Saw a news report recently that a young woman running for office, in her remarks to a gathering of supporters, confused the timeline and location of some of the battles of the American Revolution. While I'm sure it was an honest mistake, I am sadly not at all surprised by her errors. History does not seem to be a very important subject in our schools anymore. Graham Hancock and other pundits have even gone so far as to declare us a "civilization with amnesia."
While that may be true of the genpop, not ALL our citizens should be cast into that collective barrel. Over the course of the past ten years, many NSDAR Chapters have begun to focus on the men and women who not only lived through the history but also made it happen. And realizing that the Greatest Generation vets are dying at an alarming rate, members across our Land have taken on the project of making sure the memories of these heroes and heroines are recorded for posterity.
Spent a delightful three hours on Saturday night with some of the DARlings from Heritage Trails Chapter in Spring, Texas. These women are not just making headway in the field, they are blazing a path with capturing the recollections of World War II Vets. I was absolutely enthralled as Martha C told me the number they interview each year, and listened raptly as Linda G H and Ann J added pertinent comments and even told a few stories about some of these wonderful women and men. The evening was over way too soon, but the table talk will be with me for a very long time.
And, oh by the way, Patricia W, I'm sorry you had to go home early, but I cannot thank you enough for letting me have your ticket. It was an honor and a blessing to be with our Sisters. I can hardly wait for next year in San Antonio.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
what a cat
A few nights ago I was propped on pillows and reading a chapter before turning off the light when Jim came into the bedroom and growled, "I don't know what's wrong with that darned cat, he's over there talking to me, there's plenty of water and food and treats in his bowls, but he won't leave me alone, and I'm sick of it, get up and do something about him before I throw him out the door."
Sigh.
So, book put aside and up, I barefooted into the kitchen. Hmmmmm. "Any idea why there's water on the kitchen floor?" I asked my disgusted partner, who by then was back in his comfy chair and reading his own chapter.
"No!"
Well, of course not, why did I even bother to ask?
And so I began to investigate. No, the icemaker cable had not disconnected, as it had in the past. I hadn't run the dishwasher in a week, so that couldn't be it. Had not recently used the sink hand spray, which no matter how careful you are always sends water everywhere other than where you wish it to go.
Opened the doors to the cabinet under the sink and, lo and behold! water puddled around the cans of cat food and bottles of furniture polish, soft soap and window cleaner. Pulled everything out and set the various containers on the floor then used the handy dandy cut-up raggedy man tee shirts to clean up the liquid.
Turned on the water and flipped the switch for the disposal. Nope, all secure. Moved the faucet and ran a stream of water into the other side of the sink and saw it gush onto the recently dried cabinet floor.
Evidently normal day-to-day vibration had caused the plastic connector on that side of the sink to come undone. Once the ring was back in place and tightened securely, no more water leaks.
Meanwhile, Kitty stood watching the entire process. Evidently I was not moving fast enough to suit him so he jumped into the cabinet to help me swish more rags from side to side. Finally, with a "my job here is done" smirk on his face, he hopped out, stretched a mile, and then sauntered off.
Leaving everything on the kitchen floor and the cabinet doors open to promote drying during the night, I put the rags out on the patio table and went back to bed. A few minutes later Jim set the house alarm, turned out the lights, and joined me.
"What a super cat!" he said, punching his pillow into submission. "Hears things that go bump in the night and finds water leaks."
"Able to leap tall laundry baskets at a single bound," I smiled, gently nudging to one side the little ball of purr contentedly sleeping on my feet.
Sigh.
So, book put aside and up, I barefooted into the kitchen. Hmmmmm. "Any idea why there's water on the kitchen floor?" I asked my disgusted partner, who by then was back in his comfy chair and reading his own chapter.
"No!"
Well, of course not, why did I even bother to ask?
And so I began to investigate. No, the icemaker cable had not disconnected, as it had in the past. I hadn't run the dishwasher in a week, so that couldn't be it. Had not recently used the sink hand spray, which no matter how careful you are always sends water everywhere other than where you wish it to go.
Opened the doors to the cabinet under the sink and, lo and behold! water puddled around the cans of cat food and bottles of furniture polish, soft soap and window cleaner. Pulled everything out and set the various containers on the floor then used the handy dandy cut-up raggedy man tee shirts to clean up the liquid.
Turned on the water and flipped the switch for the disposal. Nope, all secure. Moved the faucet and ran a stream of water into the other side of the sink and saw it gush onto the recently dried cabinet floor.
Evidently normal day-to-day vibration had caused the plastic connector on that side of the sink to come undone. Once the ring was back in place and tightened securely, no more water leaks.
Meanwhile, Kitty stood watching the entire process. Evidently I was not moving fast enough to suit him so he jumped into the cabinet to help me swish more rags from side to side. Finally, with a "my job here is done" smirk on his face, he hopped out, stretched a mile, and then sauntered off.
Leaving everything on the kitchen floor and the cabinet doors open to promote drying during the night, I put the rags out on the patio table and went back to bed. A few minutes later Jim set the house alarm, turned out the lights, and joined me.
"What a super cat!" he said, punching his pillow into submission. "Hears things that go bump in the night and finds water leaks."
"Able to leap tall laundry baskets at a single bound," I smiled, gently nudging to one side the little ball of purr contentedly sleeping on my feet.
Friday, December 17, 2010
in our area angels grow on trees
The DeSoto, Texas food pantry operates all year, every year. On Wednesday we received an urgent email - - there were four slips from the angel tree that had not been returned, could we help? And it had to be done immediately, the party was scheduled for today.
Let me digress for a moment. When my own daughter was small, we were a military family and money wasn’t just tight, it was nearly non-existent. I never knew until recently that daughter’s one desire at Christmas every year was for a ballerina tutu. But she never included it on her list to Santa, because she realized, even at that tender age, that Christmas gifts had to consist of shoes, warm clothes, a winter jacket with sleeves long enough to cover growing arms. Twenty years later, when her own daughter came along, a pink tutu was one of the first things she bought for her, and whenever anybody asked, it headed the list. Daughter today is a Neo-Natal Intensive Care Nurse, with a recently earned BS degree (HOORAY!!!). Granddaughter graduates this year from the University of Houston, on track for a future as a PA.
And so, when the angel request came in this week, I responded that I wanted to buy for the 7-year-old girl who said she wanted “anything for a princess.” Yesterday I took a pink tiara to the Food Pantry, and handed it to chairman Suzanne Phillips. Another donor had only moments earlier brought in a “princess” doll for the child.
The need for food and clothes is always there, and we respond with donations each month throughout the year. But there are those of us who also recognize that a heart’s desire for the frivolous is sometimes just as important as the head’s need for the sensible. And today, that child, along with hundreds of others in our area, will have a reason to smile.
Information about DeSoto Food Pantry at link below.
http://www.pegasusnews.com/news/2008/oct/23/desoto-food-pantry-seeks-community-support/
Let me digress for a moment. When my own daughter was small, we were a military family and money wasn’t just tight, it was nearly non-existent. I never knew until recently that daughter’s one desire at Christmas every year was for a ballerina tutu. But she never included it on her list to Santa, because she realized, even at that tender age, that Christmas gifts had to consist of shoes, warm clothes, a winter jacket with sleeves long enough to cover growing arms. Twenty years later, when her own daughter came along, a pink tutu was one of the first things she bought for her, and whenever anybody asked, it headed the list. Daughter today is a Neo-Natal Intensive Care Nurse, with a recently earned BS degree (HOORAY!!!). Granddaughter graduates this year from the University of Houston, on track for a future as a PA.
And so, when the angel request came in this week, I responded that I wanted to buy for the 7-year-old girl who said she wanted “anything for a princess.” Yesterday I took a pink tiara to the Food Pantry, and handed it to chairman Suzanne Phillips. Another donor had only moments earlier brought in a “princess” doll for the child.
The need for food and clothes is always there, and we respond with donations each month throughout the year. But there are those of us who also recognize that a heart’s desire for the frivolous is sometimes just as important as the head’s need for the sensible. And today, that child, along with hundreds of others in our area, will have a reason to smile.
Information about DeSoto Food Pantry at link below.
http://www.pegasusnews.com/news/2008/oct/23/desoto-food-pantry-seeks-community-support/
Friday, December 3, 2010
memoriam
Attended by the caring and compassionate staff at DeSoto VCA, and in the arms of the one who loved him most, Faithful Companion and Friend, Ernie "Puppy" Thibodeau, 15 1/2 years old, passed peacefully this morning into a world where backyard bunnies play with friendly canines instead of running at their approach, where hind legs jump and run the way they did so long ago, where the weather is never too hot or too cold, where diets are not an issue and it's chunky sirloin burgers for every meal. Puppy was preceded in death by step-brother Burt and is survived by close-cousin Kitty. He will remain forever in the hearts of those who knew and loved him. We were blessed to have been his friends.
Part two
For several months we’d been on potty patrol every four hours. This last couple of weeks it was down to every two. Each time I’d open the garage door and turn on the light, I’d wonder if his eyes would be bright with greeting. At 4 am yesterday, I found Puppy huddled in the middle of the floor, whining, unable to get up. From the looks of the shredded newspaper and poop, it was evident that he had managed to crawl to the potty corner a couple of times even as I slept. But then he just couldn’t manage anymore, and so was in a heap, his belly saturated with urine and sweat. It took an hour of him whining and me crying, my snot mixing with his fur, to get him on his feet. Once he was up, he knew that he could not lay down again. I shut kitty in the bedroom, opened the back door and just let puppy stoically wander back and forth as he chose while I made phone calls. At 8:40, he stood and looked at me silently, not in reproach, but only as if to say please do something. I said I know, Buddy, and put the leash on his collar. He made it to the car, but could not get in. And then, even between the two of us, we couldn’t get him onto the back seat. And so he simply sat on the floor and rested his head on his blankets while I drove the long six miles. He literally fell out when we got to the vets. And had not taken two steps when he lost control again. I just stood and stroked his head and talked to him while he peed the parking lot. He rallied enough to get into the office, and remembering the routine walked to the floor scale, but no need to weigh him today, and so into exam one, the room with no windows. He stood trembling, but calm, quietly eating puppy treats from my hand. After a short wait, an attendant took him away for a catheter in his leg. They were back in a couple of minutes. She put a soft blanket on the exam table, and lifted him onto it. But by now the hind legs were totally gone, and it took both of us to get him situated. She murmured her condolence and quietly shut the door, leaving us to our last few moments together. I stood with my right arm locked around his rib cage and petted his gray head with my left. He did not whine, just seemed, finally, content. The doc came in and asked if we were ready. I answered he was ready six months ago but I was too selfish until now. She cleared the catheter, and then pumped in the lethal dose. He was totally silent. No gasping for breath, no whines, not a single sigh. He simply laid his muzzle on my left hand and closed his eyes. She listened for a heart beat in three different places, at three different times, then simply said, “He’s gone.” I nodded, because by then I, too, was mute. She said she’d tell the clerk, and that I could stay with him as long as I wanted. But there was no need to stay for more than a couple of minutes. From the day he and Burt chose me at the animal shelter and they became my friends, I’d said it all throughout the years, and a thousand times in the last five hours. I came away from that place knowing that the heroics and dignity of Puppy will stay with me forever.
Gave his blankets to the vet, they're always looking for some. After I got home I emptied and threw away his garage water bowl, then cleaned the floor. His toys and brush lay silent in their place. I will throw them away as soon as I can bring myself to gather them up, but not just yet. Sent an email asking Denise if they can use the 1 1/2 bags of kibbles n bits for Tony. There's this gargantuan dog house on the back patio that stands in silently mocking; it weighs more than me and Jim combined, and there’s no way to do anything with it because he's not here. He emailed that he wished he’d been there to scratch puppy behind the ears one more time.
I had to run out for one errand about 2 pm. I got home, walked in, locked the front door, and then from long months of habit immediately opened the garage door. But there was no puppy to greet me. The rest of the day, kitty never let me out of his sight. No whining, no demands for food, just keeping silent vigil as we got through the day. He laid down when I did, got up when I did, and matched me step for step.
I had supposed the worst would be today when I wake at my normal 4 am and realized there was no reason to get out of bed. But I don’t think I slept much. Several times during the night I woke to hear the echoes of a dog tag rattling against the metal loop on his red collar. At 3:30 I stood on the patio and looked for Sirius, confident that puppy saw and smiled. And then was overwhelmed with anger. Anger at Jim for not being here, anger at an economy that keeps him away from home. I am angry at a world where puppies do not live forever. But the anger was temporary. The pain of loss a little longer. And so I write, for this is how I have learned to deal with grief. And I will get through it. One silent dawn at a time.
Part two
For several months we’d been on potty patrol every four hours. This last couple of weeks it was down to every two. Each time I’d open the garage door and turn on the light, I’d wonder if his eyes would be bright with greeting. At 4 am yesterday, I found Puppy huddled in the middle of the floor, whining, unable to get up. From the looks of the shredded newspaper and poop, it was evident that he had managed to crawl to the potty corner a couple of times even as I slept. But then he just couldn’t manage anymore, and so was in a heap, his belly saturated with urine and sweat. It took an hour of him whining and me crying, my snot mixing with his fur, to get him on his feet. Once he was up, he knew that he could not lay down again. I shut kitty in the bedroom, opened the back door and just let puppy stoically wander back and forth as he chose while I made phone calls. At 8:40, he stood and looked at me silently, not in reproach, but only as if to say please do something. I said I know, Buddy, and put the leash on his collar. He made it to the car, but could not get in. And then, even between the two of us, we couldn’t get him onto the back seat. And so he simply sat on the floor and rested his head on his blankets while I drove the long six miles. He literally fell out when we got to the vets. And had not taken two steps when he lost control again. I just stood and stroked his head and talked to him while he peed the parking lot. He rallied enough to get into the office, and remembering the routine walked to the floor scale, but no need to weigh him today, and so into exam one, the room with no windows. He stood trembling, but calm, quietly eating puppy treats from my hand. After a short wait, an attendant took him away for a catheter in his leg. They were back in a couple of minutes. She put a soft blanket on the exam table, and lifted him onto it. But by now the hind legs were totally gone, and it took both of us to get him situated. She murmured her condolence and quietly shut the door, leaving us to our last few moments together. I stood with my right arm locked around his rib cage and petted his gray head with my left. He did not whine, just seemed, finally, content. The doc came in and asked if we were ready. I answered he was ready six months ago but I was too selfish until now. She cleared the catheter, and then pumped in the lethal dose. He was totally silent. No gasping for breath, no whines, not a single sigh. He simply laid his muzzle on my left hand and closed his eyes. She listened for a heart beat in three different places, at three different times, then simply said, “He’s gone.” I nodded, because by then I, too, was mute. She said she’d tell the clerk, and that I could stay with him as long as I wanted. But there was no need to stay for more than a couple of minutes. From the day he and Burt chose me at the animal shelter and they became my friends, I’d said it all throughout the years, and a thousand times in the last five hours. I came away from that place knowing that the heroics and dignity of Puppy will stay with me forever.
Gave his blankets to the vet, they're always looking for some. After I got home I emptied and threw away his garage water bowl, then cleaned the floor. His toys and brush lay silent in their place. I will throw them away as soon as I can bring myself to gather them up, but not just yet. Sent an email asking Denise if they can use the 1 1/2 bags of kibbles n bits for Tony. There's this gargantuan dog house on the back patio that stands in silently mocking; it weighs more than me and Jim combined, and there’s no way to do anything with it because he's not here. He emailed that he wished he’d been there to scratch puppy behind the ears one more time.
I had to run out for one errand about 2 pm. I got home, walked in, locked the front door, and then from long months of habit immediately opened the garage door. But there was no puppy to greet me. The rest of the day, kitty never let me out of his sight. No whining, no demands for food, just keeping silent vigil as we got through the day. He laid down when I did, got up when I did, and matched me step for step.
I had supposed the worst would be today when I wake at my normal 4 am and realized there was no reason to get out of bed. But I don’t think I slept much. Several times during the night I woke to hear the echoes of a dog tag rattling against the metal loop on his red collar. At 3:30 I stood on the patio and looked for Sirius, confident that puppy saw and smiled. And then was overwhelmed with anger. Anger at Jim for not being here, anger at an economy that keeps him away from home. I am angry at a world where puppies do not live forever. But the anger was temporary. The pain of loss a little longer. And so I write, for this is how I have learned to deal with grief. And I will get through it. One silent dawn at a time.
Friday, November 19, 2010
one day vacation
Driving to South Padre Island for lunch is not the strangest thing we've ever done. One year we went to Monument Valley just to see the sunrise. Another year it was a trip to see sunset at the south rim of the Grand Canyon. Life is short and you take your cherished memories where and when you can find them.
This time of year Padre's public beach access #2 is almost deserted. Still so warm that we were sweating under our shirts but too cool for wading in the surf, as you can tell from Jim's "smile." The pic of what looks like an alien life form at the top of the page was a jelly fish drying/dying on the beach. Amazing, in colors from sky blue to sea green and turqoise in between, they were everywhere we looked. Jim was fascinated by this one in particular. The seagulls and crows were raucous, rude, and by the time we finished lunch there were so many of them it was like something out of Alfred Hitchcock. We skipped that photo op. All things considered, I loved every minute. And after 20 hours in the car, we're still speaking to each other.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Friday night lights on Thursday
By the middle of the second quarter at the game last night I was feeling real anguish for the kids on the field. And the first series of plays in the third quarter brought the score to 49 - 0, which is where it stayed, resulting in the Martin Warriors moving to the district winners circle.
Martin played hard and celebrated their win just as hard. I'm a Gramma who proudly wears red to all the games. And by the time the bands took the field to play their last half-time show of the regular season, I was in high cotton. The Warrior band saluted the graduating seniors and their parents. The Panther band saluted our Veterans, playing the musical themes for all the Services as members of the Armed Forces stood with pride in the stands. It was wonderful!!
In sports there are winners and there are losers. But the final score does not always tell the whole story. And so I want to take a minute to salute the Paschal team for their courage, their heart, their character, their true grit. Despite the pain, the Panthers continued to hit the line, and hit their spots, and they tried. Good Lord, how they tried. You know that by the beginning of the last quarter it was just almost too much to bear. But they did NOT lay down. They did NOT give up.
And so the story here is about a group of young men who, despite overwhelming odds, kept on keeping on. The final score on the board might not have been in their favor, but trust me, the Paschal players were winners last night. Every single one. And I salute them.
Martin played hard and celebrated their win just as hard. I'm a Gramma who proudly wears red to all the games. And by the time the bands took the field to play their last half-time show of the regular season, I was in high cotton. The Warrior band saluted the graduating seniors and their parents. The Panther band saluted our Veterans, playing the musical themes for all the Services as members of the Armed Forces stood with pride in the stands. It was wonderful!!
In sports there are winners and there are losers. But the final score does not always tell the whole story. And so I want to take a minute to salute the Paschal team for their courage, their heart, their character, their true grit. Despite the pain, the Panthers continued to hit the line, and hit their spots, and they tried. Good Lord, how they tried. You know that by the beginning of the last quarter it was just almost too much to bear. But they did NOT lay down. They did NOT give up.
And so the story here is about a group of young men who, despite overwhelming odds, kept on keeping on. The final score on the board might not have been in their favor, but trust me, the Paschal players were winners last night. Every single one. And I salute them.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
serendipity
Puppy loves his new blanket. So much so that when I opened the door and turned on the light this morning for reveille, he opened one eye, gave a single small whufff, and promptly closed it again. Durn. Dissed by a dog.
Kitty no longer sleeps on my feet at night, choosing instead the stack of big round throw cushions currently sitting on the bedroom floor. Just the perfect size for his snoozing, And ignoring my frequent ups and downs.
You see, last week the bedroom decor changed from the hues of August amber to September's cranberry. I had placed the throw pillows out of the way, on the floor, while I changed the bed linens.
But, between answering the phone to computer generated greetings (don't you just HATE those) and taking care of puppy desires, not to mention all the other little things that need doing of a morning around here, it was a couple of hours before I got back into the bedroom to put them in their normal place. And found kitty happily reclining atop the stack.
To say the least, he did not take kindly to my suggestion that he move. But a mistake on my part resulted in being able to stretch out my feet at night. Ahhhhhh, serendipity
Man, if I'd known a five dollar blanket and repositioning cushions was all it took to make the two of them sleep later, I'd have done it waaaaaaaaaaay sooner.
Kitty no longer sleeps on my feet at night, choosing instead the stack of big round throw cushions currently sitting on the bedroom floor. Just the perfect size for his snoozing, And ignoring my frequent ups and downs.
You see, last week the bedroom decor changed from the hues of August amber to September's cranberry. I had placed the throw pillows out of the way, on the floor, while I changed the bed linens.
But, between answering the phone to computer generated greetings (don't you just HATE those) and taking care of puppy desires, not to mention all the other little things that need doing of a morning around here, it was a couple of hours before I got back into the bedroom to put them in their normal place. And found kitty happily reclining atop the stack.
To say the least, he did not take kindly to my suggestion that he move. But a mistake on my part resulted in being able to stretch out my feet at night. Ahhhhhh, serendipity
Man, if I'd known a five dollar blanket and repositioning cushions was all it took to make the two of them sleep later, I'd have done it waaaaaaaaaaay sooner.
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