Super-Glue and Duck Tape

Super Glue and Duck Tape
After the week I’ve had so far, I think I need to stock up on Super-Glue and Dick Tape. I’m falling apart. Tuesday I went to my dentist to have him repair my partial plate. He worked with my problem even though he was trying to pass a kidney stone.
Wednesday I woke with chest pressure and a right temporal headache. When it didn’t ease I took my regular daily medications, thinking it might help. After waiting awhile, I checked my blood sugar and my blood pressure. My blood sugar was within range, but my blood pressure was elevated. I decided to head for the emergency department at Frick Hospital in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania. I was hustled into a room where the staff hooked me up to a monitor, did and EKG, and drew blood work. The doctor ordered several chewable aspirin, while continuing to monitor my heart and blood pressure. I was later given two different medications for my headache. When all my tests came back, I was released to home. I spent nearly 9 hours, from 6 am to 3 pm, I felt as though I was put through a wringer. I was completely worn out. I was so tired, I asked another person to cover the church van route for me.
I wasn’t able to volunteer Wednesday morning at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society because I was in the hospital. I missed the birthday celebration of another member.
The pain from the partial plate began in earnest. Even thoough it was after 3 pm, I tried to call the dentist’s office. The recorded message let me know that he closed and to call back Thursday morning. I figured that he wouldn’t be in on Wednesday because of the kidney stone. My toothache continued to increase. I called first thing Thursday morning. The office staff said to come in. I knew that I needed and antibiotic. My gums were swollen and tender. There had to be an abscess. I was right, but picking up the penicillin would have to wait, I had an appointment for a Cat-Scan as a follow-up frrom an ultrasound that revealed a lesion on one of my kidneys.
My PCP’s office staff called and asked who I used as an urologist. My doctor wanted to go over the results of the scan before saying anything definite. My PCP called me about 7 pm and asked who I wanted to use as my urologist. The one I had before was retired. She said that the lesion had a low probability for concern, but she wanted a second opinion.
I’m falling apart. Time to stock up on Super-Glue and Duck Tape.

Seniority or Senility

 Seniority or Senility
To some asking this question is like asking “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” To some people snniority and senility mean almost the same thing. It isn’t so, but some days one is the shadow of the other and could be easily mistaken for the other. When a person gets up and goes into another room with the destination is only a few seconds away and the person forgets what they went into the other room to get, it becomes irritating, frustrating, and worrisome. The only thing worse is when it becomes a habit.
My most recent is just a little different, but it ran in a similar vein. I was ensconsed in my recliner downstairs when my phone reminded me that I had a dental appointment. I needed to change out of my comfy pajama bottoms and sweatshirt. My jeans and dressier shirt was upstairs, so I hoisted myself from my recliner and hurried up the steps. I had to empty my pockets from my dress slacks before I climbed into my jeans and clean shirt. I gathered my wallet, keys, coins and checkbook, tucking them into my jeans pockets.
Now comes my confusion. I reached for my cell phone. I usually toss it on my bed while changing my pants. I wanted to slide it into my shirt pocket and I couldn’t find it. I retraced my steps in all of the rooms upstairs then went back down stairs and hunted through all the rooms: living room, kitchen, and dining room. I had no luck. I knew that it was no use to dial my cell from the house phone. I always put my cell phone on vibrate when I am in church. I had my cell phone on vibrate only.
Thhe sad thing was that I remembered I had it in my hand going upstairs, so I went back upstairs to continue the search. I was still having no luck and began asking God to help me. I ddn’t want to leave the house without my phone. I was on the verge of leaving home without my lifeline when I felt a sneeze coming on. I reached into my back pocket and there that little rascal was hiding with my handkerchief. I’d slipped it into my jeans without remembering. It was in my pants pocket and not in my shirt pocket where I usually keep it.
I guess that is better than putting something in away for “safe” keeping and then being unable to remember where that safe place is.
Seniority or Senility
To some asking this question is like asking “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” To some people snniority and senility mean almost the same thing. It isn’t so, but some days one is the shadow of the other and could be easily mistaken for the other. When a person gets up and goes into another room with the destination is only a few seconds away and the person forgets what they went into the other room to get, it becomes irritating, frustrating, and worrisome. The only thing worse is when it becomes a habit.
My most recent is just a little different, but it ran in a similar vein. I was ensconsed in my recliner downstairs when my phone reminded me that I had a dental appointment. I needed to change out of my comfy pajama bottoms and sweatshirt. My jeans and dressier shirt was upstairs, so I hoisted myself from my recliner and hurried up the steps. I had to empty my pockets from my dress slacks before I climbed into my jeans and clean shirt. I gathered my wallet, keys, coins and checkbook, tucking them into my jeans pockets.
Now comes my confusion. I reached for my cell phone. I usually toss it on my bed while changing my pants. I wanted to slide it into my shirt pocket and I couldn’t find it. I retraced my steps in all of the rooms upstairs then went back down stairs and hunted through all the rooms: living room, kitchen, and dining room. I had no luck. I knew that it was no use to dial my cell from the house phone. I always put my cell phone on vibrate when I am in church. I had my cell phone on vibrate only.
Thhe sad thing was that I remembered I had it in my hand going upstairs, so I went back upstairs to continue the search. I was still having no luck and began asking God to help me. I ddn’t want to leave the house without my phone. I was on the verge of leaving home without my lifeline when I felt a sneeze coming on. I reached into my back pocket and there that little rascal was hiding with my handkerchief. I’d slipped it into my jeans without remembering. It was in my pants pocket and not in my shirt pocket where I usually keep it.
I guess that is better than putting something in away for “safe” keeping and then being unable to remember where that safe place is.

Me a Normal Person?

 Me a Normal Person?
I grew up midway between Indian Head and Normalville, Pennsylvania, so I guess I’m only half normal, but I’ve lived a relatively normal life, one of three children of Carl and Sybil Miner Beck. I was the oldest, then came my brother Ken, and finally my sister Kathy Basinger. My first home was a rental cottage in Mill Run, Pennsylvania. It was part of the Curtis Rugg farm and across the field from my aunt Violet Miner and Uncle Charles Bottomly.
We moved when my dad bought a small Insulbrick clad house along Route 711. It had three rooms, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a living room. TheU-shaped house surrounded a small porch. There was half of a basement containing an old coal furnace, a hot water tank, and a coal bin.  Mom managed to squeeze in a wringer washer and a double galvanized rinse tub. The house lacked an inside bathroom. We washed in the kitchen sink and used an outhouse until I was nearly five years old. Later Dad ever so slowly expanded the house and basement while we lived there.
Dad’s first job after he married my mom Sybil Miner Beck was working a coal mine. Most of the mines in this area were composed of narrow seams of coal that required miners to work hunched over picking, shoveling, and loading carts.
Dad’s next job was at the Walworth factory in South Greensburg, Pennsylvania where they had a foundry that poured molten metalinto molds of valves. Once the pieces came out of the foundry, they were sent to various sections of the factory to be milled, drilled, and assembled into the final product. Walworth made valves of steel and brass. The sizes ranged from thirty-six inch to 2.5 inch valves. Each valve was pressure tested no matter whether they were a wedge valve or ball and socket. I worked there for a year after high school before entering the United States Navy. That’s where I earned the money to purchase my first car.
I would love to still own it. It was a 1966 Galaxie 500 XL, burgundy with black vinyl top, black bucket seats, and a T bar shift. The engine had a 390 two barrel that could make the tires smoke. I only did it once. I was too frugal and didn’t want to buy new tires. I sold this sweet vehicle to my brother when I flew off to Navy boot camp. He promptly traded it for a pale yellow mustang. I’m still not quite sure I’ve forgiven him for that. Is that normal?
Me a Normal Person?
I grew up midway between Indian Head and Normalville, Pennsylvania, so I guess I’m only half normal, but I’ve lived a relatively normal life, one of three children of Carl and Sybil Miner Beck. I was the oldest, then came my brother Ken, and finally my sister Kathy Basinger. My first home was a rental cottage in Mill Run, Pennsylvania. It was part of the Curtis Rugg farm and across the field from my aunt Violet Miner and Uncle Charles Bottomly.
We moved when my dad bought a small Insulbrick clad house along Route 711. It had three rooms, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a living room. TheU-shaped house surrounded a small porch. There was half of a basement containing an old coal furnace, a hot water tank, and a coal bin.  Mom managed to squeeze in a wringer washer and a double galvanized rinse tub. The house lacked an inside bathroom. We washed in the kitchen sink and used an outhouse until I was nearly five years old. Later Dad ever so slowly expanded the house and basement while we lived there.
Dad’s first job after he married my mom Sybil Miner Beck was working a coal mine. Most of the mines in this area were composed of narrow seams of coal that required miners to work hunched over picking, shoveling, and loading carts.
Dad’s next job was at the Walworth factory in South Greensburg, Pennsylvania where they had a foundry that poured molten metalinto molds of valves. Once the pieces came out of the foundry, they were sent to various sections of the factory to be milled, drilled, and assembled into the final product. Walworth made valves of steel and brass. The sizes ranged from thirty-six inch to 2.5 inch valves. Each valve was pressure tested no matter whether they were a wedge valve or ball and socket. I worked there for a year after high school before entering the United States Navy. That’s where I earned the money to purchase my first car.
I would love to still own it. It was a 1966 Galaxie 500 XL, burgundy with black vinyl top, black bucket seats, and a T bar shift. The engine had a 390 two barrel that could make the tires smoke. I only did it once. I was too frugal and didn’t want to buy new tires. I sold this sweet vehicle to my brother when I flew off to Navy boot camp. He promptly traded it for a pale yellow mustang. I’m still not quite sure I’ve forgiven him for that. Is that normal?

Something Smells

 Something Smells
Ever since I slipped and fell on the ice in 2015 I have had phantom smells. In the fall I hit my head and developed two bleeds in my brain. I was blessed that the only remaining side effects from the fall are phantom smells and an occasional inability to concentrate. The side effects could have ben so much worse. Some people with head injuries could suffer seizures, speech problems, problems with vision, or blindness to mention a few.
The phantom smells first appeared as car exhaust fumes or hot plastic. The smells of hot plastic still causes me to wander through my house to be sure nothing is about to catch fire. Since then I have had different odors tto join the parade; sometimes good aromas and other times not so nice.
Yesterday I began to notice a different smell. It was almost a stale piney smell and I have been trying to recognize the smell. When I woke this morning the odor was still there. It is the first time it has lingered so long. The strength of the smell didn’t fade at all. The aroma remained and didn’t diminish or go away. That puzzled me. I have never had an aroma linger for so long.
All morning I have srtruggled to recall if I had touched anything that had the same smell. I ran throuh a list of pine smelling products: house cleaners, tupentine, candles, or pine branches and came up with nothing.
It was then my nose started to run and I made the connection. I bought some Vicks VapoRub and used it on my neck. I saw a post that Vicks will help to relieve muscle pain and thoought I would try it. I’m not sure one application worked, but I had some of the ointment on my fingers and instead of wasating it, I applied to my nostrils to ease the congestion from my allergies.
So, I guess my phantom smells were fooled by the real thing.

Even Small Incidents Can Be Miracles

Even Small Incidents Can Be Miracles
This cold windy weather has been making me grouchy and I don’t like that. I made a resolution quite years ago. “If I’m grouchy I don’t leave home, because no one likes to deal with a grouchy old man.” An incident that happened Tuesday morning changed my grouchy attitude. I was outside clearing snow in my drive from the deposits from snowplows’s deposits filling my driveway. I was grumbling, thinking of the task at hand. Pulling on my boots and bundling up, I began to clear the snow. I was beginning to get chilled and began to consider whether to go back inside and to finish later. I was almost ¾ of the way finished when a guy slowed and motioned me to step aside. I did and he pulled across the mouth of my drive, reversed his truck, after lowering his snowplow that was attached and dragged the remaining snow from my drive then pushed it across the road. I gave him a thumbs up in a thank you before I went back inside to warm up.
Later, I needed to pick up a few groceries and supplies for my Accu-Check machine. I hadn’t driven my car since Sunday morning and as I pulled out from my drive, it almost seemed like I had a flat tire. My tires made a thumping noise. Grunbling, I almost stopped to see if there was a problem, then I remembered once before something similar happened. Because it was so cold and because I hadn’t driven my car for a few days one of the tires had developed a flat spot. The thumping lessened as I drove and the flat spot warmed and rounded out.
I was told that my blood work eliminated my participation in a gout study and I returned the medications to the clinic. While I was there, I got a supply of Accu-Check sticks before going for groceries. I was chatting with the nurse. We talked about the ultrasound that I had as part of the gout study. The results had shown that I had a lesion on my kidney. I had no symptoms or problems and the lesion might had gone undetected but for that serendipitous discovery. I believe it was the leading of God, just like God’s leading from one incident leading to the next when I had my open heart surgery. I’m to have a cat-scan February 27, 2025 and hopefully I’ll be able to find out more information. I’ll need to wait until then to see what miracle God has in store for me next.

Ice and Snow Gotta Go

 Ice and Snow Gotta Go
Going to church Sunday morninng, it was a bit foggy, but was able to wear a suit jacket and a porkpie hat. It was almost forty degrees Farenheit with a strong breeze and light rain. The weatherman warned of the weather dropping with winds increasing also to include even stronger gusts. It seemed to be the same as I moved into the Subday School classroom after the service. As I sat in the classroom, a heavy fog rolled in. The temperature continued to drop and the rain changed into a slushy snow that had already began to coat my car. The road home was just wet. Because the snowplows had caused a dam of shale and soil at the end of my drive, water had filled my driveway. Behind the dam was an inches deep pond. I grabbed a spade from the basement to open some drainage channels. Because it was blowing a wet snow, I didn’t make enough of them. The pond got amaller, but water kept flowing in the pond remained.
I ate some venison stew for lunch. I made a large pot yesterday. I was cold from being outside. I was so glad. I ladeled several scoops into a large mug and zapped it in my microwave. It tasted so good and quickly helped me warm up. The winds increased as well as the snowfall until it was a bizzard. The wind seemed to puch the snow across the road. I think as the snow formed an icy cap, the blowing snow scooted across the road. Because the snowplows hadn’t yet pushed snow into piles at the side of the roads and the snow hadn’t yet started to collecct snow behind them into drifts. The pond in my drive has frozen and is covered with a layer of snow. I really don’t want to deal with is in the moorning. There will be a puddle of water beneath the ice.
 A car just creeped by headlights illuminating the snow covered road. It moved slowly and I could see wind-whipped snow dancing over the snow covered road. It makes me glad the church services were cancelled and I could remain inside safe and warm.

I’m Not Perfect

 I’m Not Perfect
I’m not perfect and never will be this side of heaven. I have been tempted and drawn aside more times than once in my seventy-six years of living on the Earth. And it grates on me when someone sayd, “I’m no angel.” Of course no one is an angel. God created man to be so much more than an angel. From the sixth day of Creation, He made man to be special. He made man in His likeness. He made man to be in fellowship with Him and to walk with Him in a perfect world. He made man to live in a garden where peace and harmony abode, a place where the lion cold lay down with the lamb with no worry about safety. It was a place wheree food was abundant and there we no carnivors. Everyone and everything were vegetarian. The plants were various and abundant and would meet all needs of al creatures in this perfect world. There were no weeds or thorns in the garden. It was desiigned as a place where God and man can walk in perfect communion. God had plans to have Adam and his family as a child of His own.
The Bible says that we’ve all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Romans 3:23. Even the smallest sin will prevent us from entering the glorious realm of heaven. If we have lied about something or taken something that didn’t belong to us, we’ve erred and failed to do what God requires of us. If we have yielded to a temptation, we have sinned. We have cut the ties of communion with God. There is only one way to regain that communion with God and that is by asking for forgiveness and accepting Jesus Christ as your Savior. The Bible tells us that Christ is the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh to the Father, but by me. John 14:6.
I can’t find life in any other: not Buddah, Confusious, not Allah, not through Shiva nor Brahma, not through Mary nor through the Saints. Jesus stated clearly that the path to heaven is through Him. In Matthew 7:13-14 it tells that broad is the gate that leadeth to destruction and the gate is narrow which leadeth unto life. Matthew 26:28 and Colossians 1:20 tell us that the blood of Jesus that was shed on the cross was poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. With our sins covered, we can be made perfect and live eternally with God the Father in Heaven.

Just Say No to Snow

 Just Say No to Snow
I am feeling the dulling edge of the winter wearies. I am tired of the cold weather and snow. The ice is another “No-No.” The ice worriess me most since I fell near the end of winter in 2015 and I developed two bleeds in my head. I was blessed that I had very little repercussions from the injury. I still have intervals where I have phantom smells. Unexpectedly my brain says I am smelling something and there is no way possible that I am really smelling an odor.
When that false aroma first started, it was a smell of car exhaust fumes of hot plastic. I quickly learned to ignore the car fume odor, but I have to wander through my house to be sure that the hot plastic is not happening.
I don’t like the snow that the snowplows push into my driveway. I once liked to go outside in the dark and shovel the drive, but as I age I find it more of  a task especially when the snow is heavy and wet or the snow has frozen before I can ccomplete the chore.
When I was younger with kids in the house, going outside was a sanctuary. Not that the kids were bad, but sometimes going outside was an escape. Let me explain. Outside in the dark it was almost silent. No television, no one talking to me, and no phone. The only sounds I heard were the passing of an occasional car and the soft hiss of falling snow. It was as though I was inside of a snow globe where the sphere of the outside light illuminated the area where I was shovelling.
I am never content when my drive is filled with snow. I always need an escape route. If an emergency should arise, I want to be able to leave in my car or a spot for an emergency vehicle to pull in. It was especially important when my kids were living at home. Another foible I have is I don’t like to have less than half a tank of gasoline in my car. It goes back to having kids at home and a possible emergency. It was a  time when gas stations were not open 24 hours per day and the possibility of a trip to Pittsburgh might become necessary.
This winter, one band of snow has followed another and I have become weary. It’s time for spring and sunshine.

The Miracle of Time

 The Miracle of Time
How quickly time passes. It was brought to my mind yesterday when my friend’s son came to speak at our church. Although my friend had married and moved to North Carolina, he has remained a good friend. His father and mother and my family attended the same church for many years.
I have watched as this young man’s father grew up in my church and watched as he and his brothers and sister were born. Although no longer in my church, I’ve listened to his progress as he grew, attended a Christian college on the West Coast, and graduated. Now this young man is newly married and is seeking to serve God as a minister. He and his new bride have decided to focus on a church planting ministry.
Let me take you back to a time when his father graduated from high school. I shared in past stories about a joke that I played on the father. It was “The-Tie-of-the Month Club” where I packaged at least one tie and a rhyme with each tie for each month open the package that it could be worn, and some other reason it could be used. (Like a deer drag or belt to wear.)
When this young man graduated from college, I made a repeat “The-Tie-of-the Month Club” for him. I am a jokester and enjoy playing jokes that put a smile on other people’s faces without causing harm. I’m a long distance friend to this young man as well. When he spoke at our church Sunday, he had the ease and poise of a man with much more experience. He shared his vision of starting a new church.
The miracle I speak of is time. I have no idea how much time has been allotted to me. When I look back, I can see how short that string has been. Each day or week may seem to drag on forever, but in reality, they pass by swiftly in a blur. Small things that consume each day are for the most part lost and forgotten. My mind was clogged with so many small choices. Most of those things are only brought to mind when someone or something reminds us of a past incident that was once shared.

For Some Reason

 For Some Reason
After the nice warmer weather yesterday, for some reason my house felt chilly. I hadn’t changed the thermostat; I was covered with the same blankets, and actually was sleeping in a hoodie instead of a long-sleeved tee shirt.  I know that it’s still only February, but I would like a bit more heat. January’s Polar Vortex and snow almost makes me wish I was one of those people who escape south in the cold winter months. Then I look at this year’s weather patterns and figure why? Several times the cold and snow has laid down an 8 inch swath as far as New Orleans, Louisiana and 10 inches in Pensecola, Florida. I imagine if I moved, the snow would chase me to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
One thing I am praying for is that it doesn’t snow enough for me to have to clear out my driveway after the snowplows compete to see how high of a mound of snow they can pack into the opening for me. I don’t like the feeling of having my escape route blocked or that no one can visit, even though that rarely happens.
I had a message from a young man and it got me to thinking about the different churches and different pastors I have met in my past and the friendships that I have had with them. Some of the friendships were superficial and others were deeper, much like a brother. I recall their style of preaching and even some of their messages.
The earliest ones were from the Clinton Church of God, a small white clapboard building with a bellfry to one side. It has now been replaced by a red brick building. I now attend the Mt. Zion church at the top of Kreinbrook Hill. We’ve had only three ministers in the many years I have gone there and I’ve accumulated manyy memories of them. My Son Andrew asked if there were any cassettes of Pastor Leroy Kesler, he’d like to borrow them to listen to the messages. I asked Mary Kesler his wife if she had any. She thought she had them and that I could borrow them. It opened the door for me to think of the other pastors in the past with whom I have enjoyed friendships.

Back in the Saddle Again

 Back in the Saddle Again
At the end of December 2024 I finished a trial medication for a drug manufacturer for diabetes. I was given a pill that I was to consume each day. I had a slight side effect symptom of nausea, but it was minimal. The thing with that medication was that my morning blood sugars were almost always too low. The rest of the day, it was within a normal range. I loved it, but like all drug dealers, at the end of the trial period, they withheld the medication and I am again I have to be careful with what I eat and the doseage for my daily insulin. (PS I just got the W-2 form for the monies I received for the diabetes study.) Nothing is free.
I am just beginning another study for gout. In the past I have had outbursts of elevated uric acid causing some joints to swell and become very sore. At my first introduction to the study, the nurse drew eleven or twelve vials of blood and collected a urine sample. Before I left, she arranged for me to have an ultrasound of my kidneys, ureters, and bladder to be sure I didn’t have kidney stones.
In the past, I’ve had several urinary tract infections and some difficulty with urinary retention. The urinary retention was caused by an enlarged prostate. I had the Greenlight Laser Proceedure done to correct that.
The lovely young blonde tech was undelievably courteous and we talked throughout the proceedure. The test only took about fifteen minutes. As we finished, I gave her one of my business cards teling her that I was a writer and have seven books written. She was interested and asked about their topics. She also asked about my poems. I said many topics, many about the passing of my wife. Just before I left, she said, “I wish you’d have mentioned about your writing. I’m a writer too.”
With the new study, I’m back in the saddle  again.

Making Friends the Hard Way

 Making Friends the Hard Way
This past Sunday our church had a “double header” service. That is what we had, the morning services followed by Sunday school as usual, but this Sunday we had a covered dish meal for those who wished to stay for the fellowship meal afterward. Then we have a second service. We do this occaionally to prevent driving to the church twice in case of bad weather. We have done the same thing when gasoline prices were high as well.
Things are never boring at our church. Sometimes we have visiting missionaries or occasional guest speakers, but the variety always gives us a healthy appetite, either for different speakers of the wide choice of food on the “double header” Sundays.
Sunday morning I had to be careful. Several areas of my driveway were covered in ice and slick. I had no desire to repeat a fall and injure myself again like I did in 2015. Removing the windshield cover then carrying out my Bible and crock pot, it was necessary for me to make two trips to the car. Backing out of my drive was another chore. I had to reverse and rock the car forward several times. The water had frozen forming an icy pocket for one of my tires. It spun before catching traction to leave.
Back to the making of new friends; one of my close friends had a 7 year old great nephew there. I hadn’t had the chance to meet or make friends with him before. I was talking with his grandmother waiting for the food to be set out when I reached out to shake his hand. He was shy and hid behind her. Later we were sitting at the same table on opposite ends. He would glance down the table and make shy faces. After the pastor said a blessing for the food, he opened the chow line. I walked past the boy, I grabbed his hand to shake it. He was surprised and clung to my hand with all the strength he could muster. Now it was my turn to be surprised. He held my hand in a viselike grip, not letting go until we got in the queue for food. I’m not sure that I’ve made a lasting friendship, but we certainly have broken the ice and we now know each other.