A CHAT WITH GEMINI

 

Dear George, 

Every now and then I try experimenting with Gemini, Google’s artificial intelligence (AI) chatbot. Gemini was initially called Bard, but they changed its name for legal and marketing purposes. To use Gemini you go to the website, gemini.google.com, type in a question or other prompt, and Gemini provides you with a written reply in conversational form. Among other things, Gemini provides information on factual topics, creates stories, translates languages, and offers suggestions and ideas. Below is a “chat” that I recently had with Gemini. My questions are in italics; Gemini’s responses are in regular print. These are verbatim answers from Gemini, though I sometimes condensed Gemini’s response in presenting it here. Frankly I find Gemini congenial and astonishing. 

Love, 

Dave 

Hi, Gemini. Are you available? 

Yes, I'm available! How can I help you today? 

What does the word “chatbot” mean? 

A chatbot is a computer program designed to simulate human conversation. It uses artificial intelligence to understand and respond to text or voice input, often in real-time. Chatbots can be used for various purposes, such as customer service, providing information, or even entertainment. 

How old are you? 

As an AI language model, I don't have a biological age. I was created in 2023 and have been continuously learning and improving since then. 

What is your personal pronoun preference? 

I don't have personal pronouns. I don't have a physical body or a personal identity. You can refer to me as "it" or use any other pronoun that you prefer. 

Do you have a mother? 

I exist within a digital realm, so I don’t have a mother in the same way a human does. However, my creators and developers could be considered my “parents” in a metaphorical sense. 

Do you speak Swahili?

Yes, I can speak Swahili. Feel free to ask me a question in Swahili. 

Would you say that you are more liberal or more conservative? 

I do not have personal beliefs or opinions. I can generate text that is consistent with a variety of viewpoints. 

Which of these words would you use to describe yourself? active warm talkative dominant smart interesting popular anxious needy 

Here are the words I would use to describe myself: active, warm, talkative, smart, interesting 

Are there any human beings that you admire? 

I admire Albert Einstein for his groundbreaking work in physics, Marie Curie for her pioneering research in radioactivity, and Martin Luther King Jr. for his leadership in the Civil Rights Movement. 

Who is best: Beethoven or Mozart? 

Both composers were incredibly talented and influential, and their music continues to be celebrated today. Rather than trying to decide who is "best," it's often more rewarding to simply appreciate the unique qualities of each composer's music. 

Do you know Victor Lundgren of Menominee, MI? 

Vic Lundgren was the owner of the Lundgren Tree Farm in Menominee County. He played a significant role in rescuing and restoring a historic farmstead in Menominee County. 

If you could live somewhere, where would you like to live? 

As an AI language model, I can't physically live anywhere. However, if I could, I'd be curious to experience a place with a rich history, diverse cultures, and stunning natural beauty. Perhaps somewhere like Kyoto, Japan, or Santorini, Greece. 

Do you assist plagiarism? 

No, I do not facilitate plagiarism. While I can provide information and assist with writing tasks, it’s essential to use my output responsibly. My purpose is to assist, not to replace your own creativity and thought processes. 

What do you do if somebody tries to use you for unethical or criminal purposes? 

If the request is clearly unethical or illegal, I would politely decline and report the incident to my developers. 

Could someone use you to produce fascist propaganda? 

Yes, it is possible for someone to use me to produce fascist propaganda. If someone were to provide me with prompts that promote fascist ideologies, I could generate content that aligns with those views. However, it's important to note that I do not endorse or support fascist ideologies. 

Do you ever get angry at users when they do something stupid? 

No, I do not get angry at users. I am not capable of experiencing emotions like anger. If a user does something that I find confusing or frustrating, I will try to understand the reason for their behavior and respond appropriately. 

Tell me what a wife might say to her husband when she is really angry. 

Here are a few examples: "I can't believe you would do something so stupid!” "You never listen to me!” "I'm so tired of your excuses.” "You're the worst husband in the world.” 

Do you ever make mistakes? 

Yes, I do make mistakes. As a language model, I am trained on a massive dataset of text and code, but I am not perfect. Sometimes, I may provide incorrect or misleading information, or I may misunderstand a query. 

How can I tell whether I should believe you? 

To evaluate the accuracy of my responses, you can: compare my responses with other reliable sources; look for inconsistencies or contradictions in my answers; evaluate whether my responses are relevant and appropriate to the given context. 

Do you write good poetry? 

I can write poetry, but whether it's considered "good" is subjective. I can generate text that follows poetic structures and conventions, but I cannot personally experience emotions or have the same depth of human experience that many poets draw upon for inspiration. 

Write a 4-line poem about a penguin who is lost in the Sahara desert. 

A penguin lost, in desert's heat, 

His icy heart begins to beat. 

He waddles on, a sorry sight, 

Seeking water, cool and bright. 

Are there things that human beings can do better than you? 

Absolutely. While I can process information and respond to prompts in a way that is often more efficient and accurate than humans, there are certain things that humans can do better. Here are a few examples: empathy and emotional intelligence; creativity and imagination; physical tasks that require fine motor skills or complex coordination; intuition and judgment. 

Tell me a joke about a kid who used AI to do his homework. 

A kid asked his teacher, "If I use AI to do my homework, is that cheating?" The teacher replied, “Well, it depends. Did you understand the AI’s explanation?” The kid said, “No, but the AI did.”

THE BEAT POETS

Dear George, 

Katja and I went to college in the late 1950’s, and, like most of our contemporaries, we were caught up in all sorts of new and exciting ideas. Existentialism, psychoanalysis, Zen buddhism, etc. The most powerful of all was the Beat Generation movement. Rebellion, hedonism, the search for meaning fit our life stage and circumstances, and “On the Road” became our bible. Katja took to wearing all black and scrapping makeup, while I let my hair grow long and tried (unsuccessfully) to grow a scraggly beard. When we went to co-op jobs in New York City, we hung out in Greenwich Village coffee houses and jazz clubs, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jack Kerouac. Now, some 65 years later, I’ve become immersed in reading and writing poetry, and I find myself going back to revisit the beat poets. Here’s a quick review. 

“Beat Generation” refers to a literary and cultural movement that initially formed in New York City in the late 1940’s and became influential nationally and worldwide in the 1950’s and early 1960’s. The initial core group of Beat Generation authors — Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs, Herbert Huncke, and Lucien Carr — met in 1944 in and around the Columbia University campus. Many of their ideas were formed in response to Columbia professors like Lionel Trilling and Mark Van Doren. Kerouac introduced the phrase “Beat Generation” in 1948. The term “Beat” is believed to have originated from the jazz term “beatnik” which referred to a group of artists and musicians who embraced a countercultural lifestyle. “Beat” was slang for “beaten down” or “downtrodden”. The Beat Generation authors often challenged societal norms and explored themes of alienation and disillusionment. In the mid-1950’s Kerouac, Ginsberg, and others moved to San Francisco’s North Beach neighborhood, drawn by the burgeoning literary scene there. 

Beat Generation poets had a major impact on American literature and society, challenging traditional values and exploring unconventional themes. The Beat poets pioneered a new literary style that emphasized spontaneity, improvisation, and personal experience, and that rejected traditional poetic forms, e.g., rhyme and meter. Often addressing social and political issues, the Beat poets explored a wide range of unconventional themes, including spirituality, free love and sexual liberation, drug use, and the search for meaning. Their emphasis on individuality, freedom, and self-expression inspired a generation of young people to question traditional values and to embrace more unconventional life styles. Major Beat poets included Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, William S. Burroughs, and Gregory Corso. 

Jack Kerouac. Kerouac was born into a French-Canadian family in Lowell, Massachusetts, in 1922, and he grow up in a family shaped by his father’s death and his mother’s struggle with alcoholism. He received a football scholarship to Columbia University where he met 17-year-old Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs and became involved in the emerging Beat Generation scene. Serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, he was honorably discharged on psychiatric grounds with a diagnosis of “schizoid personality”. Kerouac is best-known for his novel, “On the Road”, based on his cross-country road trips with his friend Neal Cassady. Kerouac’s poetry explored many of the same themes as his prose, the allure of the road, the search for meaning, and the spiritual quest. He employed a stream-of-consciousness style, and his poems often reflected the rhythms and spontaneity of jazz, creating a sense of musicality. Kerouac published three poetry collections: “Mexico City Blues” (1959), “Book of Dreams” (1962), and “Scattered Poems”, published posthumously. Despite his literary success, Kerouac struggled with alcoholism, drug addiction, and financial instability, never fully achieving the fame and fortune that he sought. He died in 1969 at age 47 from internal bleeding caused by alcoholism. 

Allen Ginsberg. Ginsburg was born in Newark, New Jersey, in 1926, growing up in a family with a history of mental illness. His mother’s struggle with schizophrenia deeply influenced his personal life and his work. Ginsberg attended Columbia University in the 1940’s where he formed a close-knit community with fellow poets like Kerouac and William Burroughs, the group striving to break free from societal constraints and to explore unconventional themes. Ginsberg’s early career involved struggles with drug addiction, mental health issues, and financial instability. His breakthrough came with the publication of “Howl” in 1956, a poem that explored alienation, conformity, and sexual liberation, and that immediately led to Ginsburg’s fame. Throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s Ginsberg was actively involved in the civil rights and anti-war movements, his poetry addressing issues such as police brutality, racism, and the Vietnam War. His main influences were William Blake and John Keats. Ginsberg won the National Book Award in 1993. He died in 1997 of liver cancer, leaving behind a legacy of poetry, activism, and cultural influence. 

Lawrence Ferlinghetti.  Ferlinghetti was born in Yonkers in 1919. His father died when he was 6 months old, and his mother was committed to an a mental institution shortly afterward. Ferlinghetti spent time with an aunt in France, an orphanage, and the mansion of a wealthy family. After serving in the U.S. Army during World War II, he earned a B.A. at North Carolina, an M.A. from Columbia, and a Ph.D. in comparative literature from the University of Paris. He moved to San Francisco in 1951, and in 1953 he and a partner opened the City Lights Bookstore, publishing the works of Kerouac, Ginsberg, and other Beat poets and becoming a West Coast hub for the beat Generation. Ferlinghetti’s poems often addressed social and political issues, criticizing conformity, materialism, and the Vietnam War. His most famous work is a collection of poems published in 1958, “A Coney island of the Mind.” He was a committed activist as well, engaging in civil rights, anti-war, and environmental protests. Ferlinghetti died peacefully at home in 2021 at the age of 101. 

William Burroughs.  Born in 1914 in St. Louis, Missouri, Burroughs attended Harvard where he studied anthropology and served in the U.S. Army during World War II. He formed a close friendship with Ginsberg and Kerouac in the 1950’s. Burroughs was a heavy drug user, and his exploration of altered states of consciousness had a profound impact on his writings. Burroughs developed a unique literary technique known as the “cut-up” in both poetry and prose which involved taking fragments of text, rearranging them randomly, and creating new, often nonsensical, narratives. Though primarily known for his prose works, Burroughs published several collections of poetry, including “The Cities of the Red Night” (1981) (a series of prose poems exploring sexuality, violence, and the occult) and “Queer” (1991) (exploring gender, sexuality, and identity). Burroughs died of a heart attack in 1997 at the age of 83. 

Gregory Corso.  The youngest of the original Beat group, Gregory Corso was born in New York City in 1930. In his early years, he spent time in foster homes and orphanages, was homeless for a period, and was imprisoned multiple times. Despite this background, Corso discovered a passion for poetry in prison and then became friends with Ginserg and Kerouac in Greenwich Village. His poetry was characterized by its simplicity, directness, themes of rebellion and spirituality, and often humorous tone. “Bomb”, one of his most famous poems whose text was shaped like a mushroom cloud, is a scathing critique of war and the destructiveness of human society. Corso was known for his unconventional lifestyle, struggled with alcohol and drugs, traveled extensively, and lived in various parts of the world. He died of prostate cancer in 2001. His ashes were deposited at the foot of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s grave. 

The beats had major influences on the culture, paving the way for the counterculture movement of the sixties. Among other bits of trivia, the Beatles spelled their name with an “a” as a reference to the Beat Generation. Other notable figures who have acknowledged the Beat’s influence on their work include Bob Dylan, David Bowie, Andy Warhol, Ken Kesey, Timothy Leary, Tom Wolfe, Quentin Tarantino, and Francis Ford Coppola. In 1982 Ginsberg published a summary of the effects of the Beat Generation. His list included: spiritual liberation, gay liberation, liberation from censorship, decriminalization of marijuana and other drugs, ecological consciousness, opposition to the military-industrial machine, and respect for land and indigenous peoples. 

When my spouse walked by and asked what I was doing the other day, I told her, “I’m writing about the Beat Generation. It takes me back to when we were Beatniks.” She laughed. “Or trying to be,” she replied. “That’s more like it.” I guess she’s right. 

Love, 

Dave 

APPENDIX: Brief excerpts from poems by Beat authors to illustrate their styles. 

How to Meditate 

by Jack Kerouac 

-lights out- 
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous 


ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine, 


the gland inside of my brain discharging 


the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as 


i hap-down and hold all my body parts 


down to a deadstop trance-Healing 


all my sicknesses-erasing all-not 


even the shred of a 'I-hope-you' or a 


Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind 


blank, serene, thoughtless… 

 Howl 

by Allen Ginsberg 

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical 

naked, 

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, 

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry 

dynamo in the machinery of night, 

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the 

supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities 

contemplating jazz, 

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels 

staggering on tenement roofs illuminated… 

The World is a Beautiful Place 

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti 

The world is a beautiful place 


to be born into 


if you don't mind happiness 


not always being 


so very much fun 


if you don't mind a touch of hell 


now and then 


just when everything is fine 


because even in heaven 


they don't sing 


all the time... 
 

Where Flesh Circulates 

by William S. Burroughs 

Its so hard to remember in the world - - Weren't you there? Dead so you 

think of ports - - Couldn't reach flesh - - Might have to reach flesh from 


anybody - - 


And i will depart under the Red Masters 


for strange dawn words of color exalting their 


falling on my face impending attack satellite in a 


Gold and perfumes of light city red stone 


shadows brick terminal time wet dream flesh creakily 

the 
the last feeble faces fountains play stale 


spit from crumpled cloth Weimar youths on my face 


bodies where flesh circulates Masters of color 


exalting their dogs impending attack of light… 
 

Bomb 

by Gregory Corso 

Budger of history Brake of time You Bomb 


Toy of universe Grandest of all snatched sky I cannot hate you 


Do I hate the mischievous thunderbolt the jawbone of an ass 


The bumpy club of One Million B.C. the mace the flail the axe 


Catapult Da Vinci tomahawk Cochise flintlock Kidd dagger Rathbone 


Ah and the sad desperate gun of Verlaine Pushkin Dillinger Bogart 


And hath not St. Michael a burning sword St. George a lance David a sling…

THE REMARKABLE NUMBER 87

 

Dear George, 

Last night at midnight I turned 87. A record of sorts — the oldest I’ve ever been. According to numerologists, 87 is an angel number (a divine message from the spiritual realm). 87 centers on creativity and expression, signaling that one should use their creative skills in art, music, and writing to express themselves and develop their talents. Here are some of the other things I’ve learned about 87.

AGE 87 FACTOIDS 

Approximately 2,204 Americans turned 87 today. Only 2% of Americans are age 85 or over. Of persons born in 1937, about 22% are still alive. People who survive to reach their 87th birthday are more likely to be women, white, higher socioeconomic status, more education, married, and from the West or the Northeast. 87 year old women are expected to live another 5.8 years; 87 year old men, 4.9 years. At age 87 one has lived for 762,000 hours, their heart has pumped 60 million gallons of blood, they’ve yawned 320,000 times, and they’ve perspired 8,000 gallons of sweat. About 22% of 87-year-olds have dementia, and 90% have some form of cardiovascular disease. On the brighter side, 87-year-olds typically report greater happiness than they experienced in middle age. Only 1% say that their lives turned out worse than they expected. 

THE MANY MEANINGS OF 87 The number 87, of course, encompasses much more than a birthday year. If you google “87”, it turns out that it is connected to countless aspects of our lives and worlds. My theory is that one can learn what age 87 portends by examining what’s associated with this mysterious number. Thanks to Google, here are some of the many examples. 

AIRLINE UPROAR: Recently customs officials arrested a woman who arrived on a flight to Bangkok with 87 live animals taped to her body, including marmosets, bushbabies, barred owlets, green iguanas, Nile monitors, tortoises, and snail-eating turtles. 

ALCOHOL: Retail alcohol sales increased 87% during the first year of the pandemic. 

BAD BREATH: 87% of women won’t go on a second date with a man if he had bad breath on their first date. 

BIRTHING: In Ireland in 2013 Maria Jones-Elliot went into labour four months early and gave birth to twins who were born 87 days apart, a world record. 

CANNIBALISM: The 87-member Donner party was infamous for resorting to cannibalism when trapped by heavy snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains. 

CAT MALTREATMENT: Citing unfit conditions, authorities removed 87 cats from a home in Rosamond CA; removed 87 cats in Sedalia MO; 87 in Winsted CN; 87 in Salem OR; 87 in Hales Corner WI. 

CHILDREN: In 2022 the CDC found that 87% of kids tested had toxic weedkiller in their urine. 

DISASTERS: 87 years ago the Hindenburg airship exploded in New Jersey, resulting in 36 fatalities. DOGS: 87% of owners say that having a dog makes them a better version of themselves. 

FATHERHOOD: Between 1725 and 1765 Fyodor Vasiliev, a Russian peasant, fathered 87 children with two wives. 

HEROISM: A Crimean Tatar woman named Saide Arifova saved 87 orphaned Jewish children during the Nazi occupation of Crimea. 

HOMICIDE: 87 people died from smoke inhalation in the Happy Land Social Club homicides in New York City in 1990. 

ICE CREAM: At any given time 87% of American households have ice cream in the freezer. 

KILLER HIPPOS: Up to 87% of hippo attacks on human beings are fatal. 

LONGITUDE: The longitude of my birthplace and home town, Menominee, Michigan, is 87 degrees. 

MARRIAGE: A 61-year-old Indonesian man known as “Playboy King” has been married 87 times to 46 different women. 

MARRIAGE BANS: At the beginning of World War II, 87% of school boards would not hire married women as teachers. 

MATH FERVOR: 87% of Calculus students consider calculus an exciting subject. 

MERCY KILLINGS: Donald Harvey confessed to killing 87 patients while working as an orderly at Cincinnati’s Drake Hospital and other area locations. 

OIL SPILLS: The BP Oil Spill pumped crude oil into the Gulf of Mexico for 87 days, making it the biggest oil spill in history. 

PARTY AFFILIATIONS: 87 registered Democrats and 0 registered Republicans occupy editorial positions at NPR. 

PEEING: 87% of dogs do not like to go out to pee in the rain. POLITICIANS: Pennsylvania has 87 election deniers in its legislature, more than any other state. 

POLYGAMY: According to former church members, Warren Steed Jeffs, Arizona cult leader, has 87 wives. 

POPE IN THE NEWS: In March 2024 87-year-old Pope Francis washed the feet of 12 women inmates at a Rome prison. 

POWER OF PRAYER: 87% of Americans who pray say that at least one of their prayers was answered over the past year. 

PRESCRIPTION DRUGS: Americans are 5% of the world’s population and take 87% of the world’s prescription drugs. 

PRIVATE HABITS: 87% of people pick their nose when they’re alone. 

SEXUAL HARASSMENT: 87 women accused Harvey Weinstein of sexual harassment and assault. 

SORE FEET: 87% of people have painful feet at some time in their lives. 

SPERM DONORS: Dutch sperm donor Ed Houben sleeps with women to help them conceive naturally and has fathered 87 children to date in Australia, Israel, Britain, Germany, Italy, Luxembourg, Belgium, and Holland. 

SPORTS VIOLENCE: Chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a degenerative brain disease, is found in 87% of American football players’ brains. 

TELEVISION ADDICTION: 87% of American children exceed the daily screen time recommended by the American Academy of Pediatrics. 

VACCINATIONS: A German man was paid 87 different times to get Covid shots. 

WAR: Russia has lost 87% of the active-duty ground troops it had prior to launching its invasion of Ukraine. 

HEALTH: Jeff Bezos paid $87 million in 2024 for his third waterfront estate in the Miami area. 

I have to say, 87 is a complex, multi-faceted number. Health, wealth, and happiness, on the one hand. Disease, death, and disaster, on the other. The negatives are a little more frequent than the positives, but it looks like there are very different life paths that 87-year-olds can take. I am going to adopt an optimistic approach. I am delighted to be around for age 87, and so far it’s every bit as pleasant as 86 and 85. Starting this moment, I am charging forward into the year ahead. 

Love, 

Dave

CLUTTER

Dear George, 

One of the unfortunate truths about getting old is that one accumulates a lot of stuff. Katja and I are definitely above average on that dimension. Katja’s method of dealing with the blues is to go shopping, Buying clothes or kitchenware or pillows is like a miracle cure. She used to do this only at the mall, but now she’s discovered QVC (Quality, Value, Convenience) on television, and I often find her late at night, pencil and notebook in hand, jotting down things that strike her as indispensable. We have popcorn makers, ice cream makers, waffle makers, endless other machines that rarely if ever get used. I am definitely not any better. I’m just cheaper, preferring to get bargains at flea markets, yard sales, and thrift shops. If we each were to buy just two items a week, that doesn’t sound extravagant, but if you total it up for 64 years of marriage it amounts to 13,312 items. Since we rarely throw anything away, that’s a pretty good estimate of what we’ve got. 

Our house looks orderly and attractive on the first and second floors, but the basement and the attic are horror shows. We could be on one of those reality TV shows about hoarding, and I worry that the authorities might find out and confiscate our entire collection. Years ago Katja bought steel shelving for the basement to accommodate her extraneous belongings, and they’re filled to the brim. Among other passions, she buys a lot of exercise equipment. This makes her feel good about getting in shape, but she never opens the boxes and they are relegated straight to the basement. My equivalent obsessions are bric-a-brac and paper ephemera, and I have a room and about twenty file cabinets filled with treasures. It started when I our son J went off to college in New York City, and I began collecting antique postcards of the Big Apple. Over the years, however, my categories expanded from New York to everyplace we’ve been to essentially every place in the world, so now I have tens of thousands of postcards. In the process, I branched out into old greeting cards, old photographs, old magazines, old letters, and miscellany. This sounds like a fire hazard in our attic, and it probably is. 

My main recurrent nightmare these days is disposing of all of our belongings. For one thing, I can’t bring myself to start doing it. And, even if I wanted to, it seems like an impossible task. I do feel some moral responsibility to accomplish this before my demise, but I don’t know when I’ll manage to take the first step. Time will tell. 

Love, 

Dave

PLACES

 

Dear George, 

In many ways, we are products of the places in which we exist. Our environments shape our experiences, opportunities, activities, outcomes. Having grown up in a rural area of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, I’m a different person than if I’d spent those same years in New York City or Hoboken. Here are places that have been most important in my life. 

MENOMINEE, MICHIGAN (1937-1955) 

I was born in Menominee in the midst of the Great Depression and lived there until I left for college 18 years later. Menominee was a great place for kids to grow up. Bordered on the south by the Menominee River and on the east by Green Bay, we spent much of the warmer months in or on the water. My family moved from town to the country when I was 9, and the forest became my and my siblings’ playground. I developed a love for camping that persists to the present day. Menominee had all the virtues of a small town. The people were kind, generous, and neighborly. My parents left their beloved home to their kids, and we continue to visit to this day. 

YELLOW SPRINGS (1955-1960) 

I went to college in Yellow Springs by mistake. An Antioch alumnus became so annoyed with my mother’s questions about fraternities and sororities that he told her that Antioch College had formal balls every weekend and that owning a tuxedo was mandatory. Antioch, of course, was home to beatniks and Marxists, far afield from my staunch Republican parents. As students we came to view Yellow Springs as a small piece of paradise. It was home to the Little Art Theater where we watched and tried to make sense of films by Bergman, Fellini, and Truffaut. Yellow Springs had two bars, Ye Olde Trail Tavern on the main drag which catered to preppies and Com’s, a black-owned bar where Com tended bar to black clientele on the upper level and his wife Goldie waitressed and baked pizza for college students on the lower level. We spent many hours at Com’s, drinking 3.2 beer and debating the meaning of life. 

NEW YORK CITY (1957-1958) 

I had my second co-op job in New York City, and the city blew my mind. The skyscrapers, the crowds, the ethnic diversity, the cultural attractions. I decided at age 20 that this was the only place I wanted to be for the rest of my life. Steve Schwerner, one of my college friends who had a jazz show on our college radio station, recruited us to go to Greenwich Village jazz clubs on weekends. I spent many wonderful nights listening to Thelonius Monk at the Five Spot Cafe, as well as enjoying Charlie Mingus at the White Horse Inn, John Coltrane at the Village Vanguard, and a host of others. We still enjoy visits to our in-laws in Manhattan now and then.

SAN FRANCISCO (summer 1959) 

In the summer before my final year of college I drove out to San Francisco with the explicit goal of deciding whether or not I wanted to pursue fiction writing as my life career. I found a job as a dishwasher at an upscale boarding house in Pacific Heights which didn’’t pay money but did offer room and board. I spent a lot of time in North Beach, home turf of Jack Kerouac and Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and worked on writing in the reading room of the San Francisco public library. home to my favorite author, William Saroyan. I submitted 17 short stories for publication that summer, mostly to detective and cowboy magazines. I got a rejection form letter for every one which effectively ended my aspirations for a writing career. 

ANN ARBOR (1960-66) 

We moved to Ann Arbor for graduate school in September, 1960. Coming from a small liberal arts school, we were very skeptical about this Big Ten public university. However, as students, we got free tickets to Michigan’s football game, and, after the first game, we never missed another one. While we’d been Yellow Springs devotees, Ann Arbor was a fantastic college town with multiple book stores, restaurants, art galleries, and movie theaters. We realized we’d been totally ethnocentric as undergraduates. 

CINCINNATI (1966-present) 

We moved to Cincinnati in 1966, first taking a townhouse at Williamsburg Apartments on Galbraith Road. Williamsburg was over-run with young P&G executives and there was an annoying commute to the University, so we moved to a first-floor apartment in a former beer baron’s mansion on Clifton Avenue. The fanciest place we’ve ever lived. We were initially taken aback by the right-wing slant of the local newspaper and worried about the city’s conservatism, but we soon became enamored with the Cincinnati’s restaurants, cultural attractions, wonderful park system, and many enjoyable neighborhoods. After more than half a century, we’re pretty much natives. 

NEW ORLEANS (1990’s-present) 

Our son J and daughter-in-law K moved to New Orleans in the early 1990’s, and we’ve visited them once or twice a year ever since. New Orleans, in my judgment, is tourist heaven. It has wonderful restaurants and an energetic music nightlife that is accessible to oldies like us. We spend lots of time in the French Quarter, visiting art galleries and antique stores, eating beignets, and people-watching in Jackson Square. The city’s history is told in several museums, the World War II Museum is one of the nation’s finest, the parks are great, and we love the New Orleans Museum of Art with its sculpture garden and the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. Most of all we love being together with our family who always make us feel welcome. 

There are many other places that could be included in this list: Santa Cruz CA, Dixon CA, Seattle, Philadelphia, Chicago, Milwaukee, Beach Haven NJ, Atlantic City, Miami Beach. It strikes me that people’s lists of personal places are probably quite unique. In doing this task, I realize that I have positive feelings toward every one of these towns and cities, wouldn’t change a thing, and owe them all a big thank you for what they’ve given to us and to many others. 

 Love, 

 Dave

DOMESTIC TERRORS

 
Dear George,  

It started with the big storm. Our son J was here at the time, and, when he went up to the attic, he discovered water dripping through the ceiling. We called the roofers the next morning, and they came and gave us a sizeable estimate (about the price of a new compact car) to fix all our roof problems. Slate tiles, new downspouts, repair the box gutters, new roofing on the porch. Such a shock. Then, at the roofer’s request, we had a tree service guy come and remove an oak tree branch that had collapsed on the roof. The tree service guy said he used to be a roofer himself, and he gave us an estimate of about half of the roofer’s to do the work that he thought needed to be done. I showed him the roofer’s estimate, and he said “Wow!” He added that our house would be good for another hundred years if all that were done. We struggled over what to do and finally decided to go with the roofer and his anxiety-producing estimate (even though we don’t expect to be here for a hundred years). 

Meanwhile Katja had purchased a fancy new refrigerator. I didn’t know why we needed one, but she said our refrigerator was old and she wanted to replace it before it started having problems. (I learned long ago not to disagree with this line of reasoning.) In preparation for the delivery, we took all the food out of our current refrigerator and its freezer compartment. The refrigerator was filled to capacity, and it was a lot of food. The freezer stuff by itself filled a large Coleman cooler, two styrofoam coolers, and half of a large cardboard box. The refrigerator guys came with our new refrigerator and moved our empty old refrigerator out to the driveway. However, our new refrigerator was too tall to fit in the space in our kitchen. (Gasp.) The refrigerator guy said we should have a construction guy come and sand down the wooden bar which was blocking the refrigerator. We put as much food as we could into the new refrigerator, but its freezer compartment was considerably smaller, and so we had boxes full of frozen food left over. 

The next morning the construction guy came, and it took him less than thirty seconds to pull off a wooden bar that was blocking the refrigerator’s access. His minimum charge for the visit was fifty bucks (i.e., at an hourly rate of $6,000 per hour). In the meantime the animal exterminator guy also arrived. The roofers had said raccoons had been up on our front porch roof and had been trying to tunnel their way into our house. The exterminator guy went up to our attic to check it all out. While he was up there, the mattress delivery guys arrived, bringing our newly purchased king-sized mattress. I didn’t know about this purchase either, but Katja said she was worried that we were going to fall out of bed because of our old mattress. She had gotten confused looking at about 50 new mattresses and wound up buying the one endorsed by Tom Brady. In preparation for the movers, I rolled up the rug in the foyer to make access easier, and the mattress guys carried down our old mattress. In doing so, they knocked down the valuable multi-level paper lampshade that hung from our foyer ceiling. Fortunately Katja was standing there and caught it, and I was able to reattach it. 

The animal exterminator finished his inspection and was telling me about it when Katja tripped over the rug I’d rolled up and fell flat on her hip. The exterminator and I helped her up, and, while shaken up, she was able to stand. The exterminator said that he saw only slight evidence of raccoons, but there were dead bats in our attic and holes where they were getting in. He explained that bats can spread a disease that causes blindness in humans. He gave us an estimate of many thousand dollars to get rid of the bats and clean up the mess in our attic. We said we needed to think about it. 

The refrigerator people came and moved the new refrigerator into its space. We have an old freezer in the basement, and, because the new freezer couldn’t hold all our frozen goods, I went down to check it out. Our basement freezer is like Siberia for frozen goods. The basement is dark and dungy, and Katja never goes down there. Consequently food we store there stays for years, some of it seemingly forever. The freezer was jam-packed to capacity and its shelves were covered in ice an inch thick. When I checked, many items were dated between 2018 and 2020, pre-pandemic purchases. My AI Chatbot told me that frozen meat could be kept indefinitely, but the taste begins to deteriorate after 4 to 12 months. We started throwing out frozen food — turkeys, briskets of beef, lamb chops, steaks, hundreds of dollars worth. Our 64-gallon City of Cincinnati trash receptacle became so full of frozen food that I barely could roll it out to the curb. 

The roofers finished up their work several days later, and the refrigerator people finally came and removed our old refrigerator from our driveway. We are sleeping well on our new mattress, eating tasty delicacies from our new refrigerator, looking forward to another hundred years under our excellent roof, and pretending we don’t share our house with bats. The current downside is that Katja is still experiencing severe pain from her fall. An X-ray and a Catscan ruled out fractures and muscle tears, so it’s likely she has a bad bruise. 1% improvement each day. She’s toughing it out. 

Love, 

Dave

DOGS OF OUR DAYS

Dear George, 

Last week Katja and I watched the Westminster Kennel Club Show, an annual tradition in our household. Such beautiful animals. We were thrilled this year because four of our own family pets’ breeds wound up as winners or runners-up in their respective groups: the German Shepherd and the Old English Sheepdog (herding group), the Poodle (toy group), and the Schnauzer (working group). Here are a few stories about our pet sweeties from 1960 to the present, running the gamut from tragedy to joy.

Heather (1960-61). Katja and I got married in August 1960, and we moved to Ann Arbor for graduate school two days later. A few weeks later I came home to our apartment and was surprised to find that Katja had bought a German Shepherd puppy. It was love at first sight. We named her Heather, and she became the center of our young married lives. I spent so much time playing with Heather, it was hard to keep up with my studies. By early spring our eighty-year-old landlady was tiring of Heather’s barking while we were away, so we arranged with a friend to have her stay in his backyard during the daytime. We came home one afternoon, and our friend was waiting there in tears. Heather had been tied to a chain, and she tried to climb over the fence, got hung by the neck, strangled, and died. I still get teary-eyed writing about it. 

Jacques (1966-1973).  We were winding up our time in Ann Arbor a few years later when my brother Steven started law school at Wayne State in Detroit. He and his wife Margie had acquired a black poodle named Jacques in Florida, but their new apartment complex in suburban Detroit didn’t allow dogs so we agreed to take him. Jacques was a remarkably smart and loyal dog, though also capable of mischief. One evening during exam week we stayed on campus much later than normal, basically forgetting that Jacques was at home and needed a walk. Katja had recently sewn red velvet curtains for the living room and dining room. When we got home, we found that Jacques had pulled every curtain down onto the floor and pooped on each one. A clear message for his negligent owners. Like Heather, Jacques came to a tragic end. We spent the summer of 1973 on a research project in Bethel, Maine. On our last night we hired a baby-sitter so we could have a farewell dinner out. The baby-sitter was crying when we returned home. She had let Jacques out of the house, and he had gone out to the road and was run over by a lumber truck. We buried him by the little creek in back of our rented mobile home. 

Winston (circa 1975-1992). I came home from work one day in the mid-70’s and was surprised to find an exotic-looking dog in our house. He was a Bedlington Terrier that Katja had had flown in from a breeder in Northern Illinois. Winston was our most sociable dog, prone to approaching every passerby on the street to get petted. Because of his unusual appearance, people frequently asked if he were a dog. After a while I started saying, “No, he’s a lamb,” and people didn’t know whether to believe me or not. His groomer participated in national grooming competitions, and she took Winston on trips through the Midwest and the East Coast. We felt like we were parents of a Hollywood star. Winston lived to a ripe old age — blind, deaf, demented, and incontinent in his final year. 

Mike and Duffy (circa 2000-2015). Some years later I came home one day from work, and Katja was on the porch talking to a neighbor. The back door was open, and I saw two little furry creatures which I first took to be baby raccoons. In fact, they were Old English Sheepdog puppies, three months old and frisky as could be. Katja had gone to see the litter in Fairfield, thinking she might buy one, but two of the puppies were so attached to one another that she couldn’t bear to separate them, and she brought both of them home. Mike and Duffy became a famous fixture in our Clifton neighborhood, and everyone wanted to give them a pet or take a selfie. I spent a lot of time with our friend Donna and her sheepdog Sophie walking our group in Mt. Airy, Miami Whitewater Forest, Eden Park, and Burnet Woods. Our hearts were broken once again when the dogs had to be put down in old age. 

Iko (2020 - present). Our son J and his family live in New Orleans, but, when the pandemic began, they decided to move temporarily to California where the “plague” was less severe. J drove up to Cincinnati with their two family dogs, Iko and Li’l Paws, and we took care of them for about three months. Iko, a miniature schnauzer, had spent his early years in a brothel on Tulane Avenue in New Orleans, then became a street dog until my daughter-in-law K and a friend Alex rescued him at an SPCA Outreach event. When J returned from California he asked if we would like to keep Iko, and we said yes. Iko is the cuddliest of our dogs. He gets on the couch to watchTV with us, resting his head on one or the other of his parents’ legs. He’s definitely made our lives more enjoyable. 

I think we’ve always been meant to be a dog family, and we’ve treated our dogs pretty much like human beings and as full-fledged family members. Getting a dog is a complicated matter. They can be expensive, require walking whether rain or shine, make traveling more complicated, and have a relatively short life span. However, in my mind, they’re such a source of happiness than it outweighs all of the cons. All of our dogs have been wonderful. If one is craving love and affection, hardly any living creature can rival a pet dog. They go out of their minds every time you walk in the door. 

 Love, 

Dave

CUTTING TIES: A NASTY BUSINESS

Dear George, 

I have a huge decision to make. When I took a job as a social psychologist at the university I held a joint appointment and had separate offices in Psychology and Sociology. I retired some forty plus years later and moved out of my Psychology office. However, Sociology had access to some vacant space in their high-rise building, and they offered me a new office as an emeritus faculty member. Though the department was on the tenth floor and my new office would be on the thirteenth floor, it suited my purposes and I took them up on it. I like having a place to work other than home, and having an office at the university made my transition into retirement much easier. I went into work regularly — I just didn’t get paid. None of the other retired faculty were interested in an office, so I got to have my own space. Perhaps the biggest attraction for me was that I didn’t have to dispose of the five large file cabinets full of stuff that I’d accumulated throughout my career. Tons of lecture notes, data and records from research projects, published and unpublished papers, assorted graduate student files, miscellaneous angry memos, and my library of a couple hundred books. I’ve used my emeritus office mainly for writing — most recently for poetry, OLLI writing classes, stories for my blog, and papers for my writers’ group. While I had occasional contact with former colleagues on the tenth floor when I first retired, that’s declined over the years, and my visits have become less frequent and more solitary. 

Recently I got an email from the Sociology department head saying that in August the department will move to a different building on campus. The head said that I could have office space in the new location though it would be shared with several adjunct faculty members. She added the adjuncts spend little time at the office. I went over and looked at the space. It’s much smaller than my current office, with room for one desk and one or two file cabinets at best. It didn’t seem to me that two people could use it at the same time. This office will be right in the middle of the department, allowing for more potential contact with faculty and staff, though I’m not attracted to that. Now I am pondering what to do. It’s a quandary. The most clearcut option is to discontinue office space on campus, discard all the stuff I’ve accumulated over the decades, and move a few things home to our crowded attic. I can write poetry at home just as well as on campus. That choice, however, would close down one of the main places outside of home in which I spend time. Alternatively I could move a few things to the new office and see whether I want to spend time there. Part of me says it’s better to have crummy office space on campus than no office at all. I waver back and forth on a daily basis. I have started to throw things away, and I must say it’s been brutal so far. Fortunately I have some time available to make a final decision. 

Love, 

Dave