No, I haven't discovered why the world exists, or why people have been waging war through times immemorial. What I have discovered (and this is tongue-in-cheek, because I certainly don't believe in this sort of predisposition stuff) is why I have always been fascinated by... telephone area codes.
November 10, 1951, which is the day I was born, was also the day when the mayor of Englewood, New Jersey, sat down in front of cameras and officials from AT&T and made the first user-dialed long distance area code in the U.S. (and I presume in the world) by dialing the 10 digits, starting with area code 415, for the mayor's office in Alameda, California.
Area codes had been designed in 1947, but for the first six years they were only used by long-distance operators to route the calls on behalf of the customers. This removed the need to connect to several intermediate operators (as many as 5) in order to build the entire route for the call. Instead, they could directly reach the recipient's local operator through numbers prefixed with one of 86 three-digit area codes.
The original area codes all had the pattern [2-9][0-1][1-9] for reasons that are best explained in the Wikipedia article on area codes. In recent years, after running out of area codes, the middle digit was allowed to be other than 0 or 1. But weird people like me had memorized quite a number of the old area codes: if you told me "212, 213, 214, 215" I might answer "New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, Philadelphia." To this day, this serves me as a mnemonic aid to remember my hotel room when I travel (without looking at the little envelope containing the plastic key): since most rooms in the U.S. have a three-digit number, and there are not often more than 20 rooms on a floor in a medium-size hotel, room numbers often match one of the old area codes. So if I am in room 404, I remember that I'm in the "Atlanta room," etc. It works very well (but again, I did say that I am weird).
Why did I finally discover this weird coincidence about my birthdate? I received a submission for a technical paper from someone whose phone number is in area code 416, and because this is Thanksgiving Day in the U.S., I immediately suspected that this might be a Canadian area code (the original North America Numbering Plan, or NANP, covered the U.S. and Canada). I checked it, and found that it is indeed an area code for Toronto. But the Google search also returned the Wikipedia page, and the two-line summary in the results page showed the date of November 10, 1951, which caught my eye.
Nice coincidence!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Happy Birthday, They Said...
So I have been silent on this wavelength for almost six months -- May 16 to November 10. While there is no contract between you and me about the frequency of the "frog musings" publication, I want to explain a few things.
The day before my last post, I had retired from my company after 26 years of (often hard) work for them. I needed some time to adapt to this radical change, but I never got a chance: three days after that last post, my husband started drinking again, after more than eleven years of sobriety, following a slow decline started in late 2008 and brought on by increasing pain from fibromyalgia.
The end of May and early June were a succession of shocks related to all this. He went to a treatment center in Atlanta, only to leave against medical advice within days. He went to another place -- and left. And on June 21, while drunk, he attempted suicide (and threatened to hurt me at one point) until I literally came to the point of subduing him physically with one hand while calling the police with the other hand to get him taken into protective custody.
Fast-forward to yesterday, November 10, glossing over a number of episodes of relapse, aborted treatments, various horrible scenes, etc., which largely account for my silence... and finally he checked himself, very reluctantly, into a world-renowned clinic in Houston that treats severe depression, including when associated with substance abuse.
It turns out that yesterday was also my birthday. Spending part of your birthday getting your partner into a medical facility isn't a great plan. But it was also, given the previous six months, the best present I could get from him -- even if he was essentially kicking and screaming all the way.
While I was waiting during his intake processing, I caught bits and pieces of a meeting the current patients were having, in which they took turns saying what was their "high for the day." It's a classical way to get people to focus on the positive instead of the negative. I completely failed to apply this to me then, but now I can see the point, and I can say this:
Who knows what will happen next? I have no clue and I have suffered too much to be naively optimistic, but regardless, I am grateful for my friends' presence and support. I'll keep everyone posted. I hope it doesn't take another six months.
The day before my last post, I had retired from my company after 26 years of (often hard) work for them. I needed some time to adapt to this radical change, but I never got a chance: three days after that last post, my husband started drinking again, after more than eleven years of sobriety, following a slow decline started in late 2008 and brought on by increasing pain from fibromyalgia.
The end of May and early June were a succession of shocks related to all this. He went to a treatment center in Atlanta, only to leave against medical advice within days. He went to another place -- and left. And on June 21, while drunk, he attempted suicide (and threatened to hurt me at one point) until I literally came to the point of subduing him physically with one hand while calling the police with the other hand to get him taken into protective custody.
Fast-forward to yesterday, November 10, glossing over a number of episodes of relapse, aborted treatments, various horrible scenes, etc., which largely account for my silence... and finally he checked himself, very reluctantly, into a world-renowned clinic in Houston that treats severe depression, including when associated with substance abuse.
It turns out that yesterday was also my birthday. Spending part of your birthday getting your partner into a medical facility isn't a great plan. But it was also, given the previous six months, the best present I could get from him -- even if he was essentially kicking and screaming all the way.
While I was waiting during his intake processing, I caught bits and pieces of a meeting the current patients were having, in which they took turns saying what was their "high for the day." It's a classical way to get people to focus on the positive instead of the negative. I completely failed to apply this to me then, but now I can see the point, and I can say this:
- So far, 44 people have wished me a happy birthday through Facebook, text messages, and phone calls (thanks, Sean and Jeffrey!). How lucky can one be?
- I was invited to go to the trivia game at a downtown pub with a group of people I know. They knew it was my birthday, they thought (incorrectly) I would have better things to do, I didn't, I showed up, and one of them (thanks, Sean No. 2!) bought my drinks and food. You guys are so freaking great!
Who knows what will happen next? I have no clue and I have suffered too much to be naively optimistic, but regardless, I am grateful for my friends' presence and support. I'll keep everyone posted. I hope it doesn't take another six months.
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