Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Repost of my review of The Power of Two: A Twin Triumph over Cystic Fibrosis

Here's another reposted book review.  This time it's about twin sisters who grew up with cystic fibrosis at a time when most kids with it didn't make it to adulthood.  I actually really liked this book and would love to read it again.  Unfortunately, it's in storage.

Pros: Beautifully written story of twins who conquered cystic fibrosis.
Cons: Swearing and sexual situations may offend some readers (but not me).
Like a lot of Americans, I've been keeping up with America's Got Talent this summer. I had previously gotten hooked on NBC's talent contest three years ago, but had missed it over the two years my husband Bill and I spent in Germany. I was eager to see what kinds of people would be showing off their talents, or lack thereof. This year, Christina and Ali, two singing sisters from Idaho Falls, Idaho, peformed for America and shared that they were two of four siblings who suffer from the genetic disease, cystic fibrosis (CF). Cystic fibrosis is a devastating illness that affects all facets of life, from breathing to digesting food to eliminating waste. Christina and Ali had been told they would never be able to sing, since CF damages the lungs of those who suffer from it. But sing they did, and while I have heard better singers, the fact that they were able to perform as well as they did was astonishing to me.

I mentioned Christina and Ali on a messageboard I frequent, also mentioning that I had also read Frank Deford's incredibly touching book Alex: The Life of a Child. Deford's daughter, Alexandra, had died of CF in 1980 at age 8. She was almost a year older than me and I found her story very moving. One of the posters on the messageboard then recommended that I read The Power of Two: A Twin Triumph over Cystic Fibrosis (2007). Written by twins Isabel Stenzel Byrnes and Anabel Stenzel, the book offered a more recent account of living with CF. Now that I have finished the book, I can say that I was richly rewarded by the experience.

Isa and Ana

Like Alexandra Deford and me, Isabel (Isa) and Anabel (Ana) Stenzel were children of the 1970s. The twins were born in January 1972 in Hollywood, California to a Japanese mother and a German father and an older brother named Ryuta. It's hard to imagine it, but those were the days before ultrasounds and genetic tests. Hatsuko and Reiner Stenzel didn't even know they were having twins. Reiner Stenzel was a world-reknowned physicist and was out of town when his wife went into labor. She gave birth alone.

Days later, Ana had not yet passed her first meconium and required surgery to unblock her intestines. A doctor realized that meconium ileus was a sign of cystic fibrosis. Although cystic fibrosis is extremely rare in Asians, the doctor ordered a "sweat test" for both girls. The sweat test measured the amount of sodium chloride (salt) in the girls' sweat. Both tests came back with abnormally high levels of salt, which confirmed that the twins had cystic fibrosis. The doctor informed Reiner and Hatsuko Stenzel that their daughters had CF, ultimately a fatal disease that would probably claim their lives during early childhood.

Thirty-eight years later, both twins are still living and working in Palo Alto, California.  They are both graduates of Stanford University and the University of California, Berkeley.  One twin is married. Both have satisfying careers, one as a genetic counselor and the other as a social worker. Both have traveled extensively and both have had lung transplants that later allowed them to compete in the Transplant Games. Together, they beat the long odds that were stacked against them at birth.

My thoughts

I think this is an amazing book on many different levels. First off, The Power of Two appeals to me because I'm about six months younger than the twins are. Isa and Ana take turns writing chapters and they start at the very beginning of their lives. Although I don't have CF, I am a child of the 70s and 80s, so I understood a lot of the cultural references they made and felt like I could relate to them as peers.

I was fascinated by the story of how their parents, two immigrants who came from very different places, met in America and became a couple. Both Hatsuko and Reiner Stenzel were very much affected by the horrors of World War II. They left their homelands for something better in the United States and ended up getting married. The odds that they would both carry the defective gene for cystic fibrosis were very slim. CF is almost unheard of in Asians. When the twins' mother, Hatsuko, called her own mother in Tokyo to enquire about her heritage, she was assured that the defective gene must have come from her father, who had died in Siberia as a prisoner. Somewhere along the line, Hatsuko's father must have had a Caucasian relative.

Twins are fascinating to read about anyway, since they often have their own languages and ability to relate to each other. Isa and Ana were very close to each other for another reason; they relied on each other for the vital percussive therapy that allowed them to keep their lungs clear of the deadly mucous that collects in the lungs of CF patients.

And, as it turns out, Isabel Stenzel and I have something in common. We both earned dual master's degrees in social work and public health. And while I am not primarily of German descent, I did just spend two years living in the twins' father's homeland.

Isabel and Anabel are excellent writers. They don't hold back as they describe what it's like to have cystic fibrosis. They very honestly convey the frustration they felt at always being sick, yet they also strived to not allow their illness to hold them back from chasing their dreams. I found myself marveling at all they were able to do as youngsters. I also admired how much they value their lives, even as they admitted to how much suffering they endured due to their disease.

I will warn that those with delicate sensibilities regarding language may not like that the twins liberally use profanity. Personally, I thought the profanity was certainly justified, given their situation. It also gave their voices a touch of realism and made them seem very human. But if swearing offends you, be advised that they don't hold back at all. They also include some frank discussion about sex. Again, I liked this aspect of the book, but realize that some readers might not appreciate it.

The Power of Two includes a photo section. One of the most riveting photos in this book is that of Isabel post lung transplant, saying goodbye to the scarred, diseased, terribly damaged lungs that had miraculously sustained her for over thirty years. These women had spent their lives watching their friends die of cystic fibrosis. They knew that having a transplant was also no guarantee that things would get better. People who have transplants must suppress their immune systems to prevent rejection of the new organ. They knew that they were trading one health problem for another and, in fact, had seen several friends with CF die after their lung transplants. And yet, their healthy new lungs did give them new lives, and allowed them the opportunity to educate others about this disease and give them hope.

Overall

I definitely recommend The Power of Two because it's a fascinating story on so many levels. Certainly, it's good reading for anyone whose life has been touched by cystic fibrosis. It's also a good book for those who are interested in a story of how World War II impacted lives. And people who are twins may also like this book because of the insight these women give into their experiences as twins with CF.

This is a powerful, inspirational book. It gets five big stars from me.

I just discovered yet another mega family...

As the world ponders how Jill Dillard is doing in the wake of her second son's birth, I discovered another gigantic family yesterday.  It happened when I was watching Netflix yesterday afternoon and I saw a show called Megafamilies.  Three huge families were profiled, including one in India with 161 people in it and the Maher family of Ireland.

The family that caught my attention, though, was the Cason family.  At the time the show was filmed, they were a family of 18, living in California.  Christi Cason had sixteen children; her two eldest were from a different relationship and the following fourteen were from her marriage to Dave Cason. This enormous family was living in a three bedroom home.  As the camera panned around the residence, I could see that the house appeared to be in poor repair.  One of the kids lamented about having just one bathroom.  More than once, she said it "sucks".

The Cason family eventually moved to a larger home with five bedrooms and three bathrooms.  I'm guessing the new house was in California, since it looked like they moved themselves and had to make a couple of trips.  But I have since read that they moved to Indiana, where living expenses are lower.  Christi Cason stays at home with the children while her husband works.


This report is about the Casons' 17th child.  They have since had another.

Since the show aired, the Casons have had two more kids and are apparently trying for another.  Christi Cason even used Clomid to get pregnant with her 17th child.  I hesitate to tell people how many children they should have.  In fact, I found the Casons kind of refreshing in that they aren't really religious folks like the Duggars.  On the other hand, I gather Christi is about my age and I can't even begin to fathom what would make someone have so many kids.  I mean, I know some people really love children and enjoy being parents, but it just seems like so much work.  I like peace and quiet, and while I'm not the cleanest person in the world, I do like things to be somewhat clean.

Several of the kids were asked if they wanted to have huge families themselves and they all said "no" with resounding conviction.  It sounds like the Casons aren't pushing their kids to live their lifestyle, which is commendable.  Not everyone should have a huge family.  Some people don't have the temperament for it.  Some people are not physically capable of it.  And very few people can legitimately afford it.

Anyway, I don't know much about the Cason family.  They seem like nice enough people.  I don't get having enormous families, but it's not my life.  I do think it's kind of crazy to take Clomid when you've already got sixteen kids.  Then again, it's not my life or my body.  Who am I to judge?  But it does seem exhausting to me.  I wouldn't want to do it.

I don't know what's going on with Jill Dillard right now, but there is speculation that her second birth may have been fraught with complications.  Some people are saying that Jill might have tried to labor at home for too long and suffered medical issues that might make having more kids dangerous or even impossible.  I'm definitely not saying I know what went wrong, because I don't.  I'm only saying that the Dillards are strangely quiet...  I remember when Jill was pregnant with her first child, Israel, and there was a new baby bump picture every day.  She was much quieter with Sam and there's been mostly radio silence from the Dillards since he entered the world on July 8th.

I guess we'll see what happens.  Jill is the same person who asked poor Jinger if she was pregnant mere weeks after her wedding.  I will never forget the look of utter shock on Jinger's face at that.  So if Jill is done having babies, it'll probably be pretty awful for her.  I can't say I'm a Duggar fan, per se, but I don't wish any of them ill.

Incidentally, I watched Jesus Camp again yesterday and was disturbed anew.  It's hard to believe that documentary was new in 2006.  The years are flying by.  And extreme religion is still flourishing.



  


Monday, July 24, 2017

Stories like this one make me so glad I don't work...

I just read a completely ridiculous story about a woman whose co-worker reported her to human resources.  Her sin?  She was using a hot water bottle to ease menstrual cramps that weren't being helped by naproxen (personally, I use ibuprofen when I have cramps and it seems to work better than naproxen).

As the story goes, the woman had the hot water bottle against her abdomen when her "sort of" supervisor comes up and asks her if she's cold.  She says she's not; she's using the hot water bottle for pain relief.  The guy looks horrified, then walks away.  Next thing she knows, she's getting a message from human resources wanting to know if she's sick.

After explaining that she has menstrual cramps, the HR worker tells her she shouldn't disclose medical problems to her co-workers because it's "unprofessional".  Next she gets told that if she needs a hot water bottle for pain relief, she should go home.

I'm guessing by the language in this piece that this story is taking place in either England or Australia.  It's actually pretty shocking to me that in this day and age, some guy doesn't understand that healthy women of childbearing age have periods and sometimes they hurt.  Heat helps reduce cramping.  So does masturbation, although engaging in that on the job would be far less professional than simply using a hot water bottle.

What was even more shocking were the comments posted on George Takei's post about this...  All of these were made by men.



Pissing blood?  Uh... no.  And she didn't tell him about the period until he asked what was wrong.  God forbid we expect men to be grown up enough to handle the truth.


All she was doing was sitting at her desk, doing her work.  If the guy hadn't asked her about the water bottle, he would have been spared hearing about her *gasp* menstrual cramps!



No comment.


Manspreading?  Yeah, that's totally the same as a period.  Idiot.

Several other people claimed that menstrual cramps are a "myth".  I can assure any men reading this post that cramps are a thing and they do hurt.  They hurt some women worse than others.  I've been lucky in that mine are not usually too bad.  I am grateful for over the counter availability of ibuprofen, which knocks those prostaglandins on their asses.  Other women are not so lucky and they have pain that is actually crippling and makes them vomit.  I had one friend who ended up in bed every month due to severe cramps caused by endometriosis.  

Evidently, the woman's co-worker is himself a bit of a wuss when it comes to pain.  He's been known to lie on his back during meetings due to back pain.  And he's uncomfortable because his female co-worker uses a hot water bottle to ease her cramps?  I presume she was sitting at her desk and not making a spectacle out of herself.  Seems to me that the co-worker could have just minded his own damn business and none of this would have happened, including his "discomfort" at hearing about her period.  I tend to be against misandry, but I can totally see why women think men are stupid about this stuff. 

No wonder we have so many stupid euphemisms for periods.



Sunday, July 23, 2017

Depression doesn't discriminate...

I have to write a quick vent right now, while this thought is in my head.  Depression doesn't discriminate.  Suicide may seem selfish, but so is expecting someone to suffer with the pain and stigma mental illness so you don't have to feel guilty.

This topic comes up in the wake of Linkin Park's lead singer Chester Bennington's suicide.  Someone I know thinks Bennington is "selfish" for killing himself.  Furthermore, he complains that people are so distraught over Bennington's suicide, yet they don't care about all of the veteran suicides.

First off, allow me to say this...  People who are depressed enough to kill themselves are generally clinically depressed.  Clinical depression is a legitimate illness, same as any other physical malady.  A person who commits suicide, by and large, isn't doing it be an asshole.  Suicide is often a desperate act of someone who hopes to escape tremendous pain.  It may seem suicide is "selfish", but the reality is, a person who commits suicide won't be around to see the aftereffect that action has on others.  They just want the pain to stop.  And those who say they are being selfish probably haven't done a damned thing to help them.

Secondly, anyone can get depressed.  Someone like Chester Bennington, who was a celebrity and presumably had a comfortable life, certainly can get depressed.  Imagine what it must be like to be a very talented musician who is fortunate enough to be able to make that talent pay enough to live on.  Now consider that musicians are artists.  Many artists are introverted.  Maybe it seems like it's cool to be famous, but consider that if you are a private person who is inwardly focused, it might actually be exhausting to be so well-known.  A famous person doesn't have the luxury of being able to go out and be a normal person without being recognized.  A famous person has to worry about security and privacy.  A person with a lot of money has to worry about being ripped off.  That person may need help and will likely have to hire someone... and that requires being able to trust them.  A famous person is vulnerable in ways that regular people are not.

Now... this isn't to take away from the serious problem regarding military personnel who kill themselves.  People should be concerned about veterans who come home mentally ill.  We should be doing more to help them.  I simply want to point out that depression doesn't discriminate.  Everyone has problems.  Diminishing someone's problems because they happen to be rich and/or famous is short-sighted.

Life is hard.  It's harder for some people than it is for others.  Still, it's hard to know what will drive someone to desperation.  Everyone has a threshold and everyone has limits.  

I don't know Chester Bennington that well, but I had been clinically depressed before and I had been suicidal.  Depression messes up your thinking and skews your perceptions.  It's mentally, emotionally, and physically painful and it gets precious little respect from the general public.  If you are tempted to say someone is "selfish"for killing themselves, particularly if it's not a friend or a family member, ask yourself if you did anything to help them.  My guess is that you haven't, and you have no right to judge.  

I look at suicide caused by depression as a negative end result of an illness.  It's not so different than someone dying of cancer.

You never know what will trigger people...

The other day, I was watching YouTube videos and I came across this one featuring a young Kristie Phillips doing a floor exercise routine.


This video is from 1986, when Kristie was about 14 and everyone thought she was the next Mary Lou Retton.

Kristie Phillips is my age.  I used to watch her do gymnastics on TV all the time, even though I can't so much as turn a cartwheel myself.  It's weird to see this video from '86 and notice how poor the quality of the picture is.  It doesn't seem like 1986 was that long ago.  Beware kids; time really flies.  I am, by the way, still a fan of Kristie's.  Check her out on YouTube.  She's still doing gymnastics.

Anyway, someone commented on YouTube that Kristie looked kind of naked in the video.  I hadn't noticed before I saw that comment, but sure enough, she kind of does look nude when the camera pans out and you see a shadow between her legs suggesting pubes.  The greyish-white leotard against her really pale skin, coupled with the fuzzy picture from the poor video, does kind of make her look like she's not wearing anything.

I shared the video and commented that Kristie looks a bit naked.  She probably didn't look naked when the video was clear, but a little snow on the screen can distort things.  Next thing I know, I've been unfriended by someone.  It was not someone I have a lot of dealings with; in fact, I just now figured out who did it.

A few years ago, I got added by a bunch of ex Mormons on Facebook.  Gradually, as the years have passed, some of these people have fallen off my friends list.  Usually, they ditch me, but sometimes I drop them.  It happens.  You realize you have nothing in common.  Or you just decide to downsize your list of friends for whatever reason.  Or someone says or does something offensive or is too religious or political and you just can't abide it anymore...

I remember the person who most recently unfriended me had mentioned that she had been abused as a child and is very sensitive to certain subject matter.  Indeed, she was once in my Random Bullshit group on Facebook and left abruptly when I posted this...


Kermit the Frog is in Lego jail...

Apparently, a picture of a Kermit the Frog stuffed toy held down by Legos was too triggering for her and she had to leave our group.  I hesitate to judge the lady for being disturbed by this, though.  I am, after all, disturbed by pictures of mushrooms.  Incidentally, some mushrooms also look kind of obscene.


See what I mean?

Well, after she left my group, we remained "friends" for a bit longer.  I'd say it's been at least a year or so.  And then with a random poor quality video of teenaged Kristie Phillips doing gymnastics in a pale leotard and my comment that Kristie looks naked, she'd finally had enough and vanished.  

I'm not really offended, actually, since it wasn't someone I knew personally.  I have no idea what was in her past that makes her feel so skeeved out over this stuff.  I'm sorry I inadvertently triggered her.  It certainly wasn't intentional.  On the other hand, you have to do what is best for yourself.  There's no doubt that I would have triggered her again at some point, so it's probably for the best that she removed herself from my list.  

Once again, I wish Facebook would let people hide their friend count from themselves.  I don't need to know exactly how many "friends" are on my list or when they've finally had enough of me.  

I noticed yesterday, after I posted my TMI story about Bill's and my "failure to connect", someone unliked my Facebook page for this blog.  It kind of made me feel bad, even though I understand it's not really personal.  Once again, I recognize that my humor isn't for everyone and plenty of people don't like me.  On the other hand, once again, I'm reminded that real friends... the kind who actually know you and your history... are hard to come by these days.  I think social media has made them even harder to find.

At one time, when you made a friend, you usually made them the old fashioned way.  You'd often have to meet them face to face.  Sure, people had pen pals back in the day and some people kept in touch with phone calls and letters after a long distance move.  But, for the most part, having friends meant staying geographically nearby and seeing them face to face on a regular basis.  

Now that we have Facebook, we can be "friends" with people we've never actually met and don't really know.  I do have a few people on my list that I haven't met but still feel like a real friendship has developed.  I have a few friends I knew at an earlier time but feel like I don't know anymore.  And I also have some friends I knew casually twenty years ago, but feel more connected to now.  As always, there are also some people on my Facebook friends list who are now and will probably always be strangers to me.

I don't know what happened to this woman in her past that makes pictures of Kermit the Frog in bondage so upsetting.  There's no way I could know because we didn't actually have a friendship.  On the other hand, I have another friend that I got to know well when we were Peace Corps Volunteers.  We're still friends today.  Once, I upset her by playing George Carlin's routine about rape and his idea that a person can joke about anything.  At the time, I agreed with George.  As I've gotten older, a few topics have come up that are not funny to me, but are to other people.  I suppose I can't expect other people to know what will be upsetting to me, just as I can't know what triggers any one person.

In any case, for any readers who are annoyed or triggered by things I write, please know that I'm really not trying to trigger anyone.  Most of what I write here is spew cranked out by my sometimes unconventional thought patterns.  You can check out any time you like.  I'll probably notice and might feel bad about it for a few minutes.  It's doubtful I'll change, though.  I'm weird for life.

Saturday, July 22, 2017

Morning love interrupted by morning love...

Way TMI.  Sorry.

Yesterday, I decided to make a couple of music videos for Joni Mitchell songs I covered.  Early this morning, someone left me a comment saying they loved the video (but they didn't bother to like it and probably didn't view it).  And would I mind following them on Instagram?  I deleted the comment because it was spammy and I don't use Instagram, anyway.

That's how things started off this morning...  kind of on the wrong foot.  The dogs got up and went downstairs and I took the opportunity to snuggle with Bill, despite the fact that it's hot out right now and snuggling is not that comfortable.  We don't often get to be in the bed without the dogs.  They're like chaperones.

After a little snuggling, I said, "Hey Bill... you want to fuck me or what?"

Bill answered affirmatively.  It's been awhile, though, so we had to work up to it.  Just as we were about to commence fucking, our adorable beagle, Zane, decided to jump up on the bed.  He looked so cute and friendly as he came near us, sniffing.  It was as if he was saying, "Thank goodness I got here just in the nick of time!"

Undaunted, Bill continued to try to woo me, but Zane was insistent.  And then Arran showed up, and it was a party.

Bill rolled away.  The mood had obviously passed.  So I said, "Do you want to try this later?"

"Yeah.  Sorry." he responded.

"It's alright.  I'll wash the sheets so they'll be nice and clean and free of dog hair."

Yeah, this is my life.  It's full of blunt comments and unfortunate interruptions... and ridiculous scenarios.  I tend to get a lot of Murphy's Law types of things happening to me.  Like, I meet the guy of my dreams, but can't have kids with him the natural way because he got snipped for his ex wife.

I had parents who never divorced and were always home for me, but not really present. And my mom would say to my dad, things like "Bill (my dad was also a Bill), I've started my period and I need to be near a bathroom!" when he'd want to go somewhere.  But then she'd get annoyed with me for being overly blunt and wondering why I don't have any class.

Fortunately, I've always had a really good sense of humor.  I can usually laugh about these things.

Bill's younger daughter responded when Bill sent her an email letting her know that he was losing his company email address.  She wished him a belated happy birthday.  I was surprised she knew when it was.  She wanted to know if he got any good presents.  Bill told her that I gave him a really nice new Japanese Santoku knife.

I asked him if he added that I wasn't afraid he was going to gut me with the knife.  Of course he didn't do that.  I'm sure his daughter knows nothing about the knife drama between Bill and his ex.  I probably wrote about it here in an earlier post, but what the hell.  I have nothing better to do.

When Bill was in the Army, he had a special Bowie knife that was part of his uniform for when he was serving with the Arkansas National Guard.  It was a rather scary looking knife, but it was an official part of the uniform in those days.

When they were having severe marital problems and headed for divorce, Ex decided that the Bowie knife was scary.  She asked Bill to give it to her for safe keeping.  Not wanting his ex wife to be afraid of him, Bill willingly complied with her request to give him the knife.  She later showed it to her church friends as "proof" that Bill was a violent person.  She said she was afraid he was going to gut her like a deer.  This is from a woman who is capable and actually guilty of sexual assault.  Of course, her church buddies believed her.  Pretty soon, Bill was a pariah.

And then I came along and married this "monster"... and even gifted him with a beautiful new knife for his birthday.  I'm sure Bill was looking forward to our roll in the sack this morning, but we were rudely interrupted by our surrogate four legged kids.  Oh well.  Maybe we'll get around to it later.

But anyway... that kind of shit is the story of my life.  Glad I can laugh about it.

  

Friday, July 21, 2017

Don't tell mom you don't want to go on a mission...

especially if you're in Bryce Canyon with your TBM mom and stepfather.

LDS Living posted this "testimony" on their site.  They have since taken it down, thanks to the negative feedback.  Here's a link to the cache.

This guy, who has a Mormon mother and a Muslim father, decided he didn't want to be a missionary in Virginia.  He and his family were on a trip to Bryce Canyon and he told his stepfather he didn't want to go on the mission.  Stepdad made him tell his mom, who then promptly dumped his suitcases out of the family van and fucking left him there.

He spent the night and then next day, his grandfather came and talked to him.  Granddad asked him to try the mission and the guy decided to go.  Now he's bearing his testimony.  I guess he's happy to be a mishie now, but I think his mother's response sucks.  She basically forced him into it.

I can't believe this was the response from his mother.  Your child doesn't want to be a missionary?  Dump him in the wilderness.  She's lucky he's still speaking to her.

I see LDS Living has made a new version.  What a crock of shit.






Bill's last day at work...

Well, today is the day Bill stops working for the company that brought us back to Germany.  On Monday, he goes back to the same office, but will wear a new lanyard.  I'm hoping Bill enjoys the new company, which is larger, better known, and pays more money.

This morning, Bill was wearing a polo shirt he got a couple of months ago from his current (until 5:00pm) employer.  They also gave him a really nice windbreaker.  Lately, he's been wearing that shirt on Fridays because it's the only one he has that is short sleeved, has a collar, and isn't a dress shirt.  On Fridays, he's allowed to dress down.  With the new company, I think that will become a thing of the past.  I have heard everybody wears suits or at least ties.

We have to get new ID cards next week.  That's always a pleasure.



Bill enjoys morning coffee, news on the iPad, and Zane on his last day...

The new company also only pays once a month.  He'll get a larger paycheck, but he'll have to wait until the end of next month to get it.  So August may be a little leaner for us.  But in September, things will be pretty rosy because the new job includes a substantial raise.  That will be good, since I will be going to Scotland.  I hope Bill can come with me, but I have my doubts it'll work out that way.

Change is always hard.  Hopefully, this change will work out for the best.  But... at least we didn't have to move, right?  This time of year, Facebook always shows me my posts about moving.  I am happy to stay in one place for a few years while we figure out what to do next.

I suppose I could have written about O.J. Simpson getting paroled or Linkin Park's lead singer, Chester Bennington, committing suicide.  But, truth be told, I am not a fan of either.  Bill was actually upset about Chester's death.  He was especially upset when Chris Cornell killed himself.  It's not my genre of music.  I'd rather listen to Joni Mitchell circa 1971.  I did that yesterday so I could learn the song below.


This needs a little work... but it's worth it.  Maybe I'll do more today.