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.
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