The Final Word - 2022

 

As the adage goes, “You don’t own property – it owns you.” After six months of relative peace, in January the smoke detectors in my house started chirping, and no amount of battery replacements and system resets would improve the situation. I resorted to sleeping in a hotel room until I could bring in an electrician who informed me that some First Alert smoke detectors manufactured in 2019 were defective and subject to recall. He recommended a different brand with a lithium battery that only needs to be replaced every ten years. He replaced two of the units that seemed to be the source of the chirping. All was well for about three weeks, until the chirping started again. So I called the electrician back to replace the entire system with lithium units, and put it under lifetime warranty. I have always hated smoke detectors and wish we could rescind the law that requires them. If there’s a fire in the house, believe me, I don’t need a smoke detector to tell me. 

No sooner had I resolved this issue when the garage door on Kurt’s side refused to open – or rather, it opened about a foot and then it just churned. I was able to lift it manually, so Kurt was able to back out of the garage. Fortunately, the previous owners of my house left me a lot of clues about who installed what. My garage doors were installed by Sears in 1999, when the house was built, and by some miracle the service number on the garage wall still worked – even if it did route me to an Indian call center. The repair went smoothly, and I asked the technician to service both doors while he was there. He reported that they were in remarkably good shape for their age. 

Kurt started working at Market Basket, a large local supermarket chain, in February. He was first assigned to the deli counter, which didn’t work out, but he got transferred to front operations, wrangling carts from the parking lot and occasionally bagging groceries. He started at three days a week and has worked his way up to five, and has managed to hold onto this job for nearly a year now. 

Meanwhile at Cristek, due to a delay in the implementation of new contracts, half my Quality staff was let go in March. This reduced my staff from six to three, and accounted for the bulk of the cuts, sending a chilling signal regarding the value Cristek places on Quality. Nine months later, we have still not rebounded, and with another change in ownership, from HSG to Qnnect, the next few months will be crucial to Cristek’s fate.

 Luckily I have other things to keep me busy. In April I recruited a talented cartoonist named Sue Bielenberg to help me finish my long-gestating graphic novel, “Arena Takes Manhattan.” Sue took the reins, lending fashion and flair to my career girl humor comic, earning a cover credit along the way. Together we put the last pages to bed in October, with plans to publish in January. 

I survived my first New England winter, having maintained the household temperature at 60°F for months, due to rising natural gas prices. We wore a lot of layers. The snowfalls were gorgeous and not nearly as paralyzing as people here make them out to be. My driveway slopes downward to the garage, but only once can I recall needing a push to reach the street. 

When spring finally sprung, Kurt wanted to plant a garden in my back yard, which I forbade. I agreed instead to buy two long wooden planters for the deck, which Kurt tended over the summer. 

In July I attended my first Cambodian wedding. Most of Cristek’s employees are Cambodian-Americans, so it was inevitable that one would eventually get married. It was an hours-long affair with seven costume changes for the bride over a multi-course dinner. The reception ostensibly started at 6pm, but I was warned not to arrive until 7. I arrived at 6 anyway, which enabled me to choose the best table and hold it for my work team. When I left at 10pm, they had just started dancing – way past my bedtime. 

In early August my street was repaved, and the next day I had my driveway repaved and widened. At the same time I had the contractor rip up the sad, narrow path from the driveway to my front door, widen it and replace it with welcoming stone. This has greatly improved the curb appeal of the house, and makes getting in and out a bit easier.

In September, Cristek’s third-party AS9100 audit took place, quickly followed by two customer audits – all resulting in 0 findings, a measure of the success I’ve achieved since becoming Cristek’s Quality Manager last May. In November I attended a 4-day training class and passed the exam to become a certified Lead Auditor to yet another standard, ISO 13485: Medical Devices. 

Last year I was startled to discover that Halloween is huge around here. Maybe it’s the proximity to Salem, where the witch trials took place and where ghost tours are still a thing, but people go all out – decorating their yards, throwing lavish parties, and trick-or-treating galore. This year I tried to be better prepared. I bought a costume at Spirit Halloween; I located – on the eighth attempt – a comic book shop that carried all seven titles published this year under the “Trick or Read” banner, and that agreed to give me five of each; and I visited the City of Haverhill website to confirm that our official trick-or-treating slot was Saturday from 5 to 7pm. I prepared 35 bags filled with comics and candy, donned my new Steampunk costume a good half hour in advance, turned on the front porch light, and dispensed my first bag at 5:02pm to a tiny girl who leapt across the front yard to her waiting mother, beaming, “I got a comic book!” 

I was off to a good start. Too good, as it turned out. By 5:40pm I had dispensed all 35 bags plus all the backup candy I had poured into a plastic pumpkin, with more kids still heading my way. I had no choice but to turn off the porch light, draw the curtains, and head out to the party my friends in Lynn were throwing, which I told them I wouldn’t arrive at until at least 8pm, because I thought I’d be dispensing candy until at least 7. 

In November, after many false starts, I finally met up with Joy Jartman, sister of the late Andrea Jartman, who inspired “Arena Stage,” and presented her with a bound copy of the galleys for “Arena Takes Manhattan.” She couldn’t wait to dive in, and promptly reported how much she liked the book. I can’t wait to share it with the world next year.  

Andrea Jartman, Tim Gallagher, me, Joy Jartman

This year I kept Thanksgiving simple: I ordered a fully prepared meal from one of my favorite local restaurants, the Periwinkle Cafe, which was delivered on Tuesday for reheating on Thursday. On Thanksgiving morning, while the Macy’s parade played in the background, I constructed new shelves for the upstairs hallway. Then I took Kurt to see an early matinee of Disney’s new animated film “Strange World.” Then we came home and I heated up our dinner, which we enjoyed while watching “Some Like It Hot” on DVD. 

Now that the pandemic restrictions are largely behind us and live theatre is rebounding, I started subscribing to our local Merrimack Repertory Theatre in Lowell, MA. So far I’ve seen “The 39 Steps” and “Macbeth,” with “A Christmas Carol” still to come on December 14. For this one I bought a block of discounted tickets and convinced some of my co-workers to join me. 

As my second New England winter approaches, home heating costs have shot through the roof, thanks to Putin’s senseless war against Ukraine and other economic pressures. I’ve now set the home thermostats to 55°F, bought dramatic floor-to-ceiling curtains for my bedroom to keep out the cold, and stocked up on turtlenecks at Kohl’s. It’s a small sacrifice to make when compared to the hardships my European friends are facing. 

Stay warm this holiday season.