Of waterworks, Gatorade spills and a Cape escape

You may or may not have noticed that the blog has taken a break.

This is due to a series of technical and emotional difficulties that began last week when I watched Joe pack up to move out after four years of living at home.

It is ALL GOOD, and he is not going far, just to Fairfield County, and I knew it would come shortly after his master's graduation from UMass, but still watching it happen underlined what I already knew – that he has taken care of me as much as I have taken care of him, literally picking me up off the ground and going with me to the emergency room on multiple occasions.

The waterworks started with something that I can laugh about and cry about at the same time.

Me: "I just bought you your last bag of baby carrots," accompanied by tears.

Joe: "Mom, you can buy them for me again."

But once I started, it was hard to stop, and I didn't want him to see me, but he did, and we had a good conversation where we brought up the theme from the movie we had both just seen, "Inside Out," in which sadness must be accepted as a part of life.

It was well into the afternoon on this moving out day last week when I got a call from a man with an Indian accent who said that he was from Microsoft and he had information about my computer being hacked. He he said he could show me that it was being hacked in Australia and Morocco and I would need to buy a something from him to protect against these hackers. So I asked him his name and his telephone number and said I would call him back. I forget the whole number, but it was area code 302 something, and as soon as I put it in google I saw that it was a scam from various numbers in the 302 area code offering debt relief, anti-virus protection, and all sorts of other things...for a price.

(The comments that came up after I put the number in provided comic relief, such as one person reporting that he said to the caller, "Your mother would be ashamed of you," and another saying, "Maybe Donald Trump can stop these calls, because nobody else can.'")

Absorbed by this, and not paying attention to anything else, I knocked a bottle of Gatorade mixed with water onto my Macbook Air, ruining basically everything but the keyboard and frame.

Sunset on the bay

In a panic I called Apple and learned that the genius bar takes walk-ins on a first come, first served basis, so the next day I was the first one there at 10 a.m. The geniuses must also be trained in counseling, because the one who helped me said he sees it frequently, with people watering their plants over their computer or spilling coffee.

I left it there and signed off on paying an arm and a leg to get a new hard drive. Luckily I had all my important work on a flash drive.

The same day I met Katie in Boston after my photopheresis, and just seeing her brightened my mood.  From there we took off for four nights at the Cape, staying in a cute bed and breakfast in Eastham. The sun- and fun-filled days included the ocean and the bay, the pond and the bike path (three successful rides!), Provincetown dinner and stroll, and sunset at Sunken Meadow Beach, where the small group of spectators applaud as the globe sinks behind the horizon.

Then, alas, it was back home Monday to deal with the mess that I left behind in my whirlwind departure and to unpack the bags that I had accumulated over the mini-vacation and to get used to the Joe-less house.

That night I played in a match in Holyoke with the summer team I am on, the Paper Dolls. Despite the heat and humidity, it was great tennis.

You can't be sad all the time.

Where does the time go?

Proud Mama.

Earning a master's degree is a major accomplishment, but the graduation is not the same kind of life event as a graduation from high school or college. It's more businesslike, without the fun, the partying and the festivities leading up to it.

This was the way I viewed my own graduation when receiving a master's degree in journalism from Boston University. I even told my parents not to come from New York. I already had one foot out the door, so to speak, having gotten a job at the Holyoke Transcript-Telegram before graduating. It seemed anticlimactic.

When the day of the ceremony arrived, I changed my mind. I called them and

Kindergarten grad.

asked them to come, and they hopped on the shuttle from New York to Boston.

I could see them arriving in the crowd just as I received my diploma. Afterwards, we went out to a lovely lunch at the Copley Plaza. I was glad that they came.

I am so proud of Joe for earning his MBA and Master of Sport Management from UMass. I could see all the hard work he put into it. But I was surprised at how emotional I got the night before.

When looking at that sweet little face in the kindergarten graduation photos I put on Facebook, I got teary-eyed and wondered, like we all do on big occasions, where did the time go.

Testing and talking, talking and testing

I was injected with radioactive stuff (like that medical term?) at 10 a.m. yesterday and spent the time until 1:30 at the Dam Cafe, where my friend John Stifler, who teaches at UMass, was nice enough to meet me.

We were due for catching up, and he was impressed by this Northampton-like place in Holyoke.

When I went back for the bone scan, the technician said it was routine to do the whole body for a baseline. I said to go ahead but I was afraid, given my history of surprises, that some unexpected places would light up. I don't think they did or else I would have heard about it, but when he did my feet I saw an area on my left foot light up. I'll get the results on Monday.

There is really no such thing as a person being too nice, but I have to say that the technician gave me a headache, talking loudly and nonstop. He told me he is so hyper he doesn't ever need to drink coffee, and it showed. My only escape was when I went into the machine for my body to be scanned and was able to take a quick nap. I like to chat with people who perform these tests, but there are limits.

The test was in Holyoke Medical Center, where I couldn't help but think of Kevin O'Hare, who was public relations director there and music critic for the Republican and also a talented musician in his own right.

He was so much fun to sit across from at the paper, always so cheerful, coming in with a smile. And when I would call the hospital to see if he could find an expert for me to interview, he never failed to thank me for thinking of the hospital (because many times reporters called the larger Baystate Medical Center).

Gone two years ago at 55, a big loss, the best kind of nice.

Watching hockey from another angle

It is probably safe to say that I was the only person at last night's University of Massachusetts/Boston University hockey game taking pictures of the announcer.

To be more precise, the back of the announcer's head, because that's the only angle I could get.

I was at the UMass Mullins Center ostensibly watching the game but really there to hear Joe announce it. He has been the public address announcer for several UMass football games this season (including the one at Gillette Stadium, where the Patriots play) but this was his first hockey game.

Having watched Joe play hockey in high school and college, I was much more interested in going to a hockey game than I was in seeing football. I went with Jim and his friend Bill and had a good seat almost directly behind Joe but many rows above where he sat in a booth down at the ice.

 I walked down and sat behind him and took a few photos on my phone to send Ben and Katie. Did I wonder if I looked a little odd? Yes. Did I care? No.

When we first heard Joe, I looked at Jim and asked, "That's him?" Of course I knew it was, but it was announcer Joe, not everyday Joe. He sounded, and was, 100 percent professional.

While everyone cheered for the players, I shouted "Yay, Joe" after I heard his voice. (Don't worry, nobody but Jim could hear me.)

I did, by the way, also pay attention to the game, which ended up in a 2-2 tie,

But for me, the main attraction was my son. I was, as they say in Yiddish, kvelling. Definition: To beam with pride and pleasure, most often about the accomplishments of your children.