I Am Grateful For...

Sometimes in writing workshops we're asked to make a quick, spontaneous "stream of consciousness" list.  It must be truthful,  detailed and immediate. For instance, make a quick list of all the things you're frightened of or you hate - right now.

My lists were usually gratitude lists.

And, now on this day before New Year's Eve, 2014, I, once again, wrote a gratitude list.

1.  I'm grateful for Facebook because I can see Maddox every day.  And also a little baby I've never met but her mom has posted photos every day since she was born four months ago.

2.  I'm grateful for excellent medical insurance and the fact that I no longer have to feel as guilty as I used to about it because more and more folks are getting the coverage they need.

3.  I'm grateful that Ebola is not a threat to me or anybody I know, mainly because we're doing the right thing to help eradicate it.  And I'm grateful to all the medical folks around the world who choose to go where Ebola is still thriving.  (Running to the Fire!)

4.  I'm grateful for where I live.  

5.   Last night we watched the 1968 movie "Father Goose" with Cary Grant and Leslie Caron.  It's a romantic comedy but they end up slapping each other in the face a few times as they're getting friendly. I'm grateful that most of society no longer believes that women like to be slapped around as a prelude to love making.

6.  I'm grateful that if I want to sit on the couch for five hours - I can.

7.  I'm grateful for a Forum where we can share ideas about society's problems and I can learn from wise folks not to think with my feelings but to try to emulate the teachings of Jesus.


***

The Power of Stories

Dave and I were happy to be back home and in our own church this morning.  But when it came time for the sermon who pops up in the pulpit but this kid who grew up in the church.  His name is Corey Vevera and it seems like he just left for college  but, as it turns out, he's this totally relaxed in his own skin guy who's graduated from FSU, worked for a year, and is now a student at Duke Divinity School.

So he's a 'Nole and a Dukey.

His sermon was about the importance of stories.  He made his point by telling cool stories.  What a concept.  They were good stories.   He told about his year of working at Books-A-Million after graduating from college and how he was the store's expert in the Science Fiction/Star Wars/Fantasy/Christian departments.  

He thanked a couple in the congregation for allowing him to babysit their sons when he was in high school because he got paid for doing exactly what he would have been doing at home which was running around the back yard with light sabers.

I was totally on board because I'd just returned from my Sullivans house where several of them are experts in the same fields.  (I would add super heroes and Lego's - but it all blends in together.)

Corey made some daring conclusions.  Stories are usually made up of conflict and resolution.  The Jesus story is made up of conflict and resolution.  Therefore, most all stories are somewhat about the Jesus story.

Something to think about.

Corey also elaborated on how several folks in the Jesus story were bold, like Simeon who said this baby is going to do great things, like, Anna, the  old lady who never left the Temple, but who ran out to share the news about what this little baby was going to do.

And bold like Corey who knows how to tell the story.  And, hopefully,  like me.


***

All I Want for Christmas is No Stress

Dave and I have about reached peek capacity party-wise here at home so we're leaving soon for Atlanta and Chicago to...as Wayne on "Wayne's World used to say...party on!

But one thing that I used to have big time, that I no longer have, is holiday stress.

One of the party events I attended last week was a Women's Celebration at my church.  While I used to speak at women's events and lead a few women's retreats every year,  I no longer have the need to - not only lead - but even attend these events.  However, this one was to be led by three women I deeply admire, so I went.

The crowd of over one hundred women was mostly younger than me.  And better dressed.  The room was spectacular.  The dinner was pretty close to gourmet.  I was thinking, "Oh man, this has to have been a lot of stressful work."

At program time these three super achieving women appeared on stage in their pajamas!

What???

The message was about relieving stress.  But instead of telling us how,  they began by each of them confessing to a part of their personalities that cause them big time stress at Christmas Time.

1.  People Pleaser - My minister, Jayne, confessed to this.  How can it be?  She's one of the best executives I've ever seen, as well as being an outstanding teacher and preacher.  And, oh yeah, she's a wife and mom.

2.  Perfectionist -  Merrill confessed to this.  How can it be?  She's a life coach and the mother of five kids.  So, yeah, it has to be hard to keep a perfect house at Christmas time with five kids and a job.

3.  Performer - Michele is an amazing, nearly perfect person - professionally and personally.  She knows she does things well and is great at keeping several balls in the air - at all times.  But she told us about getting so stressed the week before that she actually yelled at her kids.

About 80 women were murmuring under their breathes "Michele yelled at her kids?"

After all of this confessing the three of them told the marjority of women in the room (who looked perfect - and stressed)  how to stay calm and celebrate the Real Christmas!

I enjoyed this but didn't need it because I am no longer a professional people pleaser, perfectionist, or performer - like I used to be!


***

Doctors and The Meaning of Life

I visited my internist this morning.  Nothing wrong;  just a check up.  One of the reasons I like him is that he doesn't try to get me to take medicine.  In fact, he always goes down my med list and questions every one - every time I see him.  I like having a doctor who doesn't equate a meaningful life for older people with a big assortment of meds.

In Atul Gawande's book Being Mortal, he tells a story about a retired doctor he interviewed over a long period of time.

 Felix Silverstone was a national leader in geriatrics for 50 years.  So we would suppose that he had some understanding of the meaning of life when it comes to getting old.  He finally had to retire at age 82.  He and his wife Bella moved to a lovely retirement community.  Felix was well aware of the changes taking place in his body.

But, Dr. Gawande says about Felix:

What buoyed him, despite his limitations, was having a purpose.  It was the same purpose, he said, that sustained him in medicine:  to be of service, in some way, to those around him.  

He found the most meaning in being of service to Bella.  She had serious memory issues and was blind.   Dr. Gawande goes on to describe one of the most romantic paragraphs I've read in a long time.

He dressed her, bathed her, helped feed her.  When they walked, they held hands.  At night, they lay in bed in each other's arms, awake and nestling for a while, before finally drifting off to sleep.  Those moments, Felix said, remained among their most cherished.  

The meaning of life.


***

R - E - S - P - E - C -T

The Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts is a brand new, lavish "state of the art" theater in downtown Orlando.  Going forward, this is where we'll attend the opera, the philharmonic and other fancy venues.

This week there was a letter to the editor in the Sentinel titled:  God's OK with Shorts, Arts Should Be Too.

In it the writer is complaining that he went to the theater  and received some flack because he wore shorts and a t shirt.

I am very forgiving about what people wear.  I could never be a member of the Fashion Police.  But, as Penny says in The Big Bang Theory, this kind of attitude "creams my corn!"

Loretta and Ronny were working class folks
who knew how to dress for the opera

Here's why:

All over the world, here are occasions where what people wear becomes part of a social contract, whether spoken or unspoken.  Attending The Dr. Phillips Center is one of them.

Dave and I were on a cruise a couple of months ago.  There were three formal nights.  The dress code was clearly communicated both before and during the cruise.  There were places to eat other than the formal dining rooms.  Most women wore  short cocktail dresses or long,  more formal gowns .  Most men wore tuxedos or dark suits.   But some people made a point of showing up in shorts, windbreakers, sneakers, crocs, etc.

I'll have to say that this is mostly a guy thing - this need to buck the dress code.  But here's some advice.  Your wife or girlfriend most likely wants you to dress up and you're acting like a big baby.

How much you spend on the outfit is not a factor.  Respect is.

The letter writer went on to say that he wears shorts to church and nobody complains.  The people in my church welcome everybody, no matter what they wear.  But I visit churches where I know it would not be appropriate to be anything but dressed up - so I wear my Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes.  Out of respect.


***

Altruism After Death

Let conversation cease.  let laughter flee.  This is the place where death delights to help the living

A couple of years ago Dave and I toured the new University of Central Florida College of Medicine.  It's magnificent.  When we got to the gross anatomy lab I was a little skeptical - but it was magnificent - and a holy experience.  The quote above, which is at the entrance to the lab, sets the tone.  (I wrote a blog entry at that time called University of Central Florida College of Medicine - dated 4/1/12.)

Shortly after leaving Dave made his arrangements for leaving his body to the school.  This has been met with mostly positive, but somewhat mixed response.  I don't know anybody else who is doing this.

But this week I read a Washington Post article by Dr. Edward Beal, a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a clinical professor at the Georgetown University School of Medicine.

In the article he said that he was shocked when his wife announced that she was going to donate her body to the Georgetown School of Medicine.  Dr. Beal goes on to say that he was remembering the old days when pranks were pulled and respect was not paid.   When he expressed his concerns to his wife she told him she was going to attend the School of Medicine's annual liturgy and Catholic Mass for families of donors.

He went with her.

Dr. Beal said the room was filled with faculty, and family members who had come to collect the ashes of their loved one.  He goes on to say:

...nearly 200 students filed into the classroom; they each carried a lighted candle in honor of their donor body and placed the candles on a stage.  There were Jews, Muslims, Protestants, atheists and outright anti-religious students in the procession.  

Afterwards Dr. Beal spoke with several students.  One talked about her cadaver's heart and how it did not look like anything in a text book.  Another student said there was no doubt in her mind that she would donate her body when the time came.

And yet another said that....throughout the entire class, the cadaver's faces had remained covered, out of respect, until the time came to study the face.  She spoke almost reverently of how moved she felt the day she and her classmates removed the covering over the face of their cadaver and looked for the first time into the donor's eyes.

Thank you, Dr. Edward Beal for reinforcing our experience at the UCF College of Medicine and for reinforcing Dave's commitment to help the living.



****

Time to Say Goodbye to a Landmark

Club Harem in Winter Park, Florida is being sold to the city.  The plans are for it to be immediately torn down.  It's time.

But for those of us who've lived in Central Florida for a while, it will always be affectionately known by its former name,  The Booby Trap.  Years ago, it lived up to this name - painted in natural flesh tones.  Even those who wildly protested The Booby Trap would go out of their way to point it out to others.  It was an early Orlando tourist attraction. 

Decades ago my husband was the minister at Community United Methodist Church in Casselberry, Florida, a suburb of Orlando, and two miles from where I currently live.  At that time Casselberry, a quiet bedroom community, had several "gentleman's clubs."  The most famous was Rachel's World Class Men's Club.  I was never there but I heard it was luxurious.  And I wanted to see inside.

Every year Ken would receive, at the church, a special invitation to dinner at Rachal's.  It came in a big pink envelope.  I would beg him to go and take me with him but he never did.  

It was, and is, fun to tease about these clubs.  But what they are, are strip clubs.  Lots of sad stories have come out of these clubs.  With our current emphasis on human trafficking we all have come to understand that tragic things happen in and around these places.  

One day, all those long years ago I was talking with some cool old ladies in the church.  I was teasing about how curious I was about the gentleman's clubs and asked them if they'd like to go check one out with me.   Turns out, they already had.  

They described it as an embarrassing, bad experience.  It was amateur night.  The church ladies said several very drunk young women got on stage and tried to fulfill their fantasies of being strippers.  It was very sad, indeed.    

I'm happy to say that most of the strip clubs in this area are gone.  However, Rachel's World Class Men's Club is still here.  And it still advertises itself as luxurious.   Since I don't go out much at night anymore, I doubt that I'll ever see the inside.  They are open for lunch but I can't imagine how sad and pathetic it would be to have lunch at a strip club.  

***

  

I Am Mortal

She's healthy and beautiful
at 100

But - we're all gonna die!!!  It's a fact.

I just finished reading Being Mortal by surgeon and best selling author Atul Gawande.  In fact,  Being Mortal is currently on the best seller list, with good reason.

This book helps us confront realistically the last quarter of our lives.  Dr, Gawande believes we should have more control over how we spend this precious time.  I agree.

Here's a tiny tidbit from page 40 that could save and/or change your life:

The single most serious threat most of us oldies face is.....falling.  Each year, about 350,000 Americans fall and break a hip.  Of those, 40 percent end up in a nursing home, and 20 percent are never able to walk again.  The three primary risk factors for falling are poor balance, taking more than four prescription medications, and muscle weakness.  Elderly people without these risk factors have a 12 percent chance of falling in a year.  Those with all three risk factors have almost a 100 percent chance.

Yes, that's a 100 percent chance.

***

Why Is Your Hair Brown?

Every time you tint your hair you dye a little. 

Normally, my hair is kind of brown with blond highlights.  That's normally - not naturally.  But right now it's a bit darker and some folks have taken notice.

Here's the scoop.  First off, let me ask you this question:  If you had only 30 minutes to live, what would you do?  I would dye my hair.  Because that waiting for the dye to cast is a long, long 30 minutes.  So last week while waiting I decided to wash some crystal pieces in the kitchen sink.

Not knowing a piece was broken I plunged my hand into the soapy water.  Immediately the bubbles got bloody.  I wrapped my hand in several paper towels and thought about the most sensible thing to do.

I wanted to just continue to wash the crystal pieces until my 30 minutes were up.  But the paper towels were turning red.  I wished Dave was home but then realized he would only say:

Hey, babe, you need a band aid on that.

I was dressed in only my ratty old "hair dying" robe and my wet hair was covered in Suran Wrap so I guessed I'd better shower and dress just in case I was bleeding to death and had to call 911.

So that's why my hair is brown.  Only about 18 minutes with the dye!

After that I rewrapped my finger with a pile of kleenex while I put on some makeup in case I had to drive to the ER.  But the bleeding was slowing down.

So an hour or so later I put on big plastic gloves and finished washing the crystal.

Then I applied a band aid.


***

Where Can We Find a Coyote?

When I read this Garfield strip this week I thought Odie's grandma probably lives in Orlando!  We have Coyotes.  They're all over the place.

They don't bother humans but they do eat our house cats and this gets on our nerves.  Naturalists tell us to keep our cats inside and leave the coyotes alone but that's hard to swallow.

We Central Floridans also have wolves and foxes running around our urban areas.  But no cougars.  Unless you count those older women who date younger men.

We have plenty of those.

Central Florida Coyote in the Back Yard

***

Thanks for My Promised Land

Fifty years ago  I lived on South West 1st Court, in Plantation,  Florida,  just west of Fort Lauderdale.   The address is important because there wasn't much west of 1st Court.  Further out was swamp land. Some folks were saying it wasn't livable, that if you built a house out there, it would sink.  Others were saying it's "The Promised Land."

And then one day the city of Plantation actually had a land grab.  Hundreds of people showed up to race for free lots.  You just had to grab the flag in the middle and it was yours!   We didn't participate because that wasn't the kind of Promised Land we were looking for.

My Promise Land has always been about relationships.   

One of my ministers, Reverend Jayne, preached a powerful sermon this Thanksgiving morning.   She talked about "The Promised Land."  Mostly about how difficult it was and is to get and to keep.

It was true for the Israelites and it's true for us.

Ferguson

Today, I'm thankful that, in some ways, I've reached my  personal Promised Land.  I have this great life with Dave and our abundant friends and family and  I still have important work to do.  

The work is hard because relationships are hard.  But, of course, there is ultimately the Promised Land.

When Jayne gave members of the congregation the opportunity to name what they're most grateful for today, two men named their wives.

That was my Dave and Jim Armstrong.  How cool is that?


***

Winnie the Pooh Causes International Incident

"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you."  -  Quoted from the not too bright but extremely loving Winnie the Pooh

I love having readers all over the world because I occasionally have the opportunity to be an international problem solver.

You've probably already read about how officials of the small town of Tuszyn, Poland have been meeting to decide a new patron for a Children's playground.

 When several people suggested "Winnie the Pooh,"  who, according to his song, is a "willy, nilly silly old bear," officials became concerned and conducted an investigation.  Why?

Because everybody knows Pooh doesn't wear pants.  They concluded that he was "a hermaphroditic, nudist bear created by a disturbed old man."  By the way, A. A. Milne was 44 years old when he began writing about the world's most lovable bear.  (You may like Teddy better, but he too is pantless. )

Who else can they choose for the children's playground?  There's Daffy Duck and Donald Duck and Bugs Bunny and several other beloved stuffed animals/cartoon characters - but none of them wear pants. 

OK.  Here's my offering.  Go with The Pillsbury Dough Boy.  Most everybody in America knows that he was recently given a tiny pair of blue jeans by a grateful roll loving family.  I love that grandma says "it's about time!"  Maybe she's from Poland.  


***

Lost in Shangri-La

In the last couple of weeks I've read two books depicting important, sensational (at the time,) events in our history that I did not know existed.  The first was The Orphan Train.  It takes place in the late 1800s to around 1920 when trains  took orphans from the streets of New York and shipped them to farms and factories in the Mid West.  Not just a few, but over 200,000 children.

And now I've just finished reading Lost in Shangri-La by Mitchell Zuckoff.  This is a true story about two soldiers and a WAC who were trapped in the jungle in New Guinea in 1944 - and their incredible rescue.

The woman was beautiful.  They were badly injured in an airplane crash; they encountered natives who were still living in the stone age, and all kinds of folks risked their lives to save them.

When they finally arrived back in the United States they were world famous, especially Margaret Hastings.

Margaret and Native Children

I loved the two Filipino medics who volunteered to risk their own lives by parachuting into the jungle and then hacking their way - for days - to the spot where the three were stranded.  If not for the medics, two of them would have died at that time.  Yes, Margaret was a dame with great gams but those gams were badly burned and full of gangrene.

I loved the interaction with the natives.  Natives who were primitive to the extreme but complex.  Yes they were cannibals.  Yes they went to war just for fun. - but they were happy.

Toward the end of the book I realized that I know a couple who spent 30 years in the mission field in that same area long after these events took place.  I hope the missionaries moving into that part of the world changed the native's lives for the better - but I'm not sure.

Lost in Shangri-La is a non fiction"man's book."  It has 58 pages of index notes in the back and lots of black and white photos.  Even I loved the detailed description of the eventual plane/glider set up they used to save the group.

An  exciting read, indeed!


***

Wendy's

I've mentioned before that my choice for a "last meal" would be Wendy's chicken sandwich (the big fat one, not the one dollar special,) with fries that I would dip into a big ol' Frosty.

But, for the last few years I haven't been to Wendy's.  Not because it's not good for me but because Dave can't handle it.  He's not opposed to the food, it's the ambiance that gets him.  He can't handle the looks of the place.  Wendy's restaurants are pretty much beige, square boxes.  As an architect and artist, he is not amused.

So I 've been in solidarity with Dave and just hoped for a miracle some day so that I could have some decent chili.  And then the miracle happened.  A couple of months ago they tore down our neighborhood Wendy's.  What next?  This week the brand new architecturally interesting Wendy's was unveiled from behind the fence.  What a change.

We're going as soon as the crowd thins.


***

A Circle of Wonen

Because we're living so much longer a new phenomena is taking place.  It's not all that unusual for women in their seventies to have mothers who are still living.  Two close friends (who are in their seventies) recently lost their moms.  One was in her late 90s and the other was 102.  It's been interesting to see how my friends have grieved over the loss of their moms that they've had for 70 plus years.

On our recent cruise we became friendly with a couple from south Florida.  Her mother had just died at age 99 and she was feeling some anger with her mom for "giving up" before she reached 100.   But we know that anger is a part of grieving.

We women need each other.  I lost my mom as a child but one of the best things in my life is women friends.  I don't know how I could cope without them.

One of these friends recently read the following to others of us.  I believe every word and I hope to have close women friends until the end.

A CIRCLE OF WOMEN

A circle of women can provide a container for emergence in a way that a woman alone, or even a one-to-one relationship cannot.  Intimate relationships and friendships can break or at least be greatly strained by life changes.  But from the combined wisdom and energy of a small group of women who are committed to hearing each other a continuity and trust can develop that can be relied on over the long term.  And, witnessing each person's direct knowing of her truth, we can be empowered to love our own.  


***

Aruba

Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take ya
Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego,
baby why don't we go,
Jamaica.  -  Kokomo, The Beach Boys

Three weeks ago we spent the day in the capitol city of Aruba....Oranjestad,

Some folks might see this as a dream come true, the epitome of a tropical paradise of beaches and shopping, but I live in the epitome of a tropical paradise of beaches and shopping so I'll say it was "pleasant."

Aruba is noted for luxury shopping.  But, as you know, I'm not a shopper.  We cruised around in "the big pink building."  More jewelry stores than I'd ever seen in one structure.

The big pink building

In one store I tried on a ring just for fun.  Dave said "let me buy it for you."  But I lovely replied:

"Are you crazy?!"

Later on we boarded our ship to sail to another paradise.  But Dave and I enjoyed the ship as much as the ports.  I love Holland America's nickname.

For the Newly Wed and the Nearly Dead.

Because Dave and I are kinda both.


***

Love Letter

My old friend, Jim McWhinnie, writes often on Facebook, sometimes several entries a day.  Not only in his Alzheimer's journal but about spiritual and other issues as well.  After all, he is a scholar and has important things to tell us while he can.

His journal entry today is beautiful but it will break your heart.

MY ALZHEIMER'S JOURNAL ... November 11, 2014

Last night, my wife included with dinner a bit of pudding ... a rare treat with my diabetes being the way it is. Without asking as to its kind, my first spoonful brought back to me the memory of how much I love butterscotch. Now, that may not seem so insightful, ... but I observed my taste buds remembered the wonder of butterscotch before my conscious mind could name it. I remembered the love ... before I remembered the words to name or describe it. This is something I need to keep central in my own sense of self and for my loved ones to remember ... in the years ahead I will remember many things though I may not know how to describe them or name. I will remember the experience of the reality; I will remember the feel of the moment.

Later last night, as my wife and I were snuggled on the couch, I thought to myself as I felt her presence so close to me ... "Someday I may not remember you as my wife ... but somehow I believe that I will fall in love with you all over again ... for I do remember how much I love the taste of butterscotch even when I do not remember its name. And I will remember how you, my dear, will feel to me."

So, I do believe ... we come to know the moments ... before we ever give those moments ... words.

jim mcwhinnie

***

Birdman

The Birdman movie, staring Michael Keaton, opened a few days ago and, so far, the reviews have been "over the top" great.

I'll have to agree that Keaton and Edward Norton are fearless actors in Birdman.

It's a "sort of" black comedy about a "has been" movie actor rehearsing for a Broadway play which he's producing, directing and staring in.  The entire two hour movie is chaotic leading up to opening night;  which is, itself, chaotic and leads up to more chaos.  Don't look for any tied up loose ends.

Michael Keaton's character is Riggan Thomson.  But here's what a lot of the fuss is about:  Is Riggan Thomas Micheal Keaton?   Is Birdman Batman?

Riggan made a questionable decision  when he turned down Birdman 3 and, therefore, effectively ended his movie career.

Keaton (in real life) turned down Batman 4, and, therefore, effectively ended his movie career.

The movie Birdman is full of surrealism.  It's about insecure, self destructive actors.  It's unsettling.

Is Riggan Thomson crazy?  Or is he really Birdman?

Is Michael Keaton going to win an Academy Award for this performance and, therefore,  jump start his "real life" career?  I think so.

But it's too late for Riggan.


***

Temporary Art

 In the story and 1987 Academy Award winning foreign film Babette's Feast, Babette, after having won the  French lottery, spends every cent of it preparing the perfect meal for the people who have taken her in.  When asked why she would do such a thing, she replies:

Throughout the world sounds one long cry from the heart of the artist.  Give me the chance to do my very best.

I thought about Babette yesterday when, after having a lovely birthday lunch with Dave on Park Avenue in Winter Park, Florida, we wondered across the street to the park to see the "Sidewalk Art Show."  This was art work done in chalk directly on the sidewalk.  Each artist was to do his or her version of a famous piece of art. Directly on the sidewalk!

There were two time constraints:  One, the judging started at 4:00 PM, and two, the weather was cloudy.  Rain would destroy the work.

We were totally amazed at what these artists did, knowing all the while that it would be temporary.


***

The Orphan Train

I just recently finished reading Christina Baker Kline's book about a little known but shameful part of our history.  The book is fiction but the events are true.

Between 1864 and 1929 "Orphan Trains" carried over 200,000 children from New York to the Midwest for the purpose of them being so called "adopted."  But most of them were used as free labor on farms and factories and elsewhere.  And, as you can imagine,  many were beaten, starved and sexually assaulted.

These were immigrant children, either orphaned or abandoned.  It's estimated that there were 10,000 abandoned children at any given time in New York City durning that period of time.  Those who were gathered and put on the train had experienced terrible trauma and had no idea where they were going.

Here's how it worked:  The train would pull into a station, the children would be lined up, babies to teenagers, and the townspeople would be there to inspect them; looking at their teeth, limbs and so on.  If they chose a child, they signed the papers right there and took the child.

Reading this so reminded me of the slave blocks in the south where they would bring Africans to the center of town to be inspected before being purchased.

Like slaves in the south, these children lost any sense of their on identities and backgrounds.  Siblings were often separated.  Names were changed.

We don't know much about this history because many train riders never talked about it.  We're in danger now of having the last of them die before we can know their stories.

I don't know about you but I can relate to these kids on several levels.  Especially the childhood feeling of never quite belonging.


***

Lost in Walmart

Dave and I had a serious conversation this afternoon.  His friend, who lives across the country, has quit communicating with Dave.  The friend's wife answers Dave's e-mails and does the talking when Dave calls.

It's sad but it happens more and more to folks our age.  Whatever the health problem is, we want to hide it.  Especially if it has to do with dementia.

Dave and I renewed our commitment to be open and honest as we age.  Especially with each other.  And, as I've shared with you before, my personal hero in modeling how to do this is The Reverend Jim McWhinnie.

Here is one of Jim's latest Facebook journal entries:

MY ALZHEIMER'S JOURNAL ... November 2, 2014

We made a stop at Wal-Mart and once again my wife managed to get herself lost. At least, that is how we phrase my wanderings nowadays. It is a sequence of momentary lapses ... the first, I forget that I can get lost in complicated places with too many options of left or right or straight ahead. The second ... I forget to keep my wife in sight. The third ... I forget to locate my home base. The fourth, fifth, and sixth ... I forget the turns that I had just made ... for I have found that my only hope of recovering my orientation is to retrace my steps. But again ... it was my wife who got lost. But, in the end, I found her ... though she claims she found me.

I have so often used the preacher's cliche ... "I went searching for God until God found me." Poetically true, I suppose, but I do believe God keeps a pretty good eye on us ... and though we may panic because we can't see God ... God always knows where we are. 

I have always found comfort in knowing that God keeps his eye on the sparrow ... even sparrows who wander about Wal-mart ...and as I now stroll into the Long Good-bye ...this sparrow is finding that comforting awareness to be more and more something I cling to with all my heart and hope. So I now often pray ... "Lord, I sometimes wander off ... so before I wander too far away ... call my name and call it loud!"

jim mcwhinnie


***

The Panama Canal, The Eighth Wonder of the World

Entering lock.

Ship's bow.  People lining decks.

The Panama Canal is a short cut from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean.  Prior to its completion in 1914, ships had to go all the way around the tip of South America.

Singapore container ship in lock
next door. 

So the Panama Canal, which is 100 years old this year, is a very big deal.

In the lock.

When I woke up very early on October 23rd, aboard the Zuiderdam, Dave was missing.  On the way up to get coffee I met two other women who's husbands were missing.
 But no worries.

Lake Gatun

Locks

Very early on that morning the bow of the ship was opened in order to give us a panoramic view of the Panama Canal.  As you may know, the Canal is made up of locks.  One reason for the locks is that the Pacific Ocean is several feet higher than the Atlantic.  We entered at Cristobal traveled around (man made) Gatun Lake, and then exited the Canal.

  I counted almost a thousand box car containers
on this ship leaving lock.

Some experience!

By the way, I did eventually find Dave.


***

Panama Canal Fun Facts

1.  The idea for a canal across Panama dates back to the 16th century. 

2.  The men behind the Suez Canal and Eiffel Tower were convicted in connection with failed effort to build a canal.

3.  America originally wanted to build a canal in Nicaragua, not Panama.

4.  More than 25,000 workers died during the canal's construction.

5.  Between 13,000 and 14,000 ships use the canal every year. 

6.  The United States transferred control of the canal to Panama in 1999. 

7.  The canal is being expanded to handle today's mega ships. 

***

Love in the Time of Ebola

A friend of mine stopped going on cruises a few years back due to the norovirus that sometimes hangs around cruise ships.  She seriously questioned our recent Panama Canal cruise decision in light of ebola.

Ebola?  Central American is further away from West Africa than Florida is.  But I don't think logic plays a role in her thinking.

Norovirus is an extremely common and highly contageous bug that gets passed around in schools, nursing homes and everywhere in between.  But, because cruise ships are required to report its presence, we hear more about it.   It causes nausea, vomiting and diarrhea and usually lasts two or three days.

On one of our earlier cruises there was an outbreak of norovirus.  Dave and I were impressed with how fast the ship went into action.  Every sick person was quarantined in their stateroom.  We passengers are not allowed to touch much of anything.  The library shut down, no salt and pepper shakers,  roll or cream and sugar passing in the dining room.  Hand sanitizing was (and still is) required and/or encouraged every place on the ship.

I've never been sick on a ship, other than seasick.  But I kind of understand that, with all that's going on in the world right now, some folks are paranoid.

Cruise Director Hammish

Our our recent cruise we had an excellent cruise director.  His name is Hammish.   These guys direct all of the activities (which are plenty) as well as serving as master of ceremonies and stand up comics.  One of Hammish's lines was, as we were pulling into a port, "If you're late boarding the ship from Aruba, you will be a resident of Aruba."

A couple of days into the cruise Hammish got sick.  Very sad.  We missed him.  A couple of days after that we saw Hammish on deck.  Exciting!  Dave shook his hand.  I shook his hand.

A couple of days after that Hammish was sick again.

A couple of days after that Dave got sick.  Of course, my first thought was:

Hammish!!!

But Dave had a chest cold that hasn't come to much.  He could have caught it from any of a couple of thousand other people on the ship.  I feel bad that I so quickly blamed the only person I knew of who was sick.  I hope Hammis will forgive me.

I guess we can all get a little paranoid these days.


***

She's Still Blessing My Life

Those of you who've read this blog for a while know about my Oldies,  Harry and Haddy Welch, who were my close friends for almost 30 years.  The last few years of their lives Harry, who was large and in charge,  had Alzheimer's decease.  He died about three years ago.

Haddy's Newest Award Winning Painting

Haddy, who was quiet and docile,  had serious memory issues, like not really remembering from one day to the next, but her son kept her close to his family in a fantastic memory care center.  There, of all things, she learned to paint.  She was prolific.  She was good.  She was happy.  Who would have ever imagined that would happen?

She also became kind of famous in her little community.  Her work was cheerful and positive and made all of us who saw it feel good.

Haddy died a few months ago.  This coming Saturday would have been her 95th birthday.

Haddy's Label

But yesterday I received a letter from her son telling me that the Denver Alzheimer's Association selected another one of her watercolors for their 2015 fund raising event.  Everything related to the event will tie in with the painting.  And a framed copy will be presented to all of the speakers.

This Sunday is All Saints Day.  In our church we'll remember all of the folks who are gone from our lives.  We'll especially honor those who've died within the year so I'm looking forward to seeing Haddy's picture on the big screen.

By the way, one of her paintings was also made into a wine bottle label, although, to my knowledge, Haddy never had a drink.  Except for the night she accidentally drank an entire glass of Long Island Iced Tea.


***

Big Bang Dinner

Desserts

As you probably know, eating on a cruise is a big deal.  On the trip we just completed we ate either in the Lido or, usually in the evenings, the formal dining room.  It's over the top elegant.  Five courses, appetizer, soup, salad, entree, dessert.  With several choices in each category.

Or you can eat everything on the menu if you want.

But for Dave and me, by far, the best part of the fine dining experience is not what's on the table - but who's on the chairs.

Three nights ago we were seated with two other couples.  They turned out to be rocket scientists.  No kidding!  They live in the city of Ridgecrest, a town of 27,000 people located in the middle of California.  The town was started decades ago by the Naval Air Warfare Center  and is loaded with smart people.

We thoroughly enjoyed our evening with these folks.  So what does a rocket scientist do when he retires?  One of the guys plays the clarinet for the local symphony.

I asked him later on how he felt about the Big Bang Theory.  He was choosing his words carefully and then I realized it was because, first, he already knew I was interested in theology and didn't want to offend me and , second, he didn't think I could "get it" and didn't want to offend me.

 I stopped him and said, "Oh, I'm sorry.  I meant 'How do you feel about the TV show?"'

But I would have been agreeable to his ideas on the real big bang as well.  None other than Pope Francis has affirmed that the universe coming into being 13.07 billion years ago..."confirms the creative intervention of God."


***

Holland America

Our ship, the Zuiderdam

Yesterday Dave and I arrived home from our 10 day Panama Canal cruise on the cruise line that caters to us oldies, Holland America.  Yes, there were younger people aboard but the activities are directed primarily to mature folks.  But, yes, our ship, the Zuiderdam, did have twelve bars that rocked throughout the night.

I guess.  We were always in bed by 10.

Dave had his photo taken the first day with a man and his son from Holland.  He thought it could represent the cruise line.

Dave and his new Holland friends,
hence Holland-America

As usual, the shows were spectacular, the staff bent over backwards to please and meeting fellow passengers was so very interesting.

Rudy's Apple and orange bird

The Ocean bar was our favorite.  We could see the singer and her back ups across the way but we were far enough from them to share conversations with fellow travellers from around the world.  We arrived most afternoons around 4 pm to play cribbage and have a glass of wine.

Cess and Rudy

 Our waiter, Rudy, was concerned that we weren't eating the Hors d'Oeuvres so one afternoon he carved up an elaborate orange and apple masterpiece just for us!

Yesterday morning we woke up before daylight in the harbor in Fort Lauderdale, after traveling two days straight from Costa Rica.  The ship parked right beside us, after seeing nothing but ocean for two days, was spectacular!

View from our veranda yesterday morning