2019-2020: The First-Ever Regional at Sea on a Riverboat

Up and down the Danube seeing sights and playing bridge. Continue reading

This ad appeared in the September 2019 issue of the Bridge Bulletin.

I was definitely enticed by the announcement from Alice Travel in my Inbox in the fall of 2019. Larry Cohen1 was planning to host a cruise on the Danube on a ship called Mozart from the luxury line Crystal Cruises. It seemed awfully expensive—over $6,000 per person for only a total of ten days. However, the details were definitely appealing to Sue and me.

  • It started and ended in Vienna, a marvelous city that we had always wanted to see.
  • An optional excursion to Mozart’s home of Salzburg, a city that I had long wanted to visit, was offered when the ship spent a day in Passau.
  • Social activities were planned in Budapest.
  • The ship also made a short stop in Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia. Sue was interested in going to the Pizza Slanec restaurant there if possible. Her family name is Slanetz, and the owners might be her relatives. I just wanted to check out the wardrobes of the current generation of Wild and Crazy Guys2 there.
  • A regionally rated bridge tournament was scheduled for the other days. Regional tournaments awarded gold points, and Sue needed twenty-some gold points for her Life Master rank.
  • Larry would be teaching bridge lessons on the ship.
  • The entire ship was reserved for the tournament. All 130 passengers would be bridge players or, perhaps, spouses who would be bored to tears by the conversations at the dinner table.
  • Everything except air fare was included in the price, even the excursions sponsored by the touring company.
Vienna was the starting point. The Mozart then was to sail west to Passau, turn around, sail east to Budapest, turn around again, and sail back to Vienna.

I called Alice Travel, the New Jersey-based company that was organizing the cruise, to make reservations for us. They gave us the last available cabin that featured the lowest price. As usual, Sue and I had little interest in wasting money on a more luxurious cabin. I, for one, intended to spend very few of my waking hours there.

The cruise was scheduled for March 18-27, 2020. Sue and I decided to add on three days in Vienna at the end.

I ordered a guidebook for the city on Rick Steves’ website so that we could make optimal use of our time there. We had, of course, previously taken several European tours using his tour company. I also picked up another guidebook at Barnes and Noble. It had a lot of beautiful photos.

When I paged through the guidebooks, I was astounded at how much there was to do in and around Vienna. There were dozens of things that I wanted to do and places that I wanted to see. At the top of the list were these three:

Melk Abbey.
  • The world-famous opera house in Vienna, Wiener Staatsoper;
  • The Hofburg Palace, a museum that housed, among hundreds of other things, one of the relics that had been identified as the Lance of Longinus3 (or really the head of the lance0;
  • The Benedictine abbey at Melk, which had been the inspiration for the bestselling book by Umberto Eco, Il Nome della Rosa. which I had read in both English and Italian.

At first I made reservations at one of the hotels that the guidebook had recommended, the Hotel Austria. The attractions were its very convenient location and good price. The hotel had also confirmed via email that it had an elevator—one of Sue’s requirements. However, when we received the details concerning the room, we decided that it was not for us. Here is the text of the email that I sent to the hotel on January 29:

I need to cancel my booking. My wife vetoed the notion of the toilet and shower in the corridor.

Name: Michael Wavada
Period: Three nights starting March 27

.Please confirm that you received this.

Danke.

Mike Wavada

I received the email confirming the cancellation the same day. I then booked a room at the Hotel Zur Wiener Staatsoper. It was a little more expensive, but it was very close to the opera house, several other attractions, and a Metro station. The most important feature was the fact that its bathrooms were inside the individual rooms.

On December 27, 2019. I purchased our airline tickets on United Airlines. Most of my worst experiences in flying had taken place on United, but I had never taken an international trip on the airline. Perhaps the service on those flights was better. I also purchased the flight protection plan offered by Expedia. I figured that a large number of things could go wrong for a pair of septuagenarians planning overseas travel. Seldom in my life have I exhibited such prescience.

Two opera performances were on the schedule for the nights that we would be in Vienna. The first was Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro, one of my favorites. Sue and I had even seen a production of it in Prague, as described here. The other offering was Tri Sestry, an opera written in 1998 by the Hungarian composer Péter Eötvös. Its Russian libretto was based on Chekhov’s play of the same name. I had never heard of this opera, and I was likewise unfamiliar with the composer.

I tried to order tickets for Le Nozze di Figaro, but it was sold out. My request was recognized by the company that sold the tickets, however. I was notified by email that my name had been placed on the standby list.

By the end of January all of our reservations seemed to be in order. I spent most of the time in which I was not playing bridge or performing various functions for District 254 trying to put together a workable schedule of activities for our time in Vienna. I carried one of my guidebooks with me most of the time, even when I drove to the Hartford Bridge Club. I needed to become familiar with the times in which the various attractions were open and the transportation needed to arrive at them. The excursion to Melk was more difficult than I anticipated because the period in which we would be there would be just before the tourist season.


Vienna Metro map.

In February of 2020 information about the outbreak of a new disease in China began to be covered in some depth by the major media. By the end of the month Covid-19 had spread to several Asian countries. The western country that was most severely impacted in February was Italy. Cases first appeared there in the middle of the month. By the end of February Italy had more cases than any other nation on the planet.

In contrast, Austria had only a few cases. I started watching the Johns Hopkins website every day to see the developments in the three countries that our ship would visit. I was still optimistic about the trip in early March.

The shocking spread of the disease in New Rochelle, NY, opened my eyes to the possibility that our entire vacation might be in jeopardy. On March 2 an attorney named Lawrence Garbuz, who lived in New Rochelle, tested positive for Covid-19. Within a week more than fifty cases in the town could be linked to him! Most of them could be traced to a synagogue that he had attended. This disease was obviously much more contagious than the previous pandemics, SARS and Ebola.

Fred Gagnon.

A similar outbreak occurred in Colorado Springs. CO. In this case the “superspreader event” was a game at the Colorado Springs Bridge Center. By chance a good friend of ours, Fred Gagnon of Springfield, MA, was playing there the day that “patient 0” infected a number of bridge players. Fortunately, he never played at the same table that she did, and they had no other interaction. On his return to New England Fred told us the story.5

On March 11, less than a week before our departure date, the World Health Organization declared that Covid-19 was a pandemic, a word that is never used without a great deal of justification. President Trump for some reason downplayed the effects of the virus, but the governors of New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut issued stay-at-home orders. The hospitals in the area were flooded with cases, and they did not yet know the best treatment methods.

Stuart Rothenberg, the president of Alice Travel, sent an email on February 25 that reported that the cruise was still set to sail. He acknowledged the seriousness of the disease, however. “I cannot speculate on what Crystal would do if this trip became interrupted and for the most part, Alice Travel will be guided by Crystal Cruises’ decisions. I will advocate and fight for our group if need be.”

His second email came late on the night of March 3:

Like you we are quite concerned with the Coronavirus situation.

We are in touch with Crystal Cruises to see what alternatives or options we may have, if any. We are waiting for them to evaluate the situation and provide us with any new decision as to a cancellation or a postponement of this sailing.  At this point, they are planning to continue with this sailing as I wrote to you on February 25.

Further, we did check with airlines flying to Vienna, and all of them to our knowledge are continuing to fly and they have not offered any type of special waiver or refund should you cancel your flights.  Of course for flights into Asia and into Milan, the airlines have been providing refund and exchanges without added fees, though for Vienna that is not the case.

Once we receive any updated information from Crystal Cruises, we will let you know an update to the situation.

The next email, sent three days later, was at once encouraging and distressing.

As you certainly know, the coronavirus COVID-19 is causing wide concern and among many of you planning to travel to Vienna for the Crystal Mozart Regional on the River cruise. 

Wednesday, I had a conversation with Crystal Cruise’s management, including the Managing Director of Crystal River ships, and its Director of Sales, Business Intelligence and Analytics. I followed up this conversation with an e-mail yesterday as discussed below.  Crystal has not yet responded to the e-mail, so I will summarize the position Crystal took during our conference call on Wednesday afternoon.

Unfortunately, while the Crystal team said they are being guided by the health, safety and concern of its guest travelers, they are not willing to cancel this specific sailing, in spite of my requests.  Crystal’s position is that the areas where the Mozart sailing is traveling to are not under major traveler advisories and that all of their river ships are sailing as normal.

At that point ten people had already canceled. The email concluded with a description of a partial refund being offered by Alice Travel;

This past week, I have been in Sarasota with Larry and the current Bridge Camp. Together Larry and I have discussed as many options as possible while we were waiting to hear back from Crystal.  Given Crystal’s present position, and because we are less than two weeks away from sailing, we have decided to come up with our own two options for you.

Here they are:

First Option:

If you feel that it is in your best interests to cancel this sailing, we will provide a choice of a 25% refund of the Cruise Fare only or a 40% Future Cruise Credit

This offer is being provided by Alice Travel and Larry Cohen, not Crystal Cruises.

Second Option:

Join Larry Cohen and the ACBL Bridge Directors on this planned Regional on the River.  We expect to run this Regional with fewer people than originally planned.

As you may know, this cruise sold out quickly with 125 players, making for a wonderful Regional schedule. However, with a smaller turnout, we don’t feel that all of our scheduled 2-session events make sense.  Regionals with small numbers of tables are impractical. Accordingly, if needed, we would tweak the schedule to allow for more sessions of Larry teaching. We know that many of you might prefer more teaching, and we wanted to provide a “heads up” that the events may be “subject to change” based on the overall attendance.

Neither of these was even slightly appealing to us. We decided to wait for better news. It did not come in the next two emails, but an additional option was presented in the one sent on March 11.

1) On April 30 (give or take a week), we will know if the Mozart ship is available to use for our bridge exclusive charter in March, 2021.  If it is available, you will have a choice to keep your booking that you originally had with your stateroom suite remaining the same.  Should you choose this option, you will be under a full penalty process at this time though your trip protection plan will be carried over, unless you had made an earlier insurance claim.

2) If instead you would like the 25% refund offer, this option is still available to you and you do not need to decide on this option until we know if the Mozart ship will be available to us for next year (March, 2021).  

For either of these options, you will have until May 30, to make your decision.

3) Alternatively, you can choose the 40% future cruise credit as another option. If the sailing for next March, 2021 is not available as described above, then Crystal will supplement the cruise credit. At this time, we cannot provide you with an exact amount, though our best projections are that you would receive a total amount equaling 60 – 65% of your original cruise fare. Again, this is a future cruise credit. Once again, you can choose at that time to receive the 25% refund or the future cruise credit.

Meanwhile, the opera had been canceled, the hotel had sent me an email that it would be closed, and I had canceled our flights through Expedia. Our cruise no longer appeared on Crystal’s schedule, but the management was still insistent that its new refund policy would not apply to the bridge cruise.

On April 3 Stuart sent an email that said that Crystal would indeed provide refunds, but the details were still being worked out.

The final offer was included in the email of May 7, nearly two months after the scheduled sailing date. It included a few paragraphs that detailed the problems faced by Alice Travel. Stuart said that his staff and Larry Cohen had put in an estimated 1,400 hours working on this cruise. Here were the two options that Stuart provided to us:

Option A: A Refund in the amount of 75% of your original bridge cruise.  We anticipate sending this check to you the week of May 25, unless you prefer Option B.

Option B: A Future Cruise Credit at 100% of your original bridge cruise.  This future cruise credit with Alice Travel can be used through June 30, 2022.  Further, if you do not utilize all or part of this credit, beginning October 1, 2021, you can request a refund instead and we will refund 75% of any unused credit. In all, you have two years to use your full credit, or you can request a refund if you prefer.

Sue and I talked this over. Eventually we decided to select Option A. Who could say when the pandemic would end to the extent that normal traveling conditions were restored? As my dad used to say, “At my age I don’t even buy green bananas.”

So, we lost quite a bit of money on this trip, but Alice Travel did provide us with sweatshirts to commemorate the cruise that wasn’t. We ordered a large for me and an extra large for Sue. An employee of Alice Travel asked me if I meant to get the extra large and Sue the large, I assured her that that was not the case. She even laughed when I told her that we were like Mr. and Mrs. Jack Sprat.

Nevertheless they sent us a large lady’s and an extra-large man’s size. I have worn the former a few times. It was a little tight, but it did not really bother me much. I don’t think that Sue ever has worn the other one.

The inscription on the left breast is on the lines of a treble clef:
Larry Cohen
and Alice Travel
Regional on the Danube
Crystal Mozart March 2020

Getting the refund from AIG for the United flight took a few months, but they finally provided a 100 percent refund.

On November 2, 2020, I was surprised to receive an email from Expedia that I had a credit with them. I logged onto the website to see it. Sure enough, there were two credits there—one for me and one for Sue—for $903.29 each. So, we have until the end of 2022 to use them on a flight. Of course, we need to find some place to which United flies that we want to visit.


1. Larry Cohen was (and is) a famous bridge player and teacher. Sue and I had previously been on two ocean cruises on which he had been featured. Those experiences have been described here and here.

2. Bratislava was the original home of the Festrunk brothers, Georg and Yortuk, who chased foxes and enlivened late night entertainment on Saturdays in the seventies.

3. The Lance of Longinus is mentioned in John 19:31-37, but was overlooked in the other three gospels. Longinus was the name traditionally given to the Roman soldier who supposedly pierced Jesus’s side with his lance to make sure that he was dead. There are many historical references to the lance. My favorite is its miraculous discovery during the First Crusade in the floor of St. Peter’s church in Antioch by Peter Bartholomew. The story is recounted here.

4. In 2020 I was the webmaster and database manager for the New England Bridge Conference, the organization that manages District 25 of the American Contract Bridge League. I also wrote both the online and printed bulletins for the district’s tournaments. During January and February I was busy preparing for the six-day Presidential Regional, which was always held around the time of Presidents Day. In 2020 the hotel with which we had contracted, the Red Lion Inn in Cromwell, CT, went out of business shortly before the scheduled starting date. My notes for this hectic event have been posted here.

5. On May 1 the New York Times also ran a long article about this event and the popularity of bridge in general. It is posted here.

2021 September: Hurricane Ida and its Aftermath

Water water everywhere. Continue reading

The remnants of Hurricane Ida1 arrived in southern New England on Wednesday, September 1, 2001. It rained pretty heavily in Connecticut all evening and well into the morning. I was scheduled to play bridge on Thursday at 10AM. I heard on the radio of floods in Manchester and Vernon, about fifteen miles to the south of where we lived in Enfield. I could see no signs of damage in our yard, and there was no standing water in our yard.

The southeast side of the yard.

This last bit of news was a huge relief. A few weeks earlier a weird localized storm had deluged Enfield and Suffield for a couple of hours. The rest of Connecticut seemed unaffected. For the first time in the thirty-three and a half years that Sue and I had resided at 41 North St. water had somehow seeped into the old part2 of the basement. It was not exactly flooded, but there was a little water in some areas, notably the southeast corner, which was piled high with boxes and who knows what. The new part of the basement was completely dry. It took a few days, but the dehumidifier dried up the old side pretty well.

I also walked out into the yard. I saw several inches of water in the yard that faced North St. The water disappeared when the drain in the street was cleared, but the sod remained squishy.

The feeling of relief was short-lived. Before I left for the Hartford Bridge Club on Thursday morning I checked the basement. Both the old part and the new part were dry. After I finished playing, drove back home, ate lunch, took a nap, and went for a walk, I descended the staircase to the basement to empty the dehumidifier. I was aghast to see that there was considerable water in both halves of the basement.

The litter box was near the bikes.

I could see that the cats’ litter box was sitting in a little water in the new part of the basement. My very old cat Giacomo was resting on the broken treadmill, but he was very upset about how his paws had become wet when he needed to use the litter box. I sifted the litter box and moved it, the sifting tool, and the box of Clean Paws litter to a part of the old basement that was still dry. I also dried of His Highness’s paws and carried him to the stairway, which was dry.

Meanwhile Sue made some phone calls. Someone told her that the fire department would pump out the basement if the standing water was six or more inches deep. There was probably an inch or more on the new side, but it did not look like six inches to me.

The most comfortable shoes ever.

Sue also located her Craftsman Wet/Dry Vacuum, Sears’ version of what nearly everyone calls a Shop-Vac3. It had been lent to the Somersville Congregational Church. Sue made arrangements to pick it up in the afternoon. I located two long extension cords in my garage. Sue somehow got the vacuum down to the basement. Someone must have carried it down the hatchway stairs for her. I removed my socks and put on a pair of beat-up old sneakers with a few holes in them. I walked through the water to the new side and opened the hatch to try to encourage evaporation.

The GE dehumidifier did the job in the old basement.

Sue operated the machine. I made sure that the cords were kept out of the water. We filled the machine’s barrel4 with water, and I used a fourteen-quart bucket to transfer the water to an unused washing machine. We then put the washing machine on the last dot of the spin cycle and turned it on. This step was necessary because there are no drains in the basement. I had used this same technique to empty the dehumidifier.

Sue’s initial approach was to try to create a dry path between the base of the stairs and the washing machine so that we could avoid standing in water, a good conductor of electricity. She filled up a barrel in about twenty minutes. I emptied the barrel into washing machine. As we did this we noticed that the dry space that Sue had just cleared was covered with water again.

Our weapons against the sea of troubles: the washer, the wet/dry vac, and the fourteen-quart bucket.

I suggested that we should concentrate on the new side of the basement, which was consistently covered by more than an inch of water. We were both stunned that it t took less than a minute to fill a barrel. We then had to roll it up the ramp to the old side and empty it in the washer. We were standing in water once we left the ramp, but we were careful to keep the cords dry. We did one more barrel that way, and then stopped for supper. We planned to continue after we ate, but neither of us could summon the energy. We are, after all, old.

I walked this wet path on the old side from the door to the washing machine at least one hundred times. The cord running from the wall plug at left stayed dry.

At 2 o’clock on Friday morning I woke up and went downstairs to continue vacuuming the new side of the basement. I looped the extension cord over some boxes and cabling in the ceiling of the basement to eliminate the need to disconnect the extension cord from the machine every time. I concentrated on the new side and filled four barrels with water. It took me about thirty minutes, but there was no discernible effect on the level of the water. I went back to bed and slept like a dead man.

When I awoke again and checked the basement, both sides seemed worse. The water level on the new side was considerably higher, and the entire old side now had at least a filmy coating of water. I could see no dry spots. Where was the water coming from?5 I had to move the cats’ litter box upstairs. I was afraid to move the open box of litter because I could see that the bottom would fill out. I left it where it was and resolved to buy a new box at Shop-Rite.

I worked all day on the basement—not counting a few naps. In all I sucked up about forty-five barrels of water, which produced a notable difference in the level in the new side, about as much as I expected—an inch or so. I kept the hatch closed because I remembered that this was mosquito season, and I had heard warnings about West Nile virus. The mosquitoes that carry the virus like to breed in standing water.

Several avalanches blocked parts of the path from the ramp (bottom) to the hatch door (top). At this point there was at least three inches of water.

When I awoke on Saturday morning there was quite a bit more water than was there before. I checked the new side. The level was a little higher than when I started on Friday. So, more than an inch of water had seeped back in overnight. This was very discouraging. In fact, I decided to abandon vacuuming until the amount of water stabilized. I checked several times a day when I emptied the dehumidifier

I did figure out that I could move the cardboard box of cat litter upstairs if I tipped it sideways. Once I got it upstairs I split a large hold in the middle of what was now the top side. I could then scoop out dry litter with a ladle. In fact, I was able to salvage the entire contents of the box.

On Tuesday September 7 I decided that the water levels had finally stabilized. The dehumidifier seemed to be doing a good job of drying out the old part of the basement, and the newer side was no worse than on Monday evening. I therefore set to work. By 5 o’clock in the afternoon I had sucked up fifty barrels of water from my position on the ramp. I could definitely see the effect on the water level on the ramp itself.

I bought these shoes for the Hawaii trip in 1995, but I did not wear them for 26 years.

By this time I had refined my technique pretty well. I positioned the machine on the flat part of the wooden ramp with two wheels on the cement floor of the old basement. When the barrel had filled, I detached the top part of the vacuum and rolled the barrel the fifteen or twenty feet to the washer. I straddled the barrel, bent at the knees, held the handle of the bucket in my left hand, and placed my right fingertips in the indentation on the bucket. I then filled the bucket as much as possible and lifted it up to the washer. This method was the easiest on my back. It also minimized the splashing.

I could do the entire process in four or five minutes. I also saved a little time by only running the spin cycle on the washer every other time. The tub of the washer could hold a little more that two of the vacuum’s barrels. This spin cycle lasted longer than it took the vacuum to fill with water. So, I had a short break every other barrel while I waited for the washer.

On Wednesday I played bridge with Eric Vogel. Afterwards I sucked up another twenty barrels.

On Thursday I was up early enough to run the vacuum through another twenty barrels before playing bridge with Jeanne Striefler at 10 AM. Between rounds Lesley Meyers asked me what had happened to my elbow. I had no idea what she was talking about.

I did another twenty barrels when I arrived home.

Friday was an epic day. I filled and emptied thirty barrels in the morning. The water level near the end was low enough that I had to abandon the ramp for the afternoon session. I added the second extension cord and change the looping of the cords so that I could walk all the way to the hatch and still keep the cords dried.

I vacuumed up seven more barrels in the afternoon, but because the water was now not nearly as deep, it took as long as the morning session.

Most of my time in the afternoon was in two places—right before the hatch and about halfway between the ramp and the hatch. These areas, which were evidently low points, were frustrating because as soon as I would get an area dry, it would fill back up with water seeping in from areas that were filled with some kind of junk that belonged to the other resident of the house. I went back and forth between the two areas.

When I unplugged the vacuum’s cable from the extension cord, I noticed that the vacuum’s male plug was hot. I had already noticed that one of the two prongs was shorter than the other. I could now see that the short one consisted of two pieces of metal that had a slight gap between them. I reported this to Sue. She said that it was a definite fire hazard.

I went back the next two days to work on those two areas. On Saturday I was surprised to find the other cat, Bob, lying on the cement on the path in the new side. There were also a few cat prints near the puddle in the middle. I carried Bob to the staircase, and he easily made his way up. I then extracted about a half barrel.

This is the right setting on the washing machine.

Much less than that came out on Sunday. When I had finished, the new side was pretty much dry. I could see a few small puddles, but there was no way to get at them with the vacuum.

In the afternoon Sue and I were scheduled to go to a picnic for her cousins on the Locke side. As we were about to leave, she exclaimed, “Ooh! What did you do to your elbow?” I asked her what she meant. She drew my attention to a golf-ball-sized lump on the point of the left one. I had to twist my arm around to see it. I then recalled Lesley’s remark on Thursday. I must have already had it then.

The knob was twice this size on Sunday and Monday.

After the picnic Sue and I drove to the to Urgent Care clinics on Hazard Avenue. Neither was open.

On Monday morning, September 13, I drove to the PhysicianOne Urgent Care, the one on the north side of the street. I had been to this location once before, but I am pretty sure that in the interim it had closed and reopened under new management (Yale New Haven Hospital). I arrived at 10 o’clock, with hopes of being home by noon.

I did not know that one made appointments at Urgent Cares. The lady at the desk told me that it would be at least two hours until they could see me. Although most people were required to wait in their cars for a text message, she let me sit in the lobby, where there were only a few usable chairs. The rest of the chairs were Xed off to prevent them from being used. So, I did not get within ten feet of any other patients. That is a good thing because most of them were there to get Covid-19 tests or treatments. The delta variant was still quite active.

One Hispanic lady came in with two children. The boy was about 2’6″ tall. His sister was a little taller. The lady’s mother had a third infant in her arms. They never checked in or entered the treatment area. The lady seemed to be busy with some papers or something. Then the whole family suddenly departed. On the way out I noticed that she was pregnant again.

he physician’s assistant finally saw me after I had been there for nearly three and a half hours. I had spent the time proofreading and rewriting my blog entry concerning 9/11 (which is now posted here). She quickly diagnosed my problem as bursitis. Some other young ladies x-rayed my elbow and wrapped it for me. The P.A. then advised me that if the swelling had not gone down in a week that I should see a physician who specialized in joints. She provided me with the business card of one and a CD that contained my x-rays. .

By Sunday, September 17, the old side was also nearly completely dry. I opened the hatch again to try to air out the new side of the basement. The dehumidifier on the old side shows a reading of 60 percent humidity. It was consistently at 75 or 80 when the water was at its highest.

The knob on my elbow had shrunk a lot. It never did hurt or hinder me in any significant way. I did not plan to call the doctor, but a couple of weeks later the bump was still significant. I tried to schedule an appointment with the doctor recommended by the Urgent Care clinic, but he was out of the office until the end of October, and he only saw patients in Rocky Hill and Farmington, which are both more than thirty minutes away. Fortunately, his receptionist referred me to a doctor who has office hours in Enfield.

My elbow sleeve.
Dr. Bontempo.

On Wednesday, October 6, I had an appointment with Dr. Nicholas Bontempo. He told me essentially what the P.A. had told me earlier. He gave me an elastic “sleeve” to wear over the elbow. It was much more comfortable, but it seemed to provide less compression. So, I applied the wrap over the sleeve.

They scheduled a follow-up appointment for me for November 3. I canceled on October 11. By then the bump was negligible.


Although there had never been standing water in the basement since we had moved to Enfield in 1988, the new (northern half) of the basement was flooded again in April of 2024. My efforts in dealing with that mess have been described here.


1. Hurricane Ida described a very unusual path. It first hit land in Venezuela. It then turned northwest, crossed the Caribbean Sea, a tip of Cuba on August 27, and the Gulf of Mexico before landing again near New Orleans on August 29 as a Category 4 hurricane.

From there it headed northeast, losing strength but dumping a huge quantities of rain everywhere it went. On September 1 it reached the New York City area and caused widespread flooding. It finally petered out in the maritime provinces of Canada.

2. In 2007 Sue and I began the process of refinancing the house and building an addition that was approximately the same size as the original house. A description of this activity was posted here. The addition also had a full basement, which could be reached through an external hatchway in the lawn north of the house. It could also be reached through a door in the northwest corner of the old basement.

3. I had never heard of a Shop-Vac until I ate lunch with Barbara Schane Jackson, TSI’s liaison for the installation at Hecht’s (described here). For some reason she mentioned that she needed to use one. I nodded sagely even though I had no idea what she was talking about. Johnson County in Kansas, where I grew up, is not exactly prone to flooding.

4. If there was ever an indication on the machine of Shop-Vac’s capacity, it had long since been lost. I estimated the size of the barrel at fifteen or sixteen gallons based on the number of fourteen-quart buckets required to empty it.

The new side of the basement was approximately fifty feet by twenty feet—one thousand square feet or 144,000 square inches. One gallon is equivalent to 231 cubic inches. So, each inch of water on the new side contained over 623 gallons. If the barrel contained fifteen gallons, about 41.5 barrels would be required to lower the water level by one inch (assuming no replacement).

5. An admittedly biased description of the process of flooding from the water table is posted here. Perhaps our contractors did not do a perfect job when they installed the new basement.

2003-2020 The Enfield Pets: Part 2

Three black cats. Continue reading

The story of the pets who shared the house in Enfield with Sue and me begins here. It recounts the first fifteen years of our lives there with, for most of the period, two cats named Rocky and Woodrow. Rocky died in the summer of 2003 after a very full life.

In late 2003 or early 2004 Sue’s sister Betty told us that a friend of hers had a family of cats that were too much for her to manage. Sue went to meet her one evening and chose on the spot to adopt a long-haired black male that was about the same size as Rocky and Woodrow. The woman called him Fluffy, which, of course, would never do. I dubbed him Giacomo after my favorite opera composer, Giacomo Puccini, and Giacomo della Chiesa, better known as Pope Benedict XV.

For a few weeks Giacomo was, to put it mildly, very wary of his new surroundings. We did not keep him cooped up for more than a day or two, and thereafter I personally spent a lot of time looking for him and trying to remove him from various hiding places. I remember that one day he somehow crawled under the dishwasher in the old kitchen. Fortunately, he was just shy, not a bit aggressive or even defensive. As soon as I got a good grip on him he let me pull him out of his hiding spot without much of a struggle.

Giacomo on the chair showing off his thumbs and his anteater tail. Woodrow looks up from the floor.

Finding him when he hid outdoors was even more challenging. He liked to retreat beneath some evergreen bushes on the north side of our house. When I approached him from one side, he slipped over to the other. It took me at least thirty minutes to retrieve him whenever he did this.

Woodrow, who made new friends very easily, took the new kid under his wing. Giacomo followed his lead in nearly everything.

Eventually, Giacomo became comfortable in both our house and our yard. However, he did not seem to comprehend the value of the cat door (described here). It looked like a trap to him.

Finally, one day Sue and I decided to team up to help him understand it. Sue held him on the outside of the cat door and pushed him through. I was in the basement standing on a chair by the cat door. When he appeared on the top shelf of the bookcase, I grabbed him, took him in my arms (which he liked), and walked around the basement enough so that he could figure out where he was. I then returned him to the top shelf by the cat door and pushed him back through it. Sue grabbed him and held him for a minute or two. Then she pushed him back through to the basement again.

All of a sudden I could see the light bulb appear over Giacomo’s head as he emerged into familiar surroundings. The message penetrated through all the fear to his little brain. He finally realized that this little door meant that he could come and go as he pleased. It was no trap; it meant freedom!

Meanwhile, to our surprise, Giacomo continued to grow. After a couple of months he was a good two inches taller than Woodrow and three or more inches longer. He had one broken (or at least shorter) fang that bothered him not even a little. He also had polydactyly on both front paws. Each had an extra toe sticking out on the inside. They looked a lot like thumbs. One other thing was quickly noticeable about Giacomo—he was left-pawed. I called his left front paw “Lefty”. If it came towards you, it generally meant business.

During his first summer in Enfield Giacomo cleaned out the mole colony that had resumed residency when Woodrow retired as master exterminator a few years earlier.

For the most part Giacomo followed Woodrow around the house and the yard. Woodrow habitually came in to the bedroom every morning when my alarm went off at 5 AM. Giacomo began to join us. I was expected to acknowledge both of them, although Woodrow wanted nothing more than a rub or two on his head. Giacomo liked to be rubbed all the way down his spine, but he did not like his belly rubbed.

In the summer the coolest sport for a nap was this sink. Giacomo learned this trick from Woodrow.

From the start Giacomo preferred me over Sue. Whenever I sat down on a chair he jumped onto my lap. If I was seated at my desk (which was really a tabletop astride two file cabinets), he often got bored and went exploring on the table. If I was watching TV, he lay lengthwise on my lap (on a stadium blanket that I always set there) when he was younger and across it when he got older. I don’t know why he changed. Whenever I lay down he walked (he was so long that he hardly needed to jump) up onto the bed and settled himself next to me.

I never teased Giacomo in the way that I tortured Woodrow with that stick and feather. However, I occasionally took advantage of the fact that he allowed me to do almost anything to him. I liked to lift him up over my head and make him pretend to walk on the ceiling.

Woodrow and Giacomo were left “home alone” during our trips to Village Italy in 2005 (described here) and Eastern Europe in 2007 (described here).


Suburban raccoons are too fat for cat doors.

Woodrow was still around for a startling occurrence in May of 2008. The cat door drew the attention of a masked varmint, a raccoon that was too chubby to fit through the opening. Raccoons are known to be very crafty, but this one used brute force to solve the problem. He made short work of my (very) amateurish carpentry by pulling the door out of its wooden frame in the window. Sue and I knew that the rascal had made it all the way into the house when we found the cat bowl empty and water all over the floor. Cats are very meticulous when drinking water; they seldom spill a drop. Raccoons are meticulous in a different way. They wash their food before they eat it; they always spill water, and they never clean up after they are finished eating.

Chick Comparetto let us borrow his Havahart trap, and he showed Sue how to use it. She then put it outside near the cat’s entrance (which we had temporarily closed off) and put some food in it. On the very first night the raccoon got caught in the trap. Sue and Chick then transported the raccoon—still in the cage—in her car across the Connecticut River to Suffield, where they released it in a wooded area.

Sue immortalized the raccoon adventure by recording a video of the release in Suffield. You can watch it here.

I bought a new sturdier cat door and affixed it to the board blocking the window a little more securely.


In the late summer of 2008 Woodrow died. He was eighteen years old, the same age that Rocky was at his death. Woodrow was weak and very ragged looking the last week or so. I stayed home with him on his last day.

Despite my closeness to him, I wasn’t overcome with grief when Woodrow died. The Woodrow that I wanted to remember was the devious rascal and hunter, not the decrepit bag of bones of his last few days. I still retain so many vivid memories of him. He was an immediate friend to everyone whom we let in through a human-sized door, but I think that, at least in his younger years, he would have fought to the death to defend against an intruder trying to get through the cat door.

I buried Woody under the burning bush, his favorite outdoor napping spot. I don’t honestly know whether Giacomo missed him as much as I did. He could not have missed him more.


Franklin.

For about a year Giacomo was our only pet. Then Sue learned that Betty’s friend, who was absolutely thrilled to find out how much we liked Giacomo, told Sue that she could have Giacomo’s litter-mate, whom she had named Frankie. I insisted on elongating his name to Franklin.

Franklin was black, like Giacomo, but he had short hair, and he was not as long and lean as his brother. I thought of them as the anteater and the aardvark. Giacomo was the bigger anteater with his luxurious fur coat. Franklin was the much less attractive aardvark.

Franklin did not share Giacomo’s pleasant disposition and love of human companionship. He never fought with his brother, which we recognized as a big plus. However, Franklin did not especially like either Sue or me. He would only occasionally let us pet him. mostly when he was outside. Once or twice, however, I actually found him up on the bed with Giacomo, but after a couple of strokes he became antsy and departed.

This sturdier version of the cat door was installed with the new addition in 2013.

The aspect of living with us that Franklin hated the most was the monthly application of flea drops. I suspect that he had never been allowed outdoors at his previous residence. He discovered the cat door in the basement without our assistance, and he seemed to appreciate the freedom that it provided. However, he had never learned the fundamental lesson of civics class: with all freedom comes responsibility. In this case, the monthly flea drops were the price civilization exacted for his liberty.

This is the basement side, with a ramp down to the floor.

When the weather was warm Franklin put me through a frustrating and exhausting ritual every month. When I was sure that Franklin was in the house, I shut the door to the basement so that he could not retreat there. I then chased him from room to room trying to corner him. Sometimes he hid under one of the barnboard shelves in the library. When he did, I had to wait for him to move. Eventually I always trapped in the bedroom, where he would take refuge under the bed. I had to remove the mattress and box springs to get at him. I always eventually managed to apply the treatment, but the experience was a gigantic pain in the coondingy1.

In contrast, I merely waited for Giacomo to jump in my lap. He did not mind getting the drops at all. He trusted me completely.

Giacomo and Franklin stayed home together while Sue, I, and our friends the Corcorans toured Paris and the South of France in 2009 (described here). We also took a Russian River Cruise in 2010 (described here) and an ill-fated tour of South Italy the following year (described here). I learned of no untoward incidents either caused by or inflicted on either cat.


Franklin on the futon.

For some reason Franklin insisted on exploring our neighbor’s3 property. The gentleman who lived there called me aside while I was trimming the forsythia bush near his property one day and informed me that he had a problem with our cats. They made his dog bark too much. I told him that I would see what I could do.

I thought of responding, “Oh, you have a dog problem. I thought that you said that you had a cat problem.” After all, in Enfield, although dogs must be fenced in or kept on a leash, there is no law against cats roaming free.

I was pretty certain that Franklin was the instigator. Whenever I saw him near the neighbor’s property, I chased him back to our yard. However, I worked all day, and I slept at night. Franklin had ample opportunities to roam. One day, when I was not home, the dog owner accosted Sue and told her that if he caught one of our cats on his property, he would kill it. I won’t repeat Sue’s precise response, but it was not neighborly.

The situation did not escalate any further. I wrote a letter to the neighbors that explained the situation with our cats and offered to pay if they did any damage. Shortly thereafter the family got rid of its noisy dog, and eventually the man of the house departed as well.

In 2012 Franklin got hit by a car on North Street. I did not dig a grave for him, the only domestic animal that I have ever really disliked.


After Franklin’s death Giacomo was our only pet3 for quite a few years. He went through a period in which he spent a lot of time on Allen Street, a dead-end street that was directly across North Street (the site of Franklin’s untimely demise) from our house. Quite a few outdoor cats lived in the neighborhood and congregated informally. The situation reminded me of the old Top Cat cartoons.

I did not like this new lifestyle, but there was not much that I could do about it without turning Giacomo into an indoor cat. Sue was equally concerned. She came to see me when I was in my easy chair wearing my cardigan sweater and reading a magazine. She said, “Ward, I ‘m worried about Giacomo.”

Giacomo on the bed.

Although I don’t remember attributing his injury to the evil influence of the other gang members, one day Giacomo came home with a wound that had formed an abscess. The vet who examined him told me that if this happened again, we might need to keep him inside. That was something that we really wanted to avoid. She also told me that he definitely had a heart murmur, but she did not recommend doing anything about it. It made me think, however, that Giacomo would probably not match the longevity records of Rocky and Woodrow.


Bob in 2017.

Eventually Giacomo’s wanderlust subsided. By 2016 he almost never left the property. That was the year that another black cat decided that he wanted to take up resident at the Slanetz house, home of Sue’s siblings, Don and Betty, and their father, Art. Betty and Art were quite fond of the newcomer, a very stocky fellow with an inflexible tail that measured only four or five inches. Betty named him Bob in honor of his tail—bobcats are sometimes seen in the area. The tail reminded me more of a crank or handle.

A good view of the crank.

Unfortunately, Betty’s own cat had a fiercely hostile reaction to Bob’s presence. Betty therefore asked Sue to adopt him, and, needless to say, Sue agreed. Bob moved into our house on December 8, 2016, and for about two or three weeks Bob and Giacomo hissed at each other. They eventually became tolerant and, in time, quite friendly.

Giacomo held down the fort in Enfield by himself on several of our tours and cruises. Bob and Giacomo stayed in the house by themselves while we took the bridge trip/vacation in Hawaii in 2018 (details here).

Bob exploring in the back yard.

Bob developed one very peculiar tendency. From the beginning his joints were not very flexible, especially by cats’ standards. Something also seemed to itch him on his spine, and he tried desperately to get at it with his teeth. To do this he rested his weight on one shoulder and used a back leg to spin around furiously. It reminded me of someone breakdancing.

After a while some tufts appeared on Bob’s spine. They looked like matted clumps of fur, but he would not let us touch them at all. They kept getting bigger, and eventually it became clear that they were growths of some kind. Maybe we should have taken him to the vet, but at the time Bob would not let me touch him under any conditions. Sue decided to let him be. Every so often she would say to him, “Oh, Bob, what am I going to do with you?”

Prior to Bob’s arrival Giacomo almost never made a sound unless I rolled over his tail with my office chair. Bob was quite talkative, and he had a pleasant voice. Giacomo began to vocalize, too, but he almost always squawked at a high volume. He sounded just like a blue jay. This was his only bad habit. We just had to put up with it.

Giacomo and Sue sometimes napped together.

Meanwhile, Giacomo was definitely beginning to show his age. Whereas he formerly sprang up to my lap or to his favorite perch on the back of the sofa, by 2019 he didn’t jump at all. He had to climb. He had also lost the ability (or at least the inclination) to retract his claws. When he walked on a bare floor, he always made click-click sounds. His right front paw also definitely bothered him. He never ran, and he walked with a noticeable limp.

This is a rare shot. B0b was seldom allowed in Giacomo’s main napping spot atop the couch. Bob always stuck out his right rear leg when resting.

I spent the week after Thanksgiving in 2019 in San Francisco at the NABC4 tournament (described here). Between and after the rounds my thoughts often turned to Giacomo. I really feared that he might die while I was gone. I would not have been too surprised if Bob had died as well.

I was wrong on both counts. Both Bob and Giacomo were still reasonably healthy and active when the Pandemic changed all of our lives in March of 2020.


1. I learned this word while I was in the army. I think that it is derived from a Korean word that sounds similar.

2. Because of the location of our house, we really had only one next-door neighbor, the residents of 1 Hamilton Court. I think that the person with whom I conversed was named Chris Simons. He no longer lives there in 2022, but I think that his wife still does.

3. I am not counting our third rabbit. At some point before, during, or after Franklin’s stay with us at 41 North Street, Sue accepted (without consulting me) another rabbit from a relative or a friend of a relative. She explained that it could live outdoors, and she promised that she would care for it. She neglected it, and it died within a month or two.

4. Prior to the Pandemic three North American Bridge Championships were held every year at rotating sites by the American Contract Bridge League.