The Nursing Home

The Nursing Home

Last month Slightly Creaky had an article about how to keep one’s elderly parent(s) at home as long as possible. And that is a wonderful idea when it will work. But the Baby Boomers are in their 60s now taking care of parents in their 80s and 90s; the work environment—or lack thereof—has little to do with the ability to take care of one’s parents.

Even when parents and children are part of a close knit family, certain situations can prevent home health care from being the answer to many of the problems for elderly folks who want to stay at home. For instance, a mother with dementia who has no idea whether it is day or night when the clock says 10:00 can cause the couple loss of sleep and confusion. Only after our parents were taking sleeping medications and antidepressants were they able to obtain a full night’s sleep. Also, our mother kept removing the oxygen from our father because she considered it unnecessary and did not like that plastic tubing cluttering up her hallway. After a few hours without oxygen, our father was hearing voices and talking to folks who were not there.

When Hospice set up our father’s medicine in a tray, they failed to convince him that he needed to use it instead of taking whatever he found in his medicine bottles. He was taking his night medications in the morning and vice versa. So even with nurses coming in five days a week, he was still confused and unsure of what he was supposed to do. If he thought he was having trouble breathing, he took a breathing treatment—even if he has already done so 30 minutes before.

Confusion and forgetfulness and especially dementia are flat out good reasons to have supervision of medications, meals, and sleep time. Our parents are now eating three meals of decent food each day and are sleeping more than 30 minutes at a time between getting up to go smoke cigarettes. Now, in fact, they are limited to three or four cigarettes a day instead of two packs or more. They no longer smell as if they live at the bottom of an old ashtray.

Finances have nothing to do with our parents living in a nursing home. Even if we were each financially set for life without another day’s work, all the money in the world would not change the situation for our parents. Mother will never be the mom we knew when we were growing up. And even though Dad still has the sense he had just a few years ago, he still wants Mom there with him—attitude and all. They have been together for 66 years, so they might as well stay together for as long as they live.

My brother was married in my parents’ living room back on December 22, 1964, by the Petrolia Baptist minister. Four years later the same minister married my husband and me in the same living room. We have many good memories of that home and of our parents living in it; but I would not want one of my memories to be the death of one or both of our parents there. The nursing center has become home to some of the older folks from Clay County and Petrolia. Dad will eventually get to know some of them. He is a sociable fellow. He may not have long for this life, but while he is here he can be happy wherever he is. Mom can now have three meals a day without having to cook any of them or having to wash a dish. If she ever finds something to interest her, she may actually learn to enjoy the freedom of not having to prepare meals and clean the house. Worse things could happen, wouldn’t you think!

A Little Beauty’s Point of View

A Little Beauty’s Point of View

Today we have one of the grands—our only granddaughter. She is the light in her grandfather’s eye and the sweetest little angel in our family who dresses totally in pink. At six years of age she has also developed her very own personal point of view. Today she asked me why Paw Paw had to take a long nap. When I told her that we had been spending quite a bit of our time taking care of Granny Gene and Paw Paw Leland’s business and property, she expressed her very own point of view about THAT situation: “Don’t you think you should get someone else to do that?”

Oh, how wonderful it would be to be able to turn over to someone else the paperwork, the physical gatherings and spreading of all the personal elements of our parents’ estate, and the legwork that is involved in trying to make their lives as comfortable and hassle free as possible. I had never realized before just what all was involved in establishing folks in a nursing home or care center. For one thing, the financial circumstances make for several different options that should have been considered WELL before the time came to move the parents into a home. It may not be the same in all states, but in Texas, at least, a couple cannot have an income of over $2000 a month to qualify for Medicaid which will enable them to remain in a nursing home when their own finances have run out.  Had our parents known or thought that there was another way to do it, they would have put everything they owned in my brother’s name years ago. As it is, their home, their life’s savings, and any valuables they own will go to the state of Texas to pay for their keep.

Our dad has a very good attitude about the nursing home in general—especially the wonderful meals. He complains that they feed them too much and too often, but he is always happy to slip his feet under the table again every time the meals come around.  He also says that it is pretty much of a relief not to have to worry about breaking ice on the water for the three dogs or even keeping seeds out for the birds. Too, he doesn’t have to worry that Mom will leave a fire on under the coffee pot all day or decide that it is time for her hair appointment at 10 at NIGHT rather than during the day. Dementia is SO much fun.  {Pardon the facetiousness: I KNOW it is not funny, but some days we just have to laugh to keep from crying.}

My brother lives in Arkansas, so it is a thousand mile round trip for him every time he has to come down to see about the folks or take care of any of the paperwork that I can’t handle. Now we have never really had any sibling type rivalry, but on the days that Dad calls my brother with a happy attitude, Sterling will crow that HIS dad has called to say he is happy with their new chairs. On the days that Dad calls him griping about not being able to have a pair of tweezers, Sterling tells me that YOUR father {meaning mine} has called. And on some really bad days, Dad is Fang’s father-in-law instead of Sterling’s dad or my father.

On the other hand, Mom is ALWAYS “YOUR mother” when Sterling calls to report on what the nurses have told him about the parents’ activities. It is Mom, of course, who thinks she can have an entire pack of cigarettes to smoke since they belong to her. And she is the one who shows off her attitude when she stomps down the hall if she does not get her way. Fang tells me that I should pay attention; there, but for a difference in bad habits, goes this old girl. Can you hear the deep sigh coming out of North Central Texas?

Thankfully we have these wonderful grands to keep our lives in perspective. Just a minute ago as she sat on her Paw Paw’s lap and directed his computer clicks to the coloring pages she wanted printed out, he failed to hear exactly what she said. She gathered up the microphone part of his hearing device and said, “Can you hear me now?”

Oh, JOY to the world and thank God for little girls!

Paw Paw Pollard Poetry

Paw Paw Pollard Poetry

Two computers side by side they set
Granny playing free cell—Paw surfin’ the net
Dirt and ashes on the floor
No, they ain’t sick or lazy—just don’t have time
For cleaning any more

No use to try and phone—it used to never fail
Makes no difference if you phone from 9 to 9
3 phones and 2 computers all on one line
So to get in touch, send IM or e-Mail

Now the daughter was assured—rue the day and regret
She gave her old ‘puters to granny and paw
And got them on the net

Granny 74 and Paw at 76
Call the daughter—get us out of this ‘FIX’
So if you see smoke and hear a yell
It’s just Granny and Paw on AOL

Nearly ten years ago Dad was waxing eloquent—as eloquence goes in some parts—about learning how to surf the net. Now he has joined what he calls the ranks of the ‘creepy crawlers’ pushing his and Mom’s walkers down the halls at the care center. But he is nearly always ready to push down to the dining room three times a day to sample some more of that good cooking. He seems amazed that he likes ‘strange’ foods that he has never eaten before. He vows and declares that ripe tomatoes can be fried and taste pretty darned good—look terrible, but taste good.

What is funny to us is that Dad still remembers exactly where he put each item that he has requested from the old house. He has given detailed instructions as to who is to receive the tools, the books, and even the old clocks. How many of us today could even remember where to find a book, much less an extra chain saw blade! Maybe we simply have too much stuff in our possession. Our parents’ lives were relatively simple; imagine what our children will have to sift through when it is time for us to leave our old house!

Technology makes things obsolete rather quickly these days. Years ago we gave away all our record albums—including some really old 78 rpm records that a cousin couldn’t bear to pitch. Dad thought those records would make good ‘clay pigeons’ for the shotguns because none of our record players had anything except 33 or 45 rpm. Today we tossed an entire box of old VHS movies because we no longer have a VCR. It probably won’t be long before we watch all our movies on the Internet instead of on a DVD player. At least hard back and paperback books still have a certain appeal despite the latest innovations in electronic books.

Just as the car took over for the horse and buggy years ago, we look around us today and see a country like Japan using robots to teach English. Is it possible that robots and interactive computers will replace teachers soon? Will our schools themselves become obsolete as students complete their work online? Economically, it is reasonable to see why cities and states would choose to employ computers rather than humans who need a retirement account and medical insurance.

Born before the Great Depression, our parents have shown us how to live frugally and how to be adaptable from one era to another. But at the same time, they have shown us that the human connection is just as necessary as it has ever been. Our grandchildren will need those connections to family and to the past. We may teach them how to plant a garden, how to tie a slip knot, or how to make a willow whistle from a green willow twig. Some of the things we can share may actually be worth learning. But one of the best parts of life will always be sharing with those we love. Poetic or not, making those connections is just purely satisfying.

To All Things a Season

To All Things a Season

All the snow and ice has been an interesting lesson for some of us. We discovered that waist-high snow drifts were a bit much to navigate in 30 mph winds with temperatures around 11 degrees. The cold and wind simply took the breath right out of our lungs! Or at least that was the way it seemed to me last week when I went out to help a neighbor who had been unable to get her car up to the top of our hill. She was loaded down with those essentials which every household needed during this extended siege of frigid fury--coke, milk, and bottled water for starters.

Like all good Boy Scouts, we thought we were well prepared for the onslaught of wicked weather. My list included essentials like eggs, milk, coffee, and fresh veggies; however, I reckoned without the niceties of nibbling boredom and cabin fever—I forgot to buy candy, chips, and assorted goodies of that ilk. Oh horrors!

But I digress from one of the most important lessons that this last storm had to teach—we do have finite capacity for physical exertion at this age. After two trips to the bottom of the hill through the heavy snow which bottomed out on a deceptively firm layer of ice, my lungs were heavy with the effort to breath and my nose felt as if it were on fire all the way to my eyebrows. Now the silly part of this episode is that the neighbor’s husband had taken his car across to park it in a safer spot after discovering that he was totally unable to negotiate the ice-covered entrance to our road. He would eventually have walked right past the area where she had to leave her groceries—and would have picked them up and deposited them in the same general area where I put them.

Yes, I have this insane tendency to want to put all right with the world as I see it—including helping out the neighbor and taking her groceries to her house. That tendency could—note the word COULD—be seen as simply a busybody tendency. Or, more generously, it could be seen as the helpful attitude of a neighbor. Either way, one interesting fact is that I see myself as younger and stronger than most of the women on our street.  Somehow I still see myself as just older than nineteen or so!

Now during this same storm but in a different state, my brother parked his truck just down the incline from one of the chicken houses he had to check. In descending the incline, his feet slid out from under him and he slid on the snow and ice until he was about half way under his truck. Other than feeling silly and getting soaking wet in the icy slush, no harm was done as far as he could tell.

Yet that evening, when he was getting up out of his Lazy chair, he suddenly thought that he was passing a kidney stone. It was not until later that he realized that his little slipping trip had made him quite sore. The funny part about his situation is that he has all these belts and awards for some kind of oriental designed exercises in which he was thrown around—or threw others around—like some kind of stuffed scarecrow. And yet a little slip on the ice just about did him in. He said that it was a good thing that he had quit taking that class before he found out that he was too old for that stuff.

My better half—Fang—learned a couple of years ago that he could get things done just as well if he did them slowly and with less frustration and exertion. When the road needed to be cleared, he told one of the neighbor men to come get his tractor and use it to open the road. He went out only long enough to show the man how to operate the hydraulics and then after setting the differential so that all the wheels would pull equally, Fang went back to his big chair in the warm, dry house. Now THAT was the intelligent way to deal with the storm and its aftermath.

All our roads are pretty well cleared and even the parking lots can be negotiated easily, so until the next storm, we can enjoy winter as only a non-ranching household can in Texas—by the fire. We can still feel for the farmers and ranchers who have to go out and cut ice on the stock tanks and throw hay or put out feed for the livestock, but we don’t have to open the doors to the cutting winds or worry about walking on ice unless we just feel too cooped up to cope. No, the neighbor across the street, even though she is shorter and heavier than I am, is probably a good ten years younger as well.

So while the farmers carry out buckets of feed and the neighbor hauls in cases of water, I think I will just stay by the fire or play games on my computer. I stopped being nineteen over forty years ago.

A Serving Attitude

A Serving Attitude

Somehow a few dozen or so people who work for the government—city, state, federal—one leg is both the same in these jobs—have given the word government a bad taste for some folks—think chicken poo in your egg salad.  Visiting today with our family doctor, mention of Medicaid services for children brought a slightly red tinge to his little balding head. It seems that a Medicaid representative came into his office acting as if the doc’s entire purpose in life was to defraud the government by NOT using up infant vaccines before their expiration date. Somehow the doc is supposed to produce a little body into which he can inject each and every one of those vaccines. Now that would be a pretty clever trick.

The idea that someone can take advantage of any government program or service has not escaped the notice of the general public—just my guess. But sometimes I wonder if the same is not true of the opposite: the government workers can take advantage of the ‘authority’ given to them to bully, bulldoze, and otherwise attempt to intimidate anyone who does not work for the government—and sometimes those who DO work for the government. About the only people who are seemingly immune to harassment from government workers or agencies are those in the office of the IRS. Even politicians can be frightened by an IRS audit or the threat thereof!

Recently we met up with a young woman who attempted to help us with the paperwork involved in applying for some government assistance for part of our family. Even with all the guidelines met for the financial limits and receipts established for the disbursement of available funds, the sheer volume of ‘proofs’ to be met were intimidating. An illegal alien applying for assistance would not have to meet the same requirements as an American citizen who actually has been paying income tax and withholding tax for 60 years! Somehow we Americans are pretty practical, independent, and stubborn all at the same time. We expect to receive services when we think we have paid for them. And some of us can get downright hostile if we feel we are un-served or underserved. My dad used to say that a person could only get help from the government if he was either destitute or prostitute!  How he could gauge the validity of that statement remains a mystery to me.

Last year I worked for the Census Bureau and had to swear to never reveal any information that I learned while working for them. No problem. The only thing they taught us was that the government is entirely inefficient and idiotic. Then I got the tax statement showing how much I had earned and how much they took out in withholding tax—an entire seven cents! Somehow that just does not compute. We learned to guesstimate whether or not a derelict might be a woman or man, ‘its’ approximate age, and ‘its’ last known mailing address--all from as far away as 50 feet. (The mailing address part is a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point.) Common sense just does not seem to go with government services. In fact, I am not even sure that the word service actually connects with the word government at this point.

We can be thankful that there are those folks who really do feel that they are serving and have an attitude of service about them. They are the Americans who make up for the chicken poo attitudes that brush off so easily onto the endless forms and frustrations put in our way. Apparently, whether it is the government in attitude or the servant in attitude, everything depends on the individual. Whether it is the person who wants to ‘get’ all that can be taken from every program available, or the person who is just thankful for enough help to get back up and try it again, everything still depends on the individual. After Hurricane Katrina, many Americans pointed out that not all disasters of such magnitude garnered a response from the federal government.

Disasters in the Dakotas or in the Carolinas did not get the publicity or endless sympathy accorded to those who lived in New Orleans and all points sodden. No one expected handouts after floods or blizzards wiped property off the map up north. People got up and did the best they could to live through whatever came their way. Each neighbor helped a neighbor until all had been served. We saw that same attitude in Wichita Falls back in 1979 when a giant tornado (five combined) cut a swatch from across the southwest of our city to the northeast. Each neighbor checked on neighbors and helped pull each other out of the mess. We were all affected and we were all willing to serve one another.

Sometimes we might wonder just how ‘far off’ the government is from being a neighbor.  Maybe the impression we get just depends on the office, the employees, and who needs to be ‘serviced.’ Reagan made the comment that one of the scariest statements he had ever heard was: “I’m from the government, and I am here to help.” As one of the growing crowd of ‘Depend-able’ Americans, I certainly hope all of my encounters with public servants allow me to smile in appreciation rather than scowl in frustration. What is that old saying about what comes around goes around? Someday the ‘servants’ will also need to be served.

Pine Boxes and Other Buckets

Pine Boxes and Other Buckets

For days now I have been trying to come up with some upbeat idea that would be fun to write about for Slightly Creaky, so tonight I am writing about that little piece of ground that is supposed to be our permanent dirt bed. Oh, it is not just the soil or ‘into the hole you go’ spot that is of interest to me; it is the entire idea of disposing of our temporary dwellings or physical bodies.

Now not all folks believe in a hereafter—unless it concerns walking into a room and wondering: What am I here after? But most of us realize that the body we are using in this world is pretty fragile and temporary at best. So it is natural that we might wonder: What is after here?

The other day a fine old lady was dug up from her burial place where she had been for some 400 years, so it looks like a person just can’t depend on even ‘resting in peace’ in one spot if someone needs a new parking lot. And gardeners in Key West may find human bones brought in as part of the fill dirt from Florida just as easily as farmers in Louisiana may plow up an Indian burial mound. And don’t forget that the pyramids didn’t get the job done any better just because they were bodacious. A pine box would have done about as much good as a catacomb if someone wanted to ‘investigate’ or otherwise ‘examine’ history in the form of bones.

Folks tend to use euphemisms to discuss ideas that frighten or confuse them, so the term ‘passed away’ is commonly seen in the obituaries of our local paper. And in some cities, so many deaths occur during a day that the newspapers have begun to charge to list just the names and dates. Speaking of euphemisms, how accurate a description can it be to call a building a ‘funeral home’? But maybe that is not quite as gruesome as the term funeral parlor—as if it were similar to a beauty parlor—which is relatively accurate, come to think of it.

Today a teacher was buried. He had a sense of humor, so the minister had a crossword puzzle printed on the backside of the obituary notice handed out to those who came for the funeral—in case the sermon was boring. If that teacher had been able to sit there and grin about that idea, he would have been even happier to have told how he ‘bought the farm.’ After he and another driver had wrecked one man’s van and the teacher’s motorcycle, they were standing there in the road probably shaking their heads over how lucky they were not to be hurt when a truck topped the hill and wiped them out. Oh, it is sad and at the same time it just makes a person want to kick those guys’ fannies for not getting out of the road. But the teacher would have laughed about the situation. He was like that.

When mother-in-law left us behind, she left some pretty good memories and lots of laughs for the family. The night before the funeral, no one would have believed that our family was in mourning for the simple reason that we were sharing a meal in a restaurant and laughing about some of the things we could remember and share about this woman. She would have loved it.

Maybe what most of us would like to do in this life—before we kick the bucket—is to give good memories to share with others. From procreation to cremation, we tend to make jokes of what goes on in our lives—and in death. But no matter how forgotten our names, ages, places or any of the other vital statistics in some newspaper list, all we can do is share that common connection we have with others. Whether it be dust, ashes, or landfill in the end, the physical existence is what we share; the love and concern for others is a choice. After here, who knows but what that choice may affect others for ever after.

Addictions and Other Social Ills

Addictions and Other Social Ills

Is it wrong to be glad when someone is forcefully stopped from doing that which hurts themselves and others? The highway patrol or local police officers are diligent about pulling over drivers who seem to be driving erratically. A drunk driver might as well be out on the road with a loaded shotgun randomly firing away. And a driver on drugs is not any less dangerous than a drunken driver.

Some of the ‘meth heads’ and drug dealers were incarcerated yesterday, and some folks around these parts are ready to celebrate the fact that the druggies are no longer cooking up trouble for themselves and others. Oh, like termites, some are bound to be lurking just underneath the next block or the next house over, but at least 40 in jail is a start. But the problem runs so much deeper than the sawdust trails and loaded jails.

Ours is a nation of addicts. Yes, the writer includes herself as well. My addictions include coffee from McDs, Lindt chocolate, and the Internet. But some addictions are pretty harmless; others, not so much. One addiction Texans have is trucks and travel. It is pretty close to impossible to live in Texas and not travel by car or truck simply because of the wide open spaces between one place and another. It’s at least 5 miles to anywhere and usually closer to 20 or 25 miles between towns. Walking just doesn’t seem like an option for those distances. So, yes, Texans are addicted to travel; what’s more, we prefer to travel in a good Ford pickup truck.

While the escalating price of fuel may restrict some travel in Texas or simply hike the prices of essential goods, the overall effect of our dependence on energy remains the same. We expect a great deal because we have HAD a great deal. We are, in effect, energy addicts. The same is true of our demands for electricity and natural gas. This summer we will cool our homes the same way we heated them this winter—with energy. No one wants to go back to the days of no air conditioning and three-dog nights when it was so cold that a person had to cover up with a pack of dogs, but we do need to re-invent some of our methods for using energy.
Germany has just decided to eliminate nuclear power plants in its greater scheme of energy production. And it looks as if the United States is just asking for a national disaster with its inability to dispose of nuclear wastes. Japan has suffered just as Russia did with a nuclear meltdown, but Japan has nowhere to run. Frankly, it may not be long before there is nowhere to run for any nation if even one more has a major meltdown.

Now, how do ‘meth heads’ and energy addicts equate? Aren’t most addictions the result of self-centered greed, gluttony, and disregard for the welfare of others? The United States can develop wind turbines that would negate the need for nuclear power or coal powered generators; Ford could quickly develop the compressed nitrogen engine in all their vehicles; and at least a few people could give up a daily trip to McDs for coffee. So far the government has not sent out the posse for those of us who are addicted to the Internet, but for the most part, we are—even though highly opinionated—a pretty tame group. In fact, our addiction to the Internet may be a force for good eventually, if it has not already proven to be so. If we can learn to change our ‘needs’ through the dissemination of knowledge of better methods of living among others, perhaps addictions will become a good thing—like service to others and an obsession or addiction to clean surroundings. Worse things could happen.

Can You See Me Now? Or Transparency Makes Me Sad.

Can You See Me Now? Or Transparency Makes Me Sad.

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.
With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, a straw.
The straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long,
Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it.
With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, with what?
With an axe, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With an axe, dear Henry, dear Henry, an axe.
The axe is too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The axe is too dull, dear Liza, too dull.
Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, sharpen it.
With what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, with what?
With a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, a stone.
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.
Then wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.
With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I wet, dear Liza, with what?
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.
In what shall I carry it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
In what shall I carry it, dear Liza, in what?
In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, bucket.
There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

Don’t ask me to lead you to water unless you know how to fix the hole in the bucket. Is it too much to ask of ‘leaders’ that they should actually know something about leading? And if they want to lead, do they know that we will be watching them—from behind? It is not a particularly attractive view, especially when they are drizzling away what little we have. But they ask us for the ‘water’ to use on the cutting stone, and then they let the water go by the wayside.

No, our view leaves much to be desired. That hole just keeps leaking, and our bucket just gets drier by the day. It’s a good thing our ‘leaders’ are seldom around to ‘lead’ us.  It seems most of their time is spent in efforts to become re-elected to lead us.

Now lest this viewpoint become political and therefore seemingly aligned with one party or another, let’s just admit that our world has become more complicated than ever before because of the inter-related economies, the scarcity of some resources, and the promulgation of some absolute set of determinants of human behavior. Just so this viewpoint is clear, consider one country out of several: Colombia. At one time considered a third world country, it has developed into an emerging economic force in South America. For whatever reason, as many as 100,000 citizens of the U.S. are in Colombia on any given day. Many of them have discovered a gentle people and a slower way of living that appeals to their needs. And it doesn’t hurt that the American dollar stretches considerably farther in that country. And, although it is a predominantly Catholic country, no one seems to push religion at anyone.

A few drawbacks exist in any situation and living in Colombia is no different.. Some of the politicians have absolutely nothing good to say about their opponents and blame the existence of all social ills upon the politicians and their policies. Oh, wait! That is in the U.S. of A., isn’t it. Oh well.

While Colombia lacks a good highway system, our country is having difficulty rebuilding the bridges and highways that need repair. But each country has a workforce available. It is the financing of the work that hits the snags. And the snags are invariably entwined with a webwork of priorities. Each country seems capable of solving other people’s problems—whether political or technological—but their own problems are a horse of a different breed. The other day someone suggested that the U.S. of A. should send a South American country 93 billion dollars to develop offshore drilling of oil wells. IF that oil were to be imported into this country, it might make sense. IF oil were not available or our technology for compressed nitrogen engines were an impossible dream, then helping another country south of us to develop their resources would make sense.

The parents who raised us lived through some very rough times in the Depression and after World War II. They taught us personal responsibility and family loyalty. They taught us to care about others—starting at home. They had a vision that seemed pretty transparent to us as young people: do what is right and don’t be greedy. Help your neighbor, and that help will return to you in some form or other in this life or in the lives of your children. No one expects his neighbor to give up what he has earned to the detriment of his own family. But in Texas, at least, the helping hand at the end of our own arm reaches out to others in full view of our neighbors. We can be seen for what we are—good neighbors. And we know how to plug that leaky bucket.

Evacuate!

Evacuate!

This past Friday we had just returned from Henrietta where we had taken my parents back to the care center after a pleasant visit. Fang and I were a little tired, so we had just lain down to take a nap when something startled me wide awake. Opening the bedroom door, I could immediately smell smoke. To the south of us a huge billowing cloud with flames hitting the top of the cloud looked as if it could reach us within a minute or less. The wind was gusting over 40 mph, so the speed of the fire was increased exponentially as it was taken over some structures and into the tops of trees.

Now a person knows instinctively that police and firemen have a rough job and are really there for the benefit of the public.. But unless the fire truck parks in front of your house during a fire such as we had, well, it is just a concept to appreciate them until they are desperately needed. Now we can say that we personally owe it to the good Lord and public servants that we still have a home. We lost the few flowers we had watered through this drought and the four rose bushes we have been pampering along for the last two years. This part of Texas is not exactly kind to flowers and bushes without daily doses of water and tender loving care, so it was hard to see those bushes as crispy critters. Now the Bradford pear may or may not come back, and the hackberry looks defiant even with black leaves, but the cedar was the only tree I was able to spray before we had to evacuate. It made it through the fire with only some scorched sections.

A friend in California said that they went through the same thing two weeks ago and lost their fence, the deck, and the standing pool. But the hard part for many in their neighborhood—and ours as well—is the soot and smoke. Don said that folks out in their area were having Service Master to help them clean up, but I keep thinking that the rain that finally came last night will help to kill the smell and make life a bit more bearable. Cleaning up the soot may take awhile, but eventually we will have another dust storm to take up the slack and change the type of dusting that has to be done.

We did learn something from this experience. We need to be prepared for leaving everything behind at a moment’s notice. The other grandparents of our fifth grandchild live close to us and came to help us carry some clothes, files, medications, and animals to our vehicles before we had to leave. We spent a few hours at their house before we were allowed to return to see what was left. It was not exactly a relaxing visit, but I have never felt more welcome than I was in their home.

Because we have such unpredictable weather and never know what will hit us next, we are going to make up a ‘ready run’ bag with a few days of medications, a change or two of clothes, some important files, and a few irreplaceable keepsakes. Our dog is very obedient and sweet natured, so taking him with us has never been a problem. The cat surprised us by sitting in my lap as I drove the Mustang away. He was as frightened as we were and ready to be held, poor kitty. He never even meowed when we put him in a cage at the other home. And the dog very patiently let a baby and a toddler crawl all over him. He did look at me a couple of times as if to ask me if this was really necessary, but he never complained even when the baby pulled his foot—his biggest bugaboo.

Having a place to go in an emergency is essential during bad weather, but we had never really expected to be evacuated from our home because of a wildfire. But the winds on this old hill whip the electric lines to the point that only the strongest of wires could withstand years of such abuse. We have seen—and heard—transformers blow up a few times over the years and have seen the lines blown together to arc and throw flames, but this time the line went straight to the ground and caught everything in its path on fire. Never again will we hear of some area having to be evacuated that we won’t appreciate what the folks and their critters are going through. Whether it is flooding, fire, or other disasters, it is so very hard to leave your home and everything behind and not know what will—or won’t—be there on your return. Good neighbors and a good fire and police department made the difference for us. May every other neighborhood be as blessed.

Up to Our Elbows in Alligators!

Up to Our Elbows in Alligators!

We have all heard the refrain that ‘a woman’s work is never done,’ but please tell me just whose work IS finished. Other than Jesus Christ’s work on the cross, it seems that as long as we breathe, there is something that needs our attention, our elbow grease, or some amount of effort or expenditure of energy. Some days it just seems that every little detail consumes more of our time and attention than is necessary. Some days we can truly say that we are up to our armpits in alligators, busier than beavers, trailing the turkeys, and sinking in the quick sands of insignificance! Invariably our busiest days are the ones that involve multiple phone calls, quick trips to the hardware store, unexpected drama of one nature or another, and just the physical necessities that go into living out our day-to-day existence.

Today we looked at the birds as they lit in the shade of the fence posts, and we learned something about our own attitudes. When it is hot, the birds have sense enough to stay in the shaded areas to do their food gathering. They don’t trek out in straight lines of linear intent to keep themselves alive and well. They adapt to the circumstances around them. Yes, they need food, shelter, and whatever a bird considers to be adequate socialization. But they do not appear to be stressed out over getting things done on anyone’s timetable. Of course, we were not watching the parent birds that were rearing little winged wonders to be. We were just watching a flock of finches feeding in the shadows of the fence line.

As much as we enjoy keeping in contact with our family, the birds keep within chirping distance and let it go at that. Out of sight, out of mind is not a bad idea, really. The only life we can live is the one we have ourselves. It makes sense that we should determine how we want to live life and let others do the same. Living the details of our own lives is just about enough for any one person to do. It is not lack of concern to remain removed from the problems others have. It is just self-preservation—or the preservation of sanity in some cases. We make our own choices in life, and each of us has the responsibility for ONLY our own choices. We can offer a helping hand when it is asked of us and we are able to help, but sometimes staying silent and listening is the best course of action or inaction.

As we have aged, we have learned that age is no guarantee of wisdom. In fact, if we were doofless in our youth, we are just as likely to have the same tendencies in our dotage. We don’t suddenly become better persons—or worse—simply because we have added years to our résumés. Character develops pretty much along the same mold that was set in our youth. But perspective develops by experience if our minds are open to ideas and realities. It is the character and the perspective that allows us to slow down and see the value in situations and in others. If we are not too taken up in the details of living life, we can see that the birds have a good reason for staying in the shade of the fence posts to hunt their meals. We can remember our own similar experiences when life seemed so overwhelming—and know that we lived through it then the same as others can now.

All the good advice about taking care of ourselves and giving ourselves time to adjust to changes seems like an easy answer to some of the alligators that snap at our heels when we are too busy to breathe. But sooner or later, even alligators can be evaded,

No Child Left Behind

No Child Left Behind

Perhaps it is just natural that eventually each person has to ‘grow up’ or take on the responsibilities of being an adult. Oh, someone has made the wise crack that growing old is mandatory, but that growing up is optional. Maybe. Maybe not. But some folks have managed to keep the child inside alive and well—without actually being childish. But some things are important to nurture, and the child within is probably one of the most important little creatures that we will ever nurture.

Once upon a time children relied on imagination to occupy their thoughts and daydreams. Some were cowboys or masters of molehills, while others were defenders of fairy kingdoms or supervisors of tea parties. Little creatures both real and make believe were among their favorite playmates. Here in Texas we had an abundance of toads and horny toads to occupy the holes and boxes we used as play grounds for critters. Catching red ants to feed to a horny toad could be as interesting as a good adventure in the Wichita Mountains with its buffalo and ground squirrels. Our lives were restricted to small wonders for most of the time. But we appreciated natural events more than today’s children will ever understand. A rain storm was a display of raw power and amazing colors. Storms during the day resulted in the greenest glow upon every living plant. It was as if nature was preened to show off its glossiest dresses. And we saw the wonder and drank in the sights and smells as if the entire event were a personal favor from our cosmic creator.

But we also knew storms of night. Those were the ones that could frighten and frustrate the bravest children—our parents. They would raise their voices and rush us out to the cellar where we listened to try to interpret the crash and roar of the darkness and the lightning. That was one hole in the ground that was not conducive to fun; imagination in that hole could have led to nightmares. But our parents held us up on the stairs to show us the wall clouds and the rolls of clouds that could be dangerous. We learned to know the differences so that we need not fear every cloud. It was like a lesson in snakes; one is blunt tailed and arrow headed and another has a thin tapered tail and slender head. One can kill; the other is non-threatening.

Other lessons came along as we were children that were more difficult to comprehend. And some lessons simply were not taught because our teachers had no way to understand what was happening as the world changed. Such is the situation in this world today for many children and their parents. As knowledge and technology have accelerated the changes in our lives, some children—and some parents—have lost the ability to be awed by the simplest things in life. How can a child exercise imagination while sitting in front of a computer or i-Pod Touch? And how can smelling the coming rain compare to movies and popcorn for today’s children? Is it any wonder that children are pudgy and belligerent when they never exercise their imagination in the natural world?

Somehow each child needs a guide into the natural world where the out of doors can be seen in piles of dirt and splashes of creek water. The music needs to be heard in the chatter of squirrels and the early morning conversation of the scissortail flycatchers. And the wonders of fresh berries and ripe tomatoes need to be the ideal appetizers for our young children.  Each child should experience these wonders before he or she has to leave ‘childhood’ behind.

Today children are little adults from such an early age. They are brought up to mimic their parents in everything from dressing as an adult to carrying a cell phone. Their childhoods are ‘arranged’ as play dates and exercises known as classes. Very few of them realize that another world exists outside their own lives. Only a few have any sense of history or a grander view of the world around them. And fewer still have that native imagination that comes from contact with nature—dirt, ponds, cows, chickens, and gardens of the soil around them. No, it is time that our children are allowed—are given—more contact with nature and the awe and imagination that comes from that contact. They need that contact before it is too late. If not, a time will come when there will be ‘no child left behind.’

To Day, While It Is Called Today

To Day, While It Is Called Today

Life is full of dramas, both large and small, and sometimes so plentiful that keeping one’s head on straight while recognizing or acknowledging those episodes can be a challenge. This month gave us both the dramas and the realization that even the best intentions can’t always meet the needs of families and their expectations. One child needed a temporary babysitting service; one child needed both laundry service and a refereeing service for her home and boys; and then there were the elderly parents whose ‘needs’ can never quite be met.

Alzheimer’s or even dementia not only robs the afflicted person, but the disease robs the caregivers of any degree of satisfaction for the care and concern bestowed upon the patient. No amount of love makes up for what is lost to a partner or child. A time arrives when the body has not quite ceased to function, but the mind is lost to realities. That is the time when the caregiver, partner, child or responsible adult feels forlorn and frustrated—yet guilty for the feelings engendered toward the ‘stranger’ currently occupying that body. Such have been the feelings we have had toward my parents this month. It would have been easier to have dealt with small irritable children than with the constant demands for ‘a package of cigarettes and a lighter’ from my dad.

Connections with reality change in our world as we live from day to day. None of us really appreciates change very much, but instead of grasping at the memories of the past, our minds are measured by our ability to adapt to the changes of the present. For instance, I learned to drive out in the sheep pasture as a girl and then later on Highway 79 between Petrolia and Wichita Falls. The expressway and interstate highway was not opened until my last year in high school, so it was a while before I learned to drive on a two and three lane highway. Now we go to the Metroplex about once every two or three months and dodge our way across five and six lanes of merging traffic. I used to sit on the passenger side of the truck and chew my fingernails, but now I have to do the driving and can’t manage my fingernails and the signals at the same time. Driving has certainly changed from rural pastures to mix masters, but none of us can go back to the days of two lane traffic and hand signals.

My parents lived in a world entirely different from the one I know. Their viewpoint was pretty much molded to the way they lived through the Depression and World War II. After they learned to use a computer, they learned more, but their minds didn’t exactly expand with new knowledge. It’s difficult to realize that more knowledge does not bring automatic understanding. But in concentrating on the little details that were familiar to them, the parents gradually lost the bigger picture. By contrast, our grandchildren know little of the past and more than enough about what is going on in the world at large. Again, adapting to change does not guarantee understanding any more than more knowledge can guarantee more positive change.

Someday my children will probably remind me that I have told the same story at least a dozen times—but I can hope that all 12 times will not have been in the past 30 minutes, at least. And someday they may have to buckle my seatbelt for me and tell me to quit messing with it and to leave the door handles alone. But when that time comes, maybe they will understand that mental capacities are just as limited as the physical by a certain age. But I would like to tell them now, to day, while it is still called today, that they need not feel guilty for not wanting to watch the deterioration of my mind and body. I know that they love me and care for me, but I don’t want them to be miserable about the consequences of physical aging and mental messiness.

Unless our world goes up in smoke one of these days, eventually age catches up with all of us. We will all end up having to do our best to give love in whatever way it is possible for us to give it. Meanwhile we live and learn from the dramas that come our way, knowing that these, too, shall pass. The grandchildren will grow up to be responsible adults who would never consider whacking a sibling over the head with a curtain rod; and eventually their parents can stop picking up their dirty clothes and doing their laundry. For now, it is enough to know that we can still stand back and give our own perspective on the lives of our parents, children, and grandchildren.

The Grand Life

The Grand Life

A few years ago we noticed the neatest new strip in the comic section of our local paper. The strip was called Grand Avenue. If it ever explained why the grandmother was the guardian of her two grandchildren, I never saw that particular strip; however, the grandmother and the boy and girl met so many of the characteristics of one of the classic situations in our society. So many grandparents—both singles and couples—are now caring for their grands of various ages for any number of reasons. While the situation can be both inspiring and heartbreaking, a person really has to see some humor in this new dynamic.

Now, of course, the standard grand-parenting situation allows the typical grandparents to feed the little darlings all the goodies they can stuff into themselves and then call the parents to come get them when the kids start looking green around the gills or start bouncing off the walls. And it is so lovely to show off those sweet little bundles of joy when they are all clean and smelling good and dressed to the hilt in ruffles and bows. No one needs to know that they even HAVE a diaper or digestive system—or tantrums when they are tired. Yes, and it is a real ego trip to buy that first tricycle or bicycle for the first grandchild. However, one grandchild tends to multiply if one had more than one child in one’s OWN household. So, grands can get pretty expensive very quickly.

Sibling rivalries are nothing compared to cousin rivalries.  Two brothers may try to clobber each other on a daily basis whether at home or at the grandparents’ home, but get two cousins together and each little accident or incident can easily get blown out of proportion.  I remember when our oldest son happened to get in on the backswing of his cousin’s bat while they were playing in their grandparents’ front yard. We all knew the cousin did not hit the child on purpose and he was pretty young to understand how to be careful with a bat, but that did not keep his daddy from berating the poor little boy and spanking him for hitting. To me it would have made just as much sense to berate OUR son for not avoiding the swinging bat. Even adults clobber each other accidentally now and then!

But cousin rivalries are usually more subtle and quieter than a rousing good whack on the side of the head. One child will think he or she is Granddad’s favorite child; one child will feel overlooked if the grands don’t visit THEIR house as often as the cousin’s house.  So the grands are left trying to balance whatever attention can be given to each grandchild. And that can be quite a juggling act. Even if children had the exact same interests, time and circumstances are not always equal to the situations.

For instance, it is so hot outside in Wichita Falls right now that we only go outside during the day in either emergencies or necessities.  At 109 degrees, the grandchild would cook and the grands would wilt to a puddle of fatigue. So we go out late in the evening to water and play a little before bedtime and spend most of the day playing computer games or reading or watching TV.  The oldest grand talks his grandfather into letting him drive the truck or tractor, but none of the other grands are interested in those activities.  One prefers digging in the dirt and the little girl could paper the entire house in her colored pages that she has us print out for her. No, their interests are just totally different—not better or worse.

For us, the best part of having grands has been the renewal of our ability to laugh and to enjoy hearing the kids laugh.  Next to that is the ability to call their parents to come get them.  The grandparents who have to take on the full responsibility of raising another set of children have my deepest respect. Even if the lack of energy were not an issue, the sheer generation and technological gap must be met with an intrepid attitude.  These children are bombarded with information that does not necessarily translate into knowledge.  And the grandparents have to be able to either translate or provide a springboard of understanding while adapting to a new world with the children.  Part of that ‘new world’ that a grandparent would have to face is the difference in the educational atmosphere. A major portion of a child’s first years is spent in some kind of classroom.  Even if Grandmother can help her grands with fourth grade algebra, she may be dismayed by the demands for computer printouts of grades, reports, and e-mail messages from the child’s school.

Someone who actually makes a conscious decision to have a child after the age of fifty really needs to just adopt a grandchild.  Raising children is so much more complicated now.  Even when I was young, I forgot to pick up the children from school a few times.  If I were raising grands now, we would just have to move across the street from the school and give each child his or her own alarm clock. And a baby?  No, I would forget where I put it down! Raising children is for young folks, but the grands who take on this job have to have a special blessing.  But then children nearly always prove to be a blessing to those who love them.

Cabin Fever

Cabin Fever

Every once in a while some news item will show up telling about someone who has gone ‘around the bend’ because of cabin fever or Santa Anna winds or some other extreme circumstance that drives a few individuals totally stark raving. We don’t have that problem in Texas. In the winter time folks are too busy trying to stay warm; in the summer they are busy trying to prevent drain damage from heat stroke! In fact, the custom of siesta may not be part of our social fabric or part of the mandated work schedule, but it might as well be.

Because of the extremes of our summer heat, at least one state agency has asked their employees whose jobs keep them outside to come in to work two to three hours earlier so that they can go back home during the intense afternoon heat. Anyone working in an air conditioned office has no idea how hot it is outside until trying to enter a car or truck. Not only is the seat belt buckle an instant branding iron, the seat covers will blister the back of a person’s legs if the seat has not been shaded in some manner. Anyone who drives out on the road in this heat is taking a mighty big chance even if the tires are in perfect condition and the vehicle is well maintained.

Surprisingly enough, motorcycles seem to be everywhere in this weather. How anyone can put those leathers on and drive out in the sun is beyond me! But even worse would be the dingalings who do not wear clothing suitable for road burn. The other day we saw some guy blaring down Southwest Parkway with a bleach blonde on the back of his bike. She had just enough clothes on to keep from being arrested, but her back and neck were bright red. It reminded me of the joke about the blonde who came to work on a Monday morning sporting a fantastic sunburn. When asked about it, she said that she had gone driving in her convertible with the top down.. She didn’t think she would get sunburned since she would be moving!

We have a few blondes in Texas—and some blonde-wannabees. Those folks may be the reason some areas have had to cancel the Fourth of July. No, the date is still on the calendar, but the fireworks have been prohibited. We have had one wildfire right after another for months now, and nothing has improved with the heat and drying gale force winds. Even watering or a decent rain would not prevent problems right now because of the accumulation of dried fodder. Anything that was the least bit green on the ground this spring is now just a fire waiting to happen.

We have put out water for the birds and watched it dry up in a day’s time in the bird bath, but even worse is seeing the dog having to test the water temperature with his foot before he sticks his nose down there in that bucket.

 It seems our old cat is the only critter around here that does not mind the extra warmth. But then, he can sleep anywhere under some of the strangest circumstances. Cabin fever does not affect old OliverTwisted. He is happy in any kind of weather if he can get a bit of attention and fresh cat food once or twice a day. Somehow we should be able to learn something from a cat. But sleeping most of the day and playing around part of the night is just a little bit odd for some of us old folks.

Guess we will just have to wait until the fall rains come to bring the weather back to our comfort zone.

A Hundred Years from Now

A Hundred Years from Now

Grandmother had a few nuggets of wisdom that she shared with us during her last ten or so years. They bear repeating for our children, if not for the grands. One little wiseacre saying was that whatever we did—wrong or right—a hundred years from now no one would know the difference or remember it was done or who did it. Now the veracity of that idea could be debated, but it is pretty obvious that we don’t know what most folks have done over the centuries. Oh, we have a general idea of how people have lived and what each group has accomplished, but even some of the so-called accomplishments have been lost over the centuries. For instance, for years scientists have been curious about how the Egyptians made glass without what we consider the necessary tools. But the how and why are not all that important. They apparently considered glass as semi-precious, and therefore acquired either the craftsmen or the skills to produce it.

Obviously no one’s name will ever be mentioned as the inventor of glass, if for no other reason than that lightning hitting a metal rod in beach sand can produce some pretty glass just in the world of nature. It seems that some of man’s greatest inventions are simply adaptations of what has already been created—from surgical interventions to intergalactic travel. We just have not perfected the processes yet.

Someone mentioned lately that time had to be created to keep men from being confused. Now THAT is funny considering how much confusion abounds in this ol’ world. But some things don’t really change over time—no matter how many years flow over the place we call home. The memories may all wash away and some knowledge—or a lot of knowledge—may be left to settle in the sands until it is dug up in another era. The things that matter remain the same.

Grandmother used to smile when her cousin trooped out all the ghosts in the family tree. It seems the cousins discovered that we could become members of the daughters of the Revolution, the Civil War, and maybe a rebellion or three. Grandmother pointed out that one of the great grandmothers rode her horse through Yankee lines with medicine and supplies for the Southern troops. She was stopped and claimed to have a nursing baby back in her cabin which accounted for the stuffed blouse around her breasts. The Yankees let her go. Then she got word that her husband had stuck his leather awl in his eye while he was making shoes for the troops in San Antonio, so she got out her horse, rode to Texas from Traskwood, Arkansas, and brought her husband back with her. Maybe rebels grow naturally in our family among the women. But not all the folks in the family tree reflected well upon our family. However, Grandmother used to say that it doesn’t matter who our relatives were back then or who they are even today. Whether our bloodlines include horse thieves or royalty, it is how WE live our lives that matters.

The way we live and how we treat other folks reflects our character according to Grandmother. She used to tell us that the young person didn’t change that much with age. If a child behaves selfishly, the older person won’t be much better. Character doesn’t really change; it just becomes more obvious. If a young person seems to always look for someone else to blame for his or her faults, then the tendency just becomes more pronounced with age. And the excuses for bad behavior become more elaborate or far-fetched in derivation.

Two hundred years pass rather quickly within a perspective of history. This particular nation has had its rebels—and still does. It also has its fair share of spoilt rotten children who are greedy, grasping, and faultfinding. It has its share of those who refuse to accept responsibility for the results of their choices. So perhaps the old nation has not outgrown the character of the young nation all that much. But fortunately this nation still has those who have the type of character it takes to stand up and point out that each of us must make decisions as individuals, that each of us is responsible for our own family and our own future. Oh, in another hundred years their names won’t resound from the halls of history or be found in whatever kind of educational materials will develop.

But if mankind is to survive, it is his character that must always float along with the tides of time. That character is what will be known a hundred years from now.

Clutterbugs and Other Vermin

Clutterbugs and Other Vermin

How in the world do we ever accumulate so much shtuff? The ingrown dictionary—and yes, I mean ingrown—in this document program does not like the way I spelled ‘shtuff’ and I don’t even care. The word is a combination of expletive and the word stuff, and it really fits the situation. Just about everyone on earth accumulates shtuff over a period of time. Even the cave dwellers probably left behind some junk that was either too heavy to carry or that was easily replaceable in another location. Mrs. Cave Dweller probably looked at that nice bed frame—aka, large branches—that had kept her bearskins gathered together so nicely and decided that one less thing to carry would make the trip easier.

Despite the warm and tender feelings we might develop for our junk—er, possessions—eventually they take own a personality of their own with their own set of demands. How many folks with a huge house and a three car garage actually keep the cars in the garage? Do those bicycles, pressure washer, and weed eater/edgers REALLY need to be in the garage? Well, perhaps the third bay of the garage is cheaper than building a storage shed or renting storage space after all. But when none of the vehicles can be inserted into one of the slots where vehicles belong, it is time to do something about the clutter.

Now our daughter-in-law just posted a query on Facebook this morning wondering about to whom she might have loaned her muffin tins as she could not find them. Both grandmothers immediately suggested the granddaughter’s play room/bedroom as a possible location for the missing tins. Apparently we start rather young with this gathering syndrome!

But it is not just the grandchildren who carry on this strange habit of gathering and hoarding possessions. At least three of the dogs in the family have their OWN toys and possessions which fill various containers and their doggie beds. Desi and Craig each have an alligator or similar small stuffed toy that belongs strictly to that particular dog. They will share humans and beds, but not toys. Our dog even has his favorite stick to chase! The stick came from who knows where, but right now, at least, it ‘belongs’ to HarleyB.

All of these little accoutrements to our happiness become part of our human problems. WHAT to do with all the junk! How can we prevent the overwhelming of our living quarters with stuff that needs to be in some storage facility yet have our possessions near enough to be convenient when we want/need them? And how do we really decide which of these possessions might be ‘necessary’ to us in the long run?

I confess that I have a terrible time getting rid of books—even the ones I am pretty sure none of the children will ever need/want. And even Fang will admit that three or more of each tool known to mankind and Harbor Freight might be just a bit much to keep in the tool boxes. But HOW does one part with some of these items without suffering the angst that only a nesting mother or rock penguin suffers when the rocks go missing? Short of a tornado, hurricane, flood, or other disaster, getting rid of ‘shtuff’ is similar to having one’s wisdom teeth extracted—probably very necessary, but highly painful at the time.

Now our daughter-in-law says that the granddaughter’s room looks as if anyone might need a tetanus shot to make a foray into that area, but she routinely goes in and throws out or reorganizes [read, trashes] things each time the child goes to visit the grands. That might work very well for a small child’s possessions. Such would not work in my library or the husband’s workshop—or even our son-in-law’s three car garage. Perhaps the answer is that we should start with small steps similar to those that nicotine addicts attempt. Today we could start with ONE desk drawer. Oh, look! There is that duck call I hid from the grandson! Now where can I put that? Back in the drawer! It figures!

Next Article coming September 10

Nancy's articles and commentary are published here twice a month.

NOTE: Starting September, we will be opening a third archive page for Nancy's articles,

Complete Index 2009-2010

December, 2008:  Chicken Soup and Biscuits

2009
January,:      Just For Today                         Horses Cause Wars
February:     Stone Soup                               At Loose Ends - The Great Scam
March: Algebra, New Shoes, & the Bible     A Good Book or "The Good Book"?
April: Snake in the Grass Scams
May: Changing Expectations                        From the Storehouse
June: The New Neighbors                             Things Remembered
July: Unto the Least of These                       So How Does THAT Concern Me?
August: There Came a Woman of Samaria         Trash Trends
September: They Grow Up                           Grandparenting
October: Heart Healthy                                 Racism
November: Seasonal Affective Disorder      Non-Political Government
December: Gifts and Gambles                      The Safety Catch

2010
January: Not Your Mother's Washtub           Generations
February: Do You Want to Know?                You Don’t Have to Be Crazy to Work Here
March:   Pet Peeves                                       The Smell of Sunshine
April: Retirement?                                          Shared Spaces
May:  Reuniona and Farewells                       Just How Funny Is It?
June: Slings and Arrows                                 Throw the Horses over the Fence
July:The Inevitable                                         With All Due Respect
August:Calling Doctor Schaffner                    All in a Name
September: Justice by Claim                          She Knows (part 1)
October:  She Knows (part 2)                        She Knows (part 3)
November: Playing Game: The New Education        Drilling Oil Wells
December: The Hard Wait                              Worry Wart Weather

2011
January: The Nursing Home                            A Little Beauty’s Point of View
February: Paw Paw Pollard Poetry                To All Things a Season
March:A Serving Attitude                                Pine Boxes and Other Buckets
April: Addictions and Other Social Ills           Can You See Me Now? Transparency Makes Me Sad
May: Evacuate                                               Up to Our Elbows in Alligators!
June: No ChildLeft Behind                              To Day, While It Is Called Today
July: The Grand Life                                        Cabin Fever
August: A Hundred Years from Now             Clutterbugs and Other Vermin

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