Everyday Patriots

 Everyday Patriots

We run into everyday patriots everywhere. They surround us: when we shop, when we go out to eat, or when we go to church. These people are for the most part go about their business everyday without thought of the important ideals they uphold. From farmers to food service workers, from truckers to teachers, from healthcare workers to hairdressers; all contribute to the fabric of society. We literally bump into them as we go to work, come home from work, and when we go on vacation. We may meet them because we have problems. If we need someone to repair a leaky roof or a leaky faucet, we can find them. In times of disaster or extreme weather conditions, we have utility linesmen, we have those who drive the snow plow trucks, and we have the National Guards. If we need emergency care they come to us: firemen, police, ambulance drivers, and paramedics. These men and women work, earn money, pay taxes, and create a stable environment. They form a national entity, a form of government, a national language, and core values that hold us as a country together.

An everyday patriot may be a farmer who daily works his farm, the postman who faithfully delivers the mail, the person who delivers fresh bread to the grocery store, the person who provides the produce at a roadside stand, or stocks the snacks in our minimarts. They are the folks who grease the gears and keep the cogs engaged that supply our daily needs. They are the checkout cashiers. They are the men and women who fill the shelves. They may be the butchers, the bakers, and the candlestick makers. They could be our vehicle’s mechanics. They could be the janitors who clean the schools or job sites. They could be mothers, grandmothers, fathers, or grandfathers. They can be the people who we meet on the streets walking their dogs.

These everyday patriots are not superheroes in bold costumes, they are everyday patriots. They work, vote, raise their families, and make a community. They can be neighbors, workmates, and even strangers who do some kind deed or show a courtesy. They do their best to create a better world and share it with others. So I say, hooray to our everyday patriots and heroes. May God continue to bless their daily efforts to keep America strong and independent.

Gone

 

Gone

I saw a post showing an aisle in a variety store lined with boxes stacked upon boxes of plastic model boats, planes, and cars. In most stores today, I am lucky to see one small shelf in the huge toy section that has a smattering of these onetime glorious representations of the real things. Gone are the enamel paints and the plastic glue that gave a person a buzz if inhaled for a long periods of time. The selection that remains today is so limited, it barely stirs the imagination of a boy or girl to spend their money for the model.

At one time there was a penny candy counter at the front of almost every country Mom and Pop store. Its wide glass-faced case was often smeared by the noses of children peering inside, trying to decide what to buy with their penny or nickel. The storekeeper would reach into the cavern below and withdraw a small, brown paper sack. A practiced flick of the wrist and it opened, waiting to be filled with the child’s choices. Peppermint sticks, licorice whips, wax lips, candy cigarettes, gum balls, fire balls, chewy caramels, Black Jack, and various suckers with colors that enticed through clear cellophane wrappings or were alluring in their brightly hued paper wrappers. A child’s decision became tantalizingly and deliciously sweet. The grocer’s hand moved to hover over the display, waiting for the child’s final choices. If the child had enough money, there were three cent chocolate Lunch Bars that are now history, too. Once selections were made, the little bag was twisted shut and handed to an eagerly awaiting child.

Cap pistols with strips of exploding caps have been all but banned from use today. Using a pointed finger pretending it’s a pistol can get a kid kicked out of school. The innocence of a buss on a cheek can land a boy or girl in trouble if a teacher so deems it. Hot chocolate and slices of buttered toast to start the school day are long gone. Even the wonderful flavorful school lunches have faded into nutritious nothings.

Wood shop, music, art, and home economics have been replaced by forages into climate change and social justice. The Pledge of Allegiance, Bible reading, and a time of prayer have lost their zeal and have fallen into disuse. If a man displays gentlemanly traits like opening a door for a female, often they are scourged.

Writing letters and post cards have lost their appeal, giving way to selfies, texts, and e-mails. At least greeting cards still hold some importance, although e-cards are making an inroad on that once popular more permanent method of showing that you care.

Blessings Served Cold

 

Blessings Served Cold

The last two cold snaps wear me down. I dislike cold weather more and more as I age. Speaking of age, I just found out that I was trying to make myself a year older. I claimed that I was 77 instead of 76. I guess my mental facilities are slipping. But I will catch up this year in March when I become 77.

It has been my habit ever since I married and had children to keep my driveway open in case of an emergency. So, even as I have aged, I have continued to shovel the snow out of my driveway. I really enjoy the quiet time with the snow silently falling around me. The snow is usually easily removed, even the wetter and heavier. Because of the direction of the wind, snow blows into road and the snowplows clear the drifts and fill the end of my driveway, often three feet deep and about eight feet wide. They solidly pack the ice and snow. It doubles the amount of work for me.

Twice I’ve been blessed to have someone stop, taking pity on me and plow that snow plug out of my drive. The first was several days ago. The guy slowed, cranked down his truck window, and asked if he could help. I had barely started to clear the drive and was thrilled to have someone volunteer to help. In about five minutes, my drive was widened and completely cleared. He refused any payment, saying his boss told him to drive around and look for people who needed their driveways cleaned.

This past Saturday I was out early shoveling a three inch layer of snow and the taller layer of snow at the end of my drive. I spent half an hour outside. The gusts of icy cold wind made my eyeballs feel like they were frozen and my nose poured like a river when I came inside.

Several hours later I looked out my living room window and saw that the snowplows had again plugged the opening of my driveway, 3 feet high deeply pushing it back into my drive. It covered the width of my drive. I felt so discouraged, but knew it needed to get done. Saturday evenings several men from our church gather to pray for each other and for a revival in our church.

Reluctantly I climbed into my heavy clothing to go outside. The wind was still blowing and cold. No sooner did I dig the first scoop before a gentleman in a dark gray truck stopped and asked if he could plow my drive. I was blessed and so thrilled I could have danced. My driveway was cleared and my eyes didn’t have time to freeze.

Places I've Been

 

Places I Have Been

Before my stint in the Navy, the only places that I visited were with my parents. My dad Carl Beck was even more frugal than I am and we spent his vacations visiting relatives. The longest trip was to Florida to visit my aunt and Uncle Helen and Jake Stahl in Orlando. Shorter trips included visiting my aunt and uncle, Cora and Fred Hyatt in Sheridan, Illinois and to see my aunt and uncle, Ina and “Nicky” Nicholson in Millersport, Ohio.

For my time while in service to my country, I started basic training and Naval Corps School at Great Lakes training center in Illinois, spending the winter there. Then I was sent to Orlando, Florida from the chill of the north to the heat of Florida. My next assignment was to Keflavik, Iceland and travelled from the hot humid south to a chilly 60 degree weather.

After taking nursing curiculum at the Fayette campus of Penn State, I was assigned classes at State College, Pennsylvania. After graduating, I found employment at Monsour Hospital then at Frick Hospital. After my marriage to Cindy Morrison, our next trip was to visit her relatives in Jamestown, New York. We also made a short trip into Canada before heading home. Cindy felt ill while we drove home. It was our introduction to parenthood. Cindy was pregnant with our first. Only my craving for greasy hamburgers alerted us to our later two pregnancies, but that’s another story.

Family vacations included Sea World, the Knoxville World’s Fair, a visit to Murfreesboro, Tennessee and to “The Wilds” church camp in North Carolina. The next major trip for me and the family was to “the Wilds of the Rockies.” It was part of the tenting trip out west with seventeen teens, seven adults, touring multiple national parks for seventeen days.

My next major trip was to Newfoundland/ Labrador Canada, driving most of the way then riding a ship to Nain and returning to Newfoundland. A trip to Cottonwood, Arizona for my son Andrew’s wedding to Renee Largent was next. Later my son moved to Amarillo. That was my next long distance travel.

I joined a friend on a trip to Elkins, West Virginia to ride the train to the ghost town of Spruce. I travelled with the same friend across the southern border of Pennsylvania, up the east side, back across the northern counties, finally returning home along the western border of our state. Fifteen days of waterfalls, battlefields, and hotels wore me out. I’ve been pretty much a homebody since then. I’m just wondering it’s time for another escape vacation.

Being Schoole on Lunches

 Being Schooled on Lunches

I decided to make toast and hot chocolate milk like I ate during my elementary school days. I can remember that for thirty-five cents I could get two slices of toast and a mug of cocoa when I arrived at school on those frigid winter mornings. The hot cholate was served with curls of steam rising from the frothy rich chocolate milk. Two slices of hot golden brown toast was slathered in real butter and served on a plate. My tasty recreation was only a pale recreation of the memory, but it has sent me down memory lane to other school lunch favorites.
What made the next meal special wasn’t the macaroni covered in meat sauce, but was the small side salad and the large bun. The bun was tall, warm, and filled with a fresh-baked yeasty flavor. It was served with cold pats of golden butter.
None of these foods stir a connoisseur’s palate, but as a kid certain menus caused me to look ahead with anticipation. A sloppy Joe was one of them. It was just a store-bought burger but filled with a savory ground beef, onions, and a sauce rich with spices. The bun was filled by the “lunch lady” with a scoop just before it was placed on my tray. Napkins and a bib was almost a necessity before sitting down to enjoy this staple.
The next two items that were served on a revolving menu weren’t very fancy but were always favorites with my classmates. The first was grilled cheese and tomato soup. To many it’s no big deal, but with many kids, me included, it was an oasis of hot food that filled our bellies in the middle of the day that were empty or could face a cold sandwich. The hot, greasy sandwich filled with gooey American cheese and the flavorful tomato soup seemed to make the day go much better.
The final food item wasn’t necessarily my favorite, but seemed to impress many of the other students was pizza. It was tasty and filling with its layers of baked dough, tangy tomato sauce, topped with a melted topping of Mozzarella cheese. It definitely a crowd pleaser, but it wasn’t my favorite.
It’s strange as I look back at my food covered selections; I have no impressions of the desserts the cooks shared. I do have a vague memory of cookies or cake but not of their flavors. Isn’t that strange?

By the Light of the Silvery Moon

 By the Light of the Silvery Moon

This was the first line of a song that was sung by Doris Day. My mom Sybil Miner Beck would sometimes sing a line or two as was her habit with any song. I don’t know if I am becoming overly sentimental or whether I am just noticing things more acutely, but the moonlight on the snow seems exceptionally beautiful. The shadows cast by a full moon makes silhouettes of bare tree branches. They somehow appear more hauntingly romantic in the moonlight. The dark specter of limbs on the silver-blue snow is more impressive than the same shadows drawn by the sun.
I like to see the bright moonlight tracing tree branches coated with snow or ice. Snow is given a glow with a bluish sheen and the icy crystals shine with a silver gleam that comes from somewhere deep inside of a clear cold shell.
This is one of the many winter’s scenes that will entice me to stop, take a second look, and possibly a third look happens when the brilliant sheen of the moonlight slides across a pond or lake to create a luminescent pathway. The moon’s rays form a straight road that points its shining fingers back at its creator, the moon.
One specific incident that captured my imagination occurred on a night as I drove along Route 130, near the little town of Unity, Pennsylvania. The moon was exceptionally bright. I was paying only slight attention to the beauty that lay all around me. I was concentrating on the road and the driving conditions when I was assaulted by an inspiring vision. It was so enchanting.
A small barn set back from the edge of the road at one end of a field. It was bathed in pearlescent light of the full moon. It glowed as though it had been formed from silver. Its rough board sides shone even more brightly than the smooth blue snow reflecting the moon’s soft glow that surrounded it. The snow covered roof and cupola were framed by the black velvety sky and the night’s white starred gems. The scene is still firmly lodged in my head, after all of these years. I am trying to share that vision with you, but I feel my words are woefully inadequate to express the awe and beauty that I experienced so many winter nights ago.

Severe Cabin Fever

 Severe Cabin Fever

The ssavage wind, the deep cold, and the massive snow dump has held me captive inside of my home for too many days. I’ve spent longer times alone, but I could go outside. The wind chill has driven me inside and I’ve had to look at the walls inside of my home for twenty-four hours of the day. The fact that darkness descends so early intensifies the isolation until it becomes almost unbearable. My cell phone has kept me connected to the outside world, but it wasn’t the person to person interaction that I needed. When I worked at Frick Hospital in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania, that is one reason I hated answering the phone and would much rather walk a few steps to talk with someone in person.

I was pleased to leave my house for Wednesday night prayer services even for a few hours and interact with real people. The church attendance was a little thin, but the time together worshipping was pleasant nonetheless. On my trip to and from, the wind nipped at my ears, but the earflaps on my hat cancelled the sting.

Thursday the cabin fever was still unabated. It still clung tightly to my brain and I drove to Mount Pleasant, Pennsylvania. My destination was questionable. It was to go Walmart. My desire to shop at Walmart shows how severely cabin fever had affected me.

Acttually it was great. On my way through the parking lot, I began to talk with other wayward winter adventurers. The ability to actually talk with another human being was thrilling. I shared one of my business cards with a man and woman. I also gave them a testimonial biblical tract of a friend who had survived a severe auto accident.

Inside as I negotiated the aisles and selected the items on my grocery list, I talked with several others. As usual I bumped into a few people I had worked with at the hospital and shared my business card and testimonial tracts with others. I had a wonderful time. I even offered to reach items for vertically challenged people.

Earlier I thought as I drove from my home to do my shopping, the snow lined roadways were reminiscent of the winters of my youth. The winters were marked by piles of snow pushed aside along the berms of the road and snow stacked high at the sides of driveways and parking lots. As a kid, I don’t remember the cold bothering me as much today’s frigid temperatures, but the sight of the snow lined roadways drew me back.