Best Woman

"Best Woman" is a term that originated with my youngest daughter. She used it to describe my wife who was her "best woman" at her wedding.

Sandra, my wife's cousin, was our "best woman" 42 years ago. Sandra may be a cousin but they were more like sisters. They are about six months apart in age and their respective yards abutted for years until my wife's sister built her home in between. Sandra flew in from Denver to participate in our wedding.

Sandra's husband unexpectively passed away 23 days after my wife. After a couple of weeks, I called Sandra in the early evening. From my own experience, I knew that the time after dinner alone in the house was a hard time. Sandra and I talked that evening for about 45 minutes. We also picked a day where I would drive to her home (110 miles away) and we would have lunch. I brought picture albums and two more pair of Monet clip earrings for Sandra. Marie and Sandra are the only two women I know who never pierced their ears. Sandra was delighted when I originally gave her over 30 pair. It seems that their one time "girl talk" centered on the wonderful attributes of the Monet clip earring. Sandra made a delightful soup with a Panera bread. We looked at the pictures, laughted a lot and maybe got a little weepy too. It was a delightful day and I headed back to Rhode Island hoping I brightened our "best woman's" day. I know I was glad I went.

It's going to take time, but Sandra and I will heal and she will always be Marie's "best woman".

Medicare - Tilting at Windmills

I was pushed into retirement four years ago as my company was cutting costs and trying to increase profits. In hindsight I was very fortunate. The package was generous, I had turned 62 a week earlier, and my son looked at my finances and told me I would never have to work again if I did not want too. Two weeks later, my wife found her lump and we began what was going to only be a four year battle with cancer. Part of the package was a buy into the company medical plan for the two of us. A year ago when I turned 65, my wife went on a single plan through the company until she turned 65 or 18 months whichever came first. The cancer came back with a vengeance this past December. My wife turned 65 in July so Medicare B kicked in July 1st. Medicare A kicked in when MS caused her to be disabled a number of years ago. The company carried her until July 31st. The Medi-gap policy when into effect August 1st.

Herein was the problem, when the hospital and the nursing home billed Medicare, Medicare said Blue Cross was primary and of course Blue Cross said Medicare was primary. Both billing parties called me. I then began my quest with Medicare Coordination of Benefits. The first person who answered said I must put my wife on the phone to authorize me to speak for her. I explained that she passed away. She said, "I don't know that, I must protect her privacy". I was told that I would have to fax in a death certificate. I did that the same day and wait a couple of business days. So I did and got another person who once again said, I don't see a death certificate. I sent it. well it takes several days for it to be entered. I told her that the government could listen to my phone calls without a warrant, delve into my Internet wanderings and invade my privacy, but you won't help me clear this payment issue up. That's right. So I waited and called several days later and this time a wonderful woman answered. I explained my situation, she told me that the death certificate was not entered yet but she could help. She said she could see that the monthly social security benefits were stopped and that she had a different view of the privacy laws. She then asked a few questions and I listened while she keyed for several minutes. She finished by telling me she was sorry for my loss, and that I could tell the hospital and nursing home to wait 15 days and resubmit and that medicare was now primary and the bills would be paid. I told her she was an angel and a burden had been lifted off my shoulders.

Direct TV

When my wife went into the nursing home, the staff person directed me to Direct TV as the recommended supplier. I wanted to be able to have a connection for my wife to watch or listen to her beloved Red Sox. When I called, I made it quite clear that this was a month or two connection, three months if I was lucky while my wife was in the nursing home. At no time did this person tell me that I needed to commit to a year contract. The installer came, said nothing and left no paper work. I was quoted a monthly cost of $41.00. I cared not that the invoice was for $61.00 as my wife was slowly slipping away from me. In less than 30 days my wife lost her battle with cancer. I called to cancel the service and was told by a less than diplomatic man that I was obligated to pay a year fee for the converter. I explained the reason for the cancellation and that this was a nursing home, etc. Well he said you will be billed. Shortly thereafter, I received the invoice. Once again I called, and this time I encountered a more sympathetic person, who directed me to sent a copy of the bill and a copy of the death certificate to an address in Colorado. I did this immediately two weeks ago.

You can imagine my ire when I discovered Direct TV charged my credit card for the full amount. I then sent an email to my entire address book detailing my feelings regarding Direct TV. To add insult to injury, yesterday, I received a notice that if I did not pay immediately I would be charged $5.00 late fee. I immediately called, was on hold for 10 minutes, and fortunately was answered by a kind person. After listening to me tell her what I thought of her greedy unethical corporation, I did tell I realized she was a telebank operator, and irate people like me never get to talk to real management. She did tell me that the paperwork I sent may take 6 to 8 weeks to be entered into the system and that I "probably" will be refunded.

Time will tell. However, if I ever move to an area where it is Direct TV or nothing....It will be nothing, even if they give me back the money.

Alone

I am in my mid sixties and for the first time in my life, I am living alone. Cancer robbed me of the great love of my life a few weeks ago. I am fortunate that I am surrounded by memories and my dedicated children and their families. I am also blessed with a caring niece and my wife's cousin.

I have forced myself to cook fairly balanced meals and only occasionally have forgotten my meds. I read the paper when I go out for breakfast, that way I don't feel alone. I see several other men in my age group doing the same thing. Dinner out means sitting at the bar in the restaurant. They always have a TV on and the bar tender will almost always chat with the patrons at the bar. Very few introverts become bar tenders.

When I was working, I was required to travel to Europe and I was usually gone at least two weeks. I hated the travel as I was away from my family, but I knew it was a limited situation.

Now, I am alone in 9 rooms. I have decided that I will not make any sudden changes that I might regret in a year or two. The house will not be sold at least for the next year or two. I have seen apartment living and it does not appeal to me. My yard is filled with flowers and flowering trees and bushes. They were all planted by me at Marie's request. I feel the need to tend them a while longer. As sick as she was, she would ask me every day if her Rose of Sharon had bloomed. As soon as it did I brought the pictures to show her. All the blooms died the day after she passed.

Evening are the hardest time. I do not have the patients or concentration to watch much TV. I tape everything and then will watch the programs in short segments, stopping and returning when I feel like it.

I know this feeling will pass in time. Marie told me that I would be OK, and I will be.

Pissed

Last December my wife and I were told that her breast cancer had metastasized to her liver and lymph nodes in her chest after three good years. Three times I told the doctor that everyone I knew with liver cancer died in 6 months. No! No this is different, it's breast cancer not liver cancer. Cancel your trip to Florida, we will begin weekly treatments here and next winter you can continue in Florida.

So began the slow torture. For my wife it was the ache in all her bones caused by Herceptin, her appetite started to wane from nasea caused by Navelbien. Weekly that brave and determined woman went for her infusion of poison. After 10 weeks, another scan and the cancer continued to progress unchecked. "Oh" they said," we have another plan." We' ll couple Doxile with the Herceptin. 10 weeks later, another scan and the cancer progressed. I questioned the doctor about her weight loss. It was another person who gave her a so called appetite stimulant which did not work. Yet they had another plan involving 11 large pills a day. A combination of Tykerb and Xeloda. I believe the Tykerb may have stopped the progress in the liver. Every time I inquired about stopping, I was met with a harsh tone that it was always our right to stop treatment and indescribable body language suggesting that we were crazy.

On July 5th, my wife collapsed and was transported to the hospital with a high fever. At one point they were dosing her with 6 different antibiotics daily. Doctors of all disiplines poked, prodded, tested, and scaned looking for the source of the fever. I was told three different reasons for the fever. They finally broke the fever, and I was told once the fever is gone for 48 hours she must be discharged. She could no longer walk having lost over 40 pounds. A well meaning social worker gave me a list of nursing homes. I already knew where I wanted her to go. The ever hopeful (lying ass) doctor said, go, rehab, gain weight and we will start another plan. I had already been told that all the various chemos had damaged her heart.

Daily I watched my wife slip away. Her temperature came back. I don't think they really knew what caused the fever. The nursing home asked me what I wanted for my wife. I wanted her not to be in pain. The nursing home was fantastic.

On August 5th my sweet brave wife passed away. I left a message asking that the lead doctor call me. I said I had one brief question. I have not heard from him yet.

What happened? Why were we told that the treatments to control the cancer could happen in Florida next winter. They tried so many different combinations, I wonder if they were experimenting. They took away her quality of life and if it was hopeless and they knew it, I should have been told!

I am pissed!

Am I losing it?

On June 18Th I wrote two checks. One for Marie's first month on the Medicare part D for script coverage. The second for my monthly Blue Cross Medi-gap coverage. One was mailed to Kentucky, and mine was mailed locally. On June 20Th I received a letter from the local Blue Cross office stating that no check was received in the envelope. Did I put both checks in the envelope to Kentucky? Did I forget to write that check? Am I losing all powers of concentration as I care for my wife as she fights illness? All these questions nagged at me. I called them and they assured me that they are careful and no error could have occurred on their part. I decided not to put a stop payment on the check. I was not going to pay a fee to the bank. No one but Blue Cross could cash it. I would, therefore wait until the end of the month (after social security arrived) to re-write a check.

Almost every morning, while I wait for Marie to awake, I check credit card transactions and my checking account. This morning I discovered that the missing check cleared during the night. I called Blue Cross to insure that my account was properly credited and the phone was answered by a friendly voice who readily checked and verified my account was up to date. That is when I related my story and the letter. Then the tone became defensively polite.

I knew I wrote the check and sent it in the proper envelope. Vindication is mine!

An Act of Kindness

My medical plan offers a mail order script program. We get three months quantity and pay two months co-pay. This over time generates some savings. The company also offers an over the counter selection. My wife and I like their Senior Vitamin brand and have been using it for the last few years. Recently, I ordered another bottle of vitamins. I received notification that the order was received, saw that my credit card had been charged, but never received shipping notification. I made a mental note to call and check, but never did as I have more important things on my mind.

Last Wednesday, I received a phone call and a woman in haltingly English with a heavy oriental accent, asked me if I was so and so. Yes, I replied why do you ask? She replied" I have your vitamins, I mail to you". I told her she was very sweet and caring but should not have to use her money to fix a corporation error. I told her I would call the company and they would sent me another and she could keep the vitamins. I asked where she was calling from? Long Beach, California. Once again I told her to keep the vitamins. I called the company and they told me a replacement had been shipped UPS, and they did not know where the first shipment was. Last Friday, I received the vitamins from Long Beach in the mail, an hour later, UPS delivered the second bottle.

I am very impressed with the kind lady in Long Beach. Sunday, I went and bought a mailer. I retired from a well known pen manufacturer. Wednesday, a very nice pen will be on its way to Long Beach. An act of kindness brightened our day.

No regrets

I have been thinking about the decisions that were made by me over the years. Some I made, some were made for me, and others occurred because of my actions. After a lot of reflection there is only one thing I would change (if the Gods would let me). That will be saved for later.

The first decision made by my father for me was that I would attend Catholic grade school. I believe that the biggest misnomer in the world is "Sisters of Mercy". The second major decision he made was I would be an altar boy. So he was 50 - 50 on those two. If you have read earlier writings, you know I enjoyed the altar boy years. The next major decision was high school and the first time I ever said no to my father. He wanted Lasalle a Catholic High School. I was sick of Irish nuns smacking me and damn sure did not want Irish Brothers doing it. I had / have a flippant mouth.

I liked high school, it was mostly Jewish and Italian kids and we were all nerds. 99.99 % of the graduates went to college. My class produced over 40 doctors and almost as many lawyers. I was good in Math and my father had three engineering degrees. It was decreed! I would be an Engineer. It was not me who filled out the application, I just signed where he told me too. I wanted to take a year off before college. He could not understand my not wanting to be an Engineer. He bought me the best slide rule money could buy. It cost over $300. in 1959. It had a genuine leather case. I took the courses he picked out. I was also told that I would go ROTC, that way he would not have to pay for the last two years. That first semester taught me two things, I did not like the Army and I hated Engineering. Back then URI had Saturday classes. I had an 8 AM Phys ed class which explains why I flunked it. I was usually too hung over or still drunk so I never went on Saturday. Finally I just never went the other days. I did manage to do C or better in the rest. There was no way I would return to Engineering for the second semester. I wanted to change to Business. No way will I pay for that, he stated. Christmas 1959 was a difficult time in the household. This was the second major time that I refused his direction.
Three days before the second semester started, I joined the Navy. I was guaranteed a school and I picked three from Naval Aviation. Sounded glamorous to me, more importantly, I was free. Dad told me that I just ruined my life.

I ended up in a sea going squadron attached to USS Saratoga a then four year old aircraft carrier. I was lucky, I flew aboard to join my squadron. I stayed in the same unit for the rest of my enlistment. I grew up on that flight deck. I made the closest and dearest friends of my life and I am still in contact with some of them. It was the most exciting and dangerous place I've ever been. I worked 5 PM to 5 AM. I loved it. My wife refers to those years as the best four years of my life. I visited the major ports in the Med, climbed the Leaning Tower of Pisa when I was 19, saw some of the best art museums in Europe. I was on the Cuban Blockade., I was sent temporary duty in the hills of Greece with the Greek Air Force. Cannes in the summertime...priceless. Two Christmas Eve's in Cannes also very nice. I made rank quickly, E5 in less than 30 months. I started thinking about a career in the Navy. I was never home sick. There was nothing I wanted in Rhode Island.

Then I tangled with the Jacksonville Police. What should have been a harmless traffic stop, turned ugly, when one cop said to the other dummy, well we got a swabie, and look he's a Yankee to boot. I was not drunk, but had been drinking. I got shoved against my car, and I shoved back. I think I mentioned the two of them together did not have an IQ that matched my weight. (130 back then). Of course I went to jail for the weekend. It was a maturing experience, I was pushed around by the dummies in the station. I pleaded no contest to a DUI and the shoving and whatever else on both sides was dropped. Mom and Dad sent the money and I was released sadder but probably no wiser. The Navy took a stripe and all thoughts of a career ended. From that point on, I was doing time waiting for the discharge. Hence when discharged, I came back to Rhode Island and met my wife a few months later. If I had stayed in college and ROTC, I would have graduated with a commission in the US Army and would very probably have served in Nam. Funny how some things work out.

I started college at nights, planning on switching to days in a year. Marriage and children changed the plan. Seven years later, I received my degree in Business. I asked my Dad to come to graduation. He asked if I was getting a degree in Engineering. I said you know I'm not, then he told me he was busy that day. Four years later I received my MBA. I had made the decision that my children would see their grandparents often. I did not want to have regrets when they passed on. I also wanted my kids to know their Grandparents. This is a decision I do not regret. My dad never made it easy, I was not qualified to even put a quart of oil in his car when he no longer could. I just smiled at him. He once told me how surprised he was that I could support my family as well as I could, not being an Engineer. I just smiled at him.

My children - I wanted four daughters before I got married. Once my wife was pregnant, it changed to just healthy baby. First a daughter, then 3 1/2 years later a boy. That second pregnancy took a lot out of my wife. The doctor commented that we had one of each, and maybe we should be satisfied. Nope, my wife said she would not be fulfilled until she had a third. I had no say, hell if she wanted 5 or 6, I would have said yes. I'm not good at saying no to her. I came home from work about 2 1/2 years later and she announced that she was expecting and wanted an air conditioned station wagon. that night we ordered the biggest Ford Country Squire made. My third and second daughter arrived. Then the doctor told me that one more and I might raise them alone. My wife was fulfilled, therefore I was also. I adore my wife and children. I love each and every grandchild and I am constantly amazed at how unique each one is, yet I am part of them.

If I could go back and change one thing, I would never have started smoking. Quitting was the hardest thing I ever did . . . several times until I got it done. I'm glad I got busted in the Navy, I might have never met the love of my life and created this great family.

Yes, I omitted some things ... good and bad. This is not a life story. I have no regrets.

Pay Phones

I was asked to sit with my two grandsons while my youngest and her husband visited with a doctor. I started reading one of the children books left in the back pack in the hopes that I could be successful in amusing the boys. The second book was about a dog accused of kidnapping two cats. Well one page had a picture of a pay phone with the receiver hanging by the cord. "what's that?" Well it's a pay phone. I could tell by his young face that I would have to do better than that. Well, long ago before cell phones, pay phones were strategically located through out the country. "What's strategic?" Hmm this could be going better... wonder how soon mom will be done. Well strategic means places where lots of people will pass by and need to use a phone to call someone. I could see several people smiling and watching me explain this to a five year old who needs to know everything. You see, Vaughan, people did not have cell phones, so they would pick up the pay phone and press it to their ear, put coins in the slot and then they could dial a number and talk to someone. Now that almost every body have cell phones, the phone company removed them because they weren't being used. Vaughan said, " I remember seeing one". Well they are still located in airports, bus and train stations, but not on street corners anymore. He nodded his head. Whew, that's done. Mom and dad appeared a few minutes later. The boys had been patient for 50 minutes and they were starting to get antsy. I looked at Vaughan and said your bored. Yes, I am. A few minutes later, when mom appeared she asked if they were good, before I could answer, Vaughan said we're bored. I told her that they were good. Its not easy to sit in a waiting room for an hour without running off youthful energy.

I hope I'm asked to sit again.

Donald William Cors

Donnie was a Plane Captain working the night shift aboard the USS Saratoga. We were close friends. We worked the same shift as Plane Captains of the A4D Skyhawk attached to VA 36. We slept in the same berthing area, we played polka in the same games. We hit the beach together. This was our last cruise as both of us would be discharged before the next cruise. Donnie is in my thoughts often and especially today as we honor veterans.

Donnie was killed on the flight deck one miserable night. It was late in the cruise, there was a storm close by. The sea was such that the Sara was bouncing more than usual. The flights are on a schedule, you launch a group and then immediately recover the previous launch. The fuel loads in the planes require precision. That night it was so dark that you could not see the outline of your hand against the night sky. My plane was in normal maintenance on the hangar deck. I would go up on the flight deck during recovery and help with the servicing of the recovered planes, and then return to the hangar deck to be with my plane if it needed to be moved. The last launch was running late. The deck was heaving more than usual. The returning planes were circling the ship, many in trouble with low fuel. The decision was made to scrap the launch and pull the planes forward to prepare to recover the planes aloft. Donnie was with his plane on the aft catapults. The Air Boss apparently gave permission to a plane from VF 31 to land. The plane came in and landed on the planes on the aft cats. I was standing in the hangar looking out at the sea when I saw a massive ball of flame and heard the crash. The ship immediately went to general quarters. My GQ station was my plane. A number of burning planes were pushed over the side into the sea. I was standing near the elevator when they brought Donnie down on the stretcher. I did not realize that he had already died, he looked so peaceful. Apparently the wheel of the landing plane hit him and he died instantly. Donnie died serving his country. There was not a declared war, we were just part of the normal show of force in the Mediterranean as part of the "chess" game played during the "Cold War". His name is not on any wall. Donnie, I think of you often, and especially today.

A board of inquiry was held and although the Air Boss tried to blame the enlisted radioman, the audio tapes proved he had given permission to the plane to land. He was relieved of his duties and left the ship soon after. Two other flight deck workers were killed that night.

My thoughts on energy

I am, by no means, not an expert on why energy is so costly. I do, however, have some thoughts on why.

First, usually at this time of year some refinery capacity is off line for maintenance. Right now there is four times the normal capacity off line, further reducing the available gasoline at a time when gas demand rises. High demand - limited supply equals higher prices. There have been no new refineries build in the US since the 1970's. Have there been proposals...yes. The ecology folks rise up to oppose, the local citizens don't want a refinery in their back yard. I suspect that it would be a costly fight to get approval. My opinion on this is partially shaped on the current pissing contest going on over the proposal to expand the natural gas terminal on the Taunton River between Fall River and Somerset, Massachusetts. One of these years, we will have a harsh winter and the same folks will want to know why they may not have sufficient supplies to keep warm. This past winter there was a delay in getting a propane tankers into the Providence port. Some rural folks were affected, and some ran out.

I certainly have no answers. I do know that I will pay the piper for the gas I need.

INFLATE THOSE TIRES....

Every time the price of gas rises to a new high, the local news stations and the spokesman for AAA tell us to inflate our tires, change the air filter, tune up the car. Yeah right!

For once I would like the news anchor to tell drivers to be considerate. If you are first in line at a red light PAY ATTENTION! Don't sit there dialing your phone or fixing your hair in the mirror or whatever else you are doing when the light turns green. Every car behind you is idling away gas. Use your signals, if you are going to make a left turn...SIGNAL. Maybe I can make my turn and be on my way. The news anchors will never say these things because they may antagonize a listener and lose ratings.

Another item on my rant...they keep saying that people have not cut back on their driving. Why should we? I notice that NASCAR and the Indy 500 are going to run their races. The presidential candidates fly all over the country in chartered planes. No sporting event has been cancelled because of the high gas prices. Public transportation (save a few cities) is poor. I do feel badly for the working men and women who are on the lower end of the pay scale. The price of gas sucks up a significantly higher percentage of their income than the high end earners.

Many years ago when the first crunch occurred (1973) I was in my MBA program when the instructor asked how high we thought gas would be. I was the only one who guessed over 50 cents. I said I would see $2.00 in my lifetime. I also said I would never pay over $10,000. for a car. Oh well!

As for me, I will pay whatever it takes to get my Marie to her weekly treatments. I am planning a weeks trip to Michigan in August. I have budgeted $4.50 gallon.

Itchy Feet

I have always had an urge to travel ... be on the move. When I was in the seventh grade, an eight grader took off and hitch hiked to Miami from Rhode Island. When he was found and returned , he became an unlikely hero with his stories of the adventure. I was not as daring and also not willing to incur my fathers ire. As soon as school was finished I planned my "adventure". We as a family often went to visit my mother's sister near Hartford, Ct. I knew route 44 ran from my home town deep into Connecticut. It was not unusual for my brother and I to spend summer days out of the house until supper time. I decided I would hitch hike to Hartford and back. I happily accepted rides and stayed with them until they turned off the route. I easily made the outskirts of Hartford in less than three hours. Then I crossed over and hitched back to Greenville. I had interesting conversations with the people who picked me up, and had to assure more than one driver that I was not running away. I did make it home before supper and no one was ever the wiser. When I got my drivers license and my own car, it was not uncommon for me to drive a few hundred miles in a day.

These itchy feet and and a keen hatred of a slide rule and engineering classes resulted in my dropping out of college after one semester and joining the U. S. Navy. I still have the slide rule (somewhere) as it was the very best that my Dad could buy. Bamboo, I believe as I was told they were the best, in a black leather case. My mom gave it back to me after my Dad passed. I have been told that it is a collector item. I won't sell it but I don't want to look at it.

I easily passed the test and was guaranteed a service school. I ended in Jet Mechanic school, my second choice. My eyes were not up to snuff for Air Traffic Controller. I was lucky that way, Reagan probably would have fired me, and I ended up in a sea going squadron. My school was in Memphis, Tennessee and I was there for the annual Cotton Carnival. Great party! It was also my first exposure to segregation (summer 1960). I also kind of met Elvis Presley. Often he would hold court in his drive way in his convertible. As you can imagine there would be lots of girls. Several of us were there in our sailor suits, and he spoke to us and asked what we were doing, and one of the guys responded "hoping for overflow". He chuckled.

I was flown over seas to catch my squadron. After a few weeks stuck on a NATO base in Morrocco (another story) I was flown aboard The U S S Saratoga. A carrier landing ... I was on a natural high. I loved being out at sea. I became a plane captain and worked the night shift on the flight deck for the best part of 3 Mediterranean Cruises and several more Caribbean carrier qualifications. (New pilots getting their carrier certification) Before I was twenty, I had climbed the Leaning Tower of Pisa, visited great art museums in several countries, attended a bull fight in Barcelona. It was not all cultural, I loved the drinking and the women. By the time my enlistment was up, I had been part of the Cuban blockade, I had been part of a group that lived in the hills of Greece while some of our pilots worked with the Greek Air Force. I've seen the monkees of Gibralter. I have memories! I made the best and dearest friends of my life. I am still close to several of them. My wife refers to those years as the "best four years of my life". Yes ,I was young and free and invincible and blessed with outstanding buddies.

I have had great adventures since. I've always tried to travel with the family. My children have all been to Europe. Either with me or on their own.

My wife and I always did rode trips. Marie does not do boats ... no way ever! Marie was a big fan of Anne of Green Gables. She saw that a bridge had been completed to Prince Edward Island and mentioned it to me. That was the destination of my next vacation. It is a beautiful place. The lighthouses, the red soil, the Anne places. We did it all. We have been to some great places, the Rockies, the Badlands, Yellowstone and all the attractions in that area.

With Marie's current ongoing battle with cancer, I have used the Internet to satisfy my itchy feet. I have visited the web sites for a number of National Parks that we have yet to visit. Marie wants to see Brice Canyon and Needles National Parks. I want to do the Columbia River Gorge and associated Lewis and Clark sites on the west coast. Number one on the list when Marie is healthy, will be to Folkston, Georgia. The Folkston Funnel is a train watchers paradise.
www.folkston.com/trains/trains Marie loves trains. We were going to stop there on our way to Florida last December. This will be our next trip together.

Father Mac

Just before my eighth birthday, my father decreed that I would become an altar boy and he signed me up for the summer training session. Thus I embarked on one of the greatest experiences of my young life. The parish priest was Father Joseph P. McNamara. He was a man's man. He was a bird colonel in the U S Army Chaplin Core during WW II. He insisted that he serve with the men on the front lines as he felt he could not comfort them well behind the line of combat. He has long ago gone to his Heavenly reward. I'm not sure why I have been thinking of him lately....but I have. Father Mac always wore highly shined black high top army boots. In the nine plus years that I was an altar boy, I never saw him wear low cut shoes. Most of the boys my age only stayed for a few years. There was another altar boy who began a year or so after me who also stayed well into high school. We were the altar boys for the Sunday 9:30 AM mass. I knew the Latin mass inside and out. It was more than memorization. I knew the priests words and the English counterpart as well as my responses. I was pleased when the Bishop requested me for one of his masses. I often was specifically requested to serve weddings and funerals.

I believe I stayed that long because of Father Mac. I remember in 1955, Father Mac said to me that he did not know what the world was coming too. When I asked what was the problem, he told me that Buick was no longer offering a standard transmission. Father Mac always drove a black Buick with a dark blue interior and a standard transmission.

Father Guertin was the Chaplin at the Catholic orphanage nearby. Occasionally he would say the weekday morning mass. One particular morning after a record 18 minute mass, I commented that he lost me early on. There was more French than Latin. About 3 minutes into the mass, I gave up trying to respond and was happy I was ready with the water and wine when he was. Because of my longevity, I was able to occasionally comment on their abbreviated masses.

One time Father Mac came to the house when he was doing a parish census. My parents were having a new rug installed. When Father Mac walked in, the installer immediately knelt and asked for a blessing. After Father Mac left, he explained that Father Mac was the Chaplin for his unit when he was in combat in Europe during the war and how much he was respected.

I also had my own cassock and blouse for mass. My mom wanted me in a freshly washed and starched altar outfit. As I grew, they always made sure to keep me in a properly fitted one.


I left the altar boys just about my 17th birthday. I know Father Mac was sorry to see me leave, but he understood that I felt it was time for me to move on. My father did not.

Years later when the horrible news surfaced about priests and altar boys, my father asked me if I was exposed to any of that. Absolutely not! My priests that I served were fantastic role models who treated us with great respect.

I will always remember Father Mac.

Poached Eggs ... EGAD

Marie continues to receive distressing news. The breast cancer has now metastasized to several locations on her spine. Fortunately the spinal cord is not affected. This was communicated to us last Friday. This morning I believe the enormity of the situation affected her normally high spirits. She lay in bed in a "woe is me" state for awhile before getting up. I feel she is allowed her "weepy" days.

Shortly after getting up, while she was sipping her tea, she asked if I could make two poached eggs. I, of course, said sure. He who never made or ate a poached egg in his life. Let me start by relating my history with eggs. I'm sure my mother would have made me any type of egg to entice me to eat. I was a very picky eater and always under weight. In my 18th year, I dropped out of Engineering College to join the Navy. The Navy did not care if I was a picky eater. I soon learned to eat the eggs presented as long as they were warm and looked cooked. Shortly after our return from our honeymoon, Marie was making breakfast when she moaned "oh no". Whats wrong... the egg broke. I told her cook it, I'll eat it. The Navy cook never cared if my eggs were broken. Years later, Marie had taken a part time job, and I was cooking eggs and bacon for the children. Well, I cooked the eggs in the bacon grease (only one pan to wash). The kids in a loud voice exclaimed that Mom never makes "dirty eggs". I think I gave them a flip remark that they could eat or go hungry. No kid ever starves to death in a house with food. Every so often I still hear a comment about dirty eggs.

I asked Marie for some guidance. How much of a rolling boil, about how many minutes? I wish to report that Marie said they were good and within 30 seconds of being perfect. I carefully observed the water and the stove setting along with the timer. I'm sure they will be perfect next time. Now I'll have to work on the technique of getting them to slide out of the little cup. The eggs ended upside down. Along with a slice of toast, Marie had a good sized breakfast for her. With a full stomach and a hot shower, her positive attitude and good spirits are back.

We are determined to stick with the program. We have our sights set on at least a couple of weeks in Florida next January.

Ahh Spring

Spring in New England can be a great time of year. The yard comes alive with the flowers that signify that winter is behind us. Spring has been a hard get this year. It was colder on Easter Sunday than it was on last Christmas day. Recently we have had a few days of decent weather. The crocus have blossomed along with the daffodils. The forsythia has turned a beautiful shade of yellow. The Lilacs have begun to sprout buds and the white lilac will be very full this year.

More importantly, Marie is feeling better. She started the new chemo April 10Th. This seems to have been a positive measure in her ongoing battle with metathesized breast cancer. She looks much better than she did 5 weeks ago and her appetite has shown a little improvement. She needs to start gaining some weight. She has always been thin, but the loss of 22 pounds has been a major concern. A good sign is that she is starting to request certain foods.

With the advent of warmer weather, I have uncovered the gas grill on the deck. I have been grilling almost every evening varying the menu selection to entice her to eat more. Her spirits remain positive and today we told the Oncologists that we are hoping for 3 or 4 weeks off from the weekly treatments next January. We may never get to spend the entire winter in Florida again, but several weeks in January would break up winter nicely. So hope springs eternal and we are hanging our hat on that objective.

IMUS

I am a big fan of Don Imus. Granted you either like him or you don't. There is very little ground in between. He has a knack for rubbing people raw. He also does a lot of good. He used his show to shame congress into raising the death benefit for soldiers from $12,000 to $250,000. He has raised money for a number of causes.

Recently he said a dumb thing while he was bantering back and forth with Bernard, his producer. Both of them are prone to use sophomoric humor. This time Imus stepped over the line, and uttered a remark repulsive to the Rutgers woman's basketball team members and offensive to the Black community. When he said it, I knew he stepped in dog s%@t. Do I think he is a racist....no! Along time ago when a member of management in the Los Angeles Dodger organization said black players had great skills on the field, but not the mental skills to manage, he was fired. At that time, someone said media people are one sentence away from being fired. The usual band of "offended" black leaders (Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton) are getting their face time calling for his firing, demanding that sponsors leave his show or they will have their product boycotted.

Imus said a dumb and hurtful thing. However, I wonder if this had been a team of blond white girls and a black radio personality had referred to them as "dumb blond hoes" if there would have been a hue and cry. I can't think of a white counterpart to Jesse Jackson to lead protests.

My final thought, the three young men from Duke who were vilified by the same outraged black leaders over a year ago, have been cleared. We may never know who mistreated that woman, but it was not the Duke Lacrosse team. I wonder if Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton will apologize for what they said back then about these young men. I doubt it.

Easter Egg Hunt

Shortly after we moved into our new home in 1968, I planted a Catalpa tree. This was a tree that was originally indigenous to the Smokey Mountains and somehow found its way to New England. My dad had four at one time on his property. The tree is more commonly known as an Indian Cigar tree. This is a fast growing tree with a large heart shaped leaf. Most people do not like them because they are considered a dirty tree. They are a marvelous shade tree. In the late spring after the leaves have developed they bloom with pretty white flowers. As a young boy, we would pluck the flowers and pull out the little insides and suck them. They had a very pleasant honey taste. When the flowers drop the whole area becomes snow white for a very short time. Then they shrivel and turn a ugly yellow - orange. The fruit (if you will) of these flowers are long green thin cigar shaped things. The insides are a stringy kind of soft fiber. When I was nine, I got good and sick trying to smoke one. In the fall the leaves turn black and drop. You can't rake them because they crumple. If they land on a roof they will stain the roof black. Then the cigars die and turn a deep brown and split in two. They do not drop. The winter wind will carry them off the tree. So far in preparation of my grand children's Easter Egg Hunt, I have filled 10 large trash barrels with these cigars. I bet my three closest neighbors have another 2 or 3 barrels worth in their yards. I finished the raking today. Even on a hot summer day I can sit under my tree and be cool. It's worth it to me.

I have two bird feeders that provide great enjoyment to my ailing wife. I have probably used over 200 pounds of seed this winter. Today I used my wet / dry vac to vacuum under the feeders to suck up the shells. I filled a 10 gallon vac, emptied it and it is probably half full again. I finally quit when the wind chill started to bite through my jacket.

Now, all I have left to do is distribute the eggs around the yard and hope the few cigars still clinging to the tree either stay there or land next door. Also, I told Marie the birds are on their own until Monday, then I will fill the feeders.

Stephan

Stephan is my closest neighbor's grandson. He is one of Jerry's MD kids. Stephan's most remarkable trait is his personality. Stephan is always smiling and happy. He has been in a wheel chair for at least half of his 14 years. His spine started growing with a curve and it was pressing on his lungs. On Tuesday, Stephan endured a 14 hour operation to straighten his spine. Over 40 screws were used to complete the straighting of his spine along with materials to support the spine. He was able to wiggle his toes and move his arms shortly after he awoke. This is a good sign that no inadvertent damage was done during the surgery. The problem is that they are having difficulty controlling his blood pressure as it keeps dropping. Until they can stabilize the blood pressure, Stephan can not have any pain killers. His grandmother tells me that he is still good natured and has not complained about the pain. The hospital staff is amazed at how he is handling the pain that he most certainly experiencing.

Stephan is in our thoughts and prayers.

Sadie

Sadie is a most remarkable dog. Years ago when my son and his wife bought their house, they went to the pound and picked this dog.According to the vet, she is mostly German Shepperd with a little wolf ... maybe ... because of the eyes. Once she knows you are a friend, you are most welcome in the house. Immediately she started sleeping in the hall way outside the master bedroom.

When the twins were born, my son took the little hats home for Sadie to smell. The day the twins came home, Sadie started sleeping outside their room at night. The next day Marie and I went to visit. The twins were asleep in a Pack and Play thing (new to my generation). As I walked toward the Pack and Play, Sadie quietly walked between me and them so I could not approach them. Once my son told her it was OK, she moved out of the way. If one started to cry Sadie would go to an adult and she would emit a soft sound. They needed attention and she wanted to make sure they received it.

One morning my son walked out of his bedroom and wondered where Sadie had slept. When he came down the stairs, Sadie was laying in front of the door. No one had locked it the night before.

Usually when Marie or I walk in the house, Sadie comes looking for a dog biscuit. My son and his wife are disolving the marriage and he started the move today to his apartment. I had the biscuit ready. Sadie looked at me with the saddest eyes, her head was down and no wagging tail. She took the biscuit, but did not eat it. It just laid where she put it. Poor Sadie! I know she knows and she is sad.