Embarrassed, Sure

            We’ve all had moments when we’ve been embarrassed, put our feet in our mouths, or committed some sort of faux pas. We are human after all.  One of the first that comes to my mind was an occasion while I was dating my wife-to-be, Cindy Morrison. It happened one Sunday afternoon. It was the first time that I had been invited to have Sunday lunch with the whole family. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and corn pudding filled the table and soon filled our stomachs. Eating slowed and conversation increased in the relaxed atmosphere. I opened my mouth to say something and a small burp escaped.

            That was embarrassing enough, but when Cindy’s dad, Bud scowled and said, “How dare you burp before my wife?” My ears began to burn and I am sure that I blushed. I had a choice. I could either wilt and slide under the table or I could make a joke of it and laugh at myself. I replied, “I didn’t know that it was her turn.” A small look of surprise crossed his face before he began to laugh.

            Last night at church for the mission’s conference, I had another incident. I forgot to shut off the tones for my cell phone and of course, someone called me, right in the middle of the visiting missionary’s sermon. Earlier, J. R. Wright, the missionary on deputation to go to Greenland shared his desire to go there, establish churches, and expand the boat ministry.

            Now, comes the coincidental part. My cell phone plays Popeye the Sailor Man. I chose it because I served in the Navy and if my ringtone sounded when I was out, I knew immediately that it was mine. I fumbled for at least ten to fifteen seconds to get it out of my pocket and to silence it. J. R. stopped and said that he’d never had that tune play while he was speaking. The old feeling of sliding out of sight returned, but after the service, I apologized and said, “Consider the ringtone interruption a blessing on your boat ministry.”

            I will have to wait until tonight to see if I have been forgiven.

Some Sundays

            Some Sundays, like today, are extremely busy from the time a wake until the time I grab a snack and take my medications before bedtime. In the morning, I check my e-mail for something exciting, Snore. Then, I do a quick buzz through of Facebook. I check my blood sugar level, pour and take my meds, then grab a bite of breakfast. Breakfast foods are not my forte and I may eat cold pizza or reheat the rehydrated and cooked Lima beans with a slice of bread.

            Showering, shaving, and doing all of the other bathroom necessities complete, I decide what clothes to climb into for church and Sunday school. This Sunday was the beginning of our missionary conference. We have two missionary families that are visiting. The first are the Minions. No not the odd yellow ones, but real live people. They have been drawn to our Canadian neighborhood of Labrador.

            Labrador has a special place in my heart. Five of us travelled there, probably eighteen or twenty years ago with another young man who wanted to be a missionary there. After driving to the northernmost point of Newfoundland, we rode the ice hardened transport ship, the Northern Ranger to Nain and back, visiting the many small villages and towns along the way. I especially wanted to hear the testimony and the desire of the Minions for this harsh land that is nearly void of the Gospel.

            The next family that will be speaking and sharing their testimony and calling to the country of Greenland will be the Wright family. They will be joining the Shull family in Greenland to help spread the Gospel there. The Shulls have started the only fundamental church in the entire country. It is remarkable that these young people have accepted the daunting task of settling in a non-hospitable environment to share the love of God with these people.

            The darkness in these Arctic areas lasts almost twenty-four hours a day, every day in the winter months. Because there is so much gloom, it reflects in the people using alcohol, drugs, and having a high suicide rate. These problems are very prevalent and a very real hurdle to overcome or to positively influence. I had a taste of the dark winter when I was stationed in Iceland for a year. The lack of sunlight definitely has an effect on the body and spirit of a person.

Sometimes Saddened

            We all have times when sad thoughts swarm around us like bees on lemonade, and I am no exception. There are times that I am drawn back into memories of past events that sadden me. Not all have to do with the passing of loved ones, sometimes it is just the passing of time, when a child gets married or a graduation or even moving out on their own. In ways, they are part of normal life when a child tries its wings and leaves the nest, but it made my life a little emptier.

            Deaths are a hard event to deal with. I was saddened at the passing of a loved one, but I have willingly left them go. Truthfully, there was nothing I could do to keep them here, it was just that I allowed my feelings to open up the grasp and allow them to pass away. It gets to a certain point that death is a blessing. The passing from this sickness and pain filled world into a world of peace and joy beyond the sunset. I try not to reminisce about the exact point of death. That is the painful, empty spot in the journey, but the life that was lived to that point. Rather focus on the many remarkable things that were done in love, caring, and hope for the future.

            I just passed another milestone. My birthday was 9 March and I am fast approaching that departure point. I don’t know how long I might live, but I plan on loving my children and grandchildren until that time occurs. I want to leave them memories that will keep them smiling, long after I have gone.

            The major reason that I started this blog spot was to pass on these stories of life that I remembered or were passed on to me by my parents and in-laws. I know I have been told many stories that I have forgotten and unless someone jogs my memory, these tales of our family history will disappear. They will be lost to future generations.

            Most of the things that I share are not earth shattering happenings, but insights to the everyday occurrences that pepper our family’s past. Some of the tales are pleasant and some, not so pleasant. I try to write the essence of what I’ve been told, usually without my pronouncement of judgment.

            Sadness, happiness, gladness, joy, life, death, all of these things go into the melting pot that is the basis of life. I don’t want to get too maudlin or too philosophical, so I will leave you all with the thought, sunshine would be so much less without the occasional rain shower.

Hints and Tints of Spring

            Yesterday, Was a remarkable day. After the darkness of winter, the piles of dirty snow, and the chilling winds, it was a most welcome and refreshing change to have sunshine and warm zephyrs surrounding me. The longer daylight hours are a preamble to the promises of spring and the days of summer beyond.

            Outside the delicious warmth and freshness to the air greeted me. I was almost tempted to dance on my front lawn, but the fact that I can’t dance very well and that my neighbors already think I am odd, kept that impulse in check. I didn’t want to give them a reason to call the boys with the strait jackets.

            Earlier, as the sun peaked over the horizon, I was awakened by a slowly building symphony of robins, while a ring-necked pheasant strutted in the back yard, crowing loudly. They were soon joined by the “Take two. Take two,” of a mourning dove. The frog peepers sounding their soprano reed like pipings to the chorus. I am happy that the neighbors haven’t brought the rooster to the coop beside of their building in the field behind my house.

            On the gentle slope beside my driveway, the leaves of my miniature tulips had emerged, reaching toward the sun and two of my crocuses have shown their colorful faces, one a bright orange-yellow and the other a soft purple. The grass is becoming more green, shaking off the browns of winter and the buds on the tips of the trees and beginning to swell, pregnant with the thoughts of spring. Yes, there are hints and tints of springtime all around.

Old Ladies and Craft Shows

            I spent Saturday morning and early afternoon at the St. John’s church near North Huntington. It was held in their gymnasium. Tables were set up, with wide aisles to allow shoppers easy access to the handmade items for sale. It was an interesting mélange of crocheted, stitched, and crafted articles, everything from pillows, to potholder/ tea towel creations. Floral wreaths, stitched canvass items, placemats, runners, and of course the jewelry. Some of the jewelry was crocheted multiple with a fancy piece of broken plate, cup, or other pieces of jewelry attached as an ornament.

            The table my two friends and I spread our books on, was located close to the door and between the minimally heated gym and the chill from the outside, it was necessary to get up and walk frequently to restore the circulation and feelings to the toes. I shouldn’t complain, each of us sold three or four books. I passed out many of my business cards and met a lot of people.

            There was one old, frizzy, white-haired Eye-talian lady, as she pronounced it, who sat directly across from me. We had a great time talking and joking.  I could have put her in my pocket and drought her home..

            I met another woman who was celebrating her ninetieth birthday, happy birthday, Evelyn. I made a special trip across the gym to serenade her. It made her smile. She had things to sell, Christmas themed crocheted Mr. and Mrs. Claus.

            The drivers, to and from the event were just careless. Several times, I though sure I was going to be sideswiped by vehicles where the drivers were hugging the white traffic lines. When I was just getting over the Tuesday walk through the Deathly Hallows of whatever illness I had, it was a bit nerve wracking.

            By the time I got back home I was tired and fell into bed for a much deserved nap.

            So far, my appointment book looks like the dance card for the most popular gal at the USO and I keep getting invitations for more and more things. Whatever happened to a restful retirement where I can settle back and read a book?

I worked at Monsour for a year before changing hospitals. In the old hospital their surgical intensive care unit directly above the morgue. I was told that during the night shift, nurses in the unit would often hear babies crying. These nurses were very credible witnesses and I had no reason to doubt what they were saying. I didn’t work the night shift often and only rarely worked in the surgical intensive care unit, so I can’t confirm what they had heard.

This hospital was located along a busy four lane highway. The road ran right past the front door of the emergency department. Accident victims were often brought into the emergency room for treatment, no matter how severe the injury.

It was highly likely that babies and children, as well as adults had died in those accidents and were placed in the morgue until the coroner would release them. At that time there were no air rescue helicopters to fly survivors and some victims would die because the advanced care of larger hospitals wasn’t readily available.

The deceased were brought to the hospital as well. The coroners requested that the dead be taken to a hospital to be pronounced by a physician. Most hospitals have stories of ghosts, spirits and of unexplained sightings or sounds.

***

The owners were brothers. One of the doctors was admitted for a chronic back problem. His private room was near another room that held a confused patient who was noisy and called out frequently. He would moan and then yell loudly. The noise continued all that day and evening.

When nightshift started, the man’s loud vocalizations must have annoyed the doctor, because the physician with a “back problem” came out of his room and took a gurney from storage and pushed it into the noisy man’s room.

The doctor dragged the confused man from his bed and onto the cart. The disappeared into the elevator without assistance.We were in a quandary.

Minutes later, we got a telephone call, saying that one of our patients was in the middle of the main lobby on a stretcher. They knew by his identification band that he was ours. He was crying out and disturbing others. He had been pushed to the first floor and abandoned by the doctor. When the doctor came back to the floor, he requested medication for his back pain and disappeared into his room.

We didn’t know what to do. So we called the nursing supervisor for guidance. She reassigned a room for the confused man on another floor.

***

Someone in administration, called saying be expecting a woman being brought in by car. The family thought she might have had a stroke and I was told to wait at the emergency entrance, under the concrete portcullis, with a wheelchair. I was instructed she was to be a direct admission and to which floor and which room to deliver her. I felt foolish standing outside waiting, but orders were orders.

About ten minutes later a new, powder blue, convertible Cadillac whipped into the driveway and under the canopy. It stopped right outside of the emergency room doors. On the door, in white script, someone had painted the owner’s initials.

Before I could take the few steps to the car, the chauffer put the car in park, jumped out of the driver’s seat, and came around to open the passenger’s door. Pulling it open so I could slide the chair up to the gap, the muscular driver almost physically lifted the fragile-looking, silver haired woman from the car seat and into my wheelchair. I settled her feet into the foot rests and started to back her away from the car.

The chauffer said nothing and I whisked the lady away to her private room. Registration came to her room to admit her. There was no waiting for her in admissions.

I chose not to be too inquisitive about the whole hush-hush affair when I sawt the chauffer climb out of the car to open the door.had a leather strap that ran across his one shoulder and the bulge under the opposite arm pit.

I learned a long time ago, in the Navy, not to question or argue with the powers-that-be in administration or a large chauffer with a bulge under his arm.

Ailing

Just so you don’t believe that I forgot to write a Blogspot, I’ll write a few lines. I have been sick with a major sinus infection. I went to my doctor Tuesday and he ordered an antibiotic for me. I came home and had my daughter pick up the prescription. As soon as she came, I took the one pill. After that I went upstairs and didn’t come back down until this morning. I did drink fluids, but didn’t eat or take my meds.

Yesterday was a blur. When I would check my phone, it would say that it was pm even though I thought it should be morning. Two times over the past two days, I fell both times it was almost as if I blacked out. I went all rubbery and couldn’t control my muscles. That is why I didn’t take my meds or come down stairs to eat.

I’m feeling a little better today and actually made some oatmeal. I’ll share more later.