2022.11.DisappearingMoment

Earlier this month, I attended an American Library Association meeting in Chicago. As the meeting ended, we discovered that four of us had flights that departed from O’Hare at about the same time. One of my colleagues called an Uber for us. Five minutes later, Jamil arrived in his Chevy Suburban. He dropped off Jim and Peter at the United terminal, dropped me at American, then dropped off Janice at Delta.

A few moments after he’d pulled away, I realized my phone had fallen out of my pocket in Jamil’s SUV. I had no ticket, because it was on my phone, no way to make a call, and no information about Jamil.

I felt dizzy. Helpless.

I checked my backpack to see what might be useful and found my iPad. O’Hare has free WiFi, so I used FaceTime to make a video call to Janice and she contacted Jamil. I used Find My Phone to:

1. Lock the phone
2. Deactivate Apple Pay and the credit card I have stored in my Apple Wallet
3. Make the phone play a sound so it would be easy to find
4. Display a message to the phone’s lock screen to please call my wife’s phone number.

Then I used Messages to text my wife so she would know what had happened. I asked her to answer her phone if she got a call from an unfamiliar number.

A few minutes later, Janice used FaceTime to let me know that Jamil had my phone. She said he would would bring it back in about 15 minutes. I used the Find My Phone app to track his progress on a map, along with his ETA.

Everything about this feels miraculous, privileged, and tempting to abuse.

I live my life by what my therapist refers to as my personal Halakha: edicts, rituals, ways of being. An admixture of discretion and self-soothing. I’ve pulled my name from public databases. Frozen my credit reports. Blocked spam calls and email messages, and removed myself from mailing lists. Taken myself off social media. Stopped following the news.

The way I eat, how I exercise, what I wear, what I buy. How I interact with others, how I spend my time. It’s all governed by my personal Halakha. It’s neither good nor bad. Except when it feels tenuous or when it’s more limiting than freeing. Like it was at O’Hare earlier this month. Or when I upend my sense of who I thought I was and need to create a new identify for myself.

Welcome to November 2022’s Disappearing Moment, an inventory of my experiences. I hope you enjoy it.

Podcasts

• If Books Could Kill (I Loved It): Peter Shamshiri and Michael Hobbes investigate assertions made in airport books. If Michael Hobbes asks to start a podcast with you, say “yes.”
• The Secret Adventures of Black People (I Liked It): A callback to pre-venture capital shows. Nichole Hill cares about her subjects, their stories, and her audience.

Nerdy Software

StopTheMadness is a paid app that “stops websites from making your browser harder to use.” It also protects your privacy. I wish it were unnecessary.

Bougie Products

One of the first things I’m going to do in our new house is install blackout curtains in our bedroom.

Personal Finance and Investing

If we don’t sell our house off-market, I’ll try a flat-fee MLS listing company. Or find an agent through Clever Real Estate.

Reading

• Amby Burfoot, Run Forever (2018) (Worth My Time): Like my grandmother, Burfoot repeats the same stories and thinks everyone is fat. I learned a lot from her and a few things from him.
• Chuck Klosterman, The Nineties (2022) (I Liked It): Then We Came To The End’s narrator hosts You’re Wrong About.
• Keith Law, The Inside Game (2020) (Worth My Time). Baseball and decision science, topics I love, covered by a longtime favorite writer. I wish I’d written this book. It might have been better.
• Bryon Powell, Relentless Forward Progress (2011) (Worth My Time): A survey course on ultramarathons. Powell includes several guest essays, which gives the book an air of communal wisdom.
• Leah Sottile, When the Moon Turns to Blood (2022) (I Liked It): If you can persuade others that you have insight into the end of days, you lose touch with morality. And get a show on Fox.

Cincinnati Favorites (of course, my real favorites are the people)

• Allez Bakery
• Blink
• Bridges (in Northside and Downtown)
• Brj Mohan
• Cherry Thing-a-lings (a favorite seasonal vegan cheat)
• Dojo Gelato
• The Esquire (and the Mariemont)
• The Flying Pig
• Fourth of July Parade
• Jewell Gaulding (Dermatologist)
• Gettler Stadium at the University of Cincinnati (the track where I run)
• Goetta (vegan, from Grandma Debbie’s Kitchen at Findlay Market)
• Health Care Access Now
• Indiana (for its always surprising immediacy and its inscrutability)
• Jungle Jim’s
• Kiki (in College Hill)
• Labor Day fireworks
• Lung
• Marx Bagels
• McKie (Cincinnati Recreation Center, where I lift weights)
• Mecklenburg Gardens
• Mid City (Manhattans!)
• Mom ’n’ Ems
• National Underground Railroad Freedom Center
• Fumie Nishiyama (Endocrinologist)
• Ohio Justice & Policy Center
• Cincinnati Parks
• Pączki (my other favorite seasonal vegan cheat)
• "Please?" (instead of "What?")
• The Purple People Bridge
• “Queen City” (a good nickname for Cincinnati, and it’s used with the right frequency)
• Revival Vintage Bottle Shop (Covington)
• Sichuan Chili
• Spring Grove Cemetery
• Swing House in Camp Washington, open 12–4 every second Saturday (free)
• Taft's Ale House (Potato chips!)
• Union Terminal
• Joey Votto
• Neha Wadhwa (Gastroenterologist)
• Xenia and Yellow Springs, for the Dave Chapelle connection (too soon?)
• Yacht Clubs (Mill Creek and Northside)
• Cincinnati Zoo (proves that zoos don't have to make you feel icky)

Thanks for spending a few moments with me. I look forward to corresponding again next month.

Brett