Frustrating Friday

 Frustrating Friday

Friday morning wasn’t indicative of the rest of the day. I washed, hung clothes out, brought them in and folded I put them away Saturday. It’s rare I do both on the same day unless I feel the need. Since it’s only me in the house, I get lackadaisical at times. I knew I was to attend my youngest granddaughter Hannah Yoder’s high school performance of the musical “Frozen” later. Somewhere about noontime, things changed. I couldn’t find my cell phone and thus came the search-party safari. For several hours I retraced my steps. Outside, upstairs and downstairs, I retraced every step that I had ever made. I even executed several detours through spaces that I knew I knew I’d never traveled, “Going places where no man has gone before.” I became so frustrated that I finally gave up and defaulted to the old man reserve position. I showered and took a nap.

I heard my daughter Anna Prinkey come in the front door. She and I were going to the musical together. I had messaged her earlier that I had lost my phone. She dialed my phone number, but I keep it on vibrate so I am “running silent,” and the vibrations let me know that I got a message. While she was searching I got dressed to go to the musical.

She made the usual tour of my house and then decided to recheck my car. She tried dialing my cell again several times, listening for a vibrating sound. After several times, she heard a chattering on the rear floor behind the driver’s side. The phone had slipped from my pocket and her dialing vibrated from its hiding place in the seat.

The musical went well and was glad to get home to take my meds and climb into bed. I was tired from jogging up and down the stairs.

Saturday I had volunteered to be docent at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society. There are only three members who are willing to carry the workload. It is hard to keep up. The numbers of workers have decreased due to old age, death, and illnesses. More and more volunteers are harder and harder to find. Historical societies and other smaller agencies are pressed to stay open. The preservation of the past is essential. It’s essential to keep our history as a foundation for the future.

Saturday evening I met with several other men who gather to pray for a revival in ourselves, our church, and in our country. Mt. Zion Community Church at the top of Kreinbrook Road begins s week of revival services the week of April 27^th. Everyone is welcome to attend. Services start at 7 pm. Thursday is special. It’s visitor’s night with a dessert fellowship to follow. Pease come.

Drained Brain

 Drained Brain

Have you ever woken up and thought “I don’t wanna? I’m not hungry. I don’t wanna eat. I don’t wanna read my Bible and pray. I don’t really wanna go to take care of chores. I don’t wanna get out of bed.” The only reason you stir at all is nature calling and your bladder is full almost to overflowing then you stumble half awake into the bathroom. Now that you’re up, what are you gonna do?

That’s what I felt like this morning. I was have no appetite, especially for breakfast foods.

When I feel like this, what do I eat for breakfast? The thought of frying an egg makes me want to head back to bed, pull the covers over my head and hide, but I’ve already taken my morning meds and I have to eat something so my blood sugar doesn’t hit rock bottom. Sometimes I pull oped the refrigerator door and study the contents in the dim light of the 25 watt bulb that resides there. Then I must make the decision, will I eat leftovers so I don’t have to cook anything, but the mashed potatoes and two chicken drumsticks leftover that I see for some reason that menu doesn’t seem too appetizing today.

I managed to sort through my refrigerator to finally find and consume a container of yogurt. I decided it would be the least offensive to my indecision and queasy stomach. At last I am able to sit in front of my blank computer screen and try to wring out today’s post. This is it. I’m sorry if it’s not up to my usual dribble, but it is what I have left in me. Maybe I can think of something better for my next post. If not I may shuffle back down stairs to search for somethin else to eat. I know I have Rice Krispies, a couple of bananas, and milk. Anyone want to join me?

A Bit of History

 A Bit of History

President Abraham Lincoln was attending the Ford Theatre in Washington D. C. The date was April 14^th 1865; Good Friday. President Lincoln was relaxing with his wife Mary Todd Lincoln. He was in high spirits as the terrible Civil War was coming to an end. They were in box seats above the stage watching the comedy, Our American Cousin when John Wilkes Booth sneaked into the box and shot President Lincoln behind the his left ear. Mrs. Lincoln cried out, “The President has been shot!”

Seated in the balcony about fifteen feet away from the Presidential box were several young Unon soldiers from the Thompson Battery. They carried President Lincoln’s unconscious body feet first from the theater across the street to a back bedroom of the boarding house owned by William and Anna Peterson and placed him on a back bedroom and placed him on a bed to await the doctor. Mr. Lincoln died the following morning.

Those four young soldiers were aged eighteen and early twenty year olds. An unusual coincidence was that all four of them were from the surrounding areas of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Who were these four young men and what happened to them?

Jabez Griffiths was from McKeesport, Pennsylvania. He died in 1898 from cancer.

William Samples, also hailed from McKeesport died in 1898 after a blast furnace exploded causing him an untold amount of agony until he blessedly passed away.

John Corey from North Versailles was a riverman who drowned in 1884 while working on a coal barge.

Jacob Soles also from North Versailles lost an eye in a coal mining accident before finally succumbing to cancer in 1936 at the age of 90.

All the World's a Stage

 All the World’s a Stage

William Shakespeare said all the world was a stage and the people in it actors, but I think that some people would be considered real characters. Some of the folk who would arrive at the emergency department when I worked at Frick hospital were called “frequent flyers.” They were repeat visitors; some as drug seekers, some were actually sick, while others wanted to be the center of interest, and then there were those who were just lonely.

We had a married couple who didn’t quite fall into any of these categories but straddled several. They came very close to be frequent flyers. I think they came just because they could come to the hospital and not have to pay for it. We named them Prince Charles and Princess Dianna. Charles and Dianna were their real names.

The closest thing to them having a royal escort occurred when Charles arrived in an ambulance accompanied by medical attendants. Charles and Dianna carried Pennsylvania’s yellow public assistance gold card. You’ve heard the commercial, “It’s the gold card, don’t leave home without it” and this couple never did.

Before anybody complains about my comment I just want to say there are people who are unable to work due to a disability and SHOULD have assistance. But there are other people who are able bodied and intelligent who should NOT be eligible.

I feel that Charles was one of the latter. He was intelligent and if he can have sex he’s able bodied enough to find a job. At an earlier visit he told me in the triage area, ‘I was teaching the old lady how to play chess tonight before we came in.” He had to have some smarts to play chess, right.

So, let me get back to the story. Charles was brought in by ambulance. As he was moved onto our bed, I noticed that under him was one of the dirtiest, filthiest, stained sheets I’ve ever seen and he was completely naked.  The spots on the sheet were not the pattern. He explained that he and his wife were having sex when his “back went out.”

He was given x-rays, medicated, and discharged. We gave him a pair of pajama bottoms because he’d arrived “au naturale” and a patient gown to wear home. He was to bring them back. I doubt that he did. The pajamas probably doubled his wardrobe.

He and Dianna had hardly disappeared through the exit door when she rushed back into the emergency room calling, “Where’s my sheet? Where’s my sheet? I need to put it back on the bed when we get home.”

The nurses looked at each other thinking the same thought. “Who’d put that filthy thing back onto the bed?” We shrugged, gloved up, and dug through the dirty linen bag to find her sheet. We returned it stuffed inside of a plastic trash bag.

The Wakeup Call

 

 The Wakeup Call

My Dad Carl Beck always went to bed earlier than my Mom Sybil Miner Beck did. He had to get up so much earlier than she did, but Dad also liked to listen to the baseball game when the Pirates played. Often he would take his portable radio to the bedroom and listen to the game before he fell to sleep. When the game was over, he would turn the radio off and slip it beneath the bed and then go to sleep. One night he forgot to turn the radio off.

The following morning after the ballgame, Mom was wakened, scared by a male voice in the bedroom saying, “Good morning!” She sprung from the bed, thinking that someone was in the bedroom, but when she settled down, she found that Dad had either fallen asleep before the game was over or that he had not shut the radio off before he slid it under the bed.

This was a time when many radio stations didn’t broadcast all night long, but would sign off at midnight until the following morning at six a.m. Mom had gone to bed after the station had signed off for the night and hadn’t known the radio was still on, but she found out at six a.m. that morning.

One of my parent’s bedroom windows was at the front of the first floor of the house. It looked out onto the walkway that led to the front door. My brother heard Mom moving inside, The blinds were closed. The window was open with an adjustable sliding screen in place. He leaned close and yelled in the window, “Whoo-oo-oop!”

Mom had been in a stage of undress. She screamed and dropped to her knees, whipping off the bedspread to cover herself.

Mom was on one of her frugal kicks and had made just one hamburger for each of us. She had cheese slices, tomato, onion, and lettuce as fillers for the sandwiches and for our bellies. The meat plate was passed around and each of us took one. We each stacked the extras onto our burgers. All of us had started eating; even Mom had taken a bite of hers. It was then she saw the “extra” ground beef patty on the plate.

“Who didn’t get their burger?” she asked. It was then she realized that she was so intent on building her burger with all the extras, she had forgotten to add her hamburger patty to her sandwich.

Remembering Flowers

 Remembering flowers from my past, I think of my Grandmother Rebecca Rugg Miner. She loved flowers. In the summer she had a flowerbed of pansies, lilies of the valley, and the long green porch boxes filled with red geraniums. The pansies were her favorite. She said they reminded her of little boys with dirty faces. In the winter her inside windowsills were filled with cuttings from the geraniums. Their leaves had a spicy aroma when rubbed. At the end of her upstairs hall was a huge Christmas cactus with its green leaves and deep pink that blossoms cascaded down the sides of a stainless steel cream separator bowl.

I can’t really remember special flowers for my Grandmother Anna Nichols Kalp Beck, but she loved the huge oak tree in her side yard. She would often sit in a metal yard chair enjoying the shade.
My Mother Sybil Miner Beck loved her roses; often she had started them from cuttings. She would snip a rose stem, place it under a Mason jar, and cover it with straw for some time. She’d keep it covered, occasionally checking on its progress, until it took root and began to grow. She had several colors from a pale yellow to a bright crimson. I think her favorite was a parchment colored rose that had a large bloom.
My mother-in-law Retha Johnson Morrison always had bleeding heart baskets hanging on her front porch. I can remember sitting on the swing with Cindy Morrison Beck while we were courting and watching the humming birds visiting the baskets.
My wife Cindy’s favorite flowers were daisies. It was great for me in the summer. I’d often pick the wild daisies and make a bouquet with whatever other flowers were blooming at the time. The bouquet was there as a surprise for her when she came home after teaching. I won’t say I was cheap, but I will admit to being frugal.
My older Daughter Amanda Beck Yoder’s favorite is the calla lily. She had a large bouquet of them in her wedding. I bought a large framed picture of calla lilies as a wedding gift. It hangs on their living room wall.
My daughter-in-law Renee Largent Beck carried a wedding bouquet of wildflowers and daisies to honor my wife Cindy. Cindy died in March and their wedding was in August. Renee’s favorite flower is forget-me-nots.
My younger daughter Anna Beck Prinkey loves sunflowers. Sunflowers made up much of her wedding bouquet. The sunflowers were the usual color of gold with dark brown centers, but I don’t think it mattered what color they were. Now that there are so many variations available.

Peeps

 Peeps

After several decades of having Fred and Doretta Brown as neighbors I now have a much younger family living there with their daughter. They’ve planted several fruit trees and have made a garden. Slowly they’ve made changes to suit them. I used to mow Fred’s yard because I could and he had difficulty. He was hard of hearing and had hip replacement surgery. It cost me nothing but a little gas and some time. It was a relief for them I am sure. When the new family moved in, I mowed their yard too, knowing they would be busy with chores and settling in. It was neighborly thing to do.

Once they became settled, the husband said he was able to mow his yard for himself. We are good neighbors and have occasionally done neighborly things for each other. The wife occasionally will bake something and share and I’ll send some scraps for their chickens to eat. (I don’t bake.) I’ve fetched their young daughter’s toys or a ball that has escaped their yard. The wind in our neighborhood is often very strong.

The young daughter will wave at me when I walk up for the mail. She sometimes looks out the front picture window. This year for Easter I bought several packages of marshmallow peeps. My kids like them. Not so much for me. I thought it would be a surprise to tape a package of blue bunny marshmallow Peeps to the window for her to find. Her mom messaged me to ask if I had done the deed. I replied that I wanted to surprise her when she claimed her spot at the window.

I also bought Redstone candy chocolate crosses for my granddaughters. I gave them to the kids early because two of the three are away from home, one in Arizona with their other Grandparents and one is attending college in Florida.

We ate our Easter meal at my son Andrew’s place and this year I managed to roast the turkey without making turkey jerky. The turkey was well done but the meat hadn’t become dried out and crispy. I also managed a no-bake orange  Creamcicle pie. It was a nice time of eating and talking. I hope everybody had a nice Easter, celebrating Resurrection Day/