Preserving the Past

Preserving the Past

My writing as a blogger didn’t start out that way. I began to write stories about my family to preserve the history of my kinfolk, my life as a kid, and my schooling, Later it evolved into me sharing my time in the Navy, my time in college, and my career as a nurse. Most of the tales were recollections of specific characters, incidents, or happenings. I started out writing every day. That became too burdensome and I had to back off posting three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I usually dredge a post I’ve written about incidents of the Miner clan for the National Minard, Minor, Miner Group to share with cousins every Thursday.

I’ve allowed my chores to back up because I also edit the newsletter “Down Memory Lane” for the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society and with the help of other members, the autumn and winter edition is ready to be printed and mailed out. Sometimes it’s difficult to find local history to fill the eight pages. Sometimes it follows a theme and sometimes it’s filled with tales and oral histories that have been shared and stored in our archives.

So many of the artifacts, local family histories, maps, news articles, books, and paperwork are either on display or readily available for the community to stop in and view or to look for something specific about family members or incidents. We also archive obituaries to assist beginner or advanced genealogists in their search for their past.

Yesterday, I was able to finish several of the postponed chores and I am looking for several more work-concentrated days like that where I am actually eliminating the unfinished tasks. My firewood is finally stacked. I got a load of coal delivered and I’m breaking apart some old pallets that have been cluttering my yard. I have rolled up my hoses before the coming freeze and I’ve raked up and dumped some of the tree bark debris left from the dump spot of my firewood.

It’s soon time for me to take off my flannel sheets. It was nice to crawl between the warm flannel sheets and I am looking forward to the time I can slip between cool cotton sheets in the summer. I’m planning on replacing storm door’s windows with the screens to allow the warmth and scents of spring to replace my home’s stale trapped air. There is still much to do. Winter, please go somewhere else.

Remembering Versus Imagination

 Remembering Versus Imagination

I often alternate the stories of my recollections and expressing my ideas of fantasy when I write. I try to keep them separate but occasionally my real life occurrences manage to wander over to be woven into the plot of a story or two. One example was a trip driving through the northeastern states of America, the provinces of southeastern Canada, and a voyage on a ship named the “Northern Ranger.” The voyage traveled the length of the Newfoundland/ Labrador coast. It became the basis for a story I wrote for the Greensburg Writers Group. The members were to write a tale to include their favorite sleuth and his/her muse. The compilation of stories that were written were included in a book that was to have amateur detectives getting involved solving a crime while on vacation. My sleuth was Luigi Garibaldi, a professional gambler attempting to escape the wrath of a cuckolded casino owner. While aboard the ship he reluctantly became involved as a witness of a smuggling ring and a murder.

My several day voyage on the Northern Ranger gave me insight to the activities of the shipboard routine and the knowledge of the many small towns, fishing villages, and ports where the ship stopped to load and to unload its cargo. I described the scenery that I saw so well that a fellow writer said I should write travel brochures. I still haven’t figured out whether she was paying me a compliment or not.

In the books of the Tommy Two-Shoes series my trips to West Virginia and the ride on the trains there became an integral part of several chapters of these mysteries. Again the experience added flavor and helped to shape the direction of the story.

In my book titled “Addie” my familiarity of the local terrain of the hillsides of Confluence, Pennsylvania and land between to Mt. Pleasant was essential for the plot. I am barely old enough to remember the things of the 1940’s. But I used things of that time period to keep the historicity of the era correct although the plot was fictional. It’s often necessary for me to do research to keep my fictional writings believable. My readers expect the plot to have a foot in reality. Places, food, weapons must have details that are correct. An example of one small detail I researched in the book “Addie” was, when was wax paper invented? Or was the topography and details of the terrain from Confluence to Connellsville and Mt. Pleasant correct.

Tears On My Pillow

 

Tears on My Pillow

In 1958 the lyrics of “Tears on My Pillow” were written by Sylvester Bradford and Al Lewis. Anthony Gourdine, Little Anthony was the lead vocalist who first recorded it with his Do-whop group “The Imperials.” The lyrics are about a person with a broken heart and an unrequited love. When we look back in our lives, we can remember some tears that we’ve shed. There have been tears of joy; perhaps at the birth of a child or receiving a wedding proposal. Perhaps you’ve shed tears at your wedding or some other enormously happy event in your life. There were also episodes of sadness caused by the death of a loved one or a major catastrophe in your life. These are tears of sorrow.

Different types of tears have distinctly different compositions. Contrasting chemicals are released by our tear ducts composing tears that are specifically designed to fit the occasion. Many times when we cry the flow of tears will cleanse our bodies and souls of the emotions that caused us to cry in the first place. Empathetic friends will understand this. And that’s why true friends will generously offer a shoulder to cry on. They volunteer to share burdens that are being carried. They will support you, pray with you, and hold you up when you’re weak or celebrate and share your joy. There are also tears of gratitude. The Bible shares the emotion by a woman who was a sinner. She was forgiven of her sins and in gratitude washed the feet of Jesus with her tears.

The Bible has a lot to say about tears and even more about crying. The word cry or varied tenses of the word appears 434 times. The words tear or tears appears 49 times and wept or weeping is mentioned 41 times. Jesus himself wept. The shortest verse in the Bible is “Jesus wept.” It occurred at the death of His friend Lazarus. Although Jesus knew he would raise Lazarus from the dead, He sorrowed at the sadness of Martha and Mary, sisters of Lazarus to share their grief.

The Bible says God gathers our tears in a bottle (Psalm 56:8) and Psalm 126:5 says, “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”  The bible also says that He will wipe away our tears (Revelation 7:17) and that there will be no crying in Heaven (Revelation 21:4.)

1 Corinthians 15:55-57 “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Thursday Worse Day

 Thursday Worse Day

There is the saying if you want to hear God laugh, say, “Tomorrow a have plans.” I had several errands that I wanted to complete and get them out of the way. They weren’t the looked for “bucket list” type of chores, but were things that I allowed to pile up with the intent of doing them in one trip.

The one chore I needed to do was to replace the marine battery for the sump pump system for my basement. The pump functioned as long as the electricity was on. The Marine battery would allow the pump to work if the electric power should be interrupted for any reason. I disconnected the battery and loaded it into the trunk of my car.

My first chore was to drop off the unused trial medications at the center. I decided that since I felt that I was having side effects from the medications, I was going to withdraw from the study. That done; I drove to the National Tire & Battery store. That’s where I bought it. Making the turn into NTB I ran over the curb. The turn was sharp with other vehicles parked along the drive. inside, I found that the battery had six months on the warranty, but NTB had been purchased by another company and they no longer carried marine batteries. No one in the area sold the marine batteries from the Interstate Battery Company. The closest Interstate Company was forty-five minutes away.

A worker approached and asked if the battery was in the white Chevrolet Malibu with the flat front tire. “I said I hope not. I hadn’t driven in with one.” It was and I had to buy a replacement tire. I couldn’t replace it with the donut spare. NTB replaced the tire. With my wallet almost $150.00 lighter, I drove right across the street to the NAPA store.

Of course, they didn’t honor the warranty for the Interstate battery, but they did have a marine battery. Now I needed to make the decision whether to drive to the nearest Interstate Battery store or should I purchase the NAPA brand of marine battery. I had the money and not the time to make the drive. Back at home, I reattached the battery to my sump pump.

At home I found on my answering machine my electric company left a message. They wanted payment for my bill. The line was busy and couldn’t get through to explain that I’d sent the payment a week earlier, so I phoned the next morning. I explained that it was another USPS higher prices and less service. I said that the old excuse of the “check’s in the mail” was indeed what was happening. I wasn’t going to stop payment on a check and issue a phone payment. I will call again Monday to see if they received my check.

Oldsters Listening to Old Song Memories

 

Oldsters Listening to Old Song Memories

Several years ago I attended an event sponsored by the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society held at Brady’s Restaurant in Acme, Pennsylvania. Good food and entertainment was the recipe for the day. The evening started with buffet style food. Salads delivered to our table after the blessing the food was given. Stuffed chicken breast, ham slice, mashed potatoes, gravy, thick egg noodles, green beans, and a selection of pies and cake started the evening’s affair. The wait staff was attentive. After finishing the meal, two female singers tag-teamed the audience with renditions of classic songs, two women of Glitzando: Cathi Rhodes and Diane Paul.

I’m not quite at the age yet to have remembered all of the songs first hand, but my mother Sybil Beck would often sing parts of these older songs that coincided with something that had been said. Most of the tunes were very familiar to me. That trait is something that I still have sharing a story, a joke, or a chorus that parallels someone’s talking point. My daughters must have the same gene.

My table was at the edge of their performing area and I sat with several of my writing friends, a gentleman from the historical society, Bernie and his wife. It was a pleasant group of people and we chatted as we ate our meals.

It was time for the performance and Bernie became the master of ceremonies introducing the ladies. Apparently he’d previously been in theater productions with the two singers. Several times throughout the evening, the performers selected people from the audience to be on stage with them. It was to enhance their presence and to get the audience to be more engaged.

Of course, I being a ham joined them for two of their audience participation tunes. They had other persons who were coaxed onto the stage with them. It was during their patriotic segment a special man was lured to join them. Cathi read part of a past newsletter from the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society honoring this 94 year old veteran, Tom Dix. His survival from a minesweeper that was sunk during WWII was nothing less than a miracle. Of the 91 crewmembers, only he and 60 others survived.

The rest of the evening was filled with song and laughter. It passed all too quickly. I made my way home after shaking hands, giving hugs, and saying good night to many other familiar faces who’d attended the event.

No Respect

 

No Respect

Rodney Dangerfield used the line, “I don’t get no respect.” It is unfortunately sad but true, that today some people have no respect for cemeteries, memorials, and the Stars and Stripes of the American flag. I saw a photo of the Vietnam Memorial where it had been defaced with spray paint from a graffiti pervert. I’ve seen photos of cemeteries where warped-minded people have driven vehicles through them damaging the grounds and the headstones of loved ones who have passed on. Almost daily, I see and hear of reports where the American flag is trod upon or burned.

What is wrong with these people? They may not like America, but that is no reason to try to destroy a country that allows them to voice their dissent. There is no reason to desecrate the resting place of people who have worked hard all of their lives to provide a system where even indigent folk have a chance to live above the rest of the world’s poverty level. There is no reason to deface the memorial of brave men and women who fought in a war that their government has said they must. You may not agree that there was a just cause for the fighting, but those heroes fought because they were asked to do so.

America has asked her citizens to fight for freedom since its inception. The wars have claimed many lives and that in itself is sad, but the fact that some people ignore and denigrate those lives which were lost are the lowest type of people and should have no right to a claim to be Americans. Rights are not earned by being responsible. They are guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States. Unfortunately, our rights are being ignored and eroded every day.

This year we celebrate two hundred and fifty years of the birthday of our independence and the establishment of our nation. We should be proud of that fact and proud that we are free and still have those God given rights.

What Is It

 

What Is It

I’m trying to understand what’s going on with my body. Small changes are creeping in. Over the past week or so, my balance has ben off just a bit. It’s not anything major, but I must be a little more careful with walking, turning, and leaning over. I don’t feel as stable on my feet recently.

Yesterday aching in my joints have become more pronounced. My knees and hips have decided to hurt evem when not being used. I find that even sitting in a chair I may need to reposition myself to relieve the deep aching in my hips especially. I’ve been trying to believe that it’s a part of aging, but I am beginning to doubt that.

I almost lost my balance reaching for something and had to catch myself to prevent a fall I jammed my deformed “arthritic” finger into a wooden cupboard. That intensified the usual ache in my pinky finger to a much higher level.

Last night I had a serial dream. I know that I woke several times to reposition my aching joints, but fell back to sleep only to dream again. The dream was odd, not just because it was a long-running dream, but also because it was vivid and I couldn’t remember much about it. I can recall the color green and the feeling that I was being tossed and buffeted. What was the cause of the turmoil, I have no idea, but waking this morning my muscles ached. The muscles that ached weren’t just my arms and legs as if I had done a long day’s work, but even the muscles across my belly.

About a month ago I started to take a trial medication. Because of my history of cardiac problems, the nurse who is responsible for the trial studies thought I might be a good candidate for this study. Now I’m trying to sort out if my aching joints, my muscle pain, and the disequilibrium are the side effects of the medication or whether something else is happening.

I’ll call my nurse handler later today to see if I should continue with the trial or stop taking the medications.