Notices by Robin DeRosa (actualham@social.coop)

In the hospital with my dad and here are a few things he’s been telling me as he starts to regain some strength. He loves to tell me stories of his growing up. (Slow thread.)

When he was a teenager, he would take the old metal cores of carburetors from his dad’s mechanic shop and bring them to the junk man to sell the metal. He would get 5 cents a pound. He did this every Saturday and that was what paid the rent on the shop many weeks.

His grandmother rescued a pigeon that had a broken wing. She nursed it and kept it out the fire escape on a long string around its foot. When it was time to eat, she would pull the pigeon down from the roof with the string and feed it.

The pigeon was named Brigit.

My dad’s father had his station wagon repossesed, and that was the only car they had for the family business. My dad was about 14. In order to get the money to get the car back, he went to customers who had taken delivery of rebuilt carburetors from his dad but hadn’t paid their bill. Most of them were broke too. But he collected whatever he could from them in 5 and 10 dollar bills and it took all day on foot and by bus. And he got enough to get the car back for a month.

My dad was a scrawny little kid and had no muscle or intimidation cred. He said most customers were just glad that they only had to give a few bucks to a kid. But he said he was afraid someone would beat him up for asking for their money.

My dad’s dad, my grandpa, was one of eight kids. They were raised in the North End in Boston by a single mom, my great grandmother. Every morning the eight kids would get up and whoever got up first got the shoes for the day.

I don’t know if that’s true but my dad swears it wasn’t told as a joke.

My great grandmother who had the pigeon also had chickens. In an apartment in Boston. When it was Easter, she gave my dad a basket of baby chicks. My dad lived in an apartment in Medford. I said, “What the heck did you do with a basket of chicks in the middle of the city?” He said, “I took them home and loved them until one by one they died and I cried.”

On St. Joseph’s Day, my great-grandmother would make Zeppoles (Italian cookie thing) and would not let anyone eat any until my dad came by for them, because his name was Joseph.

Though then he clarified that it was him or his three cousins, because they were all named Joseph. 🤣

Which is also funny because if you remember Leno from the next bed over (previous thread), he’s had three nephews visit over the last two days and all three are named Joseph!

The Italians love our Josephs.

Which also makes me think about immigration. All of my great-grandparents and a couple of my grandparents were born in Italy.

My grandparents were named Adelina Tomasello, Victoria Montouri, Attilio Fiore, and Salvatore DeRosa. 🇮🇹

But they were all so excited about becoming American, and they wanted their kids to speak English.

They named their kids Paula, Joe, Betty, Carol, and Bob. 🇺🇸

My generation is named Robin, Peter, Linda, Lisa, Bobby, Matt, Jen, Andy, John.

But both my brothers Peter and I picked our grandmother’s Italian names for our own kids’ middle names (his kid is Lucy Victoria and mine is Ruby Adeline).

Hospitals can be so hard and disease and illness bring such struggle. But sitting bedside for family is weirdly something like a gift. These stories, this ancestry, the birth and dying and death and memory of it all. Something like a gift in the right light.

Anyone here have personal experience (you or your immediate family member) with myelofibrosis? Curious about your treatment plan and experience so far. My dad (age 80 and in otherwise in good shape) just diagnosed. No sympathy needed! Just looking for info and experiences to share with him.

"The Committee determined there is substantial evidence that Representative Gaetz violated House Rules and other standards of conduct prohibiting prostitution, statutory rape, illicit drug use, impermissible gifts, special favors or privileges, and obstruction of Congress." House Ethics Report on Matt Gaetz

People, people who sit in the backseat with the dogs, are the luckiest people in the world… 🎵

I guess if BlueSky can get more mainstream media outlets off the bird, that would be a win. That's all I can think of right now as a perk tbh

I am on BlueSky at https://bsky.app/profile/actualham.bsky.social but I guess I don't understand why we would do that when we have Mastodon? If you are there and want to explain it to me, please do. I understand that it is elegant to use and people are there which is, you know, like the main thing. But what makes it a true ALTERNATIVE to the shitstorm that ate the bird app from the inside out? Are you really hopeful that as a platform it won't dramatically erode the public good? Why? Truly asking.

For me it is not enough that we can find community there. I had community on Twitter and it changed my life in the best ways possible and I loved it deeply. And that was not enough to keep me there. And it was not nearly enough to overcome the devastation that the platform has caused in our world IMO

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