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.

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 even 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 but I can’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. 

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.