It is that time of year again where we rack our brains to come up with things we resolve to do in the coming year. We always make them with the best of intentions, but somehow, for most of us, they are put on the shelf for a rainy day...and forgotten. Life is funny like that.
Lisa and I have a big clay pot in the shape of an elephant. Every year we write out our intentions, our resolutions, our prayers for the coming year and place them in the elephant. (Hey, an elephant never forgets, right?) Anyway, before we place our new ones in the elephant, we remove the old ones and burn them (unread) releasing them to the cosmos. It does not guarantee a higher success rate, but it makes you think every time you pass by the elephant. So that is our ritual, along with eating black-eyed peas on New Years Day for good luck (Hey, it is a southern thing. What can I say?).
My resolutions for 2008 are not written in stone yet, but they might go something like this...
1) I resolve to continue to fight my diabetes by watching my diet, taking my medicine and walking at least 3 times a week for at least 30 minutes.
2) I resolve to get back on track with my writing projects and get my second book written.
3) I resolve to find the time to paint and find a gallery for my work. Perhaps even a show?
4) I resolve to be a better husband, father, grandfather and brother.
5) I resolve to judge less, be more tolerant and remember that everyone has a story to tell.
6) I resolve to be more positive and to worry less.
7) I resolve to live more and more in the Present and seek to remember...what I already know. (mysterious, I know)
I am sure there are a few others that I will place in our elephant for the New Year, but at least it is a start.
Whatever your New Year traditions, I wish you all a very healthy, happy and prosperous New Year. May you find what you are looking for and look for what you are finding.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
An Unconventional Christmas
When Lisa and I moved to San Antonio, we discovered a Goodwill Store near our house. They are resale shops for things that people no longer want. Instead of tossing these unwanted items into landfills, they are dropped off at several sites around town for repurchase at bargain prices. The money from the resale of clothes, electronics, kitchenware, and even furniture goes to support Goodwill Industries.
Goodwill Industries started in 1941. Today they are the leading nonprofit provider of education, training and career services for people with disadvantages such as welfare dependency, homelessness and lack of education or work experience. Their reach extends to people with physical, mental and emotional disabilities. Last year, local Goodwills collectively provided employment and training services for more than 930,775 individuals.
Lisa and I decided to do most of our Christmas shopping at Goodwill and to limit our holiday gift buying for each other to $20- $30. You would be surprised what you can find for a small amount of cash at one of these stores. We have discovered vintage videos, books, CD’s, antiques, kitchen appliances and a host of other treasures waiting to be found. One year, Lisa found a set of silver bowls that had been discontinued years ago. You cannot find them anywhere. They were very expensive when they were new and whoever donated them probably had no idea of their value. She bought them for our dining room table for only a few dollars. Yes, there is a lot of junk amid the treasures, but that is part of the fun. Some of the items have seen better days, but they can be cleaned up and look great once we get them home.
As a society, we have come to value the new, the shiny, the latest, hot, new “whatever” and often overlook the wonderful treasure right under our noses. As Americans, we consume so much stuff and then toss it in the trash when the next new thing comes along. What is wrong with saving money on quality items that others no longer want? It becomes a double blessing when you realize that the money we spend at Goodwill goes to give a second chance to people who could use a hand.
Now, I do not expect everyone to abandon their Wal-Mart and Targets for Goodwill stores, but next year you might consider going on a treasure hunt there for a few small things to go under your Christmas tree. You might even find yourself doing what Lisa and I do on a regular basis now. We walk through the store looking for bargains and future gifts. Who knows, it might even become trendy! Oh, we bought these beautiful, antique silver salt and pepper shakers at...Goodwill! Oh my!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Goodwill Industries started in 1941. Today they are the leading nonprofit provider of education, training and career services for people with disadvantages such as welfare dependency, homelessness and lack of education or work experience. Their reach extends to people with physical, mental and emotional disabilities. Last year, local Goodwills collectively provided employment and training services for more than 930,775 individuals.
Lisa and I decided to do most of our Christmas shopping at Goodwill and to limit our holiday gift buying for each other to $20- $30. You would be surprised what you can find for a small amount of cash at one of these stores. We have discovered vintage videos, books, CD’s, antiques, kitchen appliances and a host of other treasures waiting to be found. One year, Lisa found a set of silver bowls that had been discontinued years ago. You cannot find them anywhere. They were very expensive when they were new and whoever donated them probably had no idea of their value. She bought them for our dining room table for only a few dollars. Yes, there is a lot of junk amid the treasures, but that is part of the fun. Some of the items have seen better days, but they can be cleaned up and look great once we get them home.
As a society, we have come to value the new, the shiny, the latest, hot, new “whatever” and often overlook the wonderful treasure right under our noses. As Americans, we consume so much stuff and then toss it in the trash when the next new thing comes along. What is wrong with saving money on quality items that others no longer want? It becomes a double blessing when you realize that the money we spend at Goodwill goes to give a second chance to people who could use a hand.
Now, I do not expect everyone to abandon their Wal-Mart and Targets for Goodwill stores, but next year you might consider going on a treasure hunt there for a few small things to go under your Christmas tree. You might even find yourself doing what Lisa and I do on a regular basis now. We walk through the store looking for bargains and future gifts. Who knows, it might even become trendy! Oh, we bought these beautiful, antique silver salt and pepper shakers at...Goodwill! Oh my!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Sunday, December 9, 2007
The Return of Santa?
My wife read an article in the paper yesterday about how Walmart was bowing to pressure from religious groups. They have decided to allow Santa Claus back into their stores this year. Now, where the heck have I been? Santa was banned from Walmart stores...any store...at Christmas time!? I cannot believe that the jolly, old, fat guy who brings all the toys got banned from any place that depends on him to make their bottom line for the year-end. What were those folks at Walmart smoking?
The other thing that struck me was that it was RELIGIOUS leaders that were putting the pressure on Walmart to bring him back. I thought Santa was a pagan figure. Sure, he is well known and beloved by all, but I cannot find him mentioned anywhere in the Bible at the birth of Christ or anywhere else. (Perhaps I missed it.) Shouldn’t these religious folks be pushing stores to have big manger scenes with Baby Jesus and wise men and camels instead of some hairy fat guy in a red suit that steals down your chimney at night while you are asleep?
What is this world coming to?
FOOD for THOUGHT...
The other thing that struck me was that it was RELIGIOUS leaders that were putting the pressure on Walmart to bring him back. I thought Santa was a pagan figure. Sure, he is well known and beloved by all, but I cannot find him mentioned anywhere in the Bible at the birth of Christ or anywhere else. (Perhaps I missed it.) Shouldn’t these religious folks be pushing stores to have big manger scenes with Baby Jesus and wise men and camels instead of some hairy fat guy in a red suit that steals down your chimney at night while you are asleep?
What is this world coming to?
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Saturday, December 1, 2007
What Are You Eating?
A good part of dealing with my diabetes is watching what I eat and how much I eat. Before I knew I was a diabetic, I never thought twice about eating fast food. Forget about fat content, calories and salt. I ate what I wanted and what tasted good. I had no reason to think about such things. All I cared about was that it was fast, it was hot and it filled me up.
Lisa and I attended a diabetes class at a local hospital here in San Antonio a few weeks ago and part of the class was getting a suggested diet from a nutritionist that specializes in the disease. She recommended a diet of 2,000 calories a day for me. It requires me to balance my intake of protein, carbohydrates and fats to meet this daily requirement. I cannot just get all my calories from a bag of potato chips and a chocolate shake. I have to eat things like fruits and vegetables and limit the amount of sugars, fats and salt in my diet. I was given a booklet that breaks down the amount of calories, fat and salt (among other things) in popular fast food items. As I checked out the fare of several well-known restaurants, I was shocked at the numbers. Let me give you some examples:
1 Burger King Whopper
700 total calories (with 370 from fats)
1002 mg of sodium (salt)
1 Medium Fries
360 total calories (with 160 from fats)
640 mg of sodium
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
This one “meal” at Burger King cost me 1,191 total calories (with 530 from fats) and that is over half of my allotted calories for one day. I still have two more meals and several snacks to eat before my head hits the pillow. Oh, and how about that salt intake? This one meal put 1,650 mg of sodium into my body. Nutritionists say we should be limited to no more than 2,300 mg of sodium a day and no more than 1/3 of our total calories should be from fat. Are you starting to get the picture? Here are some more examples:
1 McDonald’s Big Mac
560 total calories (with 270 from fats)
1010 mg of sodium (salt)
1 Medium Fries
360 total calories (with 160 from fats)
640 mg of sodium
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
KFC (3 pc) Crispy Strips (chicken)
400 total calories (with 220 from fats)
1250 mg of sodium (salt)
1 Medium Fries
360 total calories (with 160 from fats)
640 mg of sodium
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
(Only 1) of 8 slices Pizza Hut 12” Medium Hand –Tossed Pepperoni Pizza X (how many slices?)
250 total calories (with 80 from fats)
570 mg of sodium (salt)
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
Just think how many millions of hard working parents of modest means at the end of the workday just want a quick, cheap and easy meal for their kids. Let’s go to McDonald’s, kids! And so it goes. Why should we be surprised when diabetes, stroke, heart attack and high blood pressure are exploding in America and not just among adults, but also with our children?
Even if you try to eat sensibly and limit your intake of fat, salt and sugar, check out the nutrition labels of some of your favorite foods. You might be shocked to find high levels of sodium, trans fats and corn syrup. Convenience foods and processed foods are among the worst offenders. In our society today, you can find no end to unhealthy diet choices. They line our grocery store shelves! Over time, our unhealthy diets and fast food choices can shorten our lives and make those shortened years miserable and costly.
Healthcare in this country is in crisis. The cost of that healthcare is rising out of control for most of us. As a people, we are becoming obese and burdened with chronic illnesses. Will there be enough healthcare professionals and resources to take care of a population headed for disaster?
Modern medicine has given us many wonderful drugs to help manage our disease, but what about prevention? The bottom line is that no pill can replace a healthy diet and regular exercise. I challenge you to know what you are eating. Do not expect McDonald’s or Burger King to look out for your health. That...is still up to you.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Lisa and I attended a diabetes class at a local hospital here in San Antonio a few weeks ago and part of the class was getting a suggested diet from a nutritionist that specializes in the disease. She recommended a diet of 2,000 calories a day for me. It requires me to balance my intake of protein, carbohydrates and fats to meet this daily requirement. I cannot just get all my calories from a bag of potato chips and a chocolate shake. I have to eat things like fruits and vegetables and limit the amount of sugars, fats and salt in my diet. I was given a booklet that breaks down the amount of calories, fat and salt (among other things) in popular fast food items. As I checked out the fare of several well-known restaurants, I was shocked at the numbers. Let me give you some examples:
1 Burger King Whopper
700 total calories (with 370 from fats)
1002 mg of sodium (salt)
1 Medium Fries
360 total calories (with 160 from fats)
640 mg of sodium
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
This one “meal” at Burger King cost me 1,191 total calories (with 530 from fats) and that is over half of my allotted calories for one day. I still have two more meals and several snacks to eat before my head hits the pillow. Oh, and how about that salt intake? This one meal put 1,650 mg of sodium into my body. Nutritionists say we should be limited to no more than 2,300 mg of sodium a day and no more than 1/3 of our total calories should be from fat. Are you starting to get the picture? Here are some more examples:
1 McDonald’s Big Mac
560 total calories (with 270 from fats)
1010 mg of sodium (salt)
1 Medium Fries
360 total calories (with 160 from fats)
640 mg of sodium
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
KFC (3 pc) Crispy Strips (chicken)
400 total calories (with 220 from fats)
1250 mg of sodium (salt)
1 Medium Fries
360 total calories (with 160 from fats)
640 mg of sodium
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
(Only 1) of 8 slices Pizza Hut 12” Medium Hand –Tossed Pepperoni Pizza X (how many slices?)
250 total calories (with 80 from fats)
570 mg of sodium (salt)
16 oz Coca Cola Classic
131 total calories
8 mg of sodium
Just think how many millions of hard working parents of modest means at the end of the workday just want a quick, cheap and easy meal for their kids. Let’s go to McDonald’s, kids! And so it goes. Why should we be surprised when diabetes, stroke, heart attack and high blood pressure are exploding in America and not just among adults, but also with our children?
Even if you try to eat sensibly and limit your intake of fat, salt and sugar, check out the nutrition labels of some of your favorite foods. You might be shocked to find high levels of sodium, trans fats and corn syrup. Convenience foods and processed foods are among the worst offenders. In our society today, you can find no end to unhealthy diet choices. They line our grocery store shelves! Over time, our unhealthy diets and fast food choices can shorten our lives and make those shortened years miserable and costly.
Healthcare in this country is in crisis. The cost of that healthcare is rising out of control for most of us. As a people, we are becoming obese and burdened with chronic illnesses. Will there be enough healthcare professionals and resources to take care of a population headed for disaster?
Modern medicine has given us many wonderful drugs to help manage our disease, but what about prevention? The bottom line is that no pill can replace a healthy diet and regular exercise. I challenge you to know what you are eating. Do not expect McDonald’s or Burger King to look out for your health. That...is still up to you.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Reflections
On reaching my 56th birthday, I felt the call to reflect on this past year of life and my life in general. What a year! Time seems to slip by so easily these days. Memories and events seem to melt together, but some things tend to stick out. I find myself reliving flashbacks from my youth, my college years, early marriage when my daughters were little and memories of my mother and father when they were young, healthy and alive. I never envisioned myself sitting at my computer typing my next THOUGHTS column with a little gray kitten snoozing in my lap and thinking about my life. When I was a ten-year-old boy living on a farm in central Illinois, I certainly never expected I would find myself living in San Antonio, Texas with my artist wife and working at the Alamo, let alone writing a book about that historic place.
This year, my Alamo Book has given me more than my 15 minutes of fame. It seems to be selling quite well in the Alamo Gift Shop. Hardly a day goes by that I am not asked to sign a visitor’s copy of the book. Visitors seem delighted when they hunt me down at the Alamo and match up my picture in the book with the real live person who wrote it. Just today, a woman asked me to step outside so her husband could take a picture of me with her holding the book in front of the Alamo Shrine.
My year of “fame” was tempered, however by my diagnosis of diabetes. It was discovered after I developed double vision. A series of tests determined that I had had the disease for some time without realizing it. Me? I thought I was healthy. The last few months of this year of fame have found me wearing an eye patch, visiting doctors, having tests done and learning how to test my blood sugar twice a day. I now have to take medicine and buy testing supplies. I have to make doctor appointments and do follow-ups. My wife, Lisa, and I are taking classes to learn how to live with a disease that has no cure. I can control it with medicine, diet, exercise and stress management, but as my doctor put it, “you and diabetes are now married.” This year, I have had to take responsibility for my health, something up to now, I took for granted.
Speaking of my wife, this year I have seen Lisa continue to grow as an artist. It has been rewarding for me to watch her have her first solo art show at an upscale wine bar in San Antonio and then move on to several other shows that have displayed her work around Texas. Her work has begun to sell and to be recognized in the local art community. This year Lisa is working on a website to display her artwork and upcoming classes. She will again be teaching at Southwest School of Craft and at ArtCloth Studios here in San Antonio. Lisa enjoys traveling to ArtCloth Studios several times a week where she creates new work for upcoming shows. She has adopted the three studio cats there and they love to watch...and “help” her create. In the coming year, Lisa is looking forward to several new and exciting opportunities for her work as well as some challenging and surprising projects. Stay tuned.
Unfortunately, Lisa’s year was tempered with the unexpected passing of her Aunt Barbara. Some will recall that we named the kitten we found after her aunt. Our new kitten, Babs, has truly brightened our lives in the few weeks she has been with us. She delights in racing around our house, sliding on the wooden floors and relentlessly terrorizing our two older cats, Spike and Sylvie. This little ball of energy turns the most peculiar objects into toys. I get tired just watching her, but she’s a real sweetheart.
This year has had a few difficulties, but overall we love our life here in SA. Our family has brightened our lives. Lisa’s mother moved from Florida to Ft. Worth, Texas, only a few hours away from San Antonio. This has allowed Lisa to see her mom more often. My daughter Erin and her husband were able to come for a visit this spring and this month, we were able to fly to Chicago for a mini-family reunion with my family. Lisa and I were able to spend some time with my daughters, my brother, sister, and their families. I especially welcomed the time I got to spend with my granddaughter, Emma. What an amazing little girl she is. To cap this 56th year of my life, my daughter, Heather, has announced that she is having another girl next April. Emma will have a little sister and Lisa and I will be grandparents again.
My fifty-six years of life have been filled and continue to be filled with wonder. What a blessing.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
This year, my Alamo Book has given me more than my 15 minutes of fame. It seems to be selling quite well in the Alamo Gift Shop. Hardly a day goes by that I am not asked to sign a visitor’s copy of the book. Visitors seem delighted when they hunt me down at the Alamo and match up my picture in the book with the real live person who wrote it. Just today, a woman asked me to step outside so her husband could take a picture of me with her holding the book in front of the Alamo Shrine.
My year of “fame” was tempered, however by my diagnosis of diabetes. It was discovered after I developed double vision. A series of tests determined that I had had the disease for some time without realizing it. Me? I thought I was healthy. The last few months of this year of fame have found me wearing an eye patch, visiting doctors, having tests done and learning how to test my blood sugar twice a day. I now have to take medicine and buy testing supplies. I have to make doctor appointments and do follow-ups. My wife, Lisa, and I are taking classes to learn how to live with a disease that has no cure. I can control it with medicine, diet, exercise and stress management, but as my doctor put it, “you and diabetes are now married.” This year, I have had to take responsibility for my health, something up to now, I took for granted.
Speaking of my wife, this year I have seen Lisa continue to grow as an artist. It has been rewarding for me to watch her have her first solo art show at an upscale wine bar in San Antonio and then move on to several other shows that have displayed her work around Texas. Her work has begun to sell and to be recognized in the local art community. This year Lisa is working on a website to display her artwork and upcoming classes. She will again be teaching at Southwest School of Craft and at ArtCloth Studios here in San Antonio. Lisa enjoys traveling to ArtCloth Studios several times a week where she creates new work for upcoming shows. She has adopted the three studio cats there and they love to watch...and “help” her create. In the coming year, Lisa is looking forward to several new and exciting opportunities for her work as well as some challenging and surprising projects. Stay tuned.
Unfortunately, Lisa’s year was tempered with the unexpected passing of her Aunt Barbara. Some will recall that we named the kitten we found after her aunt. Our new kitten, Babs, has truly brightened our lives in the few weeks she has been with us. She delights in racing around our house, sliding on the wooden floors and relentlessly terrorizing our two older cats, Spike and Sylvie. This little ball of energy turns the most peculiar objects into toys. I get tired just watching her, but she’s a real sweetheart.
This year has had a few difficulties, but overall we love our life here in SA. Our family has brightened our lives. Lisa’s mother moved from Florida to Ft. Worth, Texas, only a few hours away from San Antonio. This has allowed Lisa to see her mom more often. My daughter Erin and her husband were able to come for a visit this spring and this month, we were able to fly to Chicago for a mini-family reunion with my family. Lisa and I were able to spend some time with my daughters, my brother, sister, and their families. I especially welcomed the time I got to spend with my granddaughter, Emma. What an amazing little girl she is. To cap this 56th year of my life, my daughter, Heather, has announced that she is having another girl next April. Emma will have a little sister and Lisa and I will be grandparents again.
My fifty-six years of life have been filled and continue to be filled with wonder. What a blessing.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Barbara "Babs"
My wife and I were in the middle of preparing for our trip to Chicago for a reunion with my family when we got the word that Lisa’s Aunt Barbara had passed away. Her passing was unexpected. Lisa had just driven to Ft. Worth that weekend to visit with her aunt who was doing well in a rehabilitation center. Weeks earlier, her aunt had been rushed to the hospital in serious condition, but after some tests and treatment, she began to recover and talked of returning home.
The news of her aunt’s passing put our trip to Chicago on hold. United Airlines was frustrating Lisa as she tried to make alternate arrangements that would allow her to fly to Dallas for the funeral and then fly on to Chicago for our reunion. My family had made plans to drive to Chicago from as far away as Des Moines, Iowa and Ft. Wayne, Indiana. It was an emotional day for both of us, but as we sat in our living room trying to figure out our options...we heard this pitiful meow coming from outside our front door.
Lisa and I looked at each other and Lisa headed out the front door to find the source of this meow for help. It led us to the side of the house behind the AC unit where we came upon this tiny gray kitten. It was a little dirty but appeared to be in good shape. We lifted it up and placed it on the AC unit to get a better look at it. The kitten did not hiss or try to get away from us, but instead began to purr loudly. She was very affectionate. It was clear that she was not a feral cat. It meant that she had to have been dumped in our neighborhood or had run away from home. She was so tiny and all alone and afraid. She was shaking with her tail between her legs.
Lisa and I have two older cats, Spike and Sylvie. They are very set in their ways, with Sylvie firmly established as the “Princess,” the alpha cat, the queen bee. I had made it clear to Lisa that two cats were more than enough for us. Spike or Sylvie would have to head to the great beyond before we could consider another cat. If we did get another cat, we agreed it should be an older cat and not a kitten. Kittens were too much work, too high energy.
With our grief and pending chaos, dealing with a lost kitten was the last thing we needed, yet strangely, we both forgot our troubles and focused on a tiny, little creature that needed our help. I said we could keep it in our guest bathroom for the night and I would find an animal shelter in the morning. I found one of the cat carriers in the garage and placed a towel inside, but first we decided to give her a bath in the sink. She was so thirsty that she began drinking the filthy bath water as we washed her. We put a little canned food in a dish along with some fresh water and she devoured it. She purred loudly and let us know that she appreciated our intervention.
The next morning Lisa and I checked on our little guest. I was still determined to drop it off at an animal shelter, but the kitten was purring so loudly and was so affectionate that we started talking about keeping it for a few days. She was really getting her “hooks” into both of us, especially me. Keeping a small kitten however would be a problem since we were about to leave home for four days. We knew Spike and Sylvie would do okay with dry food in a self-feeder and extra litter boxes, but the kitten would have to be old enough to eat dry food and use a litter box at minimum. Then there was the issue of whether she would get along with our other two cats. They would have to remain separated.
We decided to name our kitten. We thought we should name her after Lisa’s Aunt Barbara, but soon Barbara was shortened to “Babs .” Babs quickly let us know that she knew how to use a litter box and could handle dry food for kittens. Lisa called a local vet and got an appointment that day so we brought her in to be checked out. Babs was healthy except for fleas and ear mites. The vet gave her shots and a treatment to kill the fleas and ear mites. The vet included treatments for our other two cats as well. When we got her home, we gave her another bath and let her get used to her new home in the guest bathroom. She had quite a day.
Babs survived our being gone for the next several days and welcomed us back with open paws. She has since taken over our hearts, our house and our two cats. She is this tiny ball of energy that sees everything as a potential toy. She now races around our home like a speed demon, much to the disapproval of Spike and Sylvie, but even they seem to be coming around. Today, we found Babs snoozing on the bed near Sylvie and Spike...just one of the gang. Babs has been following Spike around the house but keeping her distance as she repressed the urge to pounce and play. Spike has been very tolerant while Sylvie tends to sniff and avoid them both...PEASANTS!
Both Lisa and I had the feeling that Aunt Barbara had a hand in bringing Babs into our lives at just that moment. She arrived out of nowhere! Barbara feared cats all her life, but perhaps she chose Babs to let us know that she was all right and no longer afraid.
God Bless You, Barbara...and Thanks!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
The news of her aunt’s passing put our trip to Chicago on hold. United Airlines was frustrating Lisa as she tried to make alternate arrangements that would allow her to fly to Dallas for the funeral and then fly on to Chicago for our reunion. My family had made plans to drive to Chicago from as far away as Des Moines, Iowa and Ft. Wayne, Indiana. It was an emotional day for both of us, but as we sat in our living room trying to figure out our options...we heard this pitiful meow coming from outside our front door.
Lisa and I looked at each other and Lisa headed out the front door to find the source of this meow for help. It led us to the side of the house behind the AC unit where we came upon this tiny gray kitten. It was a little dirty but appeared to be in good shape. We lifted it up and placed it on the AC unit to get a better look at it. The kitten did not hiss or try to get away from us, but instead began to purr loudly. She was very affectionate. It was clear that she was not a feral cat. It meant that she had to have been dumped in our neighborhood or had run away from home. She was so tiny and all alone and afraid. She was shaking with her tail between her legs.
Lisa and I have two older cats, Spike and Sylvie. They are very set in their ways, with Sylvie firmly established as the “Princess,” the alpha cat, the queen bee. I had made it clear to Lisa that two cats were more than enough for us. Spike or Sylvie would have to head to the great beyond before we could consider another cat. If we did get another cat, we agreed it should be an older cat and not a kitten. Kittens were too much work, too high energy.
With our grief and pending chaos, dealing with a lost kitten was the last thing we needed, yet strangely, we both forgot our troubles and focused on a tiny, little creature that needed our help. I said we could keep it in our guest bathroom for the night and I would find an animal shelter in the morning. I found one of the cat carriers in the garage and placed a towel inside, but first we decided to give her a bath in the sink. She was so thirsty that she began drinking the filthy bath water as we washed her. We put a little canned food in a dish along with some fresh water and she devoured it. She purred loudly and let us know that she appreciated our intervention.
The next morning Lisa and I checked on our little guest. I was still determined to drop it off at an animal shelter, but the kitten was purring so loudly and was so affectionate that we started talking about keeping it for a few days. She was really getting her “hooks” into both of us, especially me. Keeping a small kitten however would be a problem since we were about to leave home for four days. We knew Spike and Sylvie would do okay with dry food in a self-feeder and extra litter boxes, but the kitten would have to be old enough to eat dry food and use a litter box at minimum. Then there was the issue of whether she would get along with our other two cats. They would have to remain separated.
We decided to name our kitten. We thought we should name her after Lisa’s Aunt Barbara, but soon Barbara was shortened to “Babs .” Babs quickly let us know that she knew how to use a litter box and could handle dry food for kittens. Lisa called a local vet and got an appointment that day so we brought her in to be checked out. Babs was healthy except for fleas and ear mites. The vet gave her shots and a treatment to kill the fleas and ear mites. The vet included treatments for our other two cats as well. When we got her home, we gave her another bath and let her get used to her new home in the guest bathroom. She had quite a day.
Babs survived our being gone for the next several days and welcomed us back with open paws. She has since taken over our hearts, our house and our two cats. She is this tiny ball of energy that sees everything as a potential toy. She now races around our home like a speed demon, much to the disapproval of Spike and Sylvie, but even they seem to be coming around. Today, we found Babs snoozing on the bed near Sylvie and Spike...just one of the gang. Babs has been following Spike around the house but keeping her distance as she repressed the urge to pounce and play. Spike has been very tolerant while Sylvie tends to sniff and avoid them both...PEASANTS!
Both Lisa and I had the feeling that Aunt Barbara had a hand in bringing Babs into our lives at just that moment. She arrived out of nowhere! Barbara feared cats all her life, but perhaps she chose Babs to let us know that she was all right and no longer afraid.
God Bless You, Barbara...and Thanks!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Halloween Surprise
Author's Note: In honor of Halloween, I thought I would share a short story I wrote about a memorable Halloween from my youth. I can still hear my dad recounting the story at family gatherings. Enjoy.
My father was in the chicken business. To be more specific, our farm produced eggs. Our chickens were in wire cages with a slanted wire floor suspended from the ceilings of two long buildings. The hens would lay eggs every day in these cages and the eggs rolled out onto a wire tray. My cousin Marty and I had to pick them up and place them into paper flats or holders stacked one on top of the other. We pushed rickety, old, wooden carts down the aisles between the cages gathering these eggs. The flats on the carts were then unloaded into two-sided, cardboard egg cases. Each side held six flats. The egg cases were then stacked and stored inside the cooler, a refrigerated room at the front of each building. Several times a week, a truck picked up the cases of eggs and took them to market. This was the heart of my father’s business.
With all these chickens came plenty of chicken manure. Each chicken house had manure pits running underneath the cages that had to be cleaned out twice a year. This was not a pleasant job in those days, as it involved scoop shovels, wheelbarrows and manual labor in a hot and smelly environment. My dad and my uncle hired local high school boys to accomplish this task. These boys quickly learned there were easier ways to earn a buck, so it became harder and harder to recruit them. Several years later, someone invented a machine to do it quicker and more efficiently. Eventually, we bought one of those machines, but at the time, this backbreaking, stench-filled process was essential. The manure was taken from the pits and loaded onto a manure spreader. A tractor pulled the spreader out into the area fields and the manure was then distributed as fertilizer. Nothing went to waste on our farm. Even the chickens were recycled to the soup factory after they stopped laying eggs.
One fall, some of the high school boys got together and decided they would have some fun with all the eggs we had stored in our coolers. They made plans to strike on Halloween night under cover of darkness. There was a deserted lane just up the road from our chicken farm where they would park the “get-away car” for their escape back to town. One of them would stay in the car with the engine running. Fortunately, for my dad and my uncle, one of the boys tipped them off to the plan, so they were able to plan a little Halloween surprise of their own.
I was only ten years old at the time, but I will never forget my father and uncle’s account of what took place that Halloween night. Sometime after dark, my dad and uncle made their way out to the chicken house to set up a trap by the cooler. They took our farm dog, Shotsy, and a loaded shotgun. Dad meant only to scare, not hurt, the young egg-bandits who would be sneaking into the chicken house that night. They settled in, listened in the dark for footsteps and the telltale laughter, and hushed voices that would follow.
Finally, just after 10’clock, the boys came sneaking up to the building closest to the road. My dad and uncle figured this would be the more likely target of the two buildings. As the door opened slowly, my uncle reached around for the light switch. Suddenly my dad, shotgun in hand, and our dog were bathed in light before them.
“What are you guys doing here?” Dad shouted, trying hard not to laugh at the surprised look on the boys’ faces.
Once the initial shock of being discovered by my dad holding a gun and a growling dog sunk in, there was a mad scramble for the door. No time for words. Escape was their only thought. Quickly my dad and uncle followed them out of the door. Shotsy was barking and growling but dad held her back until the boys had a good head start running out ahead of them. Suddenly a shotgun blast rang out and the boys changed the direction they were running. Now they were headed toward a dark patch of ground by the ditch beside the road. What they did not know is that my dad and uncle had dumped a large load of chicken manure in the ditch at that spot.
As the boys ran knee-deep into the pile of chicken manure, they began to slip and fall down, thoroughly coating themselves. Shotsy was not far behind them, now. She was barking ferociously to make sure they kept running down the road to their waiting car. The driver having heard the shotgun blast and seeing the boys running toward him with a dog on their tail jumped into the car and got ready to move out. Unfortunately, for the boys, the driver could also smell the chicken manure on the mob running toward his car. Discretion being the better part of valor, he quickly rolled up his windows, locked the doors and sped off toward town, leaving the young would-be egg breakers stranded. They now had to walk the two miles back to town in the dark covered head to foot in chicken manure. I still cringe when I think what that hike back to town must have been like for them.
My father had quite a reputation in town after that Halloween. We never had to worry about vandalism after that. He had a newfound respect, especially among the high school boys. A few years after that, we moved away to the suburbs of Chicago. Marty’s sister, Brenda, and her family moved into our old farmhouse. My father and Shotsy are gone now. There is not much left of the farm but a vacant building surrounded by weeds amid the sprawling corn and soybean fields, but I think about those days and I miss them. I miss hearing my dad telling the story of his Halloween surprise.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
The Skunk and the Fur Coat
When I was a young boy, I grew up on a farm in central Illinois. My dad was always bringing home animals or people were dropping them off because...well we lived on a farm. He was always bringing home dogs. Dogs were his favorite, but we also had goats, Guinea fouls (birds that roosted in trees and made noise), Shetland ponies and even a pet raccoon. I think the strangest animal though had to be the baby skunk that someone left with us.
The baby skunk was very tame and we could hand feed it. I seem to recall my dad saying that only adult skunks spray and only when they feel threatened, therefore we should not worry about the little fellow. We kept the skunk in a cardboard box until one day the little guy made a break for it and joined his pals in the wild...or so we thought.
We lived in a 100-year-old farmhouse. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer. There were not a lot of closets for the upstairs bedrooms so I had to put some of my clothes in the small closet downstairs in the living room under the old staircase. Dad and I had our suits in that closet. The foundation of the farmhouse had a low crawlspace with one opening, a piece of circular drain tile, just big enough for critters the size of a cat. That was good because we had plenty of farm cats that kept our rats and mice to a minimum.
Okay, so why am I talking about suits in the closet of this old farmhouse and what about the escaped skunk? Well, you see, one Saturday night, after we all went to bed, one of those farm cats had a run in with...you guessed it... a skunk that decided to take up residence under the house. Our little skunk had not gone far from home.
By Sunday morning, the house reeked of skunk. It was especially bad at the center of the house right under the closet in the living room. Mom ran around opening widows, but it was too late, the damage had been done. Our suits had soaked up the wonderful aroma wafting up through the floorboards of the old house.
That Sunday, Dad had promised to take me to church for some reason (a rarity by the way, now that I think about it) and so we put on our suits (yes, we actually wore suits to church in those days) and headed off to town. The smell did not seem so bad once we were in the car driving a few miles down the road...with the windows open.
Dad and I got to church late with all the excitement back at home. The service had already started so we slipped into the pews at the very back of the church. Fortunately, they were empty so no one would be sitting next to us. Unfortunately, Joe Whaley and his wife were seated in the pew right in front of us. They were neighbors who lived just a mile up the road from our farm. Now, Joe was a short, little old man with a shiny, baldhead. His wife was a rather large woman with a brand new fur coat that Joe had proudly purchased for her. She was in her glory before God and the rest of the congregation that day. Sadly, Dad and I became the “fly in her ointment” that morning.
As the service droned on, we noticed Joe’s wife sniffing the air with disdain. She began sniffing her new coat, then she sniffed the air again. Finally, she poked her poor husband and made him smell her fur coat. Joe just shrugged and she poked him again, harder this time. This sniffing and poking went on through the rest of the service. Dad and I made a hasty exit, the first chance we got and headed back home.
I always felt bad about ducking out and not telling the old man and his wife that it was us and not the fur coat, but then I guess it was God’s way of teaching about pride in material things. Who were we to question the ways of the Lord?
Food for THOUGHT...
The baby skunk was very tame and we could hand feed it. I seem to recall my dad saying that only adult skunks spray and only when they feel threatened, therefore we should not worry about the little fellow. We kept the skunk in a cardboard box until one day the little guy made a break for it and joined his pals in the wild...or so we thought.
We lived in a 100-year-old farmhouse. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer. There were not a lot of closets for the upstairs bedrooms so I had to put some of my clothes in the small closet downstairs in the living room under the old staircase. Dad and I had our suits in that closet. The foundation of the farmhouse had a low crawlspace with one opening, a piece of circular drain tile, just big enough for critters the size of a cat. That was good because we had plenty of farm cats that kept our rats and mice to a minimum.
Okay, so why am I talking about suits in the closet of this old farmhouse and what about the escaped skunk? Well, you see, one Saturday night, after we all went to bed, one of those farm cats had a run in with...you guessed it... a skunk that decided to take up residence under the house. Our little skunk had not gone far from home.
By Sunday morning, the house reeked of skunk. It was especially bad at the center of the house right under the closet in the living room. Mom ran around opening widows, but it was too late, the damage had been done. Our suits had soaked up the wonderful aroma wafting up through the floorboards of the old house.
That Sunday, Dad had promised to take me to church for some reason (a rarity by the way, now that I think about it) and so we put on our suits (yes, we actually wore suits to church in those days) and headed off to town. The smell did not seem so bad once we were in the car driving a few miles down the road...with the windows open.
Dad and I got to church late with all the excitement back at home. The service had already started so we slipped into the pews at the very back of the church. Fortunately, they were empty so no one would be sitting next to us. Unfortunately, Joe Whaley and his wife were seated in the pew right in front of us. They were neighbors who lived just a mile up the road from our farm. Now, Joe was a short, little old man with a shiny, baldhead. His wife was a rather large woman with a brand new fur coat that Joe had proudly purchased for her. She was in her glory before God and the rest of the congregation that day. Sadly, Dad and I became the “fly in her ointment” that morning.
As the service droned on, we noticed Joe’s wife sniffing the air with disdain. She began sniffing her new coat, then she sniffed the air again. Finally, she poked her poor husband and made him smell her fur coat. Joe just shrugged and she poked him again, harder this time. This sniffing and poking went on through the rest of the service. Dad and I made a hasty exit, the first chance we got and headed back home.
I always felt bad about ducking out and not telling the old man and his wife that it was us and not the fur coat, but then I guess it was God’s way of teaching about pride in material things. Who were we to question the ways of the Lord?
Food for THOUGHT...
Monday, October 15, 2007
The Hand of Fate
Even though it was an Inconvenient Truth, one man (who lost the presidency even though he actually won the election), wins the Nobel Peace Prize and an Academy Award all in one year. How amazing is that?
The other man (who lost the election, but gained the presidency) misled us into a quagmire war, alienated half the world, including most of our allies, destroyed our nation’s reputation and bankrupted the country. How unfortunate is that?
Fate gave us two men, one seeking to enlighten the world and the other...well, let history write his final chapter. We can only wonder where our nation would be if fate had not handed the presidency to George W. Bush. Assuming 9/11 would have happened to both men as president, one has to wonder if we would be fighting two wars and getting ready to start a third in Iran, if the U.S. Supreme Court had chosen Al Gore. We will never know for sure, but I believe it highly unlikely.
Many of the political pundits are now speculating that Gore might or should jump into the presidential race after winning the Nobel Peace Prize. I hope he has sense enough not to run. The Democrats do not need their own version of Fred Thompson to muddy their waters. No, we need Al Gore to stay out of the race and continue to use his power and influence on the issue of global warming. We need a strong leader on this issue. Our survival on this planet may depend on it. Washington has this way of changing men and women with even the best of intentions and the best of ideas. Unlike our congress, Gore might just get something of lasting value accomplished without being bogged down by political compromise.
When I look at the accomplishments of former president Jimmy Carter and former vice president Al Gore since leaving office, I am astonished. I have to wonder what Dick Cheney and George W. Bush could ever possibly accomplish after they are out of office to match what these two men have done for our country and the world at large.
Perhaps Fate dealt Al Gore the better hand after all.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
The other man (who lost the election, but gained the presidency) misled us into a quagmire war, alienated half the world, including most of our allies, destroyed our nation’s reputation and bankrupted the country. How unfortunate is that?
Fate gave us two men, one seeking to enlighten the world and the other...well, let history write his final chapter. We can only wonder where our nation would be if fate had not handed the presidency to George W. Bush. Assuming 9/11 would have happened to both men as president, one has to wonder if we would be fighting two wars and getting ready to start a third in Iran, if the U.S. Supreme Court had chosen Al Gore. We will never know for sure, but I believe it highly unlikely.
Many of the political pundits are now speculating that Gore might or should jump into the presidential race after winning the Nobel Peace Prize. I hope he has sense enough not to run. The Democrats do not need their own version of Fred Thompson to muddy their waters. No, we need Al Gore to stay out of the race and continue to use his power and influence on the issue of global warming. We need a strong leader on this issue. Our survival on this planet may depend on it. Washington has this way of changing men and women with even the best of intentions and the best of ideas. Unlike our congress, Gore might just get something of lasting value accomplished without being bogged down by political compromise.
When I look at the accomplishments of former president Jimmy Carter and former vice president Al Gore since leaving office, I am astonished. I have to wonder what Dick Cheney and George W. Bush could ever possibly accomplish after they are out of office to match what these two men have done for our country and the world at large.
Perhaps Fate dealt Al Gore the better hand after all.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Monday, October 8, 2007
Grandpa Again!
As some of you may know, my oldest daughter and her husband are expecting their second child in April next year. That means that I will be a grandpa again (grandpa X 2) and Emma gets to be a big sister. It started me thinking about my own Grandpa on my mother’s side of the family. I never knew my other grandpa, as he passed away before I was born and my parents divorced when I was quite young.
There are many things I could say about my Grandpa Hembree, but the one thing that sticks out in my mind is that he was a man of few words. When our families would get together for holidays and other occasions, my grandfather would find a nice quiet corner and fade into the background.
He would take out his pipe and have a smoke. He never liked to be far from home and when he was ready to leave, it was always to check the old potbelly stove back at home. Even when a modern gas heater with a thermostat replaced the old coal-burning monstrosity...he had to go home and check it anyway. I never really felt comfortable trying to talk to my grandfather. He always seemed lost in his own thoughts far away from what was happening.
He liked watching the western, Gun Smoke, on television every Saturday night without fail. Then he listened to boxing on the radio sponsored by Gillette Razors. Grandpa also loved to fish. He and his next-door neighbor often went fishing after work on Friday nights. If I spent the night, I would rush outside the back porch the next morning to see what they had caught. I loved to watch the fish swimming in Grandma’s old washtub. Grandpa was fond of his little dog, Ginger. She slept under the front porch of the house and sometimes I would try to wiggle under there with her, but Grandpa would find a way to coax me out from under there so she could have some peace and quiet.
Once, when I was older, my mom and I stopped by for a visit. I found myself sitting on the front porch alone with my Grandpa Hembree as my mother and grandma talked inside the kitchen. I remember feeling awkward at first, wondering what to talk about with this man who rarely had something to say. I do not remember who started the conversation, but one thing led to another and before long, we were chatting away. Before I knew it, we were in Grandpa’s car going to see the new highway being built just outside of town. I am not sure why, but my grandfather and I really bonded that day. I saw a completely new side of him. He was suddenly this man with plenty to say and to my surprise, I had plenty to talk about as well. I will never forget that day as long as I live.
San Antonio, Texas is a long way from Des Moines, Iowa and the kind of family gatherings I had with my grandparents are not likely. My daughters, brother, sister and I are scattered all over the country these days. There are other grandpas and grandmas who live closer and visit Emma more often. There are times when I worry about being a stranger to my grandchildren, but I have to be content with e-mailed pictures and video clips that my daughter sends me on a regular basis (thank God for the internet) and the occasional phone calls and trips up north. My hope is that someday, I too, can have that wonderful bonding moment that I had with my Grandpa Hembree. I have so much to tell my grandkids.
Being a grandfather is an awesome responsibility. Who else is going to tell them stories, spoil them rotten, forget who broke the lamp when they were jumping on the couch and slip a few “pesos” into their little palms...but grandpa? It is the “Grandpa Code” of the West.
Hang in there, Emma. I’m coming soon with Alamo Crackers and stories about your mom when she was your age. We will also have to go over some things now that you are about to be a big sister, so don’t grow up too fast! I am working on some of my best material.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Gramps
There are many things I could say about my Grandpa Hembree, but the one thing that sticks out in my mind is that he was a man of few words. When our families would get together for holidays and other occasions, my grandfather would find a nice quiet corner and fade into the background.
He would take out his pipe and have a smoke. He never liked to be far from home and when he was ready to leave, it was always to check the old potbelly stove back at home. Even when a modern gas heater with a thermostat replaced the old coal-burning monstrosity...he had to go home and check it anyway. I never really felt comfortable trying to talk to my grandfather. He always seemed lost in his own thoughts far away from what was happening.
He liked watching the western, Gun Smoke, on television every Saturday night without fail. Then he listened to boxing on the radio sponsored by Gillette Razors. Grandpa also loved to fish. He and his next-door neighbor often went fishing after work on Friday nights. If I spent the night, I would rush outside the back porch the next morning to see what they had caught. I loved to watch the fish swimming in Grandma’s old washtub. Grandpa was fond of his little dog, Ginger. She slept under the front porch of the house and sometimes I would try to wiggle under there with her, but Grandpa would find a way to coax me out from under there so she could have some peace and quiet.
Once, when I was older, my mom and I stopped by for a visit. I found myself sitting on the front porch alone with my Grandpa Hembree as my mother and grandma talked inside the kitchen. I remember feeling awkward at first, wondering what to talk about with this man who rarely had something to say. I do not remember who started the conversation, but one thing led to another and before long, we were chatting away. Before I knew it, we were in Grandpa’s car going to see the new highway being built just outside of town. I am not sure why, but my grandfather and I really bonded that day. I saw a completely new side of him. He was suddenly this man with plenty to say and to my surprise, I had plenty to talk about as well. I will never forget that day as long as I live.
San Antonio, Texas is a long way from Des Moines, Iowa and the kind of family gatherings I had with my grandparents are not likely. My daughters, brother, sister and I are scattered all over the country these days. There are other grandpas and grandmas who live closer and visit Emma more often. There are times when I worry about being a stranger to my grandchildren, but I have to be content with e-mailed pictures and video clips that my daughter sends me on a regular basis (thank God for the internet) and the occasional phone calls and trips up north. My hope is that someday, I too, can have that wonderful bonding moment that I had with my Grandpa Hembree. I have so much to tell my grandkids.
Being a grandfather is an awesome responsibility. Who else is going to tell them stories, spoil them rotten, forget who broke the lamp when they were jumping on the couch and slip a few “pesos” into their little palms...but grandpa? It is the “Grandpa Code” of the West.
Hang in there, Emma. I’m coming soon with Alamo Crackers and stories about your mom when she was your age. We will also have to go over some things now that you are about to be a big sister, so don’t grow up too fast! I am working on some of my best material.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Gramps
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
To My Granddaughter Emma
Emma, I am your grandpa in San Antonio. You don’t know me that well because I live far away and I’ve only been to see you a few times since you were born, but believe me I think about you all the time. Your mom sends me pictures and video clips of you so I feel like I have been watching you grow into the “big girl” you say you are every chance you get these days. I am so old I even have pictures of your mom and Aunt Erin when they were about your age.
Emma, the world is a wonderful place, but it has its ups and downs. Each day gives us another chance at happiness and sadness. I wish I could say that my generation was leaving you a perfect world, but the truth is we made a bit of a mess of some things. We are leaving you with problems like global warming, worldwide terrorism, war, poverty and pollution. Each preceding generation helped create these problems to be sure, but my generation should have done more for yours.
My generation forgot a lot of things. We forgot that while Mother Nature is very forgiving, She has limits to the amount of abuse She can take. We forgot that we should love and respect one another and to treat others the way we would want to be treated ourselves. We forgot how to share. We forgot the joy of giving to those less fortunate than ourselves. Sometimes we got so busy with worldly things that we forgot how to laugh out loud. We forgot how good it is to stop and smell roses and watch the beauty of sunsets. We forgot how to be tolerant of others. So many times, we forgot how to seek the truth and be honest with ourselves.
What we leave your generation is our hope. We leave you with wonderful scientific advances that have led to marvelous discoveries in medicine and science. We leave you with possibilities for a brighter future on this planet. Will you find a way to deliver affordable healthcare to everyone who needs it? Will you find a way to end poverty and feed the hungry? Will you find a way to end our thoughtless pollution of the planet and reverse our global warming? Will you find a way to bring peace, justice and tolerance to a world so tired of war and terrorism? Soon it will be your turn to change the world and try to make it into a better place and I wish you all the best.
The challenge to your generation will be to undo our mistakes, find solutions and accomplish what we could not do during our time. Your challenge will be to find a way to bring more peace, joy and love into a starving world. I challenge you to wage peace, not war in a world too quick to go to war, too quick to use force to resolve complex problems. I challenge you to find long lasting and meaningful solutions, not quick fixes. I challenge you to laugh often, love with an open heart and cherish your friends and family. Be the best Emma you can be.
God Bless you!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Gramps
Emma, the world is a wonderful place, but it has its ups and downs. Each day gives us another chance at happiness and sadness. I wish I could say that my generation was leaving you a perfect world, but the truth is we made a bit of a mess of some things. We are leaving you with problems like global warming, worldwide terrorism, war, poverty and pollution. Each preceding generation helped create these problems to be sure, but my generation should have done more for yours.
My generation forgot a lot of things. We forgot that while Mother Nature is very forgiving, She has limits to the amount of abuse She can take. We forgot that we should love and respect one another and to treat others the way we would want to be treated ourselves. We forgot how to share. We forgot the joy of giving to those less fortunate than ourselves. Sometimes we got so busy with worldly things that we forgot how to laugh out loud. We forgot how good it is to stop and smell roses and watch the beauty of sunsets. We forgot how to be tolerant of others. So many times, we forgot how to seek the truth and be honest with ourselves.
What we leave your generation is our hope. We leave you with wonderful scientific advances that have led to marvelous discoveries in medicine and science. We leave you with possibilities for a brighter future on this planet. Will you find a way to deliver affordable healthcare to everyone who needs it? Will you find a way to end poverty and feed the hungry? Will you find a way to end our thoughtless pollution of the planet and reverse our global warming? Will you find a way to bring peace, justice and tolerance to a world so tired of war and terrorism? Soon it will be your turn to change the world and try to make it into a better place and I wish you all the best.
The challenge to your generation will be to undo our mistakes, find solutions and accomplish what we could not do during our time. Your challenge will be to find a way to bring more peace, joy and love into a starving world. I challenge you to wage peace, not war in a world too quick to go to war, too quick to use force to resolve complex problems. I challenge you to find long lasting and meaningful solutions, not quick fixes. I challenge you to laugh often, love with an open heart and cherish your friends and family. Be the best Emma you can be.
God Bless you!
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Gramps
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Take a Hike!
Lisa and I went hiking in a city park on the north side of town in an area on the edge of the Texas Hill Country. The park, located on the side of a wooded hill, had several interconnecting trails with different degrees of steepness and difficulty from smooth pavement to steep rocky climbs. We stayed on the main trail that had a nice mix of both. The day was sunny and warm, but without the oppressive humidity we have had most of this summer. It was a great day for a hike, even though we both had too many things to do back at the house.
I brought my walking stick and we each carried a bottle of water. We left our lunch in a cooler back at the car for later. It felt good to start out on the wooded trails. Lisa and I used to hike at Starved Rock State Park back in Illinois before our move to Texas. We had been hoping to find another place to walk and hike in nature down here. As the trail grew steeper and rockier, we could catch glimpses of the surrounding hills through the trees. The scenery was just beautiful. We could hear birds calling in the trees overhead. The traffic noise from I-10 had faded into a strange peaceful quiet.
I do not think there is anything that can connect us to nature in such a primal way unless it is a walk along a deserted beach as ocean waves cash on shore with seagulls crying overhead. Being alone and immersed in nature allows us to shut out the noise and clatter of our modern world with its loud cell phone conversations and screaming children in strollers and replace it with the rustle of leaves and the sounds of bees.
At the end of our walk, Lisa and I found a picnic table in the shade and enjoyed our lunch. There was a cool breeze under the trees. We knew that we had finally found a place that could thankfully connect us to that peace and quiet only found in nature. So when life gets to be too much...go take a hike! We did.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
I brought my walking stick and we each carried a bottle of water. We left our lunch in a cooler back at the car for later. It felt good to start out on the wooded trails. Lisa and I used to hike at Starved Rock State Park back in Illinois before our move to Texas. We had been hoping to find another place to walk and hike in nature down here. As the trail grew steeper and rockier, we could catch glimpses of the surrounding hills through the trees. The scenery was just beautiful. We could hear birds calling in the trees overhead. The traffic noise from I-10 had faded into a strange peaceful quiet.
I do not think there is anything that can connect us to nature in such a primal way unless it is a walk along a deserted beach as ocean waves cash on shore with seagulls crying overhead. Being alone and immersed in nature allows us to shut out the noise and clatter of our modern world with its loud cell phone conversations and screaming children in strollers and replace it with the rustle of leaves and the sounds of bees.
At the end of our walk, Lisa and I found a picnic table in the shade and enjoyed our lunch. There was a cool breeze under the trees. We knew that we had finally found a place that could thankfully connect us to that peace and quiet only found in nature. So when life gets to be too much...go take a hike! We did.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Remembering Our Blessings
I was heading into work the other morning on the number 32 bus. It was a typical morning commute. I felt the bus lurch at every start and stop along the way. The voices on the bus were a mix of Spanish and English. Many of the riders were high school students heading to class. The air conditioning felt good that morning. It was already hot and humid outside. I normally pass the 18 minutes it takes to reach downtown San Antonio by reading the paper or my Smithsonian Magazine. It was one of those mornings when my glasses were sure to fog up upon leaving the bus.
When I exit the bus at Navarro and Commerce, it is only a short, three-block walk to the Alamo. That morning I decided to walk a different way. It took me up a street that I normally bypass. As I walked up this street, I glanced to my left and saw a homeless woman lying on her side asleep. She was behind a pillar, near the entrance to a building. She looked old and frail. The woman appeared to be clutching what I assumed were her worldly possessions, tucked into her stained blouse. I passed silently and continued on my way, but her image was haunting me. I offered a prayer for her safety and asked that her needs be met for this day.
I see the homeless in San Antonio from time to time. I see them on the streets and at my bus stops and occasionally passing through the Alamo. Each encounter makes me feel sad, like I should be able to do something for them, but then, selfishly, I feel gratitude that I have a home. I have a place to sleep at night. I cannot even begin to imagine living on the streets alone, being old with no place to call home.
In our “land of plenty,” it just seems wrong that anyone should be homeless, but it happens. Too many families are just one paycheck, one lost job or one foreclosure away from a life on the street. I have truly been blessed throughout my life. Yes, there have been hard times, but I have always had clothes on my back, a roof over my head and enough to eat. I have always had family and friends.
Perhaps God needs to help us remember our many blessings now and then.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
When I exit the bus at Navarro and Commerce, it is only a short, three-block walk to the Alamo. That morning I decided to walk a different way. It took me up a street that I normally bypass. As I walked up this street, I glanced to my left and saw a homeless woman lying on her side asleep. She was behind a pillar, near the entrance to a building. She looked old and frail. The woman appeared to be clutching what I assumed were her worldly possessions, tucked into her stained blouse. I passed silently and continued on my way, but her image was haunting me. I offered a prayer for her safety and asked that her needs be met for this day.
I see the homeless in San Antonio from time to time. I see them on the streets and at my bus stops and occasionally passing through the Alamo. Each encounter makes me feel sad, like I should be able to do something for them, but then, selfishly, I feel gratitude that I have a home. I have a place to sleep at night. I cannot even begin to imagine living on the streets alone, being old with no place to call home.
In our “land of plenty,” it just seems wrong that anyone should be homeless, but it happens. Too many families are just one paycheck, one lost job or one foreclosure away from a life on the street. I have truly been blessed throughout my life. Yes, there have been hard times, but I have always had clothes on my back, a roof over my head and enough to eat. I have always had family and friends.
Perhaps God needs to help us remember our many blessings now and then.
FOOD for THOUGHT...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
