-established ties, and we never once talked about what had estranged us, possibly because there was no point in rehashing old things. (A few people who’ve known me for a long time know what this was, and why, but I see no point in bringing it up now except as an explanation of why Rosemary and I were estranged when I cared about her so much and she cared about me so much, too.)

I loved her writing, the way she used language, how she could write effortlessly in any genre, how fertile her mind and imagination were, how many different interests she had (and she seemed to be expert in all of them, a true rarity)…in many ways, I thought Rosemary was a polymath, of sorts.

Rosemary was also politically active, and raised money for liberal causes. I admired that, too. She knew I was part of the effort to recall then-Governor Scott Walker (R) back in 2011, and she respected that, even though we weren’t ultimately able to get Walker out. (He was indeed recalled, another election was held, but he won that election and was never replaced, finishing out his original term in the process.) She knew I tried not to be hypocritical, and thus if any Republicans were upset with their office-holders who could be recalled, I supported their right to recall said office-holders…though I also worked on behalf of one state senator, Bob Wirch, to successfully retain his seat (in the same manner as Walker had; he was recalled but won the new election and continued to serve in office).

She was complimentary of my efforts to let people know about LGBTQ issues (or as my niece would point out, more formally LGBTQIA) and was married herself to a woman of great worth and strength. (I never met Rosemary’s wife, don’t know her name, haven’t been introduced. But anyone who was married to Rosemary must be a woman of great worth and strength, as Rosemary just did not put up with fools whatsoever, and would not waste her time on anyone who wasn’t a phenomenal person.) While I am not on the whole LGBTQIA spectrum myself, I deeply respect it, partly because my late brother-in-law, Sam, was gay, and partly because I worked with a bunch of lesbian and bisexual women early in life, when I was about nineteen or twenty, and knew they were no different than I was, excepting that the bisexual women sometimes dated men or women, and that the lesbian women only dated other women. They were as worthy as I of love, care, understanding, concern, and whatever else comes with a true partnership, and that’s why I cared, long before it was fashionable, and very long before I even met Michael, much less knew anything about his brother Sam, about these issues.

Rosemary was one of the first to ever see my novel CHANGING FACES, and gave me several excellent comments. She also gave me a sell-quote for my first Elfy book, gave me encouragement at many times and in many places, recommended me to anthology editors as someone who could and would write a story competently and well…there’s not much more I can say, except that she also was kind and caring after Michael passed, even leaving a telephone message (possibly the only time I ever heard her voice, as we were not fortunate enough to meet in person, ever).

All of that is only scratching the surface of who Rosemary Edghill was. I know that. But I can’t help but at least do that much, to give you all some idea of the huge sense of loss I have now that Rosemary has passed on to whatever the next world is (or the Elysian Fields, or The Good Place TM).

I hope that Rosemary first was reunited with her loved ones, including all of her wonderful dogs. I then hope she and Michael settled down for a good gossip, maybe over some tea and shortbreads, as those were favorite things of Michael’s and I’m sure Rosemary would not have been adverse.

Rosemary wrote Regency romances, SF&F of all sorts, tie-in books, general fiction, and way too much else to list. Everything she ever wrote had value, worth, fun stuff, interesting situations, and fast-paced writing that always held my interest no matter how tired I was and no matter how much nonsense I’d had to deal with before I finally got a precious hour or two to read her books.

I will treasure her books, her writing, and her presence in my life forever.

I really wish she wasn’t gone. She was only 69. That seems too young, to my mind, these days…anyway, the SF&F community is in mourning, and I completely understand why.

All we can do now, though, is emulate her the best we can, and live our best lives, writing however often we’re able, as we may.

If you have memories of Rosemary, or wish to talk about this post, go ahead and leave a comment.

Written by Barb Caffrey

April 12, 2026 at 10:25 am

Posted in friendship, heartbreaking stories, in general, Informational Stuff, LGBT, Michael B. Caffrey, Rosemary Edghill, Writing

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Recent Heckling of MLB’s Ketel Marte Troubling

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Folks, most of you who’ve read this blog for any length of time know I’m a baseball fan. And while my favorite team is the Milwaukee Brewers (always has been), my heart goes out to players who’ve suffered from life.

Take the Arizona Diamondbacks second baseman Ketel Marte, for example. Most people wouldn’t know he’s suffered loss, as he often smiles, laughs, and jokes around on the field…but recently, a fan heckled him in Chicago and it upset him dearly.

While I don’t know exactly what was said, Marte’s mother was invoked. It was apparently far beyond a “your Mama wears combat boots” type of insult, which most MLB players have heard since their days in Little League. My guess is it went like this: “It’s a good thing your mother’s already dead, considering what you just did.”

That’s wrong. It shouldn’t have happened.

See, Marte’s mother died in 2017. He still grieves for her. She died in a car accident, which means it was a sudden and completely unexpected death.

Marte is now thirty-one years old. He’s still a young man. But most of his success in major league baseball has come after the death of his mother, and that’s been very hard on him.

Maybe some of you are thinking, “He’s making big money. Why should I care?”

You should care because you’re a human being and you’ve likely suffered loss yourself.

I know that I understand how he feels. If someone heckled me about my late husband, I’d be first livid and then later very sad. It’s hard to stay above such personal insults. It hits you on a raw spot, even years later.

As for the unnamed fan, he’s been indefinitely banned by not just the White Sox, but by the entirety of MLB.

Baseball players are human beings. Their careers are often quite short. The money they make seems nice on its face, but there are a lot of trade-offs that come with that money, including constant travel, the potential for serious injury, the loss of time with their families, and much more. It’s not a job most people would want if they considered all the downsides, including possible interactions like with this dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks fan.

Most baseball fans have reacted the way I have, whether they’ve lost someone close to them or not. They know that insults like that are not acceptable and cannot be tolerated by civilized human beings.

I really wish everyone would try to remember that we only get this one life to live. We should approach people with dignity and respect as much as possible.

So if you’re going to yell insults at a baseball player or other athlete, stick with how they’re playing. Leave the parents, spouses, children, etc., out of it.

But better yet, don’t heckle at all. Life is too short for that.

Written by Barb Caffrey

June 26, 2025 at 12:03 am

Posted in baseball, Criticism/critique, in general, Informational Stuff, Prescient observations, Writing

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Way Too Hot, Way Too Humid…and My Thoughts Regarding the Recent MN Assassinations and Assassination Attempts

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The weather here in Southeastern Wisconsin is bad. It’s been hot, humid, and nasty for the past several days…this on top of the previous few weeks of marginal to outright bad air quality (this for everyone, not just asthmatics like me).

Otherwise, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. The shootings of the Minnesota lawmakers — the assassinations of one and her husband (Melissa and Mark Hortman), and the attempted assassinations of another and his wife (John Hoffman and his wife Yvette Hoffman) — have dwelled upon my mind. It is deeply upsetting that there are people in this country who do such awful things.

I’ve been saying this for years, mind, over the various terrible things that have happened. Not all of it has happened to politicians. Sometimes police have been shot (such as at a grocery store in Colorado) and killed while doing their jobs. (Indeed, there were police who were trying to keep order on January 6th, 2021, who got badly hurt. A few later died and there were at least ten who had significant injuries that caused them to retire early from the police force. Look up Michael Fanone’s name to find out what happened to him, that day.) There have been school kids killed for what seems like no reason whatsoever (Sandy Hook, Columbine, Uvalde).

I don’t know what the answers are to stop these things, especially as what tends to work in other countries does not work well in the United States. (Such as controlling the flow of automatic weapons. Note I didn’t say all weapons. The Second Amendment to the Constitution assuredly believed people should keep some weapons, though at the time it was written, gunsmithing was not very far along and automatic weaponry and semiautomatic weapons were not even a glimmer in a creator’s eye.)

But one thing I do know is, staying silent doesn’t work.

I condemn all of these various things that I’ve discussed. I have condemned them many times on my blog with other, awful things that have happened (including the attempted assassination of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, D-AZ). And I most definitely condemn the assassination of the Hortmans and the attempted assassinations of the Hoffmans. I think if you believe in the Bible, as the shooter who assassinated the Hortmans and nearly managed to kill the Hoffmans supposedly did, that you need to look at the Ten Commandments again.

One of them is, “Thou shalt not kill.” Sometimes that is translated as “Thou shalt not murder.”

The shooter’s part-time roommate (I am not naming the shooter as I never do here at my blog) said in several places that he knew his roommate the shooter wasn’t happy with politicians. But the roommate also said that doing something like this is flat-out crazy. He never suspected the shooter. Pointed out that both he (the roommate) and the shooter had voted for Trump (there was a conspiracy theory going around saying that it was a leftwing activist who went after the Hortmans and Hoffmans for “not being left enough,” but that’s not the case).

I say this to point out that it’s more important to follow Jesus’s proposed eleventh commandment, that being “Love one another as I have loved you.”

I also want you to think about this: If Jesus were here now, who do you think he’d be helping? The homeless on the street, or the billionaires jetting from island to island? Would he be more likely to help the poor Mary Magdalenes of this world (i.e., prostitutes) or would he help those who already have power consolidate it into their two hands and never let it go?

If you honestly think that Jesus, if he came to Earth today, would not try to help the homeless and would not try to help contemporary Mary Magdalenes, I don’t know what to say to you.

“But Barb,” you protest. “Why wouldn’t he want to help the billionaires be better people?”

I think Jesus would want to do that. But if time was limited — and being in a mortal body, time is always limited — he’d help those who obviously needed it first. The drunks. The indigent. The folks trying their best who can’t catch a break. The prostitutes, especially those who’ve been human trafficked.

I do think that current-day billionaires should look at two people to perhaps give them some sort of enlightenment. The first is Bill Gates, who has vowed to give away his entire fortune before he dies. The second is, of all people, Cornelius Vanderbilt, as Vanderbilt’s philanthropy was almost as legendary as his ability to make lots and lots of money.

But as it’s very unlikely any of them will read my blog, I’ll leave the rest of you with this:

Be your best self. Care about others. Pay attention, and do what you can to alleviate other people’s pain. If you can make a positive difference for someone, do it.

That, to my mind, is what any positive religious influence, whether it’s Jesus, Confucius, the Buddha, Joseph Smith, or Baha’ullah, has hoped for us to do.

Also, keep listening to the new Pope. He has his head on straight. (You don’t have to agree with him 100% of the time. I think it’s impossible to agree with anyone 100% of the time.)

For those of you who feel as I do, stuck in the Void and wondering if anything you do will ever matter all that much, keep holding a positive thought as best you can.

One day at a time. Sometimes, one hour at a time, or one minute at a time. Just do your best to help others, and “Love one another the way I loved you,” as Jesus said. (Or as the Wiccans say, “Do what you want so long as you harm none.”)

P.S. The Hoffmans look on their way to a full recovery. I am very glad about this.

P.P.S. In case there’s any doubt, I condemn all violence. As Jon Stewart said last week on the Daily Show (Monday’s edition), “I don’t give a flying **** as to why this man” (meaning the shooter in MN) “did what he did.” (And yes, he said the actual word. I try not to do that, as if I started typing expletives all the time I’d get nothing done. But I did sympathize with Stewart while he used his own.)

P.P.P.S. I also am quite upset that the Hortmans’ faithful dog, a Golden Retriever, was shot. The Hortman children had to make the decision to put the poor dog down. Melissa Hortman, former Democratic Speaker of Minnesota’s lower house, was known for walking her dog, rain or shine, several times a day. That an innocent, loving animal was killed — as he wouldn’t have had to be put down without that shooter doing those atrocious and reprehensible things — in addition to the Hortmans themselves just angers me on a visceral level that I can’t quite explain.

Written by Barb Caffrey

June 23, 2025 at 6:22 am

Posted in Criticism/critique, heartbreaking stories, in general, Informational Stuff, mass shootings, Prescient observations, Religion, Spirituality, Truly horrible behavior, Writing

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Sunday Musings: As Tornados Ravage the Midwest and South, Remind Yourself of What Matters

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Folks, as I continue to heal from a perplexing illness (I’ll get to that in a while), I wanted to discuss the tornados that have ravaged the Midwest and South, among other places, this past week.

There were four confirmed tornado touchdowns in Wisconsin earlier this week, all on the same day. We were fortunate that no one was confirmed dead. People lost power, and some homes were damaged along with some barns. These are not good things, but they’re not as bad as what could’ve happened.

The reason I say that is, over the last few days, twenty-five people died in several states — including Kentucky — due to tornadic activity. There may well be more people dead than twenty-five; that’s what they know so far.

More tornados are on the way, too, especially in Nebraska, Colorado, and Kansas, among other states. These are traditionally states that get hit exceptionally hard by tornados.

But now we get to the awful part. (As if tornados aren’t bad enough.) There are folks online who have said because the people who’ve died were in “red states” (meaning Republican dominated states), that just “thins the herd.” I’ve also seen some folks who’ve said that the current presidential administration is not likely to help any of the states badly affected, because so far they’ve not helped Arkansas (deeply red), North Carolina (purple — basically a toss-up state like my own Wisconsin), or other places that have been ravaged by natural disasters already this year. FEMA (the federal emergency management agency) has been largely defunded, for whatever reason, and many people are already struggling.

Tornado touchdowns, tornado damage, and tornadic activity that threatens lives as well as livelihoods is going to just make things worse.

I have words for those who believe it’s OK for people to suffer. None of them are polite.

I lived in Nebraska and Colorado, and I know tornados can be terrible there. I used to see greenish-black skies there at certain times of year, and was always aware of the lowest point of any place I was at — school, work, apartment, whatever — to wait out any terrible storms. I certainly did not care whether the people I was with were Democrats, Republicans, Independents, or Martians. All I cared about was making sure people survived to live another day.

The farmers in these states (especially Nebraska and Missouri) will need help. If the current administration refuses to help them — and they probably won’t — that just screws over their own voters. It seems particularly ruinous, politically, to do such a thing, as well as being morally wrong.

Those who’ve already died were human beings and deserve dignity and respect. We owe it to ourselves to do whatever we can to help those in need, especially if the current administration refuses to do so. We cannot allow ourselves to become so inured as to say, “Who cares about them?”

That’s a horrible way to view life, and it’s one I’m not going to ever partake in. We must be better than that.

Now, as to the perplexing illness? Part of it is a wicked sinus and ear infection, which is not perplexing at all as I get them reasonably often. But the other part…well, it’s just odd.

I have been getting rashes on my back with blisters. The blisters were cultured and sent off to a pathology lab as the dermatologist had no idea what was going on. I was told this is a disease that happens if you’ve been around sheep or goats and have touched an open wound — and none of that is true in my case, as I haven’t been near a petting zoo in over twenty years.

I’d hoped this was resolving, but I discovered another blister last night. I won’t pop it — I know better — but will let the dermatology people know in case they can do anything other than what I’m already doing. (Basically — keep it clean. Use antibiotic ointment if the blister pops on its own. Use a medicated ointment to reduce the itching. Take a pill at night that allows for sleep because it greatly lessens the itching while having a soporific effect allowing sleep to occur.)

Of course, as the sinus infection and ear pain/issues happens to be particularly bad, I am on steroids as well as antibiotics and will be for another five days. These two things tend to offset, making me feel like I’m in some sort of complex ping-pong game. While both things seem to be healing (the rash itself is much better, though that new blister bugs me; the sinuses are clearing, and I can think much better, even though I do poorly on steroids as my body does not like them), I’m greatly weakened by them both happening at the same time.

I keep thinking that life should not be this difficult.

I’ve tried to keep several popular hard rock songs at the top of my mind. The first is Disturbed’s newest song, “I Will Not Break.” (Seems self-explanatory, yes?) The second, again, is Poppy’s “New Way Out,” which I’ve discussed before. (Poppy’s lyrics speak of frustration, of looking for a new way out and not finding one but refusing to stop trying. “Are you going to get up, or are they going to keep you down?” is one, followed by “Get up.”) The third is Nothing More’s “Here’s to the Heartache,” which may or may not be understandable…it’s a beautiful song that points out everything you do, everything you are, has led you to the place you’re in (and the people who are in your life). It’s specifically about romance, and it of course reminds me of Michael when I hear the lyric that says “…and that’s what it took to lead me to you. So here’s to the heartache…here’s to the mistakes…” There’s more, and I suggest you listen to it yourself as it is a truly beautiful and memorable song that’s musically far more than the sum of its parts.

Both Disturbed and Nothing More are comprised of intelligent people with exceptional musicianship and knowledge. Disturbed’s lead singer David Draiman has a versatile voice that could probably sing opera if he wanted (he is a baritone, but can sing some higher parts with excellent vocal quality also). Nothing More’s Jonny Hawkins is a percussionist who turned to singing and his rhythmic skills are prodigious, as are his vocal skills (he’s got a tenor range and can do anything required of him). The musicians in these bands are all excellent. I can’t recommend them highly enough.

As for Poppy, her voice is higher than I usually listen to, but there is a purity to it in quieter moments that makes me think she could do anything she wants with such a voice. Her lyrics are intelligent, and she obviously understands contemporary music as well as anyone out there (and better than most). I don’t know if she plays any instruments herself (I have looked up her Wikipedia article, but it’s light on details that way; it mostly discusses how she was self-developed as an artist on YouTube, starting with being called “ThatPoppy” and later just Poppy), but she obviously understands what she’s about and surrounds herself with quality musicians.

Music reminds me of how there’s more to us, as human beings, than politics, money, creed, lifestyle, gender, sexual expression, or any other way. There are things that unite us. Music is one of the biggest and best things that still does that.

Oh, I should also say that last night I also confused YouTube mightily when I searched for Schubert’s “Unfinished Symphony.” (It knows I will listen to jazz saxophonist Art Pepper on occasion, but I hadn’t listened to any classical music with it ever, mostly because due to my training, I see such things usually as “work.”) I find that particular piece of Schubert’s to be quite hauntingly beautiful, and was in need of some of its healing qualities, too…

Anyway, please do not let the exigencies of the moment stop you from understanding that we humans are worth more than the atrocious comments I discussed above (regarding the tornados). Appeal to your best selves this Sunday, and every day. Do whatever you can to make life better for someone out there.

Don’t become inured to suffering, please. That just wastes your time on this earth, and your time and mine are limited as it is.

In short: care about others, dammit. Help those who need it. Demand better from our government if they refuse to help those who suffer from natural disasters. Insist upon humanity and human rights and dignity.

And listen to the new Pope, dubbed Leo the Fourteenth. He’s an interesting, well-read, well-traveled man who happens to be a Midwestern American, and so far, he reminds me a great deal of Pope Francis in that Leo cares about everyone. (As he should.)

Written by Barb Caffrey

May 18, 2025 at 8:48 am

Posted in Criticism/critique, Informational Stuff, Music, Prescient observations, Writing

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Signalgate: What the Hell?

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Folks, I feel I must blog on this.

If you do not know what Signalgate is yet, here’s a quick definition. The United States was about to send military planes to strike the Houthis in Yemen. There was a text chain and/or a group chat going on through the Signal app — which, while encrypted, is not a secure thing compared to, say, going into a SCIF (secure place, where you do not bring cell phones, Apple watches, or anything save maybe a pen and paper and that’s it) — that featured the head of the Department of Defense, Pete Hegseth, and quite a few members of the 47th President Donald Trump’s Cabinet. Other prominent people on this text chain were Secretary of State Marco Rubio (who should’ve known better), Department of National Intelligence head Tulsi Gabbard (who also should’ve known better), National Security Advisor Mike Waltz, Trump aide Steven Miller, the Deputy Chief of Staff for Policy (why was he included?), Trump’s Chief of Staff Susie Wiles (who also should’ve known better), and worst of all, JD Vance, the Vice President. (Wikipedia has a precis available here that’s pretty good.)

Really, people? This is the best you could do? We’d not know about this if they hadn’t added a journalist to the call inadvertently (Jeffrey Goldberg, editor-in-chief of The Atlantic). And because of that, along with pointing out that doing all this was not secure and was not safe and shouldn’t happen, Goldberg is getting vilified by many on the right for reasons I do not understand.

There’s a reason you go into the SCIF, people!

What’s that reason? Operational Security, AKA “OpSec.” Something Hegseth said was fine on this text chain or group chat or whatever the Hell it was.

Um, no. It wasn’t.

Look. I am only a former military wife. My ex-husband was in the active-duty Army for almost five years when we were married. If he had done anything remotely like this, he would’ve been sent to Fort Leavenworth so fast his head would’ve spun.

For those of you who don’t know why this is, let me put it to you this way. If you’re in the military, you are supposed to remember something along these lines: Loose lips sink ships. That applies in the Army, though they don’t have ships. It also applies to the Navy, where my late husband Michael served, as well as my father.

In fact, Dad was a radio technician. He knew a lot about OpSec. I think if he were still alive, he’d have burst a blood vessel in his head or something, as what Hegseth, et. al, just did is not something anyone should be doing.

Dad was a non-com. He wasn’t an officer. But he knew what you could say and what you couldn’t. He also knew what mediums you could use if something was not classified, and what you shouldn’t use under any circumstances.

While cell phones were not something that Dad had to deal with in the 1950s when he served, they did have extensive radio traffic. Possibly more than we do now, because we have computers. Anyway, Dad knew that you do not say something out in the open that anyone could possibly listen to or break into/hack into, and you most certainly would not do this from anywhere other than a secure place.

This could’ve killed members of the US military if the Houthis had been tipped off this attack was coming. Only by the grace of God did that not happen.

I mean, one of these people on the chat/text thing was in Moscow. Russia, despite what the current President believes, is not a typical ally of the United States.

So, what the Hell was this guy in Russia doing on an unsecured line texting back and forth about the air strikes that were about to hit Yemen?

Seriously? What the Hell?

I’m particularly disappointed in Gabbard and Rubio. They are career politicians, yes, but Gabbard was an Army Major at one time. She’s not a fool. Rubio was at one time quite canny, and understood what “OpSec” really is a few years ago. But he obviously doesn’t now.

The excuses of “well, we didn’t know” or “these weren’t really war plans” (which go to hundreds of pages) do not fly with me. At all.

My view of this is very simple. If a noncom like my Dad could’ve been sent to jail for less, and trust me, he could’ve, these people have no excuse — zero — for what they did.

Do I want them in jail? No. But I do want them fired, or to resign, effective immediately. Not just Waltz, the NSA. All of them, including the Vice President.

They’ve all shown they can’t be trusted, they have no common sense, and they don’t know what the Hell they’re doing. The current President deserves better from these people, and he’s not likely to get it, so he should ask them all to submit their resignations ASAP. (If not, they should be fired, and if Mr. Trump refuses to fire them, they should be impeached and removed. Every single last one of them.)

Or as Rachel Maddow put it — I hope I get it right — “These aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. They’re quite dull tools. But this is who we have in charge of our national security.”

Unsaid, but very obvious, was the subtext of this: God help us all.

Written by Barb Caffrey

March 27, 2025 at 4:26 am

Posted in Informational Stuff, Prescient observations, Public figures, Stupid, United States Politics, United States Presidents

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Catching Up (Including Some Thoughts on Milwaukee Sports)

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Folks, I thought I’d just type something to you all today, mostly so you’d know I’m still alive and doing the best I can.

The last several months have been beyond difficult. Sometimes, I’m not sure I know when the stress ends and I begin. The only good thing I can point to is that I’ve been able to write more…it’s more that my writing is demanding that I set it down than anything. (Most writers have been there a time or three.)

I’ve also been able to write some music from time to time, though it’s fitful. For example, right now I have a multiple movement piece going, and not one of the movements has been finished. They’re all started, which is great. But if I don’t figure out where the melodies are, where the harmonies should be implied (this is a solo saxophone piece, in case anyone’s wondering; since the sax cannot play chords on its own, the best anyone can do in a solo piece is to imply what the harmony might well be), and figure out how to end these movements while trying to tie them all up in a nifty bow, I’d be doing myself a disservice.

You might wonder why I say that. It’s because I know, as my late husband Michael used to say, that my first language is music. My second language is words. This is why I listen so much for what something sounds like, as well as how it flows, in words. It’s probably why before I started writing a great deal of fiction, I’d written quite a few poems.

I also have made some excellent progress with the can’t-tell-you-yet-project. Here’s to hoping I make even more progress in the upcoming week.

I’m also looking forward to the start of Major League Baseball’s Opening Day. The Milwaukee Brewers will be opening up their season on March 27 in New York City as they’re scheduled to play the Yankees. A few days later, they will return to Milwaukee and play their first home games of the year.

(Yes, the Los Angeles Dodgers played the Chicago Cubs in a two-game series in Japan on March 18 and 19. I’m sorry, though; that did not feel like Opening Day or even Opening Week to me, instead feeling like two glorified exhibition games that the Dodgers get to take two games as “wins” for the regular season. I was not impressed.)

As per usual, I’m also keeping an eye on the Milwaukee Bucks. They’ve been playing well, for the most part, despite having games where their star players either are not able to play, or are dealing with significant injuries that can’t help but hamper them. Giannis Antetokounmpo is, to my mind, the best player in the NBA. He is excellent defensively, has a great mid-range jump shot, can take the ball to the basket on just about anyone, and somehow, the coaching staff has gotten him to lay off the three-point shot (as it’s really not Giannis’s strength at all). He dishes out assists, pulls down rebounds, and scores over thirty points a night regularly. Between him and Damian Lillard (an excellent three-point shooter and much better defensively than I’d expected), the Bucks go into just about any game believing they can and will win. (Then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.)

So, that’s about it. I’m writing and editing as I’m able, watching sports as I always do, keeping the home fires burning as best I can also, and am looking for the silver lining, even if I don’t yet know where it is.

What are you all doing this week?

Written by Barb Caffrey

March 23, 2025 at 7:19 am

Posted in Informational Stuff, Writing

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Thoughts on the Recent Deaths of Gene Hackman and his wife, Betsy Arakawa

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Folks, I’m still alive. Still here. Still doing my best. And, being me, I’ve been thinking about the biggest story and conundrum — outside of politics, that is (not healthy enough to talk politics yet) — of the last few weeks, those being the deaths of actor Gene Hackman, 95, and his wife, classical pianist Betsy Arakawa Hackman, 65.

When they were found, both had been dead over a week. Gene Hackman was found in the mud room — probably the room closest to one of the outside doors — his cane and sunglasses lying where they fell. His wife, Betsy, was found in the bathroom. She’d collapsed there. Pills were scattered all over. One of their three dogs had also perished, but the other two were OK.

You can see where this turn of events was shocking in many senses, can’t you?

Anyway, the medical examiner where they lived in New Mexico said that Betsy Arakawa Hackman died of hantavirus. She died, they think, on February 11, 2025. They had video and email evidence that showed she was active before that time.

When I heard that part of the news, I was a little surprised. Hantavirus is not something I have to deal with in Wisconsin, but I have heard of it. It is a disease spread by rodents. It’s possible that one of the three dogs might’ve carried something in…though the ME certainly didn’t speculate (that’s just me, knowing how dogs act).

Then the ME discussed Hackman’s death. (I heard this while driving, and confirmed a lot of it later online.) He died apparently a week after his wife did. Why didn’t he call 911? She didn’t get into that, but said he had three things that had combined to kill him: long-time hypertension, a history of cardiac problems/arteriosclerosis (also known as atherosclerosis), and, the most shocking of all, advanced Alzheimer’s disease.

This was really stunning to hear.

I took several deep breaths after hearing this, in fact, because I know, a little bit anyway, what Alzheimer’s can do. One of my great-aunts had dementia, probably Alzheimer’s. I visited her when I was a teenager. She didn’t recognize me, only part of the time recognized her own sister (the other part, she thought my grandma was their mother), and also didn’t recognize my mother — the person my great-aunt trusted best, besides her sister, in the whole world.

Alzheimer’s is a really weird disease. It not only robs you of your memories, robs you at least in part of your intellect (depending on how bad it is; my great-aunt’s wasn’t as bad as some as she could still communicate and did still recognize my grandma at least some of the time), but does all sorts of other things that don’t seem to make much sense at all. Some people who get it are not violent, as indeed my great-aunt was not. But some are.

We need a cure for Alzheimer’s and other types of dementia, because a disease that robs you of yourself is the scariest thing that I could ever imagine.

At any rate, everything I’m going to say next is speculation, but here goes.

Hackman had Alzheimer’s, so he didn’t either realize his wife was dead, didn’t know she was his wife anymore, or had some other thing going on. That’s why he didn’t call 911. He was still with it enough to take his cane with him when he went outside for a walk and to put sunglasses on, but that doesn’t mean he was with it in every other sense.

Because she died first, when he passed, there was no one to say anything about either one of them. He was on a cardiac monitor, and they later looked up what that feed told them. He had some sort of cardiac event on February 19th — this being approximately 8 days after the last time Betsy, his wife, had been alive — and after that, his pacemaker went nonfunctional. (That’s because he was dead.)

They had three dogs, and the one that died was twelve years old. That particular dog was known to be particularly attached to Betsy. It’s possible that the reason this dog was in a closet was because Hackman, not compos mentis anymore, didn’t like the howls, barks, whines, or other things the dog was probably doing around Betsy’s dead body. (Dogs do this. They know when someone is ill, and they know when someone is dying or has already passed on.) So, it’s possible Hackman put the one dog in the closet, then forgot about the dog, which is why the dog died (apparently of dehydration and malnutrition, though again, that’s my own speculation).

The other two dogs were still alive. How? Well, maybe Hackman had enough left of himself to feed the other two dogs and give them water. Maybe that’s why he went outside, as one of the dogs was found outside. We’ll never know for sure, but if no one was in that house save the Hackmans, and Betsy died on February 11, there’s only one reason the other two dogs were alive — and that’s because Gene Hackman was feeding and watering them.

This was tragic, though, on all levels. Betsy Arakawa Hackman loved her husband so much, she was taking care of him at home by herself. She wore herself down to a thread, it seems to me, and that may have been why when she somehow was exposed to hantavirus that she didn’t last very long. They know she emailed a few people on February 11, which means she was well enough to sit up and say she was sick (assuming that’s what she said; I don’t know if that’s what it was, as I’m still speculating). But later that day or evening, in the bathroom, she collapsed and died.

This part is not speculation, however. The ME said flat-out that Gene Hackman had previous cardiac events and heart damage consistent with prior heart attacks. The ME also said Gene H. had arteriosclerosis. (She said atherosclerosis. It’s the same thing, or so close it makes no nevermind.) This is what my grandma would’ve called “hardening of the arteries.” It’s consistent with the other heart issues the ME found.

So, even without the Alzheimer’s that the ME found, Gene H. would’ve needed extensive care from his wife or a caregiver. He was 95, his body was failing, and his mind was almost gone — I can’t imagine how else to put it, as he must’ve known someone had died in that bathroom, even if he didn’t recognize her as his wife anymore — so he didn’t know to call 911, or didn’t care, or felt it wasn’t his problem…who knows what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all? Maybe he did the best he could do, which was to keep the other two dogs alive.

Sometimes life is just cruel, and I think the fact that Betsy Arakawa Hackman died before her husband Gene did is just that: cruel.

All I can think of now is, what about the two surviving dogs? Will they find good homes? (I hope so.)

And, finally…if there is a positive afterlife, I hope Betsy greeted her husband, and that he knew her again, knew their love, knew her sacrifices on his behalf, and know her immense love and kindness and concern for him. I’d like to think the two of them walked into Heaven together, hand in hand, with their twelve-year-old dog beside them, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, free and happy and out of pain and knowing each other as only close loved ones can.

Written by Barb Caffrey

March 8, 2025 at 2:53 am

Posted in heartbreaking stories, in general, Informational Stuff, love stories, Public figures, Remembrance

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Surfacing Briefly…

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Folks, right now I am battling a case of the flu. I suspect it would be considered “mild” as I can think, but it’s not pleasant, regardless.

So, while I have plenty of things to say, my health is the priority right now.

Mostly, I just wanted to use this opportunity to urge you to be good to one another, and treat others the way you, yourself, want to be treated. As always, if you can keep from spreading vitriol (which I define as “bad stuff for the sake of bad stuff,” which is a lot different than speaking truth to power), do it, as the world has more than enough vitriol to last several thousand lifetimes as it is.

Music I’m listening to: Poppy’s “New Way Out” is attractive, though I don’t understand why she always has to say “Poppy” in all of her songs. (Her voice is distinctive enough that I don’t need that cue.) “I need a new way…I need a new way out” is a lyric that can’t help but resonate strongly with me. Other favorites include “Monsters” by Shinedown and of course “Hold on to Memories” by Disturbed.

Book I’m avidly waiting for: Sharon Lee and Steve Miller’s DIVINER’S BOW, the latest in their trademarked Liaden Universe. If you haven’t read any of their work yet, go do it ASAP. Good places to start include SALVAGE RIGHT, FLEDGLING, PLAN B, LOCAL CUSTOM, CONFLICT OF HONORS, and SCOUT’S PROGRESS. There’s action, romance, believable aliens, and all sorts of other details that cement these novels as being the excellent works I know them to be. Note that if you read one, you’re likely to find them as addicting as I do…in the best of senses. (So read, people!)

Anyway, hold tight to your moral compass, and remember that what is popular may not always be right. Open your minds, refuse to cede any of your mind to anyone in advance, and always, always question authority.

I’ll be back when I feel better.

Written by Barb Caffrey

February 13, 2025 at 3:57 am

Posted in in general, Informational Stuff, Prescient observations, Sharon Lee/Steve Miller, Writing

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Bob Uecker, Voice of the Milwaukee Brewers, Has Died

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I woke up today to the news that my childhood hero Bob Uecker, long-time voice of the Milwaukee Brewers, has died. He was 90.

While that’s a good, long life, Uecker was what I’d call an “American original.” He was a great broadcaster, yes, but also was an actor, a comedian, wrote two books (including Catcher in the Wry), a philanthropist, and was one of the more unforgettable people I’d ever watched, read about, or listened to during the course of my lifetime.

When I was very young, I listened to Uecker on the radio broadcasts with Merle Harmon. (Yes, that goes back a ways, doesn’t it?) Harmon was the play-by-play guy back then, while Uecker was the color man. At one point, Harmon felt Uecker was ready to start doing innings by himself, so the story Uecker often told was that Harmon simply didn’t show up one half-inning. Uecker had to do the game by himself. Harmon eventually did come back and finish the game, and they had a few more good years as radio partners before other announcers came in.

By that point, Uecker was the top dog. Everyone he mentored, whether it was Pat Hughes, Corey Provus, or current announcers Jeff Levering, Lane Grindle, and Josh Mauer, later became far better broadcasters with what assuredly seemed like more knowledge of the world around them.

There have been many tributes already, from former MLB commissioner Bud Selig; former Brewers players Brent Suter (now a pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds) and Ryan Braun; current announcers Grindle and Levering; current players Brandon Woodruff and Christian Yelich; current manager Pat Murphy; and finally, former manager Craig Counsell. Other announcers, both on TV and radio, have chimed in, along with some of the actors Uecker used to work with (Tracy Tofte worked with Uecker on the sitcom “Mr. Belvedere,” and visited Ueck three weeks ago). Fans went out to American Family Field (formerly known as Miller Park) and left cans of Miller Lite at the base of Ueck’s statue outside the stadium in memory of Ueck’s famous commercials for Miller Lite years ago. (They also left flowers, memories, and at least one Brewers baseball cap.)

All I can tell you is, Uecker was the announcer for the Brewers when I was young, as I grew up, and as I matured into the person I am today. He was funny, articulate, often charming, sometimes scathing, but always, always interesting. He made people laugh, even on the worst days of their lives. He charmed iconic TV host Johnny Carson so much that Carson gave Ueck the nickname “Mr. Baseball,” first ironically, then wholeheartedly. (Carson also had Ueck back over one hundred times on his show, including during the last week Carson hosted.)

I think, though, the reason I liked Uecker so much was because he was from Milwaukee. He didn’t lord it over anyone. He enjoyed people and liked cheering them up. He was frank, unassuming, and down-to-earth, and he absolutely loved his job as Voice of the Brewers.

His playing career wasn’t great; he hit .200, was known more for his defense than his offense, and retired at age thirty-three. He tried scouting but wasn’t great at it. Then he reinvented himself as an announcer, became a very good one, then a great one. Did stand-up comedy, charmed Carson (as previously mentioned), acted in Major League (my favorite baseball film ever) and of course on “Mr. Belvedere.” It seemed like anything Ueck turned his hand to, he succeeded.

But Uecker was human, and sometimes awful things happened to him. He had pancreatic cancer, which he fought, that eventually went into remission. He’d had open-heart surgery. He nearly died from a bite from a brown recluse, too. But worst of all, two of his children predeceased him: one because of San Joaquin Valley Fever, the other because of ALS. He leaves behind a wife, kids, grandchildren, the entirety of “Brewers Nation,” and many others who knew of his life, work, and charitable concerns.

In short, Bob Uecker was almost like a family member in a way, even though he didn’t know me from Eve. He was the best-known exponent of Wisconsin in general and Milwaukee in particular, showcasing the charm and humor and razor-sharp intelligence most of us who live here wish we had.

Ueck was the “Voice of Summer” to many — not just me — and he’ll be greatly missed.

Written by Barb Caffrey

January 17, 2025 at 12:18 am

Posted in baseball, friendship, heartbreaking stories, Informational Stuff, Milwaukee Brewers baseball club, Persistence, Prescient observations, Public figures, Remembrance, Sports figures

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