The Year in Summary

This has been a most challenging year, with many ups and downs. Sickness, health, birth & death - we've done it all. Plus quite a bit of travel.

We've all been sick at one time or another -- Thanks, Covid! -- and struggled to recover without long-term after-effects. Sometimes it's hard to tell where the lingering effects of one episode start and another begins. And sometimes it's difficult to tell the difference between a mild case of covid and an old-fashioned cold/flu. But now we've been trained to isolate and mask up regardless. So we have masks and covid tests as part of our regular pharmacy list.

The hardest part of this year was losing friends and relatives, especially when it was unexpected. Even though we believe that we will see them again someday, there's always a void in our hearts where that person used to live. It's like the constant ache of knowing that something has been lost and will not be found again, at least in this life.

The best part of the year was the birth of our first grandchild. There's no feeling in the world like seeing and holding onto a grandchild. It's the fulfillment of dreams, as though we've gone full-circle and are now seeing Life from a completely different angle than ever before. There is so much hope and expectation (and anxiety) associated with this new phase, and so much blessing. We are glad to be living so close to our descendants. And have many plans to spoil them rotten!

So, for the monthly summary:

In January, a former college roommate of Mary’s came to live with us while starting post-graduate studies. Cheryl helped her to make some important life decisions and she, in turn, helped Adam to find a job, which was a blessing beyond measure.

In February, we drove down to Indiana to see Rob’s uncle Joe Downs in hospice before he died.  A week later, Rob drove down by himself for the funeral (everyone else was at work). He enjoyed seeing family and celebrating the long and faithful life of his uncle. 

In March Rob had a minor ischemic stroke. And kidney stones. What fun! Cheryl nursed him back to health.

In April Deb and Mason were ‘showered’ with gifts for their forthcoming child. And Adam started his new job!

In May, our Deb and Mason became the exhausted parents of Emelia Marie, our first grandchild, who is a lovely little girl full of smiles and laughter (and way too much energy). They immediately redoubled their efforts to find a house of their own. Adam, Mary and Rob joined a gaming group. Rob had more kidney stones. And Mary’s car needed expensive repairs. 

In June, thanks to Cheryl’s amazing financial wizardry, we had a new roof put on our 20-year old house. Rob turned 60 years old. In Washington state, Rob’s beloved uncle Ron – who was not really old yet – suffered a severe stroke and went into the hospital.

In July, Rob flew out to Washington state to help his aunt with Ron’s care; his uncle died while he was there, so he helped with the funeral arrangements but could not stay for the actual service as he was needed to help drive us “out west” to the Green family reunion in Custer State Park, South Dakota.

Our route westward took us through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, past the Mississippi river headwaters, and through DeSmet, SD (one-time home of Laura Ingalls Wilder, one of Cheryl’s favorite authors). In the park, besides relatives, we saw bison and prairie dogs and pronghorn antelope. And caverns. Deep, cold caverns. (Not recommended if you got rained on just prior!)

Deb and Mason found a house and move in. James and Tabea came over for a visit from Germany, stopping first in Seattle to visit grandparents before continuing on to Grand Rapids to meet their new niece. And spend time with parents and siblings, too, of course.

In August, we had a family photo shoot with James and Tabea before they had to leave for home. Then Mary and Cheryl traveled to Texas to visit and cooked up some freezer meals for Roy and Virginia while Rob stayed home and tried to catch up on house maintenance. And when they returned, we celebrated our 31st wedding anniversary!

In September, Mary moved back in to save on rent. Rob accompanied his dad to Bakersfield Union High School’s 70th class reunion. On the way back, they stopped in to visit his sister Jeanne (and brother-in-law Brendon and niece Breanna) in Tucson. Then, after dropping Dad off in Tuscola, Rob stopped in Nashville to visit his aunt Judy and uncle Clyde and their grandson Mark Allen.

In October one of Cheryl’s nieces and her husband brought into the world their own darling daughter so that Emelia will have a playmate at the reunions! So we are now officially Grand Uncle and Aunt as well as Grandma and Grandpa!

In November, our friends, Tim and Deb Thomas, surprised us with a (short) visit all the way from Georgia. Rob tried to wrap up all his work assignments as his contract ended on the 30th. And we had a nice Thanksgiving dinner with friends and family.

In December, Mary flew down to Florida with her boyfriend, Dylan, to meet his father’s side of the family and found, upon her return, that her car had inexplicably – and very expensively – died while sitting in our driveway. We found a temporary replacement (it needs work!).  And Rob started looking for work again.

Rainbows After the Storm

So far as I know at this moment in time, my current contract runs out at the end of the month, so I've been looking for something else for several weeks now, although not with a lot of energy. According to my recruiter, there isn't much work available at this time of the year; most contracts start up in the early part of the new year, end of January or beginning of February, when companies suddenly have money to spend on new projects. I'm not in a big hurry to find something, though. I've been over-stressed with work lately and putting in too many hours and neglecting a lot of the things that need to be done around the house.

I'm ready for a nice, long break.

Of course, my idea of a break is going on a long road trip to visit family and friends, or tearing a car engine apart and putting it back together, or playing with my Linux laptops and programming some bizarre applications, or designing a radio-control circuit using discrete transistors and relays, or finishing up one of the stories I started writing so many years go. Or maybe just going for a nice, long hike.

I'm looking for a rainbow after this last year's constant stream of storms. Rest. Peace. Maybe even a chance to just stop the world for awhile and read a book.

Do you know how long it's been since I sat down and just read a book?? (I don't)

My brain keeps telling me that I need to finish writing one of my books before I start reading someone else's.

If I could only find the time. And peace and quiet.

A Difficult Year is 2023 (Updated)

Of the two inevitable things in the world, Death is still the hardest to deal with. In the last year, several people within my friends/family sphere have died.

My uncle Joe Downs was the only one who had lived a long and full life and was ready to go, if not eagerly anticipating the release from this life. His had accomplished many things in his life, but his body had grown old and weary and broken and it was his time.

My uncle Ron Jones had nearly lived a long and full life, but he was still in good health -- so far as we all knew -- and strong as a horse, still working, looking forward to retiring someday. His stroke came as a complete surprise, and the subsequent complications removed any hope that he would be able to recover to some level of health such that he could still enjoy his remaining years. In fact, he only lived for another few weeks and then he was gone because there was nothing that could be done for him.

Our friend Amanda whom we had known for many years from the days she and her husband, Kevin, used to live here in Grand Rapids (I used to work with him at GE Aviation) and for whom Deborah had babysat their adorable children, was still very young and full of potential - a trained singer, entertainer, hostess, home decorator, fierce gaming aficionado (as is Kevin) and amazing person - was a victim of cancer. Eschewing the traditional avenues of treatment provided by doctors and hospitals, she relied on her faith and her home remedies to carry her through. They failed. She died leaving her widowed husband with their three children to raise.

Jewell Snell, a good friend of the family since our days living in Richmond, had already outlived her husband by several years and had been struggling with her health of late. She passed on to her reward in September. We weren't able to go out for the funeral but were able to watch it on the livestream.

And then Don McIntyre died. This one hit me particularly hard even though I had not seen him for years. But I had taught two of his children in Sunday School, and they were two of the most precious children I had ever taught. Brilliant, funny, neuro-divergent. And Don was one of those wonderful fathers who got involved, who spent the time to get to know the teachers because he wanted the best for his children, who asked lots of questions and wanted to help in any way he could. And he would ask me for career advice because he wanted to improve his situation and provide for his family to the best of his abilities.

He was killed in his company truck while sitting at a stoplight when someone who was not paying attention slammed into him. He left a wife and four kids behind. He was only 39. And he was one of the nicest, kindest people I'd ever known.

It's been a rough year. And it isn't over yet.

Amanda Lyons

Joseph Downs

Ron Jones

Don McIntyre

Jewell Snell

[Updated]

As if to prove the fact, yet another person has flown off into the Eternal Sunset. Tim Eby, a veteran and a pilot and a husband and brother and father, died. He led a remarkable life but I only know of him through his remarkable children. They (and their mother, of course) took care of him for the last several months with a sacrificial love and devotion that gives true meaning to agape.

Timothy Ray Eby Obituary - Visitation & Funeral Information

PCN Flight West: DL Capt. Timothy Ray Eby

And I add yet another regret to my life's long list: that I could have met this wonderful man and heard about all of his adventures from his own lips. He was a man full of laughter and song, and is sorely missed not only by those who knew and loved him, but by those who never got the chance to get to know him.

My Uncle Ron

Monday, June 19th, was supposed to be just another ordinary day. I had an appointment with the doctor in the morning, did a bit of remote work for my customer, had lunch with friends, did some more work in the afternoon, then played gardener in the yard for awhile before spending a relaxing evening with Cheryl. And then we got a text from brother Craig.

Ronald Wayne Jones, my endearing uncle, had suffered a stroke the day before (June 18th) after sharing a Father's Day / Wedding Anniversary dinner with his wife and brother-in-law and niece. His left side and his speech was affected. He was airlifted to a hospital in Portland, Oregon.

In the next week or so, his doctors determined that he was continuing to suffer additional strokes and "brain bleeds" which essentially paralyzed his right side and took away not only his ability to speak but also his ability to comprehend speech.

On the 3rd of July, we were notified by family that Ron was not expected to recover nor to live much longer. My wonderful wife arranged for me to fly out to Portland on the 6th.

I arrived on the 6th and spent the next week with Eileen (my aunt), helping her get to and from the hospital in Portland from their home in Kelso, sitting beside his bed with her as she talked to him and touched his hands and rubbed his shoulders and looked for any sign that he was beginning to recover, watching as she cried when it became obvious that he was not.

He could not eat or drink; he could not swallow. He tried to speak but no sound came out. He made indecipherable motions with his hands. He kept trying to get out of bed until his strength was gone. They gave him medicines for pain and medicines to calm him, as there was nothing else they could do. He drifted in and out of consciousness.

Based on the doctor's advice, and with family consensus, we arranged for Ron to be moved to a hospice facility in Vancouver, Washington (just across the Columbia River from Portland but with a lot less traffic!) so that Eileen wouldn't have to travel so far every day (and also because there were no available hospice beds in Kelso or Longview). He was moved to hospice on the 11th of July. He died on the morning of the 12th.

It was a mercy when he finally died, but that didn't make it any easier on the family who stood beside him. And even though they knew it was what he had been hoping for his whole life -- not the process of death, of course, but the passing from this life to the next - it was not enough to give them peace. But we tried to find some comfort in the fact that he had always looked forward to the day when he would meet Jesus, and now he had accomplished that goal. 

Among all my relatives, he was the one most passionate, most emotional about his faith. It was so much more to him than words in a Holy Book or actions taken in accordance with a set of rules that would guarantee him entry through the gates of Paradise. His was a lovely, simple, excitable, child-like faith imbued with a big smile, a warm hug, a generous spirit and such tremendous joy that it couldn't be contained. Even though he suffered in many ways throughout his life, even in those dark days when his family was young and struggling and it seemed that his prayers were being unanswered, he bore it all with confidence and determination; and, like Job, he did not falter in his faith (although he would sometimes have spirited discussions with his Maker!!) but kept on track, firm to the end.

It was not the end that he would have expected, nor deserved; and I wish that there was some way I could have made it easier for him. But like so many things in this world, it was beyond my capacity, and all I could do now is to try and help those who are left to mourn.

And remember the good times.

Father's Day 2023

This Fathering thing is a tricky business. So many of us men have barely gotten started on figuring out what Life is all about when we are suddenly blessed with the moniker of 'father', and we are woefully prepared, especially those whose experiences with their own father are not those they would care to repeat. Others of us whose fathers were good role models look forward to the day when we will finally have the chance to be be that same role model to the next generation but must wait until the time is right ... and that time just moving further and further out.

I was particularly blessed with a good role model (although, like most young men, I didn't recognize it at the time) who not only provided me with a stable, loving home but also (with the help of my mother) gave me the rare opportunity to practice my 'fathering' skills on a couple of little brothers who came along just in time for me to learn how to change diapers and go for walks in the stroller and take long drives in the country (so they would finally fall asleep!) while playing Monty Python tapes.

From my father, I learned all about house maintenance and carpentry and car repair and the duty/privilege one has to one's family to provide physical support and protection.

From my father, I learned the joys of running and basketball and other exercises to maintain ones physique so that one is prepared to use ones inherent strength to perform the duties required to keep a roof over ones head.

From my father, I learned to listen to others and seek to understand what it is like to walk in their shoes, to comprehend their motivations and approach them with love, patience and empathy in order to help them along the right path.

From my father, I learned that every person is deserving of respect and honor, that every person, from the humblest clerk to the wealthiest CEO, is simply trying to make their way in the world, each with their own struggles and problems, and whether they are close friends or total strangers, one can bring joy to their lives by acknowledging them by name with a smile on ones face and a heartfelt wish for happiness and success.

But the greatest blessing I received from my father was his example as a man who seeks God, who daily searches the Scriptures to discover Truth, and who devotes his entire life and being to bringing that Truth to others. My father is as close an embodiment of true discipleship as there will ever be, and a servant worthy of his Master.

I love you, Dad!

Flowers for Algernon

The yard has exploded with color; there are flowers everywhere!

I don't know what they are, though. I've never been able to identify plants, not even the trees that drop needles on my head.

Pine! I exclaim confidently.

Douglas Fir, my Better Half gently corrects.

Sigh.

You'd think by now, having spent so many pleasurable hours pulling weeds and planting seeds, trimming limbs and raking leaves and scooping bark and trying to keep the pesky dandelions from taking over, I'd know something.

I've even read a huge pile of Gardening books, but those words (especially the Latin ones) don't stick in my head. Oh, well. Here's a sampling of the various flora cluttering up our front yard.

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Front Yard Flowers

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Orange Tulip	Spring Snowflakes
Greek Thimbleweed	Orange Tulip (again)
Red Tulips	Snake's Head Fritillary
More Red Tulips	Narcissus

American Yellowrocket

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Cactus Bloom

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The Christmas Cactus finally bloomed after all these years. It's small and singular, but it sure is pretty! And it gets plenty of sunshine right there next to the kitchen window.

Getting Real

I'm not the first one in my family to have to deal with medical issues, nor are my issues as life-threatening as those experienced by other members of the family, but it is perhaps common to all of us in these moments that we are brought to think about our own mortality.

Having parents blessed with relatively long lifespans even in the face of life-threatening afflictions, it has been my unspoken assumption that my own sojourn on this earth would be of a similar length -- even taking into account the fact the number of over-the-counter medications I've been taking throughout the course of my life has always been a bit on the high side. [Sometimes I try to imagine what my liver looks like these days, and shudder.] But the logical part of my brain recognizes that this is not very likely. One does not escape the Dark Side of Life after spending a significant portion of it pouring various substances into one's system in a vain attempt to alleviate chronic pain and discomfort. Even more so after being made aware some years ago that my mind is not capable of dealing with a great deal of stress before collapsing like a deck of cards. [This is why I gave up Project Management.]

It was no surprise to find myself experiencing a stroke. In fact, it was rather expected and in some ways a relief to suffer such a small one after all these years of reliance on medicines to get me through the days. It could've been far worse.

This dichotomy of feelings is akin in some ways to cognitive dissonance - believing in two or more contradictory ideas at the same time. One believes one will live a long life even though the little signposts along the path are clearly marked "Road Closed Ahead". One believes that driving a little recklessly will not inevitably result in an early demise. One believes that all one can stop smoking / drinking / etc ... after this next hit. One believes that all the stress and anxiety will disappear just as soon as this next deadline is attained.

It is perhaps a Wake-Up call to make important changes in one's life, finding better ways to treat the frailties of one's body, better ways of dealing with one's inability to handle stress/anxiety, knowing when to take a break without feeling like one is endangering one's livelihood. 

At this point in my life, not knowing how much of it remains, my chief concern is ensuring the security of my family, the current generation and the generations to come. I'm looking forward with great anticipation to meeting my grandchildren. I'm hoping to spend a number of years keeping my wife company and trying to keep her happy and healthy. I'm dreaming of spending time in my garden and in my shop doing things with my hands so long as all those nerves and muscles are in good working order. I hope to get better at maintaining contact with all the extended family and all the friends I've made over my lifetime.

But if that is not to be the Cosmic Plan of my life, at least I can rest in the knowledge that I'll be seeing everyone again soon. The World will move on without me, but I will always be a part of it so long as there is someone to remember me.

Just as I remember those who have gone on before.

Baby Shower

This is only a small portion of the vast array of gifts.

The baby shower has been the major focus of discussion for the past week or so as we were trying to ensure that everything went according to "plan". Such top topics as food, party games, music and parking were on the agenda and we worried and fussed over them until the day of the party arrived and there was suddenly no more time to think about it. Now it was time to do it!

The event was held at Roxy's condo which had just enough space to house the rather large assemblage of friends and family. The main room was comfortably arranged with a couple of chairs near the front for Deb & Mason to sit upon while unwrapping the gifts, with couches for guests, a small table for food, a larger table for the cake (and more food), and several smaller items of furniture topped with trays and bowls full of candy. Downstairs were games and large, comfortable recliners and chairs and more tables stocked with candies and nuts and other assorted delicacies.

And the band was in the garage, where every band should be.

(The 'band' consisted of anyone brave enough to pick up one of the guitars sitting on their stands and start strumming!)

It was gratifying to see the number of people who came (or watched from afar) to shower their love and good wishes on the happy parents-to-be. There were a lot of people in attendance. There was a lot of laughter and joy in the room. And there was a huge pile of presents to go through!

Kitty wants to see, too!

Practicing

The party started at 1 pm -- although 'started' is a misnomer because it was more like an Open House than a time-dependent event, with people wandering in early and wandering in late and just wandering around checking out the tables of food or going in the garage to listen to whomever happened to be playing at the time. No one was standing on ceremony, but there were a lot of people standing around talking so that the vibe of the house was definitely pleasant and quite conversational.

At 2 pm we spread the word around the house that It Was Time and nudged everyone in the general direction of the main room where Deb and Mason took their seats in front of the huge pile of stuff and proceeded to unwrap each one in turn and thank the person who had given it and express their happiness regarding the usefulness of the gift and the beautiful colors or the sturdiness or the excellent thoughtfulness in finding something so unique and wonderful.

Two people volunteered to stream the video on Facebook. There weren't any available tripods, though, so they just stood (or sat) and pointed their cameras at the happy couple and tried not to move too much. We were gratified to see people texting to indicate they were able to watch!

Sitting slightly behind the couple, to one side of the pile, sister Mary kept careful track of everything as each gift was unwrapped, writing down the details so that Deb & Mason would be able to write accurate Thank-You notes to their generous benefactors. Which I'm sure they'll have plenty of time to do as they sit around the house bored to tears just waiting for the baby to arrive. While also trying to handle their jobs and their house-hunting and all the other things young people do with their time these days.

It took quite a while to open all those presents; by the time it was over, there was a huge pile of boxes and wrapping in front of the front door. We had to take a bit of time to clean it all up before people could leave! (Some suspected it was a Plot to prevent premature departures before all the food was eaten.)

After present-opening, it was time for more food, more games, and lots more conversation. And more singing. I spent a good amount of time playing guitar and singing in the garage with Mason and his dad, Doug. His mom joined in on some of the songs - especially the ones she likes to do on karaoke night. We had a great time!

When we finally ended our singing session, we discovered that the cleanup crew had been hard at work and the only thing left to do was pack up the cars and head home.

So we took all the boxes and presents and leftover food and tossed it in the back of our vehicles and headed for home, ready to sit quietly and snooze while recovering from the joyful excesses of the celebration.

Seder 2023

 

We've been doing Seder meals at Passover for ever.

I don't actually remember the year when we were first introduced to the Seder; most likely 1989 or 1990. Cheryl took me to one over at Seattle Pacific University (her alma mater). And while Cheryl and I were attending Northwest Church in Seattle, we attended the one(s) they hosted there. We enjoyed it so much, in fact, we helped lead one at the Campus Advance at Camp Casey the next year -- for well over a hundred people!.

After that, we had seders just about every year at our house as an annual tradition with our family. We've had to modify them over the years, depending on the kids' ability to sit through (and understand) what is sometimes a long (yet meaningful) ceremony. And we've had to shorten them occasionally when we had visitors so as not to overwhelm them with too much ceremony.

It's always a challenge to go through a ceremony which has evolved through the centuries to adjust to the changing circumstances of its original authors. Each one we've attended (outside our house) has been a little different. The ones which feel the most meaningful are (to me) the ones at home, as the original Passover meal was a very family-centric event.

We have enjoyed our very close friendship with the Shapin family who have taught us what it is like to be Jewish, and how the modern Jewish people celebrate these feasts and festivals -- from the Reformed to the Orthodox. And we have enjoyed participating in the Christian seders which bring a whole new meaning to the phrase which is uttered at the close of the Feast: "Next Year, in the New Jerusalem!"

Earnest (Again)

 

Our Latest Theatrical Adventure!

We are a movie- and musical- and play-quoting family.

If you hang around our house very long, you face the inevitable prospect of being exposed to a number of quotes from our favorite productions. Because that has become our shorthand way of sharing our favorite memories with one another.

See if you can remember which book/movie/play these quotes come from:

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“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?”

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

“I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”

“Well, I didn’t vote for you.”

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?”

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.” 

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”

“Just a flesh wound.” 

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

“The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means.”

"As you wish."

Girls, girls! You're both pretty! Can I go home now?

"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

“I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”

"Get some rest. If you haven’t got your health, then you haven’t got anything."

“Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.”

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Having seen numerous incarnations of The Importance of Being Earnest, including at least a couple movie versions, we enjoyed quoting the play as we sat in the tiny, box-shaped theater at the GVSU campus and watched this rather interesting interpretation of the famous play. I say 'interesting' because there was a central conceit of this particular production wherein the Author (Oscar Wilde) is included as a character who is narrating the tale as he is writing it, sitting behind his desk and putting his actors into the precarious situations about which the play is concerned and then talking to the audience -- as if talking to himself -- to figure out how he is going to extricate them from their complex dilemma.

It was a very (if you'll pardon the expression) 'novel' approach to freshening up a well-known work and perhaps might've worked better with a few tweaks here and there. Overall, it was an amusing and enjoyable way to spend an evening out with Cheryl and Mary.

We prefaced our attendance with a quick stop for dinner at Noodles & Company (one of our favorite fast-food franchises) so that our tummies wouldn't be grumbling during the performance, and also so that our bodies would have some fuel to keep us warm as we walked to and from the theater. It was very cold and windy last night!

Two Happy Theater-Goers!

High School Musical(s)

 

Our family loves musicals, even more so when we happen to be involved in them. In this case, we are not in the musical, but Mary happens to be working at the school where it is being presented, so that counts as "close enough".

So we decided to go down south a-ways to spend a wonderful Saturday night with Mary and see her school and see the play and meet some of her fellow teachers and some of her students. And laugh and cry and clap and drum with the beat and sing along (because everyone knows all the songs, right?) and then drive home exhausted yet satisfied.

We were actually expecting a bit of snow that night but the roads were clear and (mostly) dry. Not that it would've mattered. I'm sure we could've rented snowmobiles.

It was a good play and all the kids were wonderful in it, even the ones that were not, because that is what high school musicals are -- just wonderful by their very nature. The drama, the intrigue, the back-stabbing, the surging emotions -- and that's just between the cast members backstage!

As a former actor, playwright, prop master, and director, I can state unequivocally that it was a raving success. It is easy to tell success by the looks on the faces of the parents out in the foyer as they are gathered around their children, their faces beaming, tears of joy still gleaming in their eyes, as they look upon those once-toddlers and realize that they are taking those first big steps into the big, scary world of near-adulthood, fully prepared to pretend their way along like all us adults do. And these kids have a leg up on the rest because they'r getting some great experience doing it!

A Rude Awakening

There's an article in a 1959 Kiwanis magazine from an author by the name of H. Allen Smith, a well-known (at the time) curmudgeonly New York writer, called "Don't Tell Me Things are Looking Up" which was anthologized in the Reader's Digest "Fun & Laughter" book that was rather popular around the Meyer house back in the day. This particular article struck home with me because describes as aspect of the Author's character which perfectly aligns with my own.

After opening with a description of his youthful encounter with a sidewalk shell-game operator (in which he dourly predicted that "maybe it ain't under none ubbem!" and was denounced as a "terrible pessimist", he says:

I didn't know what a pessimist was, but eventually I looked the word up. That man was right. A pessimist, says the dictionary, is "one who expects misfortune or the worst outcome in any circumstances." That's me. I never sat down and decided to be a pessimist; I'm just pessimistic by nature. And I contend that I and my fellow pessimists lead a more sensible life than do our optimistic neighbors.

It does not surprise me when bad things happen. I rather expect them. In fact, much of my brainpower (what little remains) is devoted to inventing scenarios of possible disaster that might occur in the context of every day life.

Plumbing leaks. Electrical fires. Shelving collapses. Basement flooding. Car malfunctions. You name it, I've dreamt it.

This extends to my own physical well-being, of course. As you probably know, I've suffered from migraines for years. For the most part, I've always attributed them to stress or sinus issues, both of which are an integral part of my life. The doctors and allergists and therapists (and I've talked to more than I can count) all agree that it could be any one of a number of things, and all the tests have been inconclusive as to a singular cause. And I've tried a number of things to resolve the issue. I took allergy shots for a number of years; that reduced their intensity but not necessarily their frequency. I took (and still take) migraine meds nearly every day but only after it got to the point where I couldn't ignore the pain anymore; for those days where it stays at a manageable level, I just deal with it because I don't want to destroy my liver any more than is necessary. Exercise helps. After a good, long walk or run, when the oxygen is coursing through my veins and I'm near the runner's high, the pain disappears - for a while.

But I've always known that there is just something not quite right inside. As with most people, I deal with the random quirks of my body as best I can. Everyone has their own issues, everyone has their own workarounds. And everyone inevitably deals with the consequences of an imperfect body.

And I always knew something was going to happen.

Here is where I admit a bit of real stupidity. Or avoidance. Or whatever you want to call it.

I was having a wonderful Friday night phone chat with my folks down in Texas about various topics. I was excited about the upcoming trip in April to see the family and celebrate my dad's birthday. I was sitting upstairs in my office in my comfy office chair, laughing and smiling (yes, smiling! it does happen!) and wrapping things up so I could spend some time with Cheryl doing our nightly ritual of watching the 10 o'clock news. My laptop was waiting for me downstairs with a cool Linux project to work on. I said good-bye to my folks and stood up to head downstairs. And ... something didn't feel quite right. Things were a bit ... off.

But it was getting late. It had been a long day. And I am always very tired around this time of night. So I walked downstairs ... but felt kind of sluggish. My brain felt a little foggy. I'm just extra tired. I plopped down in my comfy living room chair (I have several 'comfy' chairs) and placed my laptop on my lap and started typing my password. Hmmm...my fingers feel odd. I'm having trouble pushing the keys down. Wow! I'm more tired than I thought. So I abandoned that idea and said to Cheryl, "I'm really tired. I'm just going on to bed." Which didn't surprise her. I'm often fading out by that time of night. Comes from being old and getting up early in the morning.

So I walked upstairs. Odd. My left leg is dragging a bit, toes tripping on the edge of the stairs. I'm seriously tired! And crawled into bed with no preliminaries. 

And woke up the next morning. A beautiful, lovely Saturday morning.

And something was still wrong. My left leg and left arm were surprisingly weak and I was stumbling as I went into the office. Stumbling enough to set off alarm bells. And they were apparently loud enough to wake up Cheryl, who immediately decided it was Time for Action.

So it was off to the Emergency Room!

Cheryl drove.

And within a short time, I was lying in a bed in an Observation room, all decked out in a fancy hospital gown and hooked up to all kinds of fancy monitors.

All Dressed Up & Ready for the Prom!

They did the usual cans (CT & MRI) and the usual tests ("Touch your nose with your finger...") and came up with the diagnosis that I had, indeed, suffered a minor ieschemic stroke in my right hemisphere. And then they went to town on getting me set up for an echocardiogram (ECG). Because for some reason unbeknownst (or unbecomprehendst) to me, they suspected something might be going on in my heart.

(Spoiler alert: There is absolutely nothing wrong with my heart, and I watched the 'live' ECG to prove it!)

However, due to the delay in getting the ECG scheduled, I had to stay the night. And eat the cafeteria food. And get woken up every couple hours by people poking and prodding and asking me to touch my nose.

So when Cheryl and Mary finally came to pick me up and take me home on Sunday, I was very, very tired. And still a bit stumbly.

But the kids had bought me a beautiful deep-blue cane to use, so I had absolutely no trouble walking down the hall to the elevator, and then out the door to the car which would be taking me home!

And I got to bring home this fancy gadget here - 

Check it out! I'm Bionic!

- which is a heart recording device that has to stay attached to my chest for the next 14 days. And then I pop it into a little box and send it to a lab in California.

(And don't get it wet!)

So -- yes, I had a stroke.

But I'm not particularly sad about it. Because I'd imagined this scenario millions of times in my imagination. Worse, even.

So the fact that my recovery is slated for roughly 3 weeks is good news so far as I'm concerned. It could've been far worse.

And considering how my blood pressure has been these last few years, really not much of a surprise.

Not quite sure how I'm going to handle the consequent diet restrictions, though. Cutting down on salt, of all things! Do you know how many things depend on salt for flavor? Everything!

Oh, well. Carrots and celery and cherry tomatoes and spinach leaves are good, too, I suppose. But I usually dowse them in Ranch dressing, which has lots of (you guessed it!) salt. No more!

Uncle Joe

     

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Cheryl and I went down to see Uncle Joe in the hospice facility on Valentine's Day because the family said they weren't sure how much longer he was going to last and if we wanted to see him beforehand, we had better come on down. So we did. It's only a five hour drive which for those of us raised in the back of Volkswagen on long cross-country drives is only a drive across town in comparison. And this was far more important.

And the drive gives one time to think.

Uncle Joe is a farmer, a man of the land. He is also a pilot, a man of the air. And he is a Christian, a man of God. He is so many things. Strong, determined, stubborn, hospitable, loving, kind (but firm), extremely hard-working. Generous. No-nonsense, unless he's telling a joke or a funny story or pulling your leg.

He takes so many things seriously, yet never seemed to take himself quite so seriously. He likes to laugh, but he also likes to make sure things get done because life (on the farm, in the air) is dependent on so many things getting done on time and correctly. He wants people to take responsibility and do their jobs well and right, but he also looks out for and takes care of those who are struggling and need a helping hand.

In my youth, I wasn't quite sure what to make of him. When I spent time with my cousin Dale on their farm, we always seemed to be running afoul of one rule or another, but that was because we were a couple of goofballs who had to be reminded that there was a time for fun and there was a time for work, and work always took precedence. We always seemed to get that backwards. But one word from Uncle Joe would get us both scrambling in the right direction!

I never got to see him in the air. That would have been a treat beyond measure since I dearly love flying.

He is as solid as the Rock he depended on, a servant devoted to his Savior and his church who lives his life in accordance with the Scriptures.

And he is now enjoying the reward of a life well-lived.

We miss you, Uncle Joe, but are full of happiness for the person you are and the rest you now enjoy.

Seven Miles

Walking is Good for You!

It's seven miles from the transmission shop to our house. That's not very long by car, maybe ten minutes (depending on who is driving!), but it is a lot longer while on foot. Nearly two hours.

How do I know this?

Mary has been experiencing some issues with her Hyundai Elantra lately. Sometimes the car seems to shudder as it transitions between gears; sometimes it 'kicks' at odd times, as though the ignition is not working quite right. It's very intermittent (naturally). It happens every now and then. She drives about 30 miles each way to work each day and notices it every once in a while, not often enough to track the source definitively, but enough to cause anxiety.

We took the car over to Firestone (our go-to auto place at the moment; I haven't found a really reliable mechanic shop in the area that is both efficient and available, which is another reason I'd rather work on the cars myself) and described the problem to them. They said they didn't do transmission work (which I knew) and they didn't want to try to diagnose anything until after the transmission shop had a chance to look at it.

So I took it over to the transmission shop (highly recommended by everyone around) and they performed a complete analysis of it and found nothing wrong. Since I've been a good customer of theirs, they didn't charge me for it (they're really nice guys).

But the seven miles.

It's seven miles from the transmission shop to our house, but I didn't actually know this until the morning I took the car to the transmission shop. It was Monday morning at 7 am, which is far too early to get anyone else out of bed to follow me to the shop and bring me home while they work on the car, so I figured I'd just bring my laptop with me and work remotely from the shop while waiting for them to finish the analysis. But when I got there, the mechanic said it would take him a few hours before he could get to it; apparently there was a 'queue' (although when I asked him if there was a 'queue', he looked at me quizzically until I asked if there was a 'line' and then he understood what I was asking). 

Well, I didn't mind sitting in the waiting room for an hour or two, but "a few hours" is a bit ambiguous for my taste, so I thought to myself that I'd just walk up the grocery store up the street and give Cheryl a call to come pick me up. I didn't want her to drive all the way down to the shop because (1) it's a small shop on the wrong side of a busy street and very difficult to find the first time, and (2) near impossible to cross over to the right side of the busy street with all the traffic.

And besides that, it was still only 7 in the morning and highly doubtful that Cheryl would be ready to jump in the car before the caffeine had taken effect (and she was probably still getting through her first cup).

So I needed to kill some time, and there was the sidewalk. I started walking.

Got to the grocery store and it was only 7:30. I was feeling good, quite energetic, and decided not to call quite yet. Instead, I wondered how long it would take me to get to the next major strip mall which was just down the street aways. So I kept going.

Got to the strip mall and it was only 8:15. Still didn't call. Wondered how long it would take me to walk down to Horrock's (a combination grocery store / plant store / lunch counter). Kept walking.

Got to Horrock's around 8:30. Still didn't call. Wondered how long it would take me to walk down to the Library.

Got to the Library around 8:45. Still didn't call. I was almost home! So kept walking.

Got to our neighborhood around 9 am. Kept walking.

Arrived home around 9:10, exhausted, hot, sweaty but very happy and feeling accomplished. Felt really fantastic after so long of doing very little strenuous walking at all.

Looked it up on-line afterward and figured I'd walked seven miles.

Still got it in me. Yeah!

It's All About the Parking

It's been getting warmer each day and all the snow is melting away. I don't feel bad about spending all that time scraping the driveway, although it isn't doing the concrete any favors and I'll eventually have to replace the whole thing. But that's in my long-term plan anyway since we really need to expand the section in front of the third bay in order to have the amount of parking that we need. 

The HOA (or "Fourth Reich" as we like to call it) dictates that we are not allowed to park on the grass, and there have been times when we had to do just that in order to accommodate all the family and friends who were visiting. In our development, and in many neighborhoods in this part of the country, it is not allowed to leave cars parked out on the street during the winter months because the snowplows must be unimpeded in their morning rounds. And on at least one day out of the week, the roads must be clear of impediments so that the trash and recycling trucks can get through.

Our driveway (and garage), as originally designed, allows up to 8 cars to be parked comfortably (see Figure 1). Since I'm using the 3rd garage bay for my shop, that would normally reduce the maximum to 7 (see Figure 2), but we've managed to be clever about it and park two cars at angles in the third lane thus keeping it at 8 (see Figure 3). 

Once the third lane of the driveway is completed (assuming it ever gets started!), we'll still be able to comfortably park 8 (see Figure 4), and maybe 9 (See Figure 5) if I'm able to find another place to put all my shop tools! The thought of that excites me because we love to have people over, especially if they can sing in harmony.

Obviously this will require some delicate car ballet to ensure everyone is able to leave when they need to go, but at least they won't have to deal with the fact that our streets are not wide enough to handle cars parking on both sides and allow traffic to get through without risk of damage. You wouldn't believe how many people in our neighborhood not only park on street -- on a curve! -- but also can't seem to find the curb and end up halfway out into the street. And then some other idiot decides to park on the other side of the street exactly opposite.

Some people are such idiots...

Saturday Fun Day in February

A Clean Driveway is the Sign of a Healthy Mind ... and An Aching Back

It has been far too cold to deal with the harsh realities of Life lately, especially the harsh realities of the Great Outdoors in Michigan.

Did you know there are actually people around here who sit on overturned buckets all day long in the middle of frozen lakes in order to fish? And most of the fish they catch have to be thrown back because they are too small?

(It's true. We saw it on the news last night. And I thought all the crazy people were in New York!!)

For the rest of us -- what I call the "Walking Not-Quite-Dead" -- we content ourselves with the occasional venture out across the frozen tundra of our driveways in order to push the snow off to one side so that our vehicles can traverse its length and get out onto the road which will carry us to the store so we don't starve to death or get cabin fever (you can only play so many games of Monopoly before your brain melts -- my current record is "1"). This also counts as the major form of exercise for those of us with otherwise restricted physical activity levels, generally limited to walking down the stairs to get something from the fridge, walking back upstairs to sit in front of a computer and pretend to work all day, tapping our fingers across a keyboard with great gusto but very little thought as we type inanities into the Ether, and laughing out loud from stupid things we see on YouTube.

The latest bout of ridiculously-frigid weather transformed what had been a lovely blanket of soft, white fluff across our driveway into an impermeable shield of crystalline pseudo-granite nearly two inches thick. To attack this formidable barrier with a measly plastic snow shovel (they're all plastic shovels up here because snow just slides right off the metal ones) would be the height of folly, therefore my Weapon of Choice is a stout steel Ice Chopper which I've used since our first winter here. The wonderful thing about this tool is that it provides the proper inertial mass to slice deeply between the layers of concrete and ice, and the leverage to separate them so that the ice comes out in large blocks; then the tool can be used to chop the large blocks into smaller, easily manageable pieces which can be swept toward the street with a simple push-broom.

No need for shovels here!

The downside of the operation is that it requires a constant, repetitive applied force -- kind of like a hammer -- in order to force the blade between the layers of concrete and ice. And that is very difficult to maintain over long stretches of time (and long stretches of time are required to clear an entire driveway!). Which means that is necessary to take a break every five or ten minutes in order to rest the muscles. But that does provide an opportunity to alternate between the bone-crushing chop action and the gentle sweeping motion of the broom. Now if only the broom wasn't being required to push mounds of heavy ice across the sandpaper-like concrete surface!  It's a very well-rounded bit of physical exertion.

The important goal here is to get the reflective white surface of the snow off the driveway so that when the sun comes out, it will melt any remaining ice. It is possible to leave a bit of ice here and there in non-critical areas, but we always spread a little dirt on those so that the non-reflective surface will absorb the heat of the sun and thereby promote melting of what remains.

---

Winter Garden

 

January and February are traditionally the coldest months of the year in Michigan, but in comparison to what February has been throwing at us, January was an amateur. The lowest we saw last month was somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 degrees F (-7 C), but that didn't feel very cold because the air wasn't as dry then.

But now that we've had sub-20 temperatures for over a week now and the humidity in the air all escaped to Mexico with the geese, it's feeling bone-chilling. And the wind isn't helping. Add the wind chill to a bit of the cold, dry air now and you're racing back indoors to warm up by the refrigerator!

Towards the end of this week, I gave up trying to scrape the ice off the driveway and just reminded everyone to be extra careful because the once-pretty snow which had delicately covered the ground with a thick blanket of unblemished powdery white was now a shiny downward-sloping ice rink just waiting for an opportunity to take the grip from your shoes and the wind from your sails. I had spent over an hour trying to pry the ice from the concrete but it refused to give way; and the constant pressure of the cars riding over its surface had compressed it all to near diamond hardness, refusing the pathetic attempts of even my large ice axe.

I'll give it one more try tomorrow when the sun comes out, hoping that it might melt a little bit of the top layer and give me something to start with, but I'm not hopeful. And while there's no point in sprinkling salt on top of it, since the salt loses its effectiveness somewhere around 28F, I might be able to throw some sand on top just to give the cars -- and feet -- a bit of extra friction.