The Whittier Bridge of Ossipee, New Hampshire

This post serves two purposes. First, it demonstrates how easily my brain can be hijacked and sent careening down a rabbit hole for hours at a time. But it should also leave you feeling happy about yourself, happy you're not a local politician in the state of New Hampshire.

The story begins almost two weeks ago when New Jersey was hit by a magnitude 4.8 earthquake. While it was unnerving to those of us who experienced it, it caused minimal damage and quickly disappeared from the news cycle.Yesterday, though, the local paper decided to milk the story a bit more by running an exposé on the fact that typical homeowners insurance doesn't cover earthquake damage. Stop for a second and imagine you are the reporter tasked to write this story. How in God's name do you make the nuances of homeowner insurance interesting?  Well, hats off to the author, because he found a way to hook me. Since there were no seriously damaged houses to show, he led off his article with this picture:

This is the 264-year old Taylor Grist Mill located in Readington, NJ, with a portion of its front wall partially damaged by the earthquake. But if you expected this article to inform you about this mill's history, the extent of its damage and what it will take to restore it, you were sadly mistaken. It contained exactly one sentence about the mill, a perfect example of journalistic bait and switch.

No matter. I had the Internet at my fingertips and was off and running. I clicked on a bunch of websites and discovered all kinds of interesting things about the mill.  It supplied grain to the Continental Army during the American Revolution and continued to operate into the 20th century. It's on the National Register of Historic Places. It's part of the Taylor's Mill Historic District, and a bridge leading to it within the District was recently replaced in 2006.

Wait.  Hold on. What was that?

That last fact caused my trip down the rabbit hole to come to a screeching halt. I was suddenly reminded of another historic bridge under repair that my wife and I came across while bird-watching in New Hampshire. But where, exactly, was that bridge? When were we there? Did I take a picture of it? The rabbit hole continued, but it had veered onto a brand new path. After a painstaking search through my iPhone photos, I found the picture below, taken on September 1, 2022:

Close scrutiny of the sign at the top of the bridge revealed that it was located in Ossipee, New Hampshire. The game was once again afoot!

I learned that it is a type of bridge called a Paddleford truss bridge and that it was built in 1870 after a prior bridge had been washed off its abutments by a flood in 1869. It is named for the poet John Greenleaf Whittier, who spent his summers in a hotel nearby. I learned that, at 132 feet, it is one of the longest covered bridges in New Hampshire and was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 1984. 

But that's not all. I also learned that, a few months after I snapped my photo, the Whittier Bridge was moved back on its abutments and opened to pedestrian traffic only. No motorized vehicles of any kind are permitted on it. And then, unexpectedly, the rabbit hole hit rock bottom, landing upon the article below from the Conway Daily Sun. Once I read this story, I knew I was done, a fitting end to my quest.  

It's a JPG file (in case the original web page goes away), so you have to click on it to read. It's a tad long, but its insight into life as a local New Hampshire politician was  unexpected, somewhat amusing and, ultimately, stunning.  

The King of Beers

 

My wife drinks a lot of water. It has to be lukewarm, though, so there's always a pint glass full of water waiting for her on our kitchen counter. She's been doing this for decades, but I couldn't have told you at gunpoint what was written on any of the glasses she uses.

All that changed this morning. After she drained her glass of water she exclaimed. "Hey, there's something written at the bottom of this glass ... it says 'King of Beers'!" I looked over and saw that she was holding one of our two Siena College souvenir beer glasses (shown above). Lord knows when or how we got them. We certainly didn't get them when we attended the school in the 70's. Pint glasses – and Budweiser beer, for that matter – were a bit too fancy for our on-campus Rathskeller, aptly known as "The Rat". As I recall, we drank Schaefer or Genny Cream out of plastic cups. Those pint glasses must've been a giveaway at a Siena reunion many years ago. 

To be honest, I never looked closely at these glasses and rarely used them. I'm not a Budweiser drinker and all of their garish advertising overpowered the Siena logo. At any rate, I peered into the bottom of the glass and, sure enough, there was something etched down there:

I looked closer.

If you click on the photo above you'll see that not only is "King of Beers" etched on the bottom, so is a map of the world! Well, sort of. North and South America are portrayed pretty clearly, and Europe is positioned somewhat correctly, but what the hell are those land masses to the east of South America? Australia and New Guinea? It's tough to say. All I know is that someone went to a lot of trouble to create that etching, and it made me wonder why. So off I went down another Internet rabbit hole. As luck would have it, it was a very shallow hole, requiring only a single search:

"budweiser" "king of beers" "map" "glass" "bottom"

It led me to a discussion on Stack Exchange on the purpose of etchings on the bottom of beer glasses and introduced me to the key term: "nucleation point". After bouncing around a couple of craft beer sites, here's the gist: The etched pattern on the inside bottom of a glass is called a nucleation point. When beer comes in contact with it, it causes carbon dioxide bubbles to be released. Among beer aficionados, a steady stream of bubbles rising from the bottom of the glass is highly desirable as it aids in head retention and provides enhanced aroma. 

There you have it. So the next time you stop into your local bar for an $8 pint of beer, don't just get it in any glass. Tell the bartender, "I'd like that in your finest nucleated glass, if you please." You might as well get your money's worth.

Wordle, the New York Times and Newspeak

 

On January 31, 2022, the New York Times announced that it had purchased the rights to a cute little word-playing game called Wordle that had become an international sensation. My first thought was, "Oh no, the Times is going to ruin it. They'll put it behind a paywall or throw advertisements around it." Which was kind of sad because many friends and family members were playing it and it had become a daily source of entertainment, especially the trash-talking. Little did I know what the New York Times would do to it.

My first inkling of their incompetence occurred on February 15th. In their haste to cut over from the old version on a UK server to their version on a NYT server, both servers were active. Inexplicably, if you connected to the UK version, the word of the day was AGORA. If you connected to the NYT version, the word of the day was AROMA. This should have immediately set off an alarm bell in my head. After all, the true genius of the game is how simply it is constructed. Its code contains the entire database of words that can be used for answers, and each answer is linked to a specific date. As such, the only way that the two versions could yield different answers is if the list of possible answers had been altered. And that's exactly what had happened.

By an astounding coincidence, the first Wordle word of the NYT era was AGORA, a word that is pretty obscure to the average American. As such, the NYT decided to eliminate it from the list of valid answers and the word AROMA (the next word on the list) was used instead. While they were eliminating words, The Times also decided to get rid of words with British-specific spelling like FIBRE, which also seemed reasonable.

Then, they went berserk. 

Someone managed to convince the powers that be that "sensitive or offensive" words needed to be eliminated too. Words like SLAVE, WENCH, WHORE and LYNCH. Not only would these words never appear as answers, they would not even be accepted as guesses. Ironically, all of these words can be found in articles written by the Times!

With this in place, imagine your frustration when you're in mid-Wordle and the consonants W, H, and R are still in play along with the vowels E and O. Maddeningly, you'll be unable to guess WHORE.  Almost certainly it wouldn't be the correct answer to the puzzle but it would greatly improve your chances of winning on the next guess. 

But that's actually the least objectionable aspect of this.

When a friend of mine heard about this, he sent me a one-word text: Newspeak. If you're unfamiliar with the term it probably means you've never read "1984", the classic novel by George Orwell. Newspeak was the official language of Oceania, a totalitarian regime, and was used to restrict ideas, thoughts and communication. As an example, Newspeak didn't have a word for freedom, so the concept of freedom didn't exist either. Negative words were replaced by words preceded by "un-"; the word "bad" became "ungood". Orwell's warning: a government that creates the language and mandates how it is used can control the minds of its citizens.

The NYT is hardly a totalitarian regime. But it was dabbling in a bit of Newspeak when it decided to eliminate a perfectly valid collection of non-obscene words from our thought process. Yes, enslaving someone is objectionable, but knowing about slavery, being able to converse about slavery or being able to joke that you are a "slave to your job" is perfectly reasonable. Calling a woman a "bitch" might be harsh but commiserating with someone by saying "life's a bitch" is hardly objectionable.

By calling these words "insensitive or offensive" and eliminating them from being used in a silly little word game, the NYT gave credence to all of its detractors who constantly accuse them as being absurdly politically correct. 

Postscript:

The above Letter to the Editor was never published by the New York Times. In fact, I never got any response whatsoever from the Times. So, as promised, I canceled my subscription on February 23, 2022. But I wasn't able to unsubscribe simply by email. The Times made me interact via chat with an individual labeled as "steven". Our exchange (edited for brevity) can be read by clicking here.

 Just as I had hoped, my bold and courageous stance against Big Brother-like censorship had made an immediate and undeniable impact:

It's not important that their stock price rebounded to 43.99 less than a week later. My point had been made.

The Griffin Shinemaster

This morning I "offered" to polish my wife's black work shoes. (Actually, she kind of left them in the middle of the bedroom floor and I took the hint.) All of our shoe-polishing gear is contained in a family heirloom that I somehow inherited in the late 80's after my parents died and the house was sold. As shown above, this heirloom is a small, oak shoe-shining box with a label on it proclaiming it to be a Griffin Shinemaster. I have very few clear memories of my childhood but whenever I use the Shinemaster one memory always springs to mind. Today I decided to write that memory down for posterity.

Back in the early 60's, my father used to work at IBM. That meant that he had to get dressed up in a suit and a tie every day and put on a pair of dress shoes. Starting when I was about 7 years old, my brother Tom and I were given the weekly chore of polishing his two pair of dress shoes in the basement. As I recall, they were both black wingtips, which would make sense since I'm pretty sure my father wore a light grey suit to work every day. One pair might've been brown, but I digress. The point is that Tom and I shared the chore of polishing our father's shoes.

Tom was a year and a half older than me and big and strong for his age. I, on the other hand, was pretty small and weak for my age. As expected, Tom beat me in virtually everything we did together, whether it was wrestling on the floor, riding a bike, playing tag, flipping baseball cards, throwing a ball or playing pool. My father was undoubtedly aware of this. When we had finished shining his shoes he used to inspect them to see who did the better job. He always praised both our efforts but, somehow, always found a way to judge my shining job to be a little bit better.  

I forgot to mention that Tom was also very smart. He soon realized that the game was rigged and hatched a plan. One week, after completing our shining chore, he convinced me to switch shoes with him before we came up from the basement. Rube that I was, I agreed. When my father once again judged the shoes I held to be shined slightly better, Tom let out a cry of victory,. He turned to me and said, "See?? He always picks your shoes!" I don't remember how my father reacted, but I felt a little sorry for him. Even worse, I felt that I had let him down. I don't remember him judging our shoe-polishing efforts ever again.

Postscript:

While I couldn't find anything conclusive on the web, I'm making an educated guess that the Griffin Shinemaster was a product of Griffin Shoe Care, a company founded in 1890 in Brooklyn, NY. Their web page claims that they "went on to revolutionize the shoe shine industry by inventing products such as liquid shine and the shoe shine box." Inventing the shoe shine box is a pretty bold claim, one that you would think their website would go at length to prove, possibly with a copy of the actual patent. Sadly, Griffin Shoe Care offers no proof whatsoever. Even worse, although their website advertises a host of shoe care products and shoe accessories, there's not a shine box to be found.

Whatever Happened to Putnam Park?

Back in 1963 when I was mid-way through the third grade, my family moved to Poughkeepsie, NY.  One of the best things about living at our new location on Dwight Street was a park about 300 yards away.  There was no sign indicating the name of this park, but none was needed. Everybody called it Putnam Park, and it was fantastic. My grade school friends and I had epic two-on-two football games there. My older brother and I hit hundreds of fly balls to each other there. My younger brother skated there in the winter when the city turned a natural depression in the southern end into an ice rink. Most important, I fell in love with basketball there, playing on a black-topped full court in its northern end.   

Sometime in the early 1970's, though, some city official decided that the park simply had to have a sign. Accordingly, a cheap wooden sign was installed at the corner of Hooker and Hanscom Avenues. To our amazement, the sign read "Bartlett Park" which totally mystified us. Why did they rename our beloved park, and who the hell was Bartlett? For that matter, who the hell was Putnam?  These and many other questions remained a mystery for over 45 years until a high-school friend challenged me to figure it out. So here you go, Tom. This blog's for you!

Brooks Seminary for Young Ladies

 

The story of the park begins back in the 1800's when Poughkeepsie was a thriving city chock-full of impressive schools.  According to this publication from 1937, Poughkeepsie was actually referred to as the "City of Schools".  One of these schools was the Brooks Seminary for Young Ladies, also informally known as the Brooks Institute or the Brooks Seminary.  According to Wikipedia, it was founded in 1871:

"Mary Bryan Johnson was its founder.  She and her future husband, Edward White, erected a building on six acres of elevated grounds in the southeastern section of Poughkeepsie at the corner of what then was Southeast and Hanscom Avenues."

At its peak, the Brooks Seminary was advertised in newspapers across the United States and was regarded as one of the best schools of its kind. Per this review in 1872, the New York Times wrote that, in many respects, it was even superior to Vassar College, a highly regarded institution only a mile away from the Brooks Seminary:

"While there are a great many schools of a high order in most respects, probably there are few that equal, and fewer still that as a whole excel, the Brooks Seminary at Poughkeepsie, New-York, a city on the Hudson, of extraordinary advantages in many respects, more especially as to health.

"Next door to Vassar, both in location and standing, and in some sort a preparatory school, it in some respects excels, and many would deem it superior to, that great institution."

Despite reviews like this, the Brooks Seminary found it difficult to compete with Vassar's preparatory school. In 1880, the seminary relocated to 11 Montague Terrace in Brooklyn, New York where it appears to have survived for only a year or two.

 

Ellen Clizbe Bartlett and the birth of Putnam Hall School

According to "The Eagles History of Poughkeepsie" by Edmund Platt, after Brooks Seminary vacated the building, it was used as hotel and as a dormitory for Vassar students. In 1901, however, Ellen Clizbe Bartlett and Frances A. Welbasky established a new boarding school for women at this location, renaming it the Putnam Hall School. It's unclear who the school was named after. Putnam County of New York was named after Israel Putnam, a Revolutionary War hero. There was also another hero of the Revolution, Israel's cousin Rufus Putnam, who was appointed by George Washington in 1776 as the nation's first Chief Engineer. In this position Rufus helped design the fortifications of Fort Putnam and West Point in New York. It seems highly unlikely that a boarding school for women would be named after one of these long-dead military men. I'm guessing the school was named in honor of a rich patron or benefactor named Putnam. Below is a colorized postcard photo of the Putnam Hall School, circa 1907:

In the early 20th century, the Putnam Hall School and Miss Bartlett were held in high regard, both locally and nationally. As such, when Miss Bartlett announced her intention to close the school on May 31, 1912 due to financial difficulties, it was news coast to coast: 

Locally, the reaction to Miss Bartlett's announcement was swift. On April 15, 1912, the Poughkeepsie Eagle News reported that "Prominent Men" were going to try and save the school:

It's not clear who these "prominent men" were, but the results they achieved were spectacular. As reported in the Poughkeepsie Eagle-News on September 23, 1912, the school was out of financial difficulties and had been"greatly improved for the fall term":

The school continued to operate through the 1933 school year but then closed abruptly, possibly due to Miss Bartlett's retirement. In 1940, the school was torn down and, a few years later, Miss Bartlett deeded the property to the city with the stipulation that it be "used only for public purposes by the citizens of the city of Poughkeepsie". The event was captured in the photo, below, in the June 15, 1943 edition of the Poughkeepsie Journal:

 On March 16, 1944, Ellen Clizbe Bartlett died at the age of 87. Her obituary was carried in the New York Times:

Creating the Park

Almost immediately, the local government took action to utilize Miss Bartlett's gift to the city. As shown in the article below from the Poughkeepsie Journal, the Department of Public Works was asked to clean up the grounds, plans were made for a dedication ceremony and the Planning Commission suggested that a sign proclaiming the area as "The Ellen Clisby Bartlett Memorial Park" be erected. The fact that the Poughkeepsie Journal misspelled Miss Bartlett's middle name indicates that perhaps the park needed a simpler name.

As stated in the article, the Planning Commission didn't have the authority to name the park, so the issue was transferred to the Common Council. They, in turn, transferred it to the Public Property Committee, suggesting that it be called "The Ellen Clisbie Bartlett Memorial Park", again misspelling her middle name. 

Apparently, though, little was actually done to create a functioning park. On June 27, 1947, the headline of the Poughkeepsie Journal indicated that the area might become the location of the new Poughkeepsie High School.

Seven years later, a 1954 Poughkeepsie Journal article stated that the Board of Directors of the Jewish Community Center agreed that Bartlett Park would be "acceptable .. in exchange for its College Avenue property which has been designated as part of a site for a new Poughkeepsie High School".

On February 20, 1958, a Poughkeepsie Journal article made it very clear that very little had been done to create a functioning park. A former alderman, Mrs. Cummins, proposed that the city give back the site to the heirs of Miss Bartlett who could then sell the land for housing:

In 1961, the city considered using Bartlett Park as the site for its new YMCA:

In 1963, the city finally began taking steps to honor the stipulations made by Miss Bartlett that the area be "used only for public purposes by the citizens of the city of Poughkeepsie". In April 30, 1963, the Poughkeepsie, Journal reported that a public discussion would be held to demand "improved playground facilities for the Clinton-Sixth ward area". Bartlett Park was mentioned as a possible site for improvement. Per one of the organizers of the event, there had currently been "no offer of Bartlett Park for play purposes" prior to that meeting. Apparently, the discussions were fruitful because on August 12, 1964,the following small article appeared in the Poughkeepsie Journal:

A sign identifying the area as Bartlett Park would not be erected until a decade later.

Postscript

Two final points worth mentioning. First, even though the area was officially referred to as Bartlett Park (or a variation thereof) since 1943, those who visited the park well into the 1970's always called it Putnam Park. Even the Poughkeepsie Journal occasionally referred to it as Putnam Hall Park: 

Second, this article began with fond memories I had of playing basketball at Putnam Park in the late 60's and early 70's. Strangely enough, I can find no documentation whatsoever that the City of Poughkeepsie ever planned, built or maintained an outdoor basketball court at that location. The only proof I have that the court even existed is this tangential mention in a Poughkeepsie Journal article in January of 1983:

Not the type of documentation I was looking for, but I'll take it.

 

Keeping Grocery Workers Safe

The risks being taken by grocery store workers these days are all too real. On April 13 the United Food and Commercial Workers International Union (UFCW), representing over 900,00 grocery store workers, estimated that 30 of their members have died from COVID-19 and nearly 3,000 are not working because they are quarantined, hospitalized or awaiting test results. When asked what could be done to improve their safety, here's how members responded:

• Limit the number of customers (72%)
• Ban unruly customers (49%)
• Hire more security (41%)
• Hire more workers to meet demand (26%)
• Create advertisements with customer safety tips (23%)

The UFCW has also asked shoppers to take the "#ShopSmart Pledge" which includes wearing masks, keeping 6 feet or more from workers and other shoppers, and proper disposal of safety gloves.

Blissfully unaware of the #ShopSmart Pledge

All of these suggestions make tremendous sense. The biggest risk by far to grocery store workers is their constant and close proximity to shoppers, any of whom could easily infect them via airborne transmission of the coronavirus. What doesn't make sense is this memo, sent by the President and CEO of the NJ Food Council to mayors of many townships in New Jersey. Inexplicably, the memo concludes that reusable bags are a major health threat to grocery store workers, an issue that wasn't even mentioned by UFCW members. Almost certainly, this memo was motivated by this bit of propaganda created by the Plastic Industry Association. While a dirty reusable bag could conceivably pose a safety issue to its owner, there is no link whatsoever between reusable bags and grocery worker safety.

There's no denying that a shopper's reusable bag could become infected with the coronavirus. But so could every other object within the store, including the paper and plastic bags that are provided. That's why everything you purchase should be washed or put into quarantine when you return home.
   
While the State of New Jersey hasn't banned reusable bags, my local grocery store now forbids their use, even for customers willing to do their own bagging. Rather than argue the illogic of this policy with an overworked and over-stressed cashier, I settled on a workaround. When asked whether I wanted paper or plastic I responded, “No bags at all, please!” and unloaded my groceries onto the conveyor belt. I then went to the end of the checkout and loaded my groceries back into my shopping cart as soon as they were scanned. I think the cashier really appreciated it. I was done loading and out of her way seconds after she had scanned the last item. I rolled the cart out to my car, loaded everything into reusable bags that were stored in my trunk and went home. I was happy, the store was happy, and the environment was happy.

The Ten Plagues Easter Eggs

Two years ago, Marilynn and I drove to Massachusetts to attend our first-ever Seder with my son, his wife and members of her family. As a (lapsed) Catholic, I figured that the perfect way to bridge the two faiths was to bring our set of Easter eggs based on the Ten Plagues of Egypt.We made them back in the late 90's when all of our kids were either in high school or college. They quickly became a family heirloom, always good for a laugh during the holiday season.

Sadly, that particular family heirloom never got to experience a Seder. On our way to the event, our 2017 Toyota Prius caught fire in West Hartford and, to quote the incident report, "burned to a shell". Within that burned shell were 10 tiny shells as crispy as potato chips. The heirloom was toast. Worse, we never took a picture of this heirloom, something unheard of in these days of smartphones and Facebook.

This year we had once again planned to travel to Massachusetts to attend another Seder. Afterwards, we planned to swing over to New Hampshire to spend Easter with my daughter and her family. But another disaster (named COVID) intervened, forcing all of us stay sequestered for the holidays. But desperate times call for desperate measures. It was time to recreate the Ten Plagues of Egypt Easter Eggs!

Since we all had some time on our hands, we decided to turn this into an event.  The first step was the plague selection process. We quickly determined that the plagues had to be assigned randomly; otherwise we'd all fight over the flagship plague, the "Angel of Death". Each participant's name was written on a Domino Rally tile and all 10 tiles were loaded into another Mullen heirloom: my 1994 Rangers Stanley Cup mug. (They were on well on their way to winning the Cup again this year too!) I then opened a Zoom meeting to allow everyone to bear witness as I randomly drew holy tiles from the Sacred Cup. The resulting Scripture (showing the results of the assignation process) has been preserved and is shown below. If you click on it, you might have a few questions.
The first thing you'll note is the unique numbering sequence. Rather than the usual boring 1-10 format your grandfather would use, this list breaks into freestyle following "5". Next, you'll note that two plagues were assigned to families. With 10 plagues and 8 adults, we decided to give an extra plague to families with kids living with them. (No symbolism intended!).

Then there's the assignment of the flagship 10th plague. Somehow, this plague was assigned to the Angel of Death himself! I'm not sure what happened here but clearly the note taker was under more stress than the group realized. Finally, the list also reflects an issue that has bedeviled biblical scholars for thousands of years: What the hell was that Fourth Plague anyway? Some believe that the original Hebrew should be translated as "swarm of insects". However, per the  English version of the Passover Haggadah, this plague should be translated as a "swarm of wild animals". In an attempt to broker a truce between these two warring factions, let me just point out the obvious. When you categorize an item as "animal, vegetable or mineral", an insect is an animal. Therefore, both translations are accurate.  Q.E.D.

As a bonus, each participant was also tasked to create a "COVID-19 egg". Not all participants participated, though. Some just assumed the role of "idea man" and let their spouse do the actual work. At any rate, we only ended up with six COVID-19 eggs. All the eggs are shown below (click to enlarge). There was talk of having an elaborate scoring system to determine the Ultimate Egg of the contest, but everyone's jaw dropped when they saw the egg at the top of this post. Game over, man. Some of the other plague eggs are superb: the lice, the flies; hell, the Angel of Death works as comic relief and even the River of Blood is surprisingly artistic in an Yves Klein sort of way. But there's no topping that frog in a teacup.  Congratulations, Sara! And congratulations to the entire family for recreating a true Mullen Heirloom!

Shopping in the COVID-19 World

 

At this point, everyone living in the COVID-19 world undoubtedly understands the importance of sequestering, thoroughly washing your hands, covering your mouth when coughing or sneezing, and keeping a "social distance" from other human beings. You should also be shopping online as much as possible and wiping down packages once they arrive. But what exact procedure should you follow when you have to leave your house to pick up urgently needed items such as food, medicine or home supplies?  The procedure below may seem like overkill but think again. When it comes to the coronavirus, being safe and being "pretty safe" may be the difference between life and death. This procedure will only take a few additional minutes of your time.  You'll get used to it.

Goal:

Minimize the chance of catching the coronavirus while shopping

Assumptions:

1. You are clean (you don’t have the coronavirus), your house is clean and your car is clean.
2. You don’t want to disinfect your car, wash your clothes or take a shower when you return home.
3. You’re wearing a pair of pants with 2 deep pockets.
4. You have two keys/cards/fobs to operate your car.

Going out to Shop:

1. Scrupulously plan your shopping trip.  You want to spend as little time as possible in the store.Before leaving, put a credit card and one of your car “keys” into a small reusable, washable cloth bag. 
2. Put on your “outside” shoes (i.e., shoes you never wear inside the house).
3. Put your other car “key”, your wallet and your phone completely in your pockets.
4. Pack a bunch of reusable washable cloth bags to hold your purchases.
5. When you arrive at the store, put on a pair of disposable medical gloves. 
6. Once the gloves are on, don’t touch your face or your clothes.
7. Bring only what you absolutely need into the store: shopping list; the small bag containing your credit card and key; and reusable shopping bags. Your wallet, phone and second "key" are in your pockets.
8. Be sure to keep the small bag and your shopping list in your hand or in the shopping cart at all times.  Do not put either item in your pocket!
9. Shop as you normally would, but maintain a 6’ distance from all other human beings. 
10. Don’t sit, lean against a wall, or allow your clothes (other than shoes) to come into contact with anything.
11. When checking out, maintain a 6’ distance from the cashier (your biggest risk on this trip). Put all of your purchases on the checkout counter and bag your purchases at the other end of the counter using reusable washable bags. Use separate bags for items that can be left in quarantine for 3 days to decontaminate.
12. To pay, use the credit card in the small bag. After paying, put the credit card back in the bag and put that bag in the top of the shopping cart or in a shopping bag where it can be easily reached later.
13. Put your groceries in the cart and walk to your car. Take the “key” out of the small bag, unlock your car and load your groceries into the trunk. At no time let any of the bags come into contact with your clothing.
14. Safely take off your gloves (see the graphic below) and discard in a nearby trash can.  If no trash can is available, drop them into a shopping bag for disposal at home. 
15. Close the trunk without touching the same spot that you used to open it.
16. Using the key in your pocket, get in your car and drive home. (Your hands and car interior should be clean.)

Once You Arrive Home:

1. Put on your “inside” shoes.
2. Take your purchases out of the trunk. Discard gloves if you still have them.  Your hands are now contaminated.
3. Bring all non-essentials to a special quarantined area within your house and don't touch them for at least 3 days.  If no area exists, leave them in your garage.
4. Bring produce, items needed immediately, items needing refrigeration/freezing and the small bag containing your key and credit card to a pre-defined “dirty” counter near your kitchen sink.
5. Wash your hands with soap and water for 20 seconds.
6. Thoroughly rinse all produce with cool/cold water; no soap or disinfectant should be used.
7. Fill a basin in your sink with warm soapy water. Submerge and wash all purchases that can be cleaned in this manner (bottles, cans, items sealed in plastic packaging, etc.)
8. Spray and wipe down all other items (including your credit card and “key”) with soap and water or disinfectant solution. 
9. Place all washed items on a pre-defined “clean” counter to be used only for cleaned items.
10. Put all reusable washable cloth bags into your washing machine.
11. Wash your hands with soap and water for 20 seconds.
12. Thoroughly clean all countertops used in the cleaning process.
13. Since you can’t be sure you won’t need your car within the next 3 days, clean any external areas of your car that you touched while unloading. Cleaning your trunk is optional, but remember that it will be“dirty" for at least the next 3 days!
14. Clean any doorknobs that you touched and any place that was touched while cleaning your purchases.
15. Clean the spray bottle and any other items you used during the cleaning process that weren’t discarded.
16. Put all washcloths and towels that were used in the washing machine.
17. Clean the places that were touched on the washing machine; throw that cloth in the wash too!
18. Wash your hands with soap and water for 20 seconds one more time.
19. Have a drink. I don’t care what time it is. You’ve earned it.

Nancy (Mullen) Benco Oswald (1928 - 2018)

On Saturday morning, February 18, 2018, , Nancy (Mullen) Benco Oswald died at Lehigh Valley Hospital in Allentown, PA. She was one month shy of her 90th birthday. Nancy was the daughter of Patrick Mullen (born in Ballina, County Mayo) and Bridget McHugh (born in Glangevlin, County Cavan). She lived her entire life in the Philadelphia and Allentown areas and is predeceased by two husbands, Joseph P. Benco and Walter T. Oswald.

Although her health had been failing over the past couple of years, Nancy was determined to attend the wedding of her granddaughter, Laura, last May. A few months after attending that wedding, she set her sights on another goal: attending the annual Mullen Christmas Party this past January. She accomplished that goal, participating in a rousing Irish sing-a-long lead by her son, Joe.

She died peacefully in her sleep surrounded by all of her children. Below is her official obituary, along with a few photos of her throughout the years.

 Nancy T. (Mullen) Benco Oswald, 89, of Allentown, died Saturday, February 17, 2018 at Lehigh Valley Hospital - Cedar Crest. She was the beloved wife of the late Joseph P. Benco, Sr. to whom she has now rejoined in Heaven. Born in Philadelphia, March 13, 1928, Nancy was the daughter of the late Patrick J. and Bridget Agnes (McHugh) Mullen. She was employed as a unit clerk at Lehigh Valley Hospital - Cedar Crest for 17 years before retiring. Nancy was a member of St. Joseph the Worker Roman Catholic Church, Orefield serving as Lector, Eucharistic Minister and sang with the funeral choir. She volunteer as a religious counselor at the Lehigh County Prison. Survivors: Loving and devoted mother of Maureen T. Benco of Allentown, Elaine P. Benco Hersh and her husband, Frederick of Emmaus, Janet A. Benco McShane and partner, Robert S. Lavin of Macungie, Joseph P. Benco, Jr. and his wife, Mary of Hampton, NJ, James Patrick Benco of Allentown; brother, Joseph Mullen of Wayne; sister, Patricia Sears of Willow Grove; grandchildren, William, Laura, Christopher, Andrew, Julie, Joseph III, Jessica; predeceased by siblings, Jack, Mary, Thomas, James.

Service: A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated 10:30 am. Friday, February 23, 2018 at St. Joseph the Worker Roman Catholic Church, 1879 Applewood Drive, Orefield. The Rev. Joseph P. Becker will be the celebrant. Family and friends may pay their respects from 6 - 8:00 pm. Thursday and 9 - 9:45 am. Friday in the Heintzelman Funeral Home, Inc., 4906 Route 309, Schnecksville. Interment will take place at 2:00 pm. Saturday, February 24, 2018 at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, Philadelphia. Online expressions of sympathy may be recorded at www.heintzelmancares.com. Contributions: In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to St. Joseph the Worker Angel Fund c/o the funeral home, P.O. Box # 196, Schnecksville, PA 18078-0196.

Nancy at the wedding of my parents in 1948

With her husband, Joseph Benco, at the same wedding

At the 2005 Mullen Christmas Party

Reviewing passenger ship manifests at the 2006 Mullen Christmas Party

A better photo of Nancy at the 2006 Mullen Christmas Party

Checking in at the 2008 Mullen Reunion in Ballina

At the "family farm" in Ballina in 2008

With her son, Jim, in Puerto de Cádiz in 2014

At her birthday party in March, 2017

At her granddaughter's wedding in May, 2017