First, I want to recommend an excellent book!! It is Scott Hahn's, The Supper of the Lamb, which shows the relationship between the Book of Revelation and the Mass in an amazing and refreshing way. There is a strong correlation between the last book of the Bible and the Mass. As Hahn says, the Book of Revelation isn't well understood. NOW it makes sense. He also explains how each part of the Mass is there for a reason and is no hodgepodge event as he had once thought.
When you get done reading this book, your appreciation of the Mass will grow tremendously. Hahn delves into the sources of the Mass, from the early Jewish who had accepted that Jesus was the Messiah. They borrowed from the texts that they knew, the Torah, and many of its messages resonate in the Liturgy we hear each Sunday.
Some time ago, must have been around 2010, I wrote in a temporary journal of mine this poem that I found when cleaning the basement a few days ago. I thought it just went well with Hahn's work.
If it could be so, Lord ... make it so:
My hands are your hands.
My heart is your heart.
My feet carry me wherever you want.
My eyes see all that you will.
My life is yours, Lord.
My dreams are yours.
My ambitions are tempered
by the reason for my birth.
My joy is your joy.
My hardships are borne and offered
for those who need you, who have
no one else.
My thoughts are your thoughts.
My words are your words.
Your prophets and followers'
lives guide me towards your will.
My hurts are your hurts.
My heartbreaks are shared.
We are not alone, we are
not alone, for we have you
beside us on this earth.
To be one with you, Lord,
is joy on this earth.
This stop-over creation is
our home, our refuge.
As we wait all day long for you.
Sun streams through clouds of white,
I shade my eyes from rays so bright.
Dreaming of peace, dreaming anew,
All day long, Lord, I wait for you.
As storm clouds blot out the blue sky,
And rain starts falling like the heavens' cry.
Dreaming of conversation, dreaming anew.
All day long, Lord, I wait for you.
All day long, Lord, I hear the clock chime.
Marking the distance gone by in time.
Busy as though working for you.
Plodding, diligently, patient and true.
And yes, Lord, I wait for you.
Society looks at surrender as defeat, waving the white flag. Surrendering to God, on the other hand, is strength. The more you give, the more strength you get.
Pray for all of the people on Julie Barkey's prayer list please.
Light of Christ
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Saturday, September 27, 2014
It's a Brand New Day
Last Sunday we got quite the surprise. Two young men from church have volunteered to join our guitar group after an appeal for a little help was made the previous Sunday. Honestly, I didn't expect much to happen. But this time, somehow the two were called for this ministry.
Today we are having a practice with them to get ready for Sunday -- their first Mass with the group. It should bring the number of guitars to five -- four acoustic guitars and one plugged-in bass. The neat thing is that we know these guys. Or I do. One graduated with my oldest son and one graduated with my younger son and was in my CCD class.
One of them said he'd been wrestling with the idea of joining for years but just couldn't summon up the courage to walk up the stairs and state his intent. Plus, he confided, he wanted to be sure that he could make the time commitment. I think that was very noble, because it is definitely a commitment.
When I joined about 20 years ago, it came rather out of the blue. One of the members talked to me and mentioned that they needed a guitar; she recalled that I played. So a hasty practice was arranged for Saturday and there were only two people there -- me and Ann. It went well. Our styles meshed together without much trouble. Sunday it was just the two of us on guitar. Yikes! I was terrified. My hands and feet were so sweaty and cold!! And I felt very self-conscious about the guitar that I was using. It was not the best quality and I had no case at that point.
By the next week, I'd made a trip to the guitar store in Akron and purchased a new one. That was my way of saying, "I'm on board with this." It was a great decision. Not only is playing guitar and singing at Mass a wonderful way of being involved, the people who are part of the group have become the most wonderful friends a person could have. I am so blessed.
My guitar is still not the most expensive by any stretch -- but rather amazingly, it does have a pretty good sound to it. The bass notes are particularly nice, I think.
You know how you can tell that what you are doing is God's will for your life? Well, I know one thing for sure. I write which involves my hands of course -- keyboarding. I do art and that involves my hands extensively. And I play guitar so that goes without saying. AND I crochet which is all about the hands once again. And after doing all of this for years and years -- God has been so good as to spare me from carpal tunnel syndrome.
I read a quick little book at holy hour yesterday. The gist of it was that you need to simplify your life and look at every single thing you do. Are you doing it for yourself? Or are you doing it for God? The books suggests that you need to weed out that which is not for God. The book suggests that we need to have quiet in our lives, time to reflect and pray. The book says that stress is caused because we are trying to do too much and what we are trying to do isn't in God's will.
The book talked about how important it is to eat together and to make meals simple affairs. And talk and share during meals!!
It makes sense, doesn't it?
Another beautiful day is in the forecast. We are so fortunate and blessed to have this nice weather. Enjoy, my friends. Don't forget to buy some apples.
Today we are having a practice with them to get ready for Sunday -- their first Mass with the group. It should bring the number of guitars to five -- four acoustic guitars and one plugged-in bass. The neat thing is that we know these guys. Or I do. One graduated with my oldest son and one graduated with my younger son and was in my CCD class.
One of them said he'd been wrestling with the idea of joining for years but just couldn't summon up the courage to walk up the stairs and state his intent. Plus, he confided, he wanted to be sure that he could make the time commitment. I think that was very noble, because it is definitely a commitment.
When I joined about 20 years ago, it came rather out of the blue. One of the members talked to me and mentioned that they needed a guitar; she recalled that I played. So a hasty practice was arranged for Saturday and there were only two people there -- me and Ann. It went well. Our styles meshed together without much trouble. Sunday it was just the two of us on guitar. Yikes! I was terrified. My hands and feet were so sweaty and cold!! And I felt very self-conscious about the guitar that I was using. It was not the best quality and I had no case at that point.
By the next week, I'd made a trip to the guitar store in Akron and purchased a new one. That was my way of saying, "I'm on board with this." It was a great decision. Not only is playing guitar and singing at Mass a wonderful way of being involved, the people who are part of the group have become the most wonderful friends a person could have. I am so blessed.
My guitar is still not the most expensive by any stretch -- but rather amazingly, it does have a pretty good sound to it. The bass notes are particularly nice, I think.
You know how you can tell that what you are doing is God's will for your life? Well, I know one thing for sure. I write which involves my hands of course -- keyboarding. I do art and that involves my hands extensively. And I play guitar so that goes without saying. AND I crochet which is all about the hands once again. And after doing all of this for years and years -- God has been so good as to spare me from carpal tunnel syndrome.
I read a quick little book at holy hour yesterday. The gist of it was that you need to simplify your life and look at every single thing you do. Are you doing it for yourself? Or are you doing it for God? The books suggests that you need to weed out that which is not for God. The book suggests that we need to have quiet in our lives, time to reflect and pray. The book says that stress is caused because we are trying to do too much and what we are trying to do isn't in God's will.
The book talked about how important it is to eat together and to make meals simple affairs. And talk and share during meals!!
It makes sense, doesn't it?
Another beautiful day is in the forecast. We are so fortunate and blessed to have this nice weather. Enjoy, my friends. Don't forget to buy some apples.
Friday, September 26, 2014
The Grand Estate
Yesterday was just picture-perfect, wasn't it? The grounds of Stan Hywet were already showing the celebration of the fall season. Mums were tucked all over the place. There were mums in the planters on the vista near the lily pond. There were mums stuffed in the rumble seat of the old car that must draw kids like a magnet.
The car is painted the most glorious shade of turquoise you've ever seen. It sits within the newest addition to the grounds of Stan Hywet. When you walk into the new children's attraction, classical music pours out of hidden speakers and bubbles start pouring out of the center of the wind chimes. There is a lawn bowling set. There is a sprinkler (turned off yesterday). There were two little blond children there yesterday with their mom who was doing her best to keep up with them. The littlest one stepped into the ring of jets for the sprinkler and had a puzzled look on her face. Either she'd been there before or she was very clever knowing that something was missing. She was quite fashionable wearing her pearl beads around her neck.
The Japanese garden was quiet and peaceful with the sounds of water first from the waterfalls and then gurgling here and there. The pagodas signaled the traditions of the East. Warren Manning, the landscape architect of the estate, recommended the garden as a way of showcasing and celebrating the familiar hardy plants that grow in the upper peninsula of Michigan where the Seiberlings had a vacation lodge.
The cutting gardens, perennial garden, and rose garden were just lovely. Most of the flowers were still in bloom, although some were starting to show their age. The sunflowers were all center and little petal, but someone had been enjoying them.
Inside the Conservatory, there were delightful plants from the tropics. There were succulents and cacti but there were also pencil trees, a flower that looked like pinkish pipe cleaners, a flower that looked like a feather, and a perfectly opened Bird of Paradise.
The English Garden was enchantment as it always is. The quiet little fountain dropping just enough water to wet the heads of the children crouched below their mother is always spectacular. There were little gems tucked here and there in the garden which in the fall has a different look entirely. It is more sparse and you can see the bones of the garden more clearly.
The Gate House is dedicated in many ways to the two men who started Alcoholics Anonymous -- Bill and Dr. Bob. And the woman who was at the center of their historic meeting at the Gate House -- Henrietta Seiberling. When the AA members come to town each year for their annual meeting and reunion, I can imagine that Stan Hywet is very, very crowded but especially so at the Gate House. The large panels inside the house that describe the beginnings of AA and the lives of Bill and Dr. Bob don't spare the details of their struggle with alcoholism. Both men were simply torn by their disease and both men needed the help of caring women to find a way out.
When you are at Stan Hywet, be sure to check out the gift shop. They have a lovely assortment of items and they are not overly pricey.
So I took 38 pictures yesterday and downloaded them off the camera when I got home. They are very, very good. Especially striking, as I'd hoped it would be, is the Birch Allee. Walking through it was like being in a movie with my eyes being the lens of the camera.
God has touched Stan Hywet in many different ways, but in no place more than the little English cottage -- the Gate House. And God is mentioned in the panels, how we must learn to submit to his will and be quiet -- listen for his voice -- one of the founders counseled.
Have a blessed Friday. Enjoy this beautiful fall weather.
The car is painted the most glorious shade of turquoise you've ever seen. It sits within the newest addition to the grounds of Stan Hywet. When you walk into the new children's attraction, classical music pours out of hidden speakers and bubbles start pouring out of the center of the wind chimes. There is a lawn bowling set. There is a sprinkler (turned off yesterday). There were two little blond children there yesterday with their mom who was doing her best to keep up with them. The littlest one stepped into the ring of jets for the sprinkler and had a puzzled look on her face. Either she'd been there before or she was very clever knowing that something was missing. She was quite fashionable wearing her pearl beads around her neck.
The Japanese garden was quiet and peaceful with the sounds of water first from the waterfalls and then gurgling here and there. The pagodas signaled the traditions of the East. Warren Manning, the landscape architect of the estate, recommended the garden as a way of showcasing and celebrating the familiar hardy plants that grow in the upper peninsula of Michigan where the Seiberlings had a vacation lodge.
The cutting gardens, perennial garden, and rose garden were just lovely. Most of the flowers were still in bloom, although some were starting to show their age. The sunflowers were all center and little petal, but someone had been enjoying them.
Inside the Conservatory, there were delightful plants from the tropics. There were succulents and cacti but there were also pencil trees, a flower that looked like pinkish pipe cleaners, a flower that looked like a feather, and a perfectly opened Bird of Paradise.
The English Garden was enchantment as it always is. The quiet little fountain dropping just enough water to wet the heads of the children crouched below their mother is always spectacular. There were little gems tucked here and there in the garden which in the fall has a different look entirely. It is more sparse and you can see the bones of the garden more clearly.
The Gate House is dedicated in many ways to the two men who started Alcoholics Anonymous -- Bill and Dr. Bob. And the woman who was at the center of their historic meeting at the Gate House -- Henrietta Seiberling. When the AA members come to town each year for their annual meeting and reunion, I can imagine that Stan Hywet is very, very crowded but especially so at the Gate House. The large panels inside the house that describe the beginnings of AA and the lives of Bill and Dr. Bob don't spare the details of their struggle with alcoholism. Both men were simply torn by their disease and both men needed the help of caring women to find a way out.
When you are at Stan Hywet, be sure to check out the gift shop. They have a lovely assortment of items and they are not overly pricey.
So I took 38 pictures yesterday and downloaded them off the camera when I got home. They are very, very good. Especially striking, as I'd hoped it would be, is the Birch Allee. Walking through it was like being in a movie with my eyes being the lens of the camera.
God has touched Stan Hywet in many different ways, but in no place more than the little English cottage -- the Gate House. And God is mentioned in the panels, how we must learn to submit to his will and be quiet -- listen for his voice -- one of the founders counseled.
Have a blessed Friday. Enjoy this beautiful fall weather.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Stan Hywet
We're going to Stan Hywet today. There is such a thrill when you pull through the gates into the estate and see the whole of the house. The plantings and landscaping plan of Stan Hywet are also breathtaking.
A number of years ago, it was discovered that there were drainage problems that threatened to damage the foundation of the house if not repaired. The work necessitated digging out around the house over a period of a couple of years as I recall it, and then they really had to create magic. The plants were moved to another location on the property and then put back as the work was completed.
Visiting this amazing place that was built around 1916 is a reminder of how many people it took to keep the place going. Today were it not for the many volunteers and the planning that was done to provide the estate with funding, it wouldn't be there. In fact, it was scheduled for the wrecking ball when a group of women stood firm and said it just wasn't going to happen. They did something that many thought was impossible -- they were able to gather funds to save the place and even more -- to preserve it.
When Frank Seiberling died in the 1950s, that left only his daughter, Irene, in the estate. At some point she moved out to the gate house and enjoyed a simpler life there until her death. Once the estate was secured by the women, the Seiberling relatives removed what they wanted from the house and then the remainder was made part of the estate.
That's part of what makes Stan Hywet so interesting -- they left most everything. Dishes, everyday items, priceless musical instruments, and the early technology that was the marvel of Stan Hywet in its day. The telephone booth in the hallway is a gem, one of my favorites. The hidden telephone in the vast living room area. The huge rug woven especially for the house. The system for intercom communication.
When people say, "They just don't make something like that anymore," they would certainly agree when if they saw Stan Hywet -- the name means Stone Hewn. The paneling, the wallcoverings, the lighting fixtures, the design of the place. Over the door of the Manor House is a stone panel that says, "Not for us alone." This was the motto of the Seiberlings because they felt that the estate was to be shared. And today that saying just couldn't be more true.
So today we go to see history. We are going to do the garden tour, I believe, which includes the Conservatory and the Gatehouse. The reason for the trip is to try taking some photographs that we can later turn into watercolor artwork. Now that we've been working in the medium for a number of months and have tried a number of different techniques, we know better what would make a perfect model for the next one. It will be fun and we are promised such great weather for today. It just could not be better!
And I've never been to the estate in the fall. All of my previous trips have been in spring or summer, so this is going to be a wonderful treat.
Maybe when we're close enough to the house, we'll hear the strains of the pipe organ coming from the music room.
Have a wonderful day, friends. I'll let you know more about Stan Hywet tomorrow. It truly is one of Akron's greatest treasures.
A number of years ago, it was discovered that there were drainage problems that threatened to damage the foundation of the house if not repaired. The work necessitated digging out around the house over a period of a couple of years as I recall it, and then they really had to create magic. The plants were moved to another location on the property and then put back as the work was completed.
Visiting this amazing place that was built around 1916 is a reminder of how many people it took to keep the place going. Today were it not for the many volunteers and the planning that was done to provide the estate with funding, it wouldn't be there. In fact, it was scheduled for the wrecking ball when a group of women stood firm and said it just wasn't going to happen. They did something that many thought was impossible -- they were able to gather funds to save the place and even more -- to preserve it.
When Frank Seiberling died in the 1950s, that left only his daughter, Irene, in the estate. At some point she moved out to the gate house and enjoyed a simpler life there until her death. Once the estate was secured by the women, the Seiberling relatives removed what they wanted from the house and then the remainder was made part of the estate.
That's part of what makes Stan Hywet so interesting -- they left most everything. Dishes, everyday items, priceless musical instruments, and the early technology that was the marvel of Stan Hywet in its day. The telephone booth in the hallway is a gem, one of my favorites. The hidden telephone in the vast living room area. The huge rug woven especially for the house. The system for intercom communication.
When people say, "They just don't make something like that anymore," they would certainly agree when if they saw Stan Hywet -- the name means Stone Hewn. The paneling, the wallcoverings, the lighting fixtures, the design of the place. Over the door of the Manor House is a stone panel that says, "Not for us alone." This was the motto of the Seiberlings because they felt that the estate was to be shared. And today that saying just couldn't be more true.
So today we go to see history. We are going to do the garden tour, I believe, which includes the Conservatory and the Gatehouse. The reason for the trip is to try taking some photographs that we can later turn into watercolor artwork. Now that we've been working in the medium for a number of months and have tried a number of different techniques, we know better what would make a perfect model for the next one. It will be fun and we are promised such great weather for today. It just could not be better!
And I've never been to the estate in the fall. All of my previous trips have been in spring or summer, so this is going to be a wonderful treat.
Maybe when we're close enough to the house, we'll hear the strains of the pipe organ coming from the music room.
Have a wonderful day, friends. I'll let you know more about Stan Hywet tomorrow. It truly is one of Akron's greatest treasures.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Amazing Cats
One of my friends had a posting on her facebook page showing a video of a deaf man with his cat. The cat had learned to mimic the hand movements (sign language) of his owner perfectly when he wanted to eat something. The cat would pat the man on the arm to get his attention, then carefully position his paw so the pads were towards his face and gently touch the paw to his mouth.
It was amazing. I wonder if the cat does this when the man is just sitting in a chair watching TV or whenever the food bowl is empty.
Cats are intuitive animals. They sense things about their owners whom they know very, very well. Once when I came home with the worst headache EVER, my cat followed me into the bedroom and took a nap with me. And he stayed there until my son got home from his classes that day and drove me to the doctor's office where I got a shot.
One day my sweet Puddin'Head was sitting in my lap in the living room. My son made noises like he was sad and the cat became very alert. After a few more of these noises, Puddin'Head went over to him and sat in his lap. So after a few minutes I made the same noises and poor Puddin'Head, trying to please us both, came back over and sat in my lap again. It was really something to see.
One cat I've seen on video reassures and settles a baby. The baby starts to cry in one of those baby carriers, and the cat comes over next to it and strokes the baby's face with its paw. Soon the baby drifts off to sleep again. When the baby woke up and started being agitated again, the cat stroked its face some more.
One of my cats, Gracie, stares deeply into my eyes. She is always communicating something. I found out from watching the program on TV, My Cat from Hell, that when you blink at your cat, it is reassuring to them and they calm down. They signal that they are calm when they blink their eyes back at you. I've even used this technique on our feral cat, Blackie, whom we feed and he is starting to let me get closer and closer even after there was no progress for a couple of years.
It just seems to me that cats because they are God's creatures have that capacity for love as given to them by the Creator. They don't ask much; experts say a cat needs only about 10 minutes of time a day without suffering from the loss of affection. More is better, of course.
Two of my cats, the girls obviously, enjoy their morning grooming. When they know I'm up and in the right place in the bedroom they show up crying and carrying on. Why? They want to be brushed. So now I've got a cat salon! Next it will be nails and then who knows where it might go?
People who have dogs say much the same things about their pets, but I am a cat person. Cats seem to fit into the little cracks and crevices of our lives and thrive on what little bit of extra that we have.
I'm thankful for their company. I should be reminded by their presence that God is always with us. Always.
It was amazing. I wonder if the cat does this when the man is just sitting in a chair watching TV or whenever the food bowl is empty.
Cats are intuitive animals. They sense things about their owners whom they know very, very well. Once when I came home with the worst headache EVER, my cat followed me into the bedroom and took a nap with me. And he stayed there until my son got home from his classes that day and drove me to the doctor's office where I got a shot.
One day my sweet Puddin'Head was sitting in my lap in the living room. My son made noises like he was sad and the cat became very alert. After a few more of these noises, Puddin'Head went over to him and sat in his lap. So after a few minutes I made the same noises and poor Puddin'Head, trying to please us both, came back over and sat in my lap again. It was really something to see.
One cat I've seen on video reassures and settles a baby. The baby starts to cry in one of those baby carriers, and the cat comes over next to it and strokes the baby's face with its paw. Soon the baby drifts off to sleep again. When the baby woke up and started being agitated again, the cat stroked its face some more.
One of my cats, Gracie, stares deeply into my eyes. She is always communicating something. I found out from watching the program on TV, My Cat from Hell, that when you blink at your cat, it is reassuring to them and they calm down. They signal that they are calm when they blink their eyes back at you. I've even used this technique on our feral cat, Blackie, whom we feed and he is starting to let me get closer and closer even after there was no progress for a couple of years.
It just seems to me that cats because they are God's creatures have that capacity for love as given to them by the Creator. They don't ask much; experts say a cat needs only about 10 minutes of time a day without suffering from the loss of affection. More is better, of course.
Two of my cats, the girls obviously, enjoy their morning grooming. When they know I'm up and in the right place in the bedroom they show up crying and carrying on. Why? They want to be brushed. So now I've got a cat salon! Next it will be nails and then who knows where it might go?
People who have dogs say much the same things about their pets, but I am a cat person. Cats seem to fit into the little cracks and crevices of our lives and thrive on what little bit of extra that we have.
I'm thankful for their company. I should be reminded by their presence that God is always with us. Always.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Sharing the Faith
Today I am more of a fan of Christian-based educational systems than I ever was before. And there is a very good reason for that.
When I was little and attended school, we put on a Christmas play each year. I remember this vividly because one year I was given the role of one of the angels and we got to sing, "Gloria in Excelsis Deo," which in Latin means -- Glory to God in the Highest. While I certainly don't remember praying in school, there was somewhat of a sense of the importance of faith. At my older grandchildren's school maybe just eight years ago they were still singing Christian hymns for the Christmas program. It's been sanitized since.
Enter Madeline Murray O'Hare -- a self-proclaimed atheist and a founder of an atheist group. She was born April 13, 1919 and died on September 29, 1995. Her body and that of her son and granddaughter were found in hastily dug graves in Texas. I don't believe her killer/killers were ever found.
O'Hare was relentless in her attack on prayer in schools and she launched all kinds of legal battles to get God out of the schools. And unfortunately, despite the fact that our forefathers had an entirely different concept of the separation of church and state, she was able to achieve her goal. Schools are entirely secular now -- kind of milquetoast places where Thanksgiving is now the Fall Festival for example. Children get nothing about God in school. The history of our country would be remiss without some discussion of faith and freedom, but people who have made it into high positions have worked to rid books of a lot of the important facts about life in America.
They said the other day that a lot of children in the schools today don't know what 9/11 signifies. That was only in 2001!!! Kind of scary to me.
And that's why I am such a proponent of Christian schools. Children in the Christian school pray, learn prayers, and in some cases attend services. Their lessons are infused with the importance of God in our lives and how bland and meaningless a life based on material things really is. They learn the value of charity towards others. They are encouraged to be kind and encouraging to others. There is no one to tell them that the principal can't get on the PA and lead everyone in a prayer for a classmate or a teacher.
The other day there was an article in the paper about a school where the principal and the teachers formed a prayer group. They communicated with each other the names of those who needed prayers. The school system shut it down. Done. At a university, a cross on the back of the helmets of football players had to be removed because apparently it was offensive to someone. The cross was to remember two people in the football program who had died.
Even in a secular society, the value of prayer has been proven. Prayers said in a surgical suite resulted in a better outcome for patients than those operated on in a suite without prayer. The doctors and nurses were very amazed by this. Imagine if they were all believers!!
If you have nieces or nephews, grandchildren, children in the public schools -- talk to them about what is important. Make sure that they hear it not just from you but from others because that reinforces what you are saying. Talk about 9/11. You don't have to scare them to death to do this. Make sure that you pray WITH them at least once each day. Have them spend time with other Christian children through Sunday School or teen programs. And actually what I am saying goes for the Jewish faith as well.
I'm not going to talk about the Islamic faith right now. I'm confused. They are arguing among themselves about what the Quran represents or doesn't represent. Those who engage in terrorism say they follow the Quran. Those who don't participate in terrorism aren't standing up or differentiating themselves. Mosques in America have furthered the message of terrorism. So for right now, I say nothing. If the Quran does not support terrorism, then have the guts to say so.
Life lived sitting on a fence never turns out very well, does it?
So share the message of faith with the children. It has an incredible power for good in this world.
(By the way, Neil Cavuto had a special on his Fox business segment on the loss of prayer in the schools and how we are now seeing the effects of it.)
When I was little and attended school, we put on a Christmas play each year. I remember this vividly because one year I was given the role of one of the angels and we got to sing, "Gloria in Excelsis Deo," which in Latin means -- Glory to God in the Highest. While I certainly don't remember praying in school, there was somewhat of a sense of the importance of faith. At my older grandchildren's school maybe just eight years ago they were still singing Christian hymns for the Christmas program. It's been sanitized since.
Enter Madeline Murray O'Hare -- a self-proclaimed atheist and a founder of an atheist group. She was born April 13, 1919 and died on September 29, 1995. Her body and that of her son and granddaughter were found in hastily dug graves in Texas. I don't believe her killer/killers were ever found.
O'Hare was relentless in her attack on prayer in schools and she launched all kinds of legal battles to get God out of the schools. And unfortunately, despite the fact that our forefathers had an entirely different concept of the separation of church and state, she was able to achieve her goal. Schools are entirely secular now -- kind of milquetoast places where Thanksgiving is now the Fall Festival for example. Children get nothing about God in school. The history of our country would be remiss without some discussion of faith and freedom, but people who have made it into high positions have worked to rid books of a lot of the important facts about life in America.
They said the other day that a lot of children in the schools today don't know what 9/11 signifies. That was only in 2001!!! Kind of scary to me.
And that's why I am such a proponent of Christian schools. Children in the Christian school pray, learn prayers, and in some cases attend services. Their lessons are infused with the importance of God in our lives and how bland and meaningless a life based on material things really is. They learn the value of charity towards others. They are encouraged to be kind and encouraging to others. There is no one to tell them that the principal can't get on the PA and lead everyone in a prayer for a classmate or a teacher.
The other day there was an article in the paper about a school where the principal and the teachers formed a prayer group. They communicated with each other the names of those who needed prayers. The school system shut it down. Done. At a university, a cross on the back of the helmets of football players had to be removed because apparently it was offensive to someone. The cross was to remember two people in the football program who had died.
Even in a secular society, the value of prayer has been proven. Prayers said in a surgical suite resulted in a better outcome for patients than those operated on in a suite without prayer. The doctors and nurses were very amazed by this. Imagine if they were all believers!!
If you have nieces or nephews, grandchildren, children in the public schools -- talk to them about what is important. Make sure that they hear it not just from you but from others because that reinforces what you are saying. Talk about 9/11. You don't have to scare them to death to do this. Make sure that you pray WITH them at least once each day. Have them spend time with other Christian children through Sunday School or teen programs. And actually what I am saying goes for the Jewish faith as well.
I'm not going to talk about the Islamic faith right now. I'm confused. They are arguing among themselves about what the Quran represents or doesn't represent. Those who engage in terrorism say they follow the Quran. Those who don't participate in terrorism aren't standing up or differentiating themselves. Mosques in America have furthered the message of terrorism. So for right now, I say nothing. If the Quran does not support terrorism, then have the guts to say so.
Life lived sitting on a fence never turns out very well, does it?
So share the message of faith with the children. It has an incredible power for good in this world.
(By the way, Neil Cavuto had a special on his Fox business segment on the loss of prayer in the schools and how we are now seeing the effects of it.)
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Saturday musings
Yesterday ran right on by me, sorry about that!
Today I thought maybe I'd talk about the TV set. We got it last October at BJs Wholesale Club where we've been members for a number of years now. The set got a long break between about April until a week ago when we sought refuge in the basement from a storm. My "smart" phone told us to seek shelter immediately so we took our BLTs and glasses and headed down the steps to our cave.
We put on the TV to find out more about the path that the weather was taking, but it didn't take but about 30 seconds to realize that something was wrong. The television set was turning itself off and on about every minute or so. Can you even imagine how annoying that was? I ate my sandwich and when it seemed pretty obvious that the storm wasn't going to be a threat, went upstairs to turn on the other TV and make sure it was working.
Then we turned the TV downstairs OFF. In a little while, it came back on again. So we unplugged the cable box. In a little while, it came back on again. And again.
So I think my husband thought it was over and we went upstairs. When we were getting ready for bed, he went over to shut the door to the basement and said we must have left a light on down there. It wasn't a light. It was the dumb TV again!!
So he unplugged everything and then the really interesting part started. We've been going back and forth with the company ever since. The set is under warranty. They seem to know exactly what is wrong with it (telling me that a whole lot of other customers had the same thing happen) but we cannot seem to make an appointment for someone to come over here. We've left three messages on the machine and I called the customer rep directly -- in San Jose, CA.
When we had our old TV, the company that serviced it because we bought some extra protection for it, came out of Parma. Well, it would seem as though this is where the technician is coming from again this time but what is going on? Stress. Don't we hear a lot about stress? How we should do what we can to reduce it in our lives. I'm doing what I can -- I retired!! I crochet! I do watercolors! I babysit and laugh with my grandchildren! I volunteer my time! Yikes.
So where does the stress come from? My stupid television set, that's what.
With each passing day, my husband is getting more irritated and more upset. He saved the box that the set came in and says he is going to box it up and take it back to BJs. That will likely not go over very well. They aren't going to accept it there, I'm pretty sure. And he is also talking about the State's attorney general too because he thinks they are running a flim-flam operation hoping that enough time will pass that the warranty is up. I don't know, but it just seems as though businesses have gone backwards.
My husband says that when their set was under warranty when he was a kid, the repairman was there the next day. The next day! You called him and he came. Now we have to call one number, then send a copy of the receipt, then call another number, then they call from an unintelligible number and you miss the call, then you call back and back and back and they don't respond whatsoever. Maybe he's right!
At any rate, I know in my heart of hearts that the TV set in the basement isn't really all that important. I know it is just a material thing that has no eternal value. And I went to holy hour yesterday and read part of a very interesting book about how we can try to "pray without ceasing." All this and then I come home to the aggravation of a broken TV set and a company that has farmed out its repair operation to someplace in CA and they obviously don't give a hoot about anybody's customers.
I'm going to Curves to work out. I bet they call when I'm gone.
Today I thought maybe I'd talk about the TV set. We got it last October at BJs Wholesale Club where we've been members for a number of years now. The set got a long break between about April until a week ago when we sought refuge in the basement from a storm. My "smart" phone told us to seek shelter immediately so we took our BLTs and glasses and headed down the steps to our cave.
We put on the TV to find out more about the path that the weather was taking, but it didn't take but about 30 seconds to realize that something was wrong. The television set was turning itself off and on about every minute or so. Can you even imagine how annoying that was? I ate my sandwich and when it seemed pretty obvious that the storm wasn't going to be a threat, went upstairs to turn on the other TV and make sure it was working.
Then we turned the TV downstairs OFF. In a little while, it came back on again. So we unplugged the cable box. In a little while, it came back on again. And again.
So I think my husband thought it was over and we went upstairs. When we were getting ready for bed, he went over to shut the door to the basement and said we must have left a light on down there. It wasn't a light. It was the dumb TV again!!
So he unplugged everything and then the really interesting part started. We've been going back and forth with the company ever since. The set is under warranty. They seem to know exactly what is wrong with it (telling me that a whole lot of other customers had the same thing happen) but we cannot seem to make an appointment for someone to come over here. We've left three messages on the machine and I called the customer rep directly -- in San Jose, CA.
When we had our old TV, the company that serviced it because we bought some extra protection for it, came out of Parma. Well, it would seem as though this is where the technician is coming from again this time but what is going on? Stress. Don't we hear a lot about stress? How we should do what we can to reduce it in our lives. I'm doing what I can -- I retired!! I crochet! I do watercolors! I babysit and laugh with my grandchildren! I volunteer my time! Yikes.
So where does the stress come from? My stupid television set, that's what.
With each passing day, my husband is getting more irritated and more upset. He saved the box that the set came in and says he is going to box it up and take it back to BJs. That will likely not go over very well. They aren't going to accept it there, I'm pretty sure. And he is also talking about the State's attorney general too because he thinks they are running a flim-flam operation hoping that enough time will pass that the warranty is up. I don't know, but it just seems as though businesses have gone backwards.
My husband says that when their set was under warranty when he was a kid, the repairman was there the next day. The next day! You called him and he came. Now we have to call one number, then send a copy of the receipt, then call another number, then they call from an unintelligible number and you miss the call, then you call back and back and back and they don't respond whatsoever. Maybe he's right!
At any rate, I know in my heart of hearts that the TV set in the basement isn't really all that important. I know it is just a material thing that has no eternal value. And I went to holy hour yesterday and read part of a very interesting book about how we can try to "pray without ceasing." All this and then I come home to the aggravation of a broken TV set and a company that has farmed out its repair operation to someplace in CA and they obviously don't give a hoot about anybody's customers.
I'm going to Curves to work out. I bet they call when I'm gone.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Yankee Peddler
A person didn't have to live in Canal Fulton very long back in the day to hear about Yankee Peddler. The church had found a great way to make some money in two weekends' time.
The imploring of our priest to help also didn't take too long to make an impression. It was a huge load for whichever couple or family took on the work to lead the event, and many, many hours of volunteering were necessary to pull it off.
The first time I wore my outfit -- I just saw it yesterday in the attic when I was retrieving the fall décor -- I felt like an idiot. Driving in my unairconditioned car towards the festival on Rt. 93 across Rt. 21 with my skirt bunching around my ankles and one sandaled foot sticking out to touch the gas and brake, it was weird.
Some people thrive on dressing up for Halloween. I was never one of them, loved watching other people do their thing but I didn't feel the urge. In college, my roommate dressed as a witch and I'll tell you what -- with some green eye shadow, a fake wart on her nose and a wide-brimmed black hat she made quite an entrance. Scared the little kids half to death unfortunately. We just didn't see that coming at all. Another resident of our dormitory only this time on the guy side, one friend borrowed a set of dentures that his roommate brought to school (his dad was a dentist) and he reversed them. The top teeth went on the bottom and the bottom ones on the top creating the strangest caveman, Neanderthal look I've ever seen to this day. And when he came knocking during trick or treat, he scared US half to death.
So here I am in the car going down Rt. 93. When I parked the car and started walking towards the festival, it just seemed like once there, I would be the only one wearing a costume. You know, the I-forgot-my-clothes dream that we sometimes have. That was not the case. There were "pioneers" all over the place and the festival grounds didn't look anything like Clay's Park. We weren't anywhere near the swimming area and instead to my amazement the whole thing was tucked in and around the woodlands. There were paths and directional signs, crazy names like Hoot Owl Roost, and booths that looked like someone might actually live there.
Then when the two weekends were such a huge hit, the Peddler added a third and our church really scrambled for more volunteers. Apparently, in order to decide the ultimate time for a festival such as Peddler, the festival folks had consulted the weather experts and had determined that the first two weekends in September after Labor Day were the best in terms of temperature and less rain. When adding the third, they took a bit of a chance, and indeed, there was many a soggy Saturday or Sunday.
The sights, smells and friendliness of Peddler took me in and allayed all of my fears. I didn't look odd at all and in fact, fit right in even up to my hat.
It was yet another time to step out of one's comfort zone and try something different.
My husband doesn't feel quite the same way about the Peddler these days as he labors on Friday, Saturday and Sunday in order to make the signature soup/stew that the Lions serve up. He's getting older and the demands of the work weigh him down. I'll probably help on Saturday to give him a little break. And now instead of the priest, he is imploring his younger fellow Lions to donate a few more hours to give the old guys a bit of a break.
So that's about it for today. I just glimpsed another scene from the past Peddler days. Apple peeling. The social hall was set up with the big tables and there was painters' plastic spread all over the floor. The "peelers" sat at the ends of the tables with the old cranking apple peelers. Then there were people who cored and sliced the apples with one of those metal devices. And finally, those who cut off any remaining skin and also cut slices that were too big. Too big and the apple didn't cook all the way through during the high temperature frying process.
Memories, that's what you get for your work, memories. And they might fade a little but just take a few moments and you can see it all over again.
Take care and enjoy this time of year. Talk to you tomorrow.
The imploring of our priest to help also didn't take too long to make an impression. It was a huge load for whichever couple or family took on the work to lead the event, and many, many hours of volunteering were necessary to pull it off.
The first time I wore my outfit -- I just saw it yesterday in the attic when I was retrieving the fall décor -- I felt like an idiot. Driving in my unairconditioned car towards the festival on Rt. 93 across Rt. 21 with my skirt bunching around my ankles and one sandaled foot sticking out to touch the gas and brake, it was weird.
Some people thrive on dressing up for Halloween. I was never one of them, loved watching other people do their thing but I didn't feel the urge. In college, my roommate dressed as a witch and I'll tell you what -- with some green eye shadow, a fake wart on her nose and a wide-brimmed black hat she made quite an entrance. Scared the little kids half to death unfortunately. We just didn't see that coming at all. Another resident of our dormitory only this time on the guy side, one friend borrowed a set of dentures that his roommate brought to school (his dad was a dentist) and he reversed them. The top teeth went on the bottom and the bottom ones on the top creating the strangest caveman, Neanderthal look I've ever seen to this day. And when he came knocking during trick or treat, he scared US half to death.
So here I am in the car going down Rt. 93. When I parked the car and started walking towards the festival, it just seemed like once there, I would be the only one wearing a costume. You know, the I-forgot-my-clothes dream that we sometimes have. That was not the case. There were "pioneers" all over the place and the festival grounds didn't look anything like Clay's Park. We weren't anywhere near the swimming area and instead to my amazement the whole thing was tucked in and around the woodlands. There were paths and directional signs, crazy names like Hoot Owl Roost, and booths that looked like someone might actually live there.
Then when the two weekends were such a huge hit, the Peddler added a third and our church really scrambled for more volunteers. Apparently, in order to decide the ultimate time for a festival such as Peddler, the festival folks had consulted the weather experts and had determined that the first two weekends in September after Labor Day were the best in terms of temperature and less rain. When adding the third, they took a bit of a chance, and indeed, there was many a soggy Saturday or Sunday.
The sights, smells and friendliness of Peddler took me in and allayed all of my fears. I didn't look odd at all and in fact, fit right in even up to my hat.
It was yet another time to step out of one's comfort zone and try something different.
My husband doesn't feel quite the same way about the Peddler these days as he labors on Friday, Saturday and Sunday in order to make the signature soup/stew that the Lions serve up. He's getting older and the demands of the work weigh him down. I'll probably help on Saturday to give him a little break. And now instead of the priest, he is imploring his younger fellow Lions to donate a few more hours to give the old guys a bit of a break.
So that's about it for today. I just glimpsed another scene from the past Peddler days. Apple peeling. The social hall was set up with the big tables and there was painters' plastic spread all over the floor. The "peelers" sat at the ends of the tables with the old cranking apple peelers. Then there were people who cored and sliced the apples with one of those metal devices. And finally, those who cut off any remaining skin and also cut slices that were too big. Too big and the apple didn't cook all the way through during the high temperature frying process.
Memories, that's what you get for your work, memories. And they might fade a little but just take a few moments and you can see it all over again.
Take care and enjoy this time of year. Talk to you tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Plugs
I don't know about you, but when I was young and learning to swim, nose plugs were really wonderful! It was kind of like a crutch that I used to feel more comfortable in the water. They look dorky, but diving without them wasn't my cup of tea.
So now all of these years later it looks like I'm getting some new plugs of a different kind -- eye plugs.
The eye dryness that was keeping me from wearing my contacts has a fairly simple cure that will last. There are two drainage holes at the inside corner of each eye. The lower one is more visible and drains off about two-thirds of the tears that bathe the eyes. That's a lot of tears!
So with a small plug put into the lower drain (it has a name but I forget) the tears that would have been absorbed are now able to stay a little longer on the surface of the eye. The contact lenses that had started to feel like they were at least an eighth of an inch thick float like they used to do without discomfort.
The eye doctor was able to put in some dissolvable plugs on Friday to test the concept in my case. On Saturday morning when I popped the contacts in, it was just like the old days! I could wear them again with comfort and it lasted a long time but not as long as I would normally wear them, which I attributed to the fact that I'd not worn them much at all for months.
When you wear contacts, the optimum reaction should be that after a while you totally forget they are in. They just become part of your daily routine and there is almost no thought given to them at all. It is only when your brain starts saying, "I'm wearing contacts, did you hear me?" And then repeat and repeat and repeat that it becomes increasingly annoying. Some of us might be more stalwart about facing such an obstacle but for me it was wave the white flag. I just couldn't manage with that awful feeling.
And it was probably good that I did give up. Apparently, without enough tears contacts can cause bigger problems than just discomfort, like a corneal ulcer from rubbing the eye or a scratch or an eye infection, who knows?
Dryness occurs with age. It also is a side effect of long-term contact lens use. If you don't wear contact lenses, you might not realize that you even have dry eye because the condition can be fairly asymptomatic. I don't notice much of a problem with glasses.
The procedure is usually covered by medical insurance because dry eye is not just a visual issue, it is a medical issue.
My eye doctor has had the plugs for 14 years. He is probably around maybe late 50s I'm thinking and so that starts him wearing plugs in his early 40s maybe. My son is 38 and he is having dry eye symptoms already and has abandoned his soft contacts. He might be a good candidate for the plugs, I'm thinking.
So if you are one of those who wore contact lenses and loved them and now find that they are causing you problems, get the dry eye thing checked out. There might be a solution for you to keep on going.
As I told the eye doctor, since I don't need corrective lenses now for close work, I don't want to have Lasik done. This would necessitate wearing glasses for close. With the art work that I do and love, I want to use my eyes the way that God gave them to me. It would bother me that no matter what I did, I could never really go back.
Well, have a wonderful day. It feels like we should all go out and buy a couple of bags of apples, doesn't it?
So now all of these years later it looks like I'm getting some new plugs of a different kind -- eye plugs.
The eye dryness that was keeping me from wearing my contacts has a fairly simple cure that will last. There are two drainage holes at the inside corner of each eye. The lower one is more visible and drains off about two-thirds of the tears that bathe the eyes. That's a lot of tears!
So with a small plug put into the lower drain (it has a name but I forget) the tears that would have been absorbed are now able to stay a little longer on the surface of the eye. The contact lenses that had started to feel like they were at least an eighth of an inch thick float like they used to do without discomfort.
The eye doctor was able to put in some dissolvable plugs on Friday to test the concept in my case. On Saturday morning when I popped the contacts in, it was just like the old days! I could wear them again with comfort and it lasted a long time but not as long as I would normally wear them, which I attributed to the fact that I'd not worn them much at all for months.
When you wear contacts, the optimum reaction should be that after a while you totally forget they are in. They just become part of your daily routine and there is almost no thought given to them at all. It is only when your brain starts saying, "I'm wearing contacts, did you hear me?" And then repeat and repeat and repeat that it becomes increasingly annoying. Some of us might be more stalwart about facing such an obstacle but for me it was wave the white flag. I just couldn't manage with that awful feeling.
And it was probably good that I did give up. Apparently, without enough tears contacts can cause bigger problems than just discomfort, like a corneal ulcer from rubbing the eye or a scratch or an eye infection, who knows?
Dryness occurs with age. It also is a side effect of long-term contact lens use. If you don't wear contact lenses, you might not realize that you even have dry eye because the condition can be fairly asymptomatic. I don't notice much of a problem with glasses.
The procedure is usually covered by medical insurance because dry eye is not just a visual issue, it is a medical issue.
My eye doctor has had the plugs for 14 years. He is probably around maybe late 50s I'm thinking and so that starts him wearing plugs in his early 40s maybe. My son is 38 and he is having dry eye symptoms already and has abandoned his soft contacts. He might be a good candidate for the plugs, I'm thinking.
So if you are one of those who wore contact lenses and loved them and now find that they are causing you problems, get the dry eye thing checked out. There might be a solution for you to keep on going.
As I told the eye doctor, since I don't need corrective lenses now for close work, I don't want to have Lasik done. This would necessitate wearing glasses for close. With the art work that I do and love, I want to use my eyes the way that God gave them to me. It would bother me that no matter what I did, I could never really go back.
Well, have a wonderful day. It feels like we should all go out and buy a couple of bags of apples, doesn't it?
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Strange Friends
Life in a small town has so many wonderful benefits. The air smells so good, so fresh. I'd notice this especially after returning from a day of work in Akron.
But there are other interesting things -- visual sensory delights. The neighbor just two doors down has chickens. I've seen them follow his grown son around like puppies. So I imagine that the owners harvest the eggs from these beautiful brownish/reddish birds and have something that I hear is amazing -- fresh eggs.
All the way to the end of my allotment streets and to the left is a farm owned by Tim Rohr. It's a small dairy farm and if you look back to the barn farthest from the street you can see the cows in their stalls or eating some grain. He also grows crops in his fields, usually soy beans.
Farther yet from my house is a huge dairy farm with more than 450 head. On any given day the milk trucks make their way from the farm to the processor and then the other kind of trucks -- the ones that take what's leftover -- leave the farm to spread their valuable commodity on approved fields in the area.
Another neighbor, this one is at the corner by the large dairy farm, raises miniature horses. These aren't ponies as most people assume when they see them. They are miniature horses, and were used back in the mining days to drag out the wheeled cars full of coal. He is preserving a piece of history at his farm. They say the miniature horses aren't all that friendly, and I notice that they also have a small mule for company.
Around the corner from our house, not far if you could cut through the woods, is a veterinarian who has a pet deer in her house -- Dolly. Dolly has her own room and is potty trained. She sleeps on a regular bed.
Just down the street from the vet is a home set back in the woods, very close to our house as the crow flies, and they sell raw honey. I don't know if they keep bees or if they just have a supplier somewhere, but it's kind of neat.
At a beautiful house with a treed front yard, I saw just this week that they had their horse grazing.
A neighbor at the corner of Portage and Akron Avenues has sheep and chickens. The sheep and chickens appear to be friends, and more than once I've seen one certain chicken with one certain sheep. They must be the best of pals. Once in a while a chicken somehow gets out of the enclosure and there it is -- right beside the busy street -- pecking around in the ditch or up closer to the fence. I presume someone comes and puts it back inside or maybe it can fly just that far. Hard to tell.
There are two special work horses that are boarded in the area and these horses pull the St. Helena III canal boat to Lock IV and back. I've forgotten their names, but they are a regular part of life in this small town.
And in a small town, so it is with people. There are those who were raised here and learned the life in a small town from a very young age. One of my friends remembers running through the fields when they missed the school bus. And so former city dwellers who move here become friends with the country folk. There are always great stories about life here. Each day is to be cherished, appreciated, and used.
I waste time sometimes. Part of it is I'm tired -- a little anemic the doctor said. So I'm working on that with some iron supplements, but in the meantime before that kicks in, I rejoined Curves. I recommend it. If a machine or two bother your joints or cause problems, you can just skip them. But in about 40 minutes time, you get a decent workout and come away feeling a LOT better.
When you are driving about and take a route through a small town like Canal Fulton, keep your eyes open. There are so many neat things to see that might not be obvious right at the start.
Take care, everyone.
But there are other interesting things -- visual sensory delights. The neighbor just two doors down has chickens. I've seen them follow his grown son around like puppies. So I imagine that the owners harvest the eggs from these beautiful brownish/reddish birds and have something that I hear is amazing -- fresh eggs.
All the way to the end of my allotment streets and to the left is a farm owned by Tim Rohr. It's a small dairy farm and if you look back to the barn farthest from the street you can see the cows in their stalls or eating some grain. He also grows crops in his fields, usually soy beans.
Farther yet from my house is a huge dairy farm with more than 450 head. On any given day the milk trucks make their way from the farm to the processor and then the other kind of trucks -- the ones that take what's leftover -- leave the farm to spread their valuable commodity on approved fields in the area.
Another neighbor, this one is at the corner by the large dairy farm, raises miniature horses. These aren't ponies as most people assume when they see them. They are miniature horses, and were used back in the mining days to drag out the wheeled cars full of coal. He is preserving a piece of history at his farm. They say the miniature horses aren't all that friendly, and I notice that they also have a small mule for company.
Around the corner from our house, not far if you could cut through the woods, is a veterinarian who has a pet deer in her house -- Dolly. Dolly has her own room and is potty trained. She sleeps on a regular bed.
Just down the street from the vet is a home set back in the woods, very close to our house as the crow flies, and they sell raw honey. I don't know if they keep bees or if they just have a supplier somewhere, but it's kind of neat.
At a beautiful house with a treed front yard, I saw just this week that they had their horse grazing.
A neighbor at the corner of Portage and Akron Avenues has sheep and chickens. The sheep and chickens appear to be friends, and more than once I've seen one certain chicken with one certain sheep. They must be the best of pals. Once in a while a chicken somehow gets out of the enclosure and there it is -- right beside the busy street -- pecking around in the ditch or up closer to the fence. I presume someone comes and puts it back inside or maybe it can fly just that far. Hard to tell.
There are two special work horses that are boarded in the area and these horses pull the St. Helena III canal boat to Lock IV and back. I've forgotten their names, but they are a regular part of life in this small town.
And in a small town, so it is with people. There are those who were raised here and learned the life in a small town from a very young age. One of my friends remembers running through the fields when they missed the school bus. And so former city dwellers who move here become friends with the country folk. There are always great stories about life here. Each day is to be cherished, appreciated, and used.
I waste time sometimes. Part of it is I'm tired -- a little anemic the doctor said. So I'm working on that with some iron supplements, but in the meantime before that kicks in, I rejoined Curves. I recommend it. If a machine or two bother your joints or cause problems, you can just skip them. But in about 40 minutes time, you get a decent workout and come away feeling a LOT better.
When you are driving about and take a route through a small town like Canal Fulton, keep your eyes open. There are so many neat things to see that might not be obvious right at the start.
Take care, everyone.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
The Extremes
Just a week ago yesterday on September 5th I was one of more than a hundred people crammed into a room at Panini's in Westlake, with too much auditory stimulation and too much visual stimulation.
This morning everything is quiet around the house and Eric is off to make soup and stew again. So I guess we're talking about the extremes here -- the extremes in life.
Everyone has had this experience. At a seaside vacation, there is that amazing ebb and flow of the water, the sound of the waves, the sun reflecting off the water, the enormity of the size of the body of water. And then all of the sudden you are back at your own house again and it seems like everything must have been a dream. Or maybe you attend a football game and the stadium is filled and there are cheers and oohs and aaahs and boos coming from the crowd. It is especially amazing at night with the stadium lights turning everything below into something not quite real. And then soon, you are back home again.
Probably the only thing I miss at my house is water. My little fake pond out front doesn't really do it. The ponds that basically surround this property are just about unreachable in summer due to the growth, the poison ivy, and especially the briars. I can see one of them during the late fall and winter and even into spring. The largest one of them is located far beyond the front of the house. When the leaves are off the trees and the sun is shining, sometimes you can get a glimpse of the water.
But we need quiet, even as much as we try to avoid it. We need time to process everything that happens to us. I'm always amazed at the nuns who choose to live in a cloister, as do the Sisters at Sancta Clara on 44th Street NE in Canton. There are rules in most cloistered monasteries about talking during the day because the monks or nuns agree to forbid it. Their lives are to be given to God and God alone. For that reason, most people are not cut out for it.
The quiet will be coming to an end shortly, because I'm going to the eye doctor to get the temporary plugs put in. This will tell us if the permanent plugs will help with the dry eye I've been having. And then maybe, just maybe I'll be able to get back to wearing my contact lenses again. It would be great.
Hope you have a wonderful weekend and do something fun. I hate to think of winter, but we all know it is coming, and maybe the memories of the beautiful fall will help tide us over until spring breaks through yet again. What do you think?
Take care, all of the readers of this blog.
Karen
This morning everything is quiet around the house and Eric is off to make soup and stew again. So I guess we're talking about the extremes here -- the extremes in life.
Everyone has had this experience. At a seaside vacation, there is that amazing ebb and flow of the water, the sound of the waves, the sun reflecting off the water, the enormity of the size of the body of water. And then all of the sudden you are back at your own house again and it seems like everything must have been a dream. Or maybe you attend a football game and the stadium is filled and there are cheers and oohs and aaahs and boos coming from the crowd. It is especially amazing at night with the stadium lights turning everything below into something not quite real. And then soon, you are back home again.
Probably the only thing I miss at my house is water. My little fake pond out front doesn't really do it. The ponds that basically surround this property are just about unreachable in summer due to the growth, the poison ivy, and especially the briars. I can see one of them during the late fall and winter and even into spring. The largest one of them is located far beyond the front of the house. When the leaves are off the trees and the sun is shining, sometimes you can get a glimpse of the water.
But we need quiet, even as much as we try to avoid it. We need time to process everything that happens to us. I'm always amazed at the nuns who choose to live in a cloister, as do the Sisters at Sancta Clara on 44th Street NE in Canton. There are rules in most cloistered monasteries about talking during the day because the monks or nuns agree to forbid it. Their lives are to be given to God and God alone. For that reason, most people are not cut out for it.
The quiet will be coming to an end shortly, because I'm going to the eye doctor to get the temporary plugs put in. This will tell us if the permanent plugs will help with the dry eye I've been having. And then maybe, just maybe I'll be able to get back to wearing my contact lenses again. It would be great.
Hope you have a wonderful weekend and do something fun. I hate to think of winter, but we all know it is coming, and maybe the memories of the beautiful fall will help tide us over until spring breaks through yet again. What do you think?
Take care, all of the readers of this blog.
Karen
Friday, September 12, 2014
Comrades
I told you that I might send an email to all of the people with whom I spent the morning of 9/11/01. I just realized that one person got omitted, so I'll send him something here in a couple of minutes.
So far I have received responses from all but one. One sent an email back from Spokane, Washington where he is now a dean in his department. Another responded from Atlanta, GA where he continues to teach college-level sales courses. One of my friends who worked in the same department as I did responded from NEOMED where she went to work. The book representative from McGraw-Hill who was in the department that day responded.
We became a strange band of comrades that day. Just overwhelmed with what we saw happening in New York, then at the Pentagon and finally in a Pennsylvania field. Actually, the University closed down at noon that day, so the revelations of the last two horrors were experienced at home. I'd already called my husband earlier in the day and he was out in the back splitting firewood. He would have had no idea what was happening.
And so now, far from being an isolated incident brought about by a group of terrorists funded by Osama Bin Laden, we know that there are many, many more. They unite together under the banner of hate and fortify themselves on despising America and everything it stands for. They are multiplying and in many different countries. We have the foreign terrorists and then we also have the homegrown kind, such as the brothers from Boston. Terrorists have filled a leadership vacuum in Iraq and Somalia and Yemen. They shocked us with the USS Cole and have gone from there. Their religion is destruction and their understanding of the Muslim faith is skewed and misapplied.
You have to know an enemy in order to fight them. Isn't that what we've learned over the years? We had to understand Nazi propaganda to battle against the Germans who pledged to it their all. We had to understand Mussolini and his Fascism. We had to make sense of Karl Marx and his organized rantings in Mein Kampf. But overwhelmingly, we had to be smart, well armed, and well trained. We had to have military leaders who took the battles to the Mariana Islands in the Pacific. And then those who went into France. The stealth that brought about the amazing battles along the coast at Normandy in France cost us dearly but turned the tides of that war.
And so, Americans have to come to grips with yet another threat to our freedom right here. Terrorists do their work by sneaking around, by working their way into the fabric of normal American life, and who don't mind one bit blowing themselves up.
We also have to be able to identify the enemy in order to fight them. And that's perhaps the toughest job of all in these times. Just who are they? Where are they? Just in Minnesota? Or where else? Which mosque is preaching the language of war and hate?
As a little kid born in 1946, the great war was over. America was rebounding. Work was plentiful. People were starting to barbeque and there were no more rations of butter and sugar. We had won after all. It was said to be the war to end all wars.
And then came Korea. And then came Vietnam. And then came the first Gulf War in 1993. And it continued in Iraq and Afghanistan. And it continues within our own country because we are generous about opening our doors to immigrants. And we haven't closed our gates against those who would come without papers with the intent of creating mayhem.
The plan to deal with all of this must be multifold. Can we triumph? I am sure that we can. When I grew up, many of my classmates thought they could do anything and they did. We responded to a young president's Inaugural Address when he said, "Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country."
My generation responded to that call and I think are still ready to respond again. Follow the lead of the Greatest Generation as Tom Brokaw calls them -- those who fought in WW II.
America is a remarkable place, exceptional. May God be with us and bless us and guide us.
So far I have received responses from all but one. One sent an email back from Spokane, Washington where he is now a dean in his department. Another responded from Atlanta, GA where he continues to teach college-level sales courses. One of my friends who worked in the same department as I did responded from NEOMED where she went to work. The book representative from McGraw-Hill who was in the department that day responded.
We became a strange band of comrades that day. Just overwhelmed with what we saw happening in New York, then at the Pentagon and finally in a Pennsylvania field. Actually, the University closed down at noon that day, so the revelations of the last two horrors were experienced at home. I'd already called my husband earlier in the day and he was out in the back splitting firewood. He would have had no idea what was happening.
And so now, far from being an isolated incident brought about by a group of terrorists funded by Osama Bin Laden, we know that there are many, many more. They unite together under the banner of hate and fortify themselves on despising America and everything it stands for. They are multiplying and in many different countries. We have the foreign terrorists and then we also have the homegrown kind, such as the brothers from Boston. Terrorists have filled a leadership vacuum in Iraq and Somalia and Yemen. They shocked us with the USS Cole and have gone from there. Their religion is destruction and their understanding of the Muslim faith is skewed and misapplied.
You have to know an enemy in order to fight them. Isn't that what we've learned over the years? We had to understand Nazi propaganda to battle against the Germans who pledged to it their all. We had to understand Mussolini and his Fascism. We had to make sense of Karl Marx and his organized rantings in Mein Kampf. But overwhelmingly, we had to be smart, well armed, and well trained. We had to have military leaders who took the battles to the Mariana Islands in the Pacific. And then those who went into France. The stealth that brought about the amazing battles along the coast at Normandy in France cost us dearly but turned the tides of that war.
And so, Americans have to come to grips with yet another threat to our freedom right here. Terrorists do their work by sneaking around, by working their way into the fabric of normal American life, and who don't mind one bit blowing themselves up.
We also have to be able to identify the enemy in order to fight them. And that's perhaps the toughest job of all in these times. Just who are they? Where are they? Just in Minnesota? Or where else? Which mosque is preaching the language of war and hate?
As a little kid born in 1946, the great war was over. America was rebounding. Work was plentiful. People were starting to barbeque and there were no more rations of butter and sugar. We had won after all. It was said to be the war to end all wars.
And then came Korea. And then came Vietnam. And then came the first Gulf War in 1993. And it continued in Iraq and Afghanistan. And it continues within our own country because we are generous about opening our doors to immigrants. And we haven't closed our gates against those who would come without papers with the intent of creating mayhem.
The plan to deal with all of this must be multifold. Can we triumph? I am sure that we can. When I grew up, many of my classmates thought they could do anything and they did. We responded to a young president's Inaugural Address when he said, "Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country."
My generation responded to that call and I think are still ready to respond again. Follow the lead of the Greatest Generation as Tom Brokaw calls them -- those who fought in WW II.
America is a remarkable place, exceptional. May God be with us and bless us and guide us.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Too Much of a Good Thing
Lots of foods today are fortified. I can remember when Wonder Bread was sold because it built strong bodies eight ways.
Look at the labels when you purchase your groceries. Cereals are fortified almost without a second thought. Vitamin mixtures duplicate the same ingredients.
A couple of weeks ago, a warning came out that we have to be more careful with vitamin supplements. There is a good chance if you eat a fortified breakfast cereal and also take other vitamins/minerals, you might be getting too much. Same for your children.
It's definitely a case of too much of a good thing.
What you can do is quickly make a list of the additives in cereal, and then leave room to add additional amounts as you look at the different vitamins/minerals that you take. Even if prescribed by a doctor, it is a good idea to do an inventory and then go over it with your doctor.
Most of the vitamin bottles tell what percent of each particular ingredient is being provided on a daily basis. So if it is already more than 100%, you might want to think about adding more.
My grandson takes gummy multivitamins and then sometimes he also drinks Ensure in the morning, which is another wallop of additives. Even if he eats honey nut cheerios, he's still getting a lot of vitamins and minerals. He doesn't eat very well, one of those kids who has an aversion to a lot of foods, and so it seems logical that he would need some help.
For those of you with children, don't hesitate to go over the nutritional needs of your children with the pediatrician and you could also consult with a nutritionist. There are potential problems with getting too much of a good thing!! If you go to the web, the story about the warning dealing with too much of a good thing should still be out there. It will likely go into more detail than the short snippet of a segment I saw on one of the morning shows.
So let's see -- what else? If you take calcium, you need Vitamin C to properly absorb the calcium. That same thing might also be true for various prescription drugs. Read over the materials that come from the doctor detailing the usage and details regarding these medications.
-----
Today is 9/11. The beams from the tower fountains were shining over New York last night. Sometimes I just shudder to think about how awful this day was 13 years ago. And sometimes I think that it could have been so much worse. The day before the attack, there were 50,000 people in the towers. We were watching a special called 9/10 two days ago and it was very moving. People were just going through the usual motions of their lives and there was no special thought given to Tuesday, September 11th.
One man who would normally have been at work in the towers took off the morning to see his son off to kindergarten. And there were many stories like that. There was a beautiful space on one of the floors of the towers devoted to artists. The ones who were not in their studios that morning remember what it was like to work in the space. They loved it!! Some of them used the space to celebrate the views from the towers. And one of them brought a mattress up to their floor and laid it on a table. He decided to sleep there that night. He didn't make it out.
The restaurants at the top of the towers were really something. The special showed what the elevator lobby area looked like. The carpet had been specially created to reflect the theme, "Windows on the World," in the North Tower. The 160 square yards of carpet had been handmade in France to depict the Manhattan skyline at night. The company chose to make a replica of that carpet a couple of years ago as a tribute to those who lost their lives in the towers. A brother and sister took their mother to Windows on the World for her birthday the night before 9/11. The sister worked in the towers. They found her purse with the bill still inside.
So today we remember what happened, where we were when it happened, and the people with whom we shared that awful morning. I think I'm going to email them today and just take a moment to remember how all of us happened to be at The University of Akron that day.
Take care, everyone.
Karen
Look at the labels when you purchase your groceries. Cereals are fortified almost without a second thought. Vitamin mixtures duplicate the same ingredients.
A couple of weeks ago, a warning came out that we have to be more careful with vitamin supplements. There is a good chance if you eat a fortified breakfast cereal and also take other vitamins/minerals, you might be getting too much. Same for your children.
It's definitely a case of too much of a good thing.
What you can do is quickly make a list of the additives in cereal, and then leave room to add additional amounts as you look at the different vitamins/minerals that you take. Even if prescribed by a doctor, it is a good idea to do an inventory and then go over it with your doctor.
Most of the vitamin bottles tell what percent of each particular ingredient is being provided on a daily basis. So if it is already more than 100%, you might want to think about adding more.
My grandson takes gummy multivitamins and then sometimes he also drinks Ensure in the morning, which is another wallop of additives. Even if he eats honey nut cheerios, he's still getting a lot of vitamins and minerals. He doesn't eat very well, one of those kids who has an aversion to a lot of foods, and so it seems logical that he would need some help.
For those of you with children, don't hesitate to go over the nutritional needs of your children with the pediatrician and you could also consult with a nutritionist. There are potential problems with getting too much of a good thing!! If you go to the web, the story about the warning dealing with too much of a good thing should still be out there. It will likely go into more detail than the short snippet of a segment I saw on one of the morning shows.
So let's see -- what else? If you take calcium, you need Vitamin C to properly absorb the calcium. That same thing might also be true for various prescription drugs. Read over the materials that come from the doctor detailing the usage and details regarding these medications.
-----
Today is 9/11. The beams from the tower fountains were shining over New York last night. Sometimes I just shudder to think about how awful this day was 13 years ago. And sometimes I think that it could have been so much worse. The day before the attack, there were 50,000 people in the towers. We were watching a special called 9/10 two days ago and it was very moving. People were just going through the usual motions of their lives and there was no special thought given to Tuesday, September 11th.
One man who would normally have been at work in the towers took off the morning to see his son off to kindergarten. And there were many stories like that. There was a beautiful space on one of the floors of the towers devoted to artists. The ones who were not in their studios that morning remember what it was like to work in the space. They loved it!! Some of them used the space to celebrate the views from the towers. And one of them brought a mattress up to their floor and laid it on a table. He decided to sleep there that night. He didn't make it out.
The restaurants at the top of the towers were really something. The special showed what the elevator lobby area looked like. The carpet had been specially created to reflect the theme, "Windows on the World," in the North Tower. The 160 square yards of carpet had been handmade in France to depict the Manhattan skyline at night. The company chose to make a replica of that carpet a couple of years ago as a tribute to those who lost their lives in the towers. A brother and sister took their mother to Windows on the World for her birthday the night before 9/11. The sister worked in the towers. They found her purse with the bill still inside.
So today we remember what happened, where we were when it happened, and the people with whom we shared that awful morning. I think I'm going to email them today and just take a moment to remember how all of us happened to be at The University of Akron that day.
Take care, everyone.
Karen
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Balancing Act
When I was a kid, nothing much seemed to be going right for me. For one thing, I thought that when God handed out brains He kind of ran out for my turn.
There were lots of really upsetting and disappointing things that happened at school during the elementary school years, and very little of it did I ever share with anyone. In fact, almost nothing. My older brother and two older sisters were doing pretty well. My younger brother didn't seem to have the problems that I had in school.
When my mother said she was going in for conferences, I always winced. I had no idea what she would hear about me, but I was always afraid that it would be bad. When she returned she almost always said the same thing, "Mrs. ____ says that you daydream a lot."
So maybe you are starting to get the drift of things. A kid with undiagnosed ADD and lots of fears about school doesn't add up to a good situation. When things got really bad for me, I'd play sick. It usually worked and even the thought of having to stay in my room all day didn't bother me one little bit. I didn't care about missing the school work or about missing the kids in my class. In all honesty, I was a bit ambivalent about the kids in my class. I liked them a lot but it never felt reciprocated.
When it came time to choose up sides for some kind of game at school, like maybe a class spelling bee, I winced again. Because the way we did it, the teacher named two team leaders and then each of them picked kids from the class by alternating. I knew that I would be last every single time, and oh what a terrible feeling it is to be the last one sitting when all of the kids are lined up on the sides of the room. And every eye is on YOU.
By this time, I was horribly nervous and insecure, and figured that my classmates already knew that I didn't have a working brain. Why else would I be chosen last every time? So when it was my turn in the first round to spell a word, I usually got it wrong. Or that's my memory of it. And I'd be one of the first sitting again. They probably started with the last ones chosen.
Now, we could talk about the teacher's own lack of understanding and wisdom at this point, because you'd think that after a while they could come up with something a little more fair. But the damage was done by that time.
By sixth grade my grades had come up for some unexplainable reason. Our teacher in sixth grade was probably my favorite. She was very old for one thing, and so maybe she was more in tune to feelings and fairness. I don't know but the better grades bolstered my confidence a little bit
Then came a few triumphs in short order.
The first was a luau that we had at one girl's house. I think it was only for girls, and it must have been someone's birthday. The mom made this bowl out of watermelon rind and it was filled with ripe cantaloupe and watermelon, but there was another unbelievable treat. Fresh coconut. I'd never tasted it before and it was absolutely delicious!! Now that I think about it, I think the party was at Barbara's house.
Then came the games. And I was probably a little worried by this time again. They had table knives but maybe a tad wider and four dried beans I think it was. You had to go the length of the back yard balancing the beans on the knife and once to the other side pass it off to the next person. Something magical happened. Apparently, I had a skill -- balancing. The beans stayed on the knife the whole time, no matter what. Beans were falling all over the place but I was a steady as could be, and won a pretty little bracelet and necklace set to boot.
I can remember exactly what it looked like, in fact.
THEN, we had our sixth grade party and once again, it was game time. Two leaders were named and again, they chose classmates one by one. And of course, I was the last one again. But they brought out the knifes again and this time sliced potatoes! It was win or lose. I was the last one with the potato on the knife and it was up to me to bring it home. It was close but my opponent lost the potato and had to retrieve it, and I kept on going and going and going. My team was cheering for me!! We won!!!
Everyone was congratulating me and the team leader must have been surprised. The loser became the winner for once, and I knew for a fact that I had a talent better than most.
Years later I heard a wise person talking about grandparents and what their role is. Grandparents, the person said, have the time and patience to really watch their grandchildren, and by doing so, they can identify gifts and talents that others might overlook. A gift or a talent that makes that child perform better than most people in some area.
All I can tell you is that balancing was something that saved my self-esteem and let me start seventh grade with a little dignity! Give your grandchildren that gift of telling them about something they do well. It pays such dividends and it is so easy!!
There were lots of really upsetting and disappointing things that happened at school during the elementary school years, and very little of it did I ever share with anyone. In fact, almost nothing. My older brother and two older sisters were doing pretty well. My younger brother didn't seem to have the problems that I had in school.
When my mother said she was going in for conferences, I always winced. I had no idea what she would hear about me, but I was always afraid that it would be bad. When she returned she almost always said the same thing, "Mrs. ____ says that you daydream a lot."
So maybe you are starting to get the drift of things. A kid with undiagnosed ADD and lots of fears about school doesn't add up to a good situation. When things got really bad for me, I'd play sick. It usually worked and even the thought of having to stay in my room all day didn't bother me one little bit. I didn't care about missing the school work or about missing the kids in my class. In all honesty, I was a bit ambivalent about the kids in my class. I liked them a lot but it never felt reciprocated.
When it came time to choose up sides for some kind of game at school, like maybe a class spelling bee, I winced again. Because the way we did it, the teacher named two team leaders and then each of them picked kids from the class by alternating. I knew that I would be last every single time, and oh what a terrible feeling it is to be the last one sitting when all of the kids are lined up on the sides of the room. And every eye is on YOU.
By this time, I was horribly nervous and insecure, and figured that my classmates already knew that I didn't have a working brain. Why else would I be chosen last every time? So when it was my turn in the first round to spell a word, I usually got it wrong. Or that's my memory of it. And I'd be one of the first sitting again. They probably started with the last ones chosen.
Now, we could talk about the teacher's own lack of understanding and wisdom at this point, because you'd think that after a while they could come up with something a little more fair. But the damage was done by that time.
By sixth grade my grades had come up for some unexplainable reason. Our teacher in sixth grade was probably my favorite. She was very old for one thing, and so maybe she was more in tune to feelings and fairness. I don't know but the better grades bolstered my confidence a little bit
Then came a few triumphs in short order.
The first was a luau that we had at one girl's house. I think it was only for girls, and it must have been someone's birthday. The mom made this bowl out of watermelon rind and it was filled with ripe cantaloupe and watermelon, but there was another unbelievable treat. Fresh coconut. I'd never tasted it before and it was absolutely delicious!! Now that I think about it, I think the party was at Barbara's house.
Then came the games. And I was probably a little worried by this time again. They had table knives but maybe a tad wider and four dried beans I think it was. You had to go the length of the back yard balancing the beans on the knife and once to the other side pass it off to the next person. Something magical happened. Apparently, I had a skill -- balancing. The beans stayed on the knife the whole time, no matter what. Beans were falling all over the place but I was a steady as could be, and won a pretty little bracelet and necklace set to boot.
I can remember exactly what it looked like, in fact.
THEN, we had our sixth grade party and once again, it was game time. Two leaders were named and again, they chose classmates one by one. And of course, I was the last one again. But they brought out the knifes again and this time sliced potatoes! It was win or lose. I was the last one with the potato on the knife and it was up to me to bring it home. It was close but my opponent lost the potato and had to retrieve it, and I kept on going and going and going. My team was cheering for me!! We won!!!
Everyone was congratulating me and the team leader must have been surprised. The loser became the winner for once, and I knew for a fact that I had a talent better than most.
Years later I heard a wise person talking about grandparents and what their role is. Grandparents, the person said, have the time and patience to really watch their grandchildren, and by doing so, they can identify gifts and talents that others might overlook. A gift or a talent that makes that child perform better than most people in some area.
All I can tell you is that balancing was something that saved my self-esteem and let me start seventh grade with a little dignity! Give your grandchildren that gift of telling them about something they do well. It pays such dividends and it is so easy!!
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
A Piece of History
I'm posting this a little late today -- changed my babysitting day. So this posting will remain through tomorrow. Thanks, everyone, for your patience.
Canal Fulton doesn't make the news very often. We are a little place, with just over 5,000 people living within the city limits. There are about 8,500 of us living in the 32 square-mile township which wraps around the city.
My husband was on his way home from the Community Center in town after spending a day making ham/bean soup and beef stew for the Yankee Peddler Festival (the Canal Fulton Lions have a booth) at right around 2:00 p.m. and when he got home he mentioned right away that he'd seen thick, black smoke coming from the downtown.
He said it was near where the old feed mill collapsed and burned about three or four years ago. I got that kind of sick feeling, wondering what might have happened. And there were sirens by that time. He said a Jackson Township ladder truck had passed him by too, never a good sign around here. The tallest buildings in town are two stories after all.
So maybe you saw it on the news last night. The Exchange Building burned. It is a total loss apparently. The Exchange Building was built in 1898, just at the turn of the century. It was a very stately, well constructed place that housed the Exchange Bank when I moved to town in 1973. That's where my checking and savings were, and just next to the building is a small parking area with just enough room for the drive-up window that served customers there for years. Including me. My youngest son accompanied me to the bank on many occasions and he knew pretty quickly that they gave out suckers there. The clerk would whisper through the microphone, "Is it all right if he has a sucker?" Well, old big ears would have already heard that so there was virtually NO WAY that I would be able to say, "No thank you," without a huge response from the back seat.
Oh, yes, and the car seat. It was a death trap, but it was up to code for that time. Children weren't restrained much at all, and the only thing keeping them in their seat was a padded bar that came down in front of them. And that bar, let me tell you, was disgusting by the time we got home. It was just coated with sticky sucker juice all across it's curvature, and the little hands that held onto it weren't much better. The webs in between each finger had to be washed carefully and all of the lint that attached itself to the webs too.
But you know what -- thinking about it, I'm so glad that I have that memory now.
But that's not the end of the story. In 1979 when I went to work for The Signal, our weekly newspaper in Canal Fulton, they had a storefront location. The editor in 1979, Dave Burkhart, had his office way in the back. A door in his office opened right up to the Ohio-Erie Canal directly behind our building. When I took over in 1983, the paper's general manager who only came into town maybe once a week, moved his office there, and my desk was moved to the front window where merchandise had been placed when it was a store. I liked it there. Life in a small town personified.
We had a lot of visitors. There were the regulars coming in to pay an ad bill or just those who stopped by for fun. One old guy came by at least once a week, and he loved to insult people. One day he came in and said, "Well, just look at you ladies. You remind me of roses. In January." We dutifully laughed and then he nodded and left, satisfied that he'd done his job for that day.
A local minister liked to stop by on his way to the store to get his weekly six-pack of pop. The police chief always had time for a chat.
Well, then the general manager did a little poking around and found that if we moved to the second floor of the Exchange Building, we could save a boatload of rent. So one weekend all of the desks, the phones, the Xerox machine, and whatever else we had was moved over to the new location just down the street and across the intersection of Canal and Exchange.
Our entrance was a sandstone slab. Just next to it was another sandstone slab where folks went into the first floor post office formerly located in that spot. So many people had passed through that entrance for their mail that the sandstone was worn down from the foot traffic.
There was quite a climb to the second floor, straight up a flight of steps, but the offices were clean and spacious. Our GM had two gilded lettered signs put on the upstairs windows of our offices so customers could find us more easily. My office was comfortable and private but of course, the pace of life wasn't as obvious or interesting.
The day my son ran away from summer camp at a church down on Portage Street (he was four), he was heading for my office. He was mad because his older brother got to go swimming to a big kid's pool and he wasn't allowed. That's where they found him, on Portage, a long way away from "camp" and a lot closer to The Signal offices which is where he told his rescuers that he was going.
In 1985 when I left The Signal for The University of Akron, the GM surprised me with a going-away party, an unusual thing for the company to do. The Signal was owned by Buckeye Publishing Company in Lisbon, Ohio, and they were definitely interested in the profitability of the place on most days.
Another story -- there was an elevator in the Exchange Building, the only place in town with one. The bank president's office was up there. In true small town style, rumors always floated around about people's private lives and the bank was no exception. Somehow, it came to the attention of a friend of mine that the bank president had been linked to three of us as having had an affair with him. He was a handsome guy, don't get me wrong, but I can tell you for absolute certainty that none of the three of us did. BUT, that kind of got us thinking. We made up three signs that read either "Past, present, or future," and when we arrived to take the bank president out for lunch, we carried them inside the lobby. Oh boy, that got things started. The startled clerk called upstairs and told us, with considerable disgust, that we could take the ELEVATOR up to his office. He burst out laughing when he saw the signs and said, "Oh brother, do you have idea what you've started now?"
Then at one point, the Board of Education was in the building. A realtor's office. Then apartments went in upstairs (where my old office was). So many different faces, but the same beautiful red brick building.
And the manger scene put up by the Lions Club in whatever freezing weather was being experienced at that time was always right in front of the Exchange Building.
It will likely be torn down soon. I'll have to stop by on Wednesday when I pick up my granddaughter from school and take some pictures. To remember. To reflect. Maybe I can get a brick to add to the one from the feed mill.
Take care, friends.
Canal Fulton doesn't make the news very often. We are a little place, with just over 5,000 people living within the city limits. There are about 8,500 of us living in the 32 square-mile township which wraps around the city.
My husband was on his way home from the Community Center in town after spending a day making ham/bean soup and beef stew for the Yankee Peddler Festival (the Canal Fulton Lions have a booth) at right around 2:00 p.m. and when he got home he mentioned right away that he'd seen thick, black smoke coming from the downtown.
He said it was near where the old feed mill collapsed and burned about three or four years ago. I got that kind of sick feeling, wondering what might have happened. And there were sirens by that time. He said a Jackson Township ladder truck had passed him by too, never a good sign around here. The tallest buildings in town are two stories after all.
So maybe you saw it on the news last night. The Exchange Building burned. It is a total loss apparently. The Exchange Building was built in 1898, just at the turn of the century. It was a very stately, well constructed place that housed the Exchange Bank when I moved to town in 1973. That's where my checking and savings were, and just next to the building is a small parking area with just enough room for the drive-up window that served customers there for years. Including me. My youngest son accompanied me to the bank on many occasions and he knew pretty quickly that they gave out suckers there. The clerk would whisper through the microphone, "Is it all right if he has a sucker?" Well, old big ears would have already heard that so there was virtually NO WAY that I would be able to say, "No thank you," without a huge response from the back seat.
Oh, yes, and the car seat. It was a death trap, but it was up to code for that time. Children weren't restrained much at all, and the only thing keeping them in their seat was a padded bar that came down in front of them. And that bar, let me tell you, was disgusting by the time we got home. It was just coated with sticky sucker juice all across it's curvature, and the little hands that held onto it weren't much better. The webs in between each finger had to be washed carefully and all of the lint that attached itself to the webs too.
But you know what -- thinking about it, I'm so glad that I have that memory now.
But that's not the end of the story. In 1979 when I went to work for The Signal, our weekly newspaper in Canal Fulton, they had a storefront location. The editor in 1979, Dave Burkhart, had his office way in the back. A door in his office opened right up to the Ohio-Erie Canal directly behind our building. When I took over in 1983, the paper's general manager who only came into town maybe once a week, moved his office there, and my desk was moved to the front window where merchandise had been placed when it was a store. I liked it there. Life in a small town personified.
We had a lot of visitors. There were the regulars coming in to pay an ad bill or just those who stopped by for fun. One old guy came by at least once a week, and he loved to insult people. One day he came in and said, "Well, just look at you ladies. You remind me of roses. In January." We dutifully laughed and then he nodded and left, satisfied that he'd done his job for that day.
A local minister liked to stop by on his way to the store to get his weekly six-pack of pop. The police chief always had time for a chat.
Well, then the general manager did a little poking around and found that if we moved to the second floor of the Exchange Building, we could save a boatload of rent. So one weekend all of the desks, the phones, the Xerox machine, and whatever else we had was moved over to the new location just down the street and across the intersection of Canal and Exchange.
Our entrance was a sandstone slab. Just next to it was another sandstone slab where folks went into the first floor post office formerly located in that spot. So many people had passed through that entrance for their mail that the sandstone was worn down from the foot traffic.
There was quite a climb to the second floor, straight up a flight of steps, but the offices were clean and spacious. Our GM had two gilded lettered signs put on the upstairs windows of our offices so customers could find us more easily. My office was comfortable and private but of course, the pace of life wasn't as obvious or interesting.
The day my son ran away from summer camp at a church down on Portage Street (he was four), he was heading for my office. He was mad because his older brother got to go swimming to a big kid's pool and he wasn't allowed. That's where they found him, on Portage, a long way away from "camp" and a lot closer to The Signal offices which is where he told his rescuers that he was going.
In 1985 when I left The Signal for The University of Akron, the GM surprised me with a going-away party, an unusual thing for the company to do. The Signal was owned by Buckeye Publishing Company in Lisbon, Ohio, and they were definitely interested in the profitability of the place on most days.
Another story -- there was an elevator in the Exchange Building, the only place in town with one. The bank president's office was up there. In true small town style, rumors always floated around about people's private lives and the bank was no exception. Somehow, it came to the attention of a friend of mine that the bank president had been linked to three of us as having had an affair with him. He was a handsome guy, don't get me wrong, but I can tell you for absolute certainty that none of the three of us did. BUT, that kind of got us thinking. We made up three signs that read either "Past, present, or future," and when we arrived to take the bank president out for lunch, we carried them inside the lobby. Oh boy, that got things started. The startled clerk called upstairs and told us, with considerable disgust, that we could take the ELEVATOR up to his office. He burst out laughing when he saw the signs and said, "Oh brother, do you have idea what you've started now?"
Then at one point, the Board of Education was in the building. A realtor's office. Then apartments went in upstairs (where my old office was). So many different faces, but the same beautiful red brick building.
And the manger scene put up by the Lions Club in whatever freezing weather was being experienced at that time was always right in front of the Exchange Building.
It will likely be torn down soon. I'll have to stop by on Wednesday when I pick up my granddaughter from school and take some pictures. To remember. To reflect. Maybe I can get a brick to add to the one from the feed mill.
Take care, friends.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Reunion Wrap-Up
So hello to any of my Fairview High School classmates who might have decided to check out the blog. This is it. Humble but welcoming! Like we sing in church, "All are welcome in this place."
The reunion was absolutely awesome! I had a wonderful time and I think all of my classmates did too. If you've never been up to Rocky River in the Cleveland area, it's really neat. The city next to Fairview and our arch rivals in sports, Rocky River abuts Lake Erie and also the Cleveland Metro Parks. Our reunion was held at one of the nicest venues anywhere -- the Cleveland Yachting Club. The sailing vessels were in their mooring spots and the evening's weather got better and better. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds as we had our picture taken on the balcony. There was a reserved parking space out front for the "Commodore."
We celebrated that it has been 50 years since we accepted our diplomas. While our class did have some cliques, they seem to have been all but decimated these days. Everyone talks to everyone. Everyone is happy to see everyone!!
When I was leaving, one of my classmates said it was the best reunion EVER. And he said he'd spent the evening talking with someone who was not a friend in HS. In fact, this is what he said, "He beat the ___ out of me all the time. He was a bad guy. But it's amazing. He turned out to be really nice. I didn't mention our past. It just didn't seem like the right time."
The music we made together, singing the fight song and the alma mater was wonderful. The voices were loud and strong and full of spirit and of collective memories. There was spontaneous harmony. The little group we formed of classmates, Jeff and I on guitar and vocals, and three other vocalists (Jan, Peggy and Terry) was extremely well received and it was a true sing-a-long. The songs were: When I'm 64, Eight Days a Week, If I Had a Hammer, and This Land is Your Land.
Classmates came from Texas and California, Upstate New York, Kansas, the D.C. area, and many other places. There was a farmer who found his calling in the dirt and he loves it. There was a pediatric surgeon. The first woman rabbi in the United States and the second in the WORLD. She said the blessing before our meal. He couldn't make it but our class can claim the first Brutus Buckeye at OSU. One of our classmates is in a D.C. choir and she has performed in concerts all over the world, including Russia, and at Carnegie Hall and the Lincoln Center in Washington. There was a woman who was employed tracking down Nazis for the government, another an expert in Slavic languages. There was one who is in charge of a showroom for a huge North Carolina furniture company, and she lives in San Clemente, CA. There were graphic artists, advertising people, a librarian, a television station manager, a retired OSU engineering professor, a calligrapher, and a number of veterans. We honored those veterans at the end of the reunion with grateful applause.
One of our teachers was there. His platoon went into the Battle of the Bulge. He was the only one who came out unscathed, and he taught at Fairview for years and yes, he shared war stories with us.
The door prizes were wonderful and much appreciated by the winners. The grand prize was a weekend at a luxury condo in Florida owned by one of our classmates.
It strikes me that a successful life is one where joy is found. Our classmates seem to have found that joy and it counts so much more than riches or position.
My favorite moment though was this: Barb, one of my classmates, leaned over and said, "I read your bio. I take it that you are a Christian." I said, yes, I am. She said, "So am I." And then we truly shared what means the most to us. Her contribution toward the door prizes was a pair of beautifully hand-painted wine glasses. I cherish the time we got to spend together.
So my friends, if you are still young enough, encourage your class to make a website. It has held our class together for all of these years. It is the lifeline to everything else that follows. And connect with someone from your class today or this week, or more than one. When it comes time for a reunion, you will absolutely LOVE spending time with these people and see that there are many others too!!
Thank you, God, for a wonderful weekend. I love my classmates!
And now -- on a somber note -- please pray for our country as we approach the 13th anniversary of 9/11. We know that there are jets missing from Libya and possibly from elsewhere. We know that there are terrorists about. We know that they hate us and want nothing good for us. Pray, please pray.
The reunion was absolutely awesome! I had a wonderful time and I think all of my classmates did too. If you've never been up to Rocky River in the Cleveland area, it's really neat. The city next to Fairview and our arch rivals in sports, Rocky River abuts Lake Erie and also the Cleveland Metro Parks. Our reunion was held at one of the nicest venues anywhere -- the Cleveland Yachting Club. The sailing vessels were in their mooring spots and the evening's weather got better and better. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds as we had our picture taken on the balcony. There was a reserved parking space out front for the "Commodore."
We celebrated that it has been 50 years since we accepted our diplomas. While our class did have some cliques, they seem to have been all but decimated these days. Everyone talks to everyone. Everyone is happy to see everyone!!
When I was leaving, one of my classmates said it was the best reunion EVER. And he said he'd spent the evening talking with someone who was not a friend in HS. In fact, this is what he said, "He beat the ___ out of me all the time. He was a bad guy. But it's amazing. He turned out to be really nice. I didn't mention our past. It just didn't seem like the right time."
The music we made together, singing the fight song and the alma mater was wonderful. The voices were loud and strong and full of spirit and of collective memories. There was spontaneous harmony. The little group we formed of classmates, Jeff and I on guitar and vocals, and three other vocalists (Jan, Peggy and Terry) was extremely well received and it was a true sing-a-long. The songs were: When I'm 64, Eight Days a Week, If I Had a Hammer, and This Land is Your Land.
Classmates came from Texas and California, Upstate New York, Kansas, the D.C. area, and many other places. There was a farmer who found his calling in the dirt and he loves it. There was a pediatric surgeon. The first woman rabbi in the United States and the second in the WORLD. She said the blessing before our meal. He couldn't make it but our class can claim the first Brutus Buckeye at OSU. One of our classmates is in a D.C. choir and she has performed in concerts all over the world, including Russia, and at Carnegie Hall and the Lincoln Center in Washington. There was a woman who was employed tracking down Nazis for the government, another an expert in Slavic languages. There was one who is in charge of a showroom for a huge North Carolina furniture company, and she lives in San Clemente, CA. There were graphic artists, advertising people, a librarian, a television station manager, a retired OSU engineering professor, a calligrapher, and a number of veterans. We honored those veterans at the end of the reunion with grateful applause.
One of our teachers was there. His platoon went into the Battle of the Bulge. He was the only one who came out unscathed, and he taught at Fairview for years and yes, he shared war stories with us.
The door prizes were wonderful and much appreciated by the winners. The grand prize was a weekend at a luxury condo in Florida owned by one of our classmates.
It strikes me that a successful life is one where joy is found. Our classmates seem to have found that joy and it counts so much more than riches or position.
My favorite moment though was this: Barb, one of my classmates, leaned over and said, "I read your bio. I take it that you are a Christian." I said, yes, I am. She said, "So am I." And then we truly shared what means the most to us. Her contribution toward the door prizes was a pair of beautifully hand-painted wine glasses. I cherish the time we got to spend together.
So my friends, if you are still young enough, encourage your class to make a website. It has held our class together for all of these years. It is the lifeline to everything else that follows. And connect with someone from your class today or this week, or more than one. When it comes time for a reunion, you will absolutely LOVE spending time with these people and see that there are many others too!!
Thank you, God, for a wonderful weekend. I love my classmates!
And now -- on a somber note -- please pray for our country as we approach the 13th anniversary of 9/11. We know that there are jets missing from Libya and possibly from elsewhere. We know that there are terrorists about. We know that they hate us and want nothing good for us. Pray, please pray.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Thanks
Yesterday went about as well as it could have. Mass was good other than we messed up one hymn because we forgot to put the capos on. Holy hour was very nice. But I want to tell you about the class reunion Part I that was held last night.
We were going to play a game where our classmates tried to remember all of the stores in the Fairview Shopping Center. It was really a fairly unique place, the first shopping center in all of Cuyahoga County when it opened in 1947. There was a bowling alley, a theater, and dozens of mom and pop shops. The theater opened in 1948 and my sister remembers that event. It was a big deal for a small town.
Thing is, Panini's doesn't have a sound system and all of the TVs were going with the Indians game on it. That's kind of nostalgic. One of the only times the Indians went anywhere was in the 1950s when we were in elementary school. The place was so loud and congested!! No one could hear. Pat, the reunion chair, climbed on a chair and tried to be heard over the crowd. Mike, this character of a guy who is just downright funny, stood next to her.
She'd say something and he'd yell a short synopsis of what she just said. He went along with the script pretty well until she got to the part about bringing cash money to the Saturday night event for the raffle and for drinks (cash bar). Then he starting doing what he does best. He said, "Don't buy any tickets for the condo weekend that Ruth donated. The place is full of termites. Don't do it!"
Someone standing near me said that the whole thing sounded like something on Saturday Night Live and reminded them of one of the actors on that show that used to yell things all the time.
I saw people I haven't seen in probably 40 years at least if not 50. Yesterday I was going to look at the yearbook for a while, but it probably wouldn't have helped all that much. Surprisingly, I recognized most of the people with a few notable exceptions. Several times we incorrectly identified a classmate only to find out that it was a classmate's spouse. Oh well. Made for a good laugh and broke the ice.
A few people looked so much like they did in high school that it was amazing. A couple of others didn't look like they did in high school whatsoever.
At any rate, at this reunion people wanted to talk about the old days. They wanted to reminisce about everything and relished the stored-away stories that only get better with time. There were those amazed faces when someone looks at a classmate and all of the sudden sees them as they were 50 years ago. And there were hugs all around.
Despite the heat and humidity and the loudness, we found our common ground.
One of my classmates told us that when children start kindergarten at age four, they never catch up to the rest of the class in their math skills. Hmmmm. Sounds really familiar!! And two of us who were four when school started thought that sounded about right.
Now you knew that I'd have to bring in faith somewhere, didn't you? One of my classmates talked about losing her husband three years ago. She said that she is doing much better now and that both her music (she sings in a choir and has performed at Carnegie Hall and the Lincoln Center) and her church helped to pull her through. She emphasized -- especially her church.
We talked about how a group of girls could work with each other, go to camp with each other, and spend a lot of time with each other over the course of more than a year and never once have an argument. And for the first time in many, many years, three of the six cheerleaders were together.
Two of my classmates thanked me for encouraging them to come to the reunion and starting early at bugging them. So tonight, we do the reunion Part II.
Have a wonderful Saturday and enjoy the cooler weather.
We were going to play a game where our classmates tried to remember all of the stores in the Fairview Shopping Center. It was really a fairly unique place, the first shopping center in all of Cuyahoga County when it opened in 1947. There was a bowling alley, a theater, and dozens of mom and pop shops. The theater opened in 1948 and my sister remembers that event. It was a big deal for a small town.
Thing is, Panini's doesn't have a sound system and all of the TVs were going with the Indians game on it. That's kind of nostalgic. One of the only times the Indians went anywhere was in the 1950s when we were in elementary school. The place was so loud and congested!! No one could hear. Pat, the reunion chair, climbed on a chair and tried to be heard over the crowd. Mike, this character of a guy who is just downright funny, stood next to her.
She'd say something and he'd yell a short synopsis of what she just said. He went along with the script pretty well until she got to the part about bringing cash money to the Saturday night event for the raffle and for drinks (cash bar). Then he starting doing what he does best. He said, "Don't buy any tickets for the condo weekend that Ruth donated. The place is full of termites. Don't do it!"
Someone standing near me said that the whole thing sounded like something on Saturday Night Live and reminded them of one of the actors on that show that used to yell things all the time.
I saw people I haven't seen in probably 40 years at least if not 50. Yesterday I was going to look at the yearbook for a while, but it probably wouldn't have helped all that much. Surprisingly, I recognized most of the people with a few notable exceptions. Several times we incorrectly identified a classmate only to find out that it was a classmate's spouse. Oh well. Made for a good laugh and broke the ice.
A few people looked so much like they did in high school that it was amazing. A couple of others didn't look like they did in high school whatsoever.
At any rate, at this reunion people wanted to talk about the old days. They wanted to reminisce about everything and relished the stored-away stories that only get better with time. There were those amazed faces when someone looks at a classmate and all of the sudden sees them as they were 50 years ago. And there were hugs all around.
Despite the heat and humidity and the loudness, we found our common ground.
One of my classmates told us that when children start kindergarten at age four, they never catch up to the rest of the class in their math skills. Hmmmm. Sounds really familiar!! And two of us who were four when school started thought that sounded about right.
Now you knew that I'd have to bring in faith somewhere, didn't you? One of my classmates talked about losing her husband three years ago. She said that she is doing much better now and that both her music (she sings in a choir and has performed at Carnegie Hall and the Lincoln Center) and her church helped to pull her through. She emphasized -- especially her church.
We talked about how a group of girls could work with each other, go to camp with each other, and spend a lot of time with each other over the course of more than a year and never once have an argument. And for the first time in many, many years, three of the six cheerleaders were together.
Two of my classmates thanked me for encouraging them to come to the reunion and starting early at bugging them. So tonight, we do the reunion Part II.
Have a wonderful Saturday and enjoy the cooler weather.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Friday
Well, this morning I'm off to play guitar and sing at the 9:00 a.m. Mass with the children of SS Philip & James School.
After that I'll come home and start getting ready for my class reunion meet and greet at Panini's in Westlake at 6:00 p.m.
At 2:00 p.m. I'll be up at church again for my holy hour and then will leave immediately after that for Cleveland.
So this posting is going to be really quick.
After working with a committee for a year on this reunion, I'm excited about tonight but not nervous. I think it will be a lot of fun, and the biggest fear I have is not recognizing people. We have nametags for tonight, but sometimes after 50 years that just doesn't really mean much.
What I should do is go over the senior pictures in the yearbook one or two more times before I leave. And bring the book with me. I could always run out to the parking lot if I'm really stumped!!
I should have loaded the pictures onto my phone! That would have been handy.
Since I don't drink, I'll get some water or maybe some ginger ale or something, and mingle. I'd like to find a seat somewhere and talk with some of my classmates for a while rather than milling around aimlessly for hours.
Since storms are predicted for the region tonight, I'm going to be smart and check my weather app on the phone to see if there are any areas of concern for my trip home. I'm leaving around 10:00 p.m. I think.
Saturday is going to be a long day and I need to get some sleep!!
So that's about it. I got some new nail polish to try on my toenails, and have a nice pair of jeans shorts and sandals to wear, plus a comfortable, breathable cotton top. It's going to be 90 degrees for heaven's sakes. And we specifically planned the reunion for September to avoid this kind of thing!
Who knew?
Take care, God bless, I'll give you a full report tomorrow morning, and then again on Tuesday.
I'll try to remember the funniest of stories.
After that I'll come home and start getting ready for my class reunion meet and greet at Panini's in Westlake at 6:00 p.m.
At 2:00 p.m. I'll be up at church again for my holy hour and then will leave immediately after that for Cleveland.
So this posting is going to be really quick.
After working with a committee for a year on this reunion, I'm excited about tonight but not nervous. I think it will be a lot of fun, and the biggest fear I have is not recognizing people. We have nametags for tonight, but sometimes after 50 years that just doesn't really mean much.
What I should do is go over the senior pictures in the yearbook one or two more times before I leave. And bring the book with me. I could always run out to the parking lot if I'm really stumped!!
I should have loaded the pictures onto my phone! That would have been handy.
Since I don't drink, I'll get some water or maybe some ginger ale or something, and mingle. I'd like to find a seat somewhere and talk with some of my classmates for a while rather than milling around aimlessly for hours.
Since storms are predicted for the region tonight, I'm going to be smart and check my weather app on the phone to see if there are any areas of concern for my trip home. I'm leaving around 10:00 p.m. I think.
Saturday is going to be a long day and I need to get some sleep!!
So that's about it. I got some new nail polish to try on my toenails, and have a nice pair of jeans shorts and sandals to wear, plus a comfortable, breathable cotton top. It's going to be 90 degrees for heaven's sakes. And we specifically planned the reunion for September to avoid this kind of thing!
Who knew?
Take care, God bless, I'll give you a full report tomorrow morning, and then again on Tuesday.
I'll try to remember the funniest of stories.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
The Eyes
As I mentioned yesterday, I went to the eye doctor to find out about my contact lenses and why it has been so difficult to wear them. He did some tests and discovered, as I had guessed, that I have dry eyes. It's a two-fold problem. On one hand, my tear ducts aren't producing tears like they should. And on the other hand, the quality of the tears isn't what it should be, meaning that the liquid slides off the surface of the eye faster than it should.
Gladly, there are some remedies that might just work. One is taking a fish oil supplement daily. It has Vitamin A in it and a couple of other things, is made just for dry eye, and should improve the tear quality. The second is to get a plug in one of two the tiny ducts on the inside corner of the each eye so that it doesn't take away the tears so fast. I am hoping that with both of these interventions, I can go back to contact lenses again.
There is a medication called Restasis, but the doctor warned that it is expensive but I could go in that direction if I wanted. Well, it looks like it would cost about $109 a month if I put in the information correctly. That's out of pocket money and he is right -- that is expensive!!
The third possibility is to work out something a little different with my contact lenses, or switch to soft lenses.
I'm going to try the fish oil and get the plugs and see where that takes me, especially since the contact lenses are nearly new.
Eyes are amazing things. My prescription has changed over the past so many years. The nearsightedness has improved, even again since last year. I am not farsighted anymore, meaning that I can read and do art without correction. My intermediate vision is good and again, I don't need any correction, such as to type up this posting.
When you visit the eye doctor, two important tests are typically done. One is to measure the pressure within the eye and this is to rule out glaucoma, a very serious medical problem that can cause blindness. The second is to examine the macula in the back of the eye to rule out AMD or age-related macular degeneration. This is a condition that affects the blood vessels in the back of the eye and there are two kinds -- wet and dry. The dry type occurs first and if caught at this phase is often held at bay with special eye vitamins. The wet variety is much more serious and if found at this stage requires shots given by a retinal specialist.
So make sure that you are being tested for these conditions and also ask your eye doctor to test for dry eye if you have a suspicion that you might have a problem with this.
Well, it's Thursday -- one more day before the first event of my class reunion. So I've got some things to get done and I'm going to take off and get started.
I'll close with a line from one of my favorite hymns -- "If God is for us, who can be against?"
Bye for now.
Gladly, there are some remedies that might just work. One is taking a fish oil supplement daily. It has Vitamin A in it and a couple of other things, is made just for dry eye, and should improve the tear quality. The second is to get a plug in one of two the tiny ducts on the inside corner of the each eye so that it doesn't take away the tears so fast. I am hoping that with both of these interventions, I can go back to contact lenses again.
There is a medication called Restasis, but the doctor warned that it is expensive but I could go in that direction if I wanted. Well, it looks like it would cost about $109 a month if I put in the information correctly. That's out of pocket money and he is right -- that is expensive!!
The third possibility is to work out something a little different with my contact lenses, or switch to soft lenses.
I'm going to try the fish oil and get the plugs and see where that takes me, especially since the contact lenses are nearly new.
Eyes are amazing things. My prescription has changed over the past so many years. The nearsightedness has improved, even again since last year. I am not farsighted anymore, meaning that I can read and do art without correction. My intermediate vision is good and again, I don't need any correction, such as to type up this posting.
When you visit the eye doctor, two important tests are typically done. One is to measure the pressure within the eye and this is to rule out glaucoma, a very serious medical problem that can cause blindness. The second is to examine the macula in the back of the eye to rule out AMD or age-related macular degeneration. This is a condition that affects the blood vessels in the back of the eye and there are two kinds -- wet and dry. The dry type occurs first and if caught at this phase is often held at bay with special eye vitamins. The wet variety is much more serious and if found at this stage requires shots given by a retinal specialist.
So make sure that you are being tested for these conditions and also ask your eye doctor to test for dry eye if you have a suspicion that you might have a problem with this.
Well, it's Thursday -- one more day before the first event of my class reunion. So I've got some things to get done and I'm going to take off and get started.
I'll close with a line from one of my favorite hymns -- "If God is for us, who can be against?"
Bye for now.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Instructions
I found this absolutely darling set of dishcloths the other day. Crocheted. So I hunted all over the place on the web and found the directions -- read the first line and was already lost.
How hard can they be? Maybe I can just wing it and save myself the frustration. They are a longitudinal slice of an apple all the way through. A leaf is still attached at the top, in fact. The meat of the apple is a bright white and then the edges are done in either red or a bright green. A few stitches of brown yarn makes the seeds at the center. And there you go.
If I buy all of the yarn I'd need, then I'll have made a commitment to this project meaning that somehow I have to learn how to make them. A trip to Joanne's yesterday netted me some yarn but not the kind for this project. I'm not ready for the commitment yet, I guess.
And that sort of reaction is what people do also, when they have a decision to make to commit to a relationship with God. They size up what they might have to do or give up and then they think some more. Maybe they make a trip to church. And then while there they just can't quite go to the next step in the process. Because it's a commitment and they know that it might be difficult.
What might they have to do? Why are they afraid?
Ask any Christian if they regret their decision to walk with God. You will get some very interesting answers, but the bottom line is that they will say absolutely, "No, I don't."
Have a great Wednesday! Wish me luck. I'm trying to get my eyes to shed more tears so I can wear my contact lenses again and hope the eye doctor can help. I really miss them!!!
How hard can they be? Maybe I can just wing it and save myself the frustration. They are a longitudinal slice of an apple all the way through. A leaf is still attached at the top, in fact. The meat of the apple is a bright white and then the edges are done in either red or a bright green. A few stitches of brown yarn makes the seeds at the center. And there you go.
If I buy all of the yarn I'd need, then I'll have made a commitment to this project meaning that somehow I have to learn how to make them. A trip to Joanne's yesterday netted me some yarn but not the kind for this project. I'm not ready for the commitment yet, I guess.
And that sort of reaction is what people do also, when they have a decision to make to commit to a relationship with God. They size up what they might have to do or give up and then they think some more. Maybe they make a trip to church. And then while there they just can't quite go to the next step in the process. Because it's a commitment and they know that it might be difficult.
What might they have to do? Why are they afraid?
- Give up something, like swearing or lying. Well, why wouldn't you want to give up both of those anyhow? Either one of them is bad in the long run, no matter where your soul is. We were watching that show where the boss becomes an employee at one of his own businesses. He was working with one of the servers and noticed that she used really bad language with the customers. At the end when he was giving out money and aid to some of the employees, he offered her $5,000 if she quit swearing. And in the end she admitted that her choice of language wasn't a very good for her career goals either.
- Get up Sunday morning. I know, some people just love to sleep in. It's easier for me to say because I really don't. I like to get going and see what the day might bring. But when you do get up for Sunday morning church services, there is something rewarding about it. You are re-energized in your faith by the people around you and come away from church renewed.
- Change. People are notoriously stubborn about changing. In the Bible, we are referred to as a stiff-necked people and we are, aren't we? We tend to find a rut and just keep driving in it no matter what. Even when there is a lovely paved road right next to it, we keep driving ourselves into the pits and ruts and often get stuck doing it. When those who are being called to a relationship with God see the ones who have made that commitment, they see something really good but it also seems unattainable. They know their own faults and don't see how they could possibly fit in. Well, here's the best part. We don't have to "change," per se. We will change but God will do the changing once we get our hearts and souls in the right place. Even the holiest of people had to start somewhere.
- Money. The church will want some money. Well, what are folks doing with it now? Are there things they buy that they could do without? Are they buying things and going places because life is a little boring and slow? It isn't because life is boring and slow; it's because that person is boring and slow in a sense. The joy that comes from a relationship with God fills up the longing that we have inside ourselves and that we try to fill while being in the "world." The longer we walk with God, the less that the world's temptations pull at us. And the more that the beauty of this place fills our souls with the peace that we are seeking. So any money you offer the church is not going to crimp their style. Their style is going to change.
- Fitting in. People worry that they will be identified as religious fanatics by co-workers, family and friends. They are concerned that some of those relationships will suffer. They are right. It just might happen, but making that commitment to God is much more important. And who says that some of their families might just take a closer look at their own relationship with God? Sure, making that commitment is going to shake things up but it will feel right and it will be right.
Ask any Christian if they regret their decision to walk with God. You will get some very interesting answers, but the bottom line is that they will say absolutely, "No, I don't."
Have a great Wednesday! Wish me luck. I'm trying to get my eyes to shed more tears so I can wear my contact lenses again and hope the eye doctor can help. I really miss them!!!
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
New Neighbors
Yesterday, we were at my son's house because his hot water tank went bad AGAIN. Thank goodness it was still under warranty.
So the three grandchildren were together because my other son came over to help lug the tank out and get the new one in!! And the three had some company. In just the last year, their cul-de-sac went from two children (Ella and Drew) to 11 children within a fairly close age range. There are bicycles all over the place and every kind of plastic contraption imaginable. There are balls laying in yards, shoes here and there, and the wonderful sounds of children at play.
The newest addition is the next door neighbor. The story is heartwarming.
When this couple was looking for a house, they'd already been to a few places and either the house wasn't right or it had already been sold. They had come from Colorado for this house hunting and time was running out on them. They came to look at the house next to my son's house and this is what happened according to one of the new owners, Molly.
She said they drove up, looked around inside and when they came out suddenly there were kids all over the place, more or less swarming the car. They were asking questions and answering questions. Her husband sensing something of importance said that they could buy the house. Molly said that by this time she couldn't even remember what the inside looked like, but she agreed. Then my son and daughter-in-law came out and they made them feel welcome as well. It was a done deal.
Molly and Shane added three little ones to the cul-de-sac including another six-year-old boy much to Drew's delight. Molly said that the kids couldn't go outside to play very well at their other house which was located on a busy street. Cul-de-sac living is wonderful, she said, and she is enjoying every minute of it. Even the two-year-old is relatively safe and anyhow, you should see the arms on this little kid!! She is tough.
Then Molly shared with me a little about her life. She grew up in a small town and lived on a dairy farm. It was so rural that they only had CCD classes once a month. She likes things simple and was stunned that people plant things in the mulch. She warned me that the next time I come by the front of the house might be more simplified. She pointed to some bushes in the front. Her large pots on the front porch were moved from Colorado; her husband had to rent another small UHaul for the pots.
One of the children came over and asked if they could have ice cream, and pretty soon her children were lugging two huge buckets of ice cream out front. Then bowls and huge spoons. And napkins. We had an impromptu party on the concrete in front of their house. Molly's middle child, Boston, was the one who said it felt like a party. So we sang happy birthday to a couple of the kids, the ones whose birthdays were coming up. There was delight and happiness in the eyes of the children.
Molly said that they will be registering their oldest for CCD soon. She said that they are devout Catholics.
She also mentioned that the dairy farm where she grew up is going robotic, the first one in Nebraska. Her mother ships her fresh butter and cheese, and meats as well. She said that once you have fresh dairy butter and cheese, you can't go back.
So -- my son and his wife and the two children have great new neighbors! I'm so happy for them and pray that Molly and Shane like Plain Township!!
Have a very good day, and I'm glad to be back with you.
Karen
So the three grandchildren were together because my other son came over to help lug the tank out and get the new one in!! And the three had some company. In just the last year, their cul-de-sac went from two children (Ella and Drew) to 11 children within a fairly close age range. There are bicycles all over the place and every kind of plastic contraption imaginable. There are balls laying in yards, shoes here and there, and the wonderful sounds of children at play.
The newest addition is the next door neighbor. The story is heartwarming.
When this couple was looking for a house, they'd already been to a few places and either the house wasn't right or it had already been sold. They had come from Colorado for this house hunting and time was running out on them. They came to look at the house next to my son's house and this is what happened according to one of the new owners, Molly.
She said they drove up, looked around inside and when they came out suddenly there were kids all over the place, more or less swarming the car. They were asking questions and answering questions. Her husband sensing something of importance said that they could buy the house. Molly said that by this time she couldn't even remember what the inside looked like, but she agreed. Then my son and daughter-in-law came out and they made them feel welcome as well. It was a done deal.
Molly and Shane added three little ones to the cul-de-sac including another six-year-old boy much to Drew's delight. Molly said that the kids couldn't go outside to play very well at their other house which was located on a busy street. Cul-de-sac living is wonderful, she said, and she is enjoying every minute of it. Even the two-year-old is relatively safe and anyhow, you should see the arms on this little kid!! She is tough.
Then Molly shared with me a little about her life. She grew up in a small town and lived on a dairy farm. It was so rural that they only had CCD classes once a month. She likes things simple and was stunned that people plant things in the mulch. She warned me that the next time I come by the front of the house might be more simplified. She pointed to some bushes in the front. Her large pots on the front porch were moved from Colorado; her husband had to rent another small UHaul for the pots.
One of the children came over and asked if they could have ice cream, and pretty soon her children were lugging two huge buckets of ice cream out front. Then bowls and huge spoons. And napkins. We had an impromptu party on the concrete in front of their house. Molly's middle child, Boston, was the one who said it felt like a party. So we sang happy birthday to a couple of the kids, the ones whose birthdays were coming up. There was delight and happiness in the eyes of the children.
Molly said that they will be registering their oldest for CCD soon. She said that they are devout Catholics.
She also mentioned that the dairy farm where she grew up is going robotic, the first one in Nebraska. Her mother ships her fresh butter and cheese, and meats as well. She said that once you have fresh dairy butter and cheese, you can't go back.
So -- my son and his wife and the two children have great new neighbors! I'm so happy for them and pray that Molly and Shane like Plain Township!!
Have a very good day, and I'm glad to be back with you.
Karen
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