Has there ever been a year that you wish you had just skipped? Well, for sure 2012 is one for the books for me and mine.
Hubby had not ever fully recovered from heart valve surgery back in 2008 ... the same year that I found myself in a Rehab Center having had my replaced hip removed and needing to rid myself of an infection that had settled in.
For the better part of 2012 my hubby's health deteriorated to the point where he weighed a mere 104 lbs. and was pretty much confined to home. I, on the other hand, had suffered a stress fracture in my lower back that made it necessary for me to take to the wheelchair for 8 weeks ... still trying to take care of hubby's needs.
In early October it was necessary for hubby to be hospitalized and then admitted to a rehab center where we lost him on October 19.
The year has been a bummer.
Hubby is no longer in pain ... he is in a much better place. He is missed constantly.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Mingo High School - Class of 1951
Oh my gosh ... class of 1951??? That means in 2011 I will have been out of school for sixty - 60 - years. Geesh.
Our class had a total of 63 graduates, had the Ox-Eye Daisy as its class flower (ARGH), and the class motto was "What we are to be, we are becoming". Of course we hated the flower and had absolutely no clue with regard to what the motto was saying. But now, nearly 60 years later, I know.
Of the original 63 members, I believe about 8 or 9 are deceased. A couple of them were good friends of mine and actually lived in the SW portion of Ohio at the time of their deaths. One of cancer, and the other in an automobile accident. My sister in law who graduated with me died in 1994 ... too young to leave us.
Over the past 60 years lots has happened in my home town. The steel mill that was prospering when I left there back in 1956 is no longer in operation. That means that the property owners have lost quite a bit of their income and the town has begun to go downhill. Speaking of hills, my home town actually consists of four hills and two valleys. One valley was the main street that ran parallel to the steel mill separated by the downtown businesses. Learning to drive in this terrain was a real challenge.
The high school that I graduated from no longer exists. As with so many other school districts in the state, it was consolidated with another school and the district renamed. So were I to travel back home to try to visit my old classroom(s), I'd not be able to. I think the building is still there. Isn't that sad?
I've decided to try to track down as many of the surviving members of the Class of 1951 ... just to say hello and maybe share some memories. I don't know how successful I'll be, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
So far I'm in contact with only one - my birthday twin who lives in Texas.
Our class had a total of 63 graduates, had the Ox-Eye Daisy as its class flower (ARGH), and the class motto was "What we are to be, we are becoming". Of course we hated the flower and had absolutely no clue with regard to what the motto was saying. But now, nearly 60 years later, I know.
Of the original 63 members, I believe about 8 or 9 are deceased. A couple of them were good friends of mine and actually lived in the SW portion of Ohio at the time of their deaths. One of cancer, and the other in an automobile accident. My sister in law who graduated with me died in 1994 ... too young to leave us.
Over the past 60 years lots has happened in my home town. The steel mill that was prospering when I left there back in 1956 is no longer in operation. That means that the property owners have lost quite a bit of their income and the town has begun to go downhill. Speaking of hills, my home town actually consists of four hills and two valleys. One valley was the main street that ran parallel to the steel mill separated by the downtown businesses. Learning to drive in this terrain was a real challenge.
The high school that I graduated from no longer exists. As with so many other school districts in the state, it was consolidated with another school and the district renamed. So were I to travel back home to try to visit my old classroom(s), I'd not be able to. I think the building is still there. Isn't that sad?
I've decided to try to track down as many of the surviving members of the Class of 1951 ... just to say hello and maybe share some memories. I don't know how successful I'll be, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
So far I'm in contact with only one - my birthday twin who lives in Texas.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
September 11 - I'm angry!
Maybe this is inappropriate, today of all days ... but I am angry!
I'm angry that this act of terrorism happened here in the USA. No advance warning ... no ransom notes to the press prior to the attack. No hint to this nation that this was about to happen.
What could we have done if we were forewarned? Hard to tell.
Were our defenses spread too thin? Too many of our efforts going overseas where, I'm sorry, the terrorism started. We may have even trained some of the dastardly individuals who executed this horrendous crime.
Should we commemorate the day by flying the flag on the outside of our homes and businesses? Good question. I would suggest flying it with a black ribbon attached to the top of the pole, and if possible, flying it at half mast.
Anger is NOT good for the soul. I know that. The lump that is in my throat and the tears that are stinging my eyes as I write this are not good for the heart, mind and body. But it is all there .. the anger, the lump, the tears.
Can I forgive? We are told that we should forgive in order to rise above it.
Can I forget? Never.
I'm angry that this act of terrorism happened here in the USA. No advance warning ... no ransom notes to the press prior to the attack. No hint to this nation that this was about to happen.
What could we have done if we were forewarned? Hard to tell.
Were our defenses spread too thin? Too many of our efforts going overseas where, I'm sorry, the terrorism started. We may have even trained some of the dastardly individuals who executed this horrendous crime.
Should we commemorate the day by flying the flag on the outside of our homes and businesses? Good question. I would suggest flying it with a black ribbon attached to the top of the pole, and if possible, flying it at half mast.
Anger is NOT good for the soul. I know that. The lump that is in my throat and the tears that are stinging my eyes as I write this are not good for the heart, mind and body. But it is all there .. the anger, the lump, the tears.
Can I forgive? We are told that we should forgive in order to rise above it.
Can I forget? Never.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Happy Birthday Little Brother
I miss my little brother Georgie Porgie. I was less than four years old when he came along to make our family complete. Big brother Billy was 2 years and 9 months older than I, so that makes me the middle child - a girl,no less.
Georgie was a beautiful little boy with big blue eyes and blonde hair. My mom would put him in his playpen on the front porch during the summer and put the task to Billy and me to 'watch the baby'. Oh great! We had other things to do and places to go to play. We did not want to 'watch the baby'. So we would pick dandelions and bring them up for him to smell, coaxing him to 'look at the pretty flowers, Georgie ... smell them', knowing full well that he would start to gag - and we would of course call mom because Georgie was gagging. We would get off the hook and Georgie would be safe and sound in his crib inside the house.
Georgie was always referred to as 'the baby' by my mom - we would laugh about it, but it didn't make any difference.
Georgie became a man and married and I no longer called him 'Georgie' ... he was George. He coached baseball little league in our home town. An avid fan of the Pittsburgh Pirates, he could tell you anything you wanted to know not only about the Pirates, but about any of the other teams in the league. His collection of baseball cards was horrendous when he was still living at home with my mom. A lot of them were lost along the way, but he could still give you any information you asked about.
George and I were separated by over 200 miles for lots of years since I moved away from home back in 1956. When I would travel home I would see him and my brother Bill, but the bulk of my time was spent with my mom. I wish now I had traveled back home more often - I wish I had spent more adult time with George and his family.
About 3 years before his death in 2005, we re-established the line of communication through the internet - email gave me back close contact with him and his family. Several times a week I'd get a short message from him which would be answered with an epistle that was really long, sharing information about my family and life.
George died in September of 2005 - and I miss him. Happy Birthday to 'the baby' - Georgie Porgie.
Georgie was a beautiful little boy with big blue eyes and blonde hair. My mom would put him in his playpen on the front porch during the summer and put the task to Billy and me to 'watch the baby'. Oh great! We had other things to do and places to go to play. We did not want to 'watch the baby'. So we would pick dandelions and bring them up for him to smell, coaxing him to 'look at the pretty flowers, Georgie ... smell them', knowing full well that he would start to gag - and we would of course call mom because Georgie was gagging. We would get off the hook and Georgie would be safe and sound in his crib inside the house.
Georgie was always referred to as 'the baby' by my mom - we would laugh about it, but it didn't make any difference.
Georgie became a man and married and I no longer called him 'Georgie' ... he was George. He coached baseball little league in our home town. An avid fan of the Pittsburgh Pirates, he could tell you anything you wanted to know not only about the Pirates, but about any of the other teams in the league. His collection of baseball cards was horrendous when he was still living at home with my mom. A lot of them were lost along the way, but he could still give you any information you asked about.
George and I were separated by over 200 miles for lots of years since I moved away from home back in 1956. When I would travel home I would see him and my brother Bill, but the bulk of my time was spent with my mom. I wish now I had traveled back home more often - I wish I had spent more adult time with George and his family.
About 3 years before his death in 2005, we re-established the line of communication through the internet - email gave me back close contact with him and his family. Several times a week I'd get a short message from him which would be answered with an epistle that was really long, sharing information about my family and life.
George died in September of 2005 - and I miss him. Happy Birthday to 'the baby' - Georgie Porgie.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Fall is just around the corner ...
If I were to have to choose my favorite time of the year, I would have to say it is FALL!!!
Sleeping with the bedroom windows open to enjoy the freshness of outside air versus the flow of the airconditioner ...
Being able to breathe when you go from the indoors to the outdoors ...
Watching the shadows as they lengthen almost daily across the vastness of our yard ...
Checking each morning to see just how cool it did get overnight and into the early dawn ...
Seeing the gradual changes in the colors of the leaves on our many Pennsylvania Maples ...
Keeping an eye out for the school buses when I'm driving the county roads ...
Waiting for that first good frost so that I know Fall is finally officially here.
Having had a sun stroke in my early twenties at a swim party, I know the symptoms of impending heat exhaustion and just plain don't wander out into the world when the heat and humidty dictate problems. It's another case of BTDT, and don't want to do it again.
Winter months bring the icy conditions that I must avoid completely less I slip and fall. This could be disasterous in my case right now, but has always been an issue when I ventured out even as a child.
Spring is lovely when you can watch the bleak landscape start to brighten up and the weather is more bearable (albeit unpredictable). I watch for the first daffodil to sprout out of the ground. I look for the buds on the trees that turn them this kind of fuzzy mauve just prior to breaking out into the beautiful greens.
But FALL, ah Fall ... I decorate for Halloween. My front porch is ablaze with autumn leaves and scarecrows and colored lights on my small grapevine tree. This is probably the only time during the year that I go all out. The autumn colors are my favorite.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
White Shadow
Several years ago there was a TV series called 'White Shadow' and I believe it was about a basketball coach - but with my memory, it could have been football, etc.
This is not about the coach.
Maybe 15 years ago when we our Border Collie/English Sheep dog (Boots) started showing her age and didn't have as much bounce to the ounce, I decided to start looking for a playmate for her. My search led me to a local rescuer of abandoned dogs and cats and we visited her to see a young female Eskie that had been left behind by her family and was running the streets frightened and alone. When we met 'Snowflake' she had been bathed and brushed and presented herself with much poise. My first impression was 'I don't want a white dog' ... second comment 'I don't want a white long-haired dog'. This was when she very quietly came over to me, looked at me with the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen and gave me a very soft kiss on my hand. WOW ... don't do that to me. I stayed firm. I walked out of there without her.
Hubby & I talked about her on the way home, but I would not commit. The next day while I was at work, hubby pulled up out in the parking lot and walked into my office with this beautiful white long-haired four-legged beauty on a lead. Yep ... she was ours.
First thing we did was to try to come up with a new name ... Snowflake just wasn't going to do.
After watching her follow hubby around the house for a day or so, I commented that she was just like a shadow ... a White Shadow ... and that name stuck. She became 'Shadow' ... Shad for short.
We enjoyed several years of delight from this beauty who by the way had made Boots' last year a joy. They shared a food bowl, they even shared the cave behind the rocker, one wrapped around the lamp post and the other close beside her.
A few years after Boots was gone, I noticed that Shadow didn't often react to loud noises - she just slept on. It wasn't long before I realized that she was deaf, probably a result of the noise from the trucks that would whiz by her in the streets and the honking horns of cars trying to avoid her. We soon developed a method of communication that included eye contact and hand signals. She was truly loved.
I have a picture in a pewter frame given me by the Veterinarian that takes care of all our 'babies' that has 'Pick of the Litter' engraved on it and the note that accompanied it attached. This sits along side the pictures of the other loved ones of my family.
For some people pets just don't fit into their lives. For us, we have always had at least one (but mostly two). Pets are forgiving, they give unconditional love when they receive it and sometimes even when they don't receive it. People perhaps should learn from the devotion shared between pets and their families.
This is not about the coach.
Maybe 15 years ago when we our Border Collie/English Sheep dog (Boots) started showing her age and didn't have as much bounce to the ounce, I decided to start looking for a playmate for her. My search led me to a local rescuer of abandoned dogs and cats and we visited her to see a young female Eskie that had been left behind by her family and was running the streets frightened and alone. When we met 'Snowflake' she had been bathed and brushed and presented herself with much poise. My first impression was 'I don't want a white dog' ... second comment 'I don't want a white long-haired dog'. This was when she very quietly came over to me, looked at me with the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen and gave me a very soft kiss on my hand. WOW ... don't do that to me. I stayed firm. I walked out of there without her.
Hubby & I talked about her on the way home, but I would not commit. The next day while I was at work, hubby pulled up out in the parking lot and walked into my office with this beautiful white long-haired four-legged beauty on a lead. Yep ... she was ours.
First thing we did was to try to come up with a new name ... Snowflake just wasn't going to do.
After watching her follow hubby around the house for a day or so, I commented that she was just like a shadow ... a White Shadow ... and that name stuck. She became 'Shadow' ... Shad for short.
We enjoyed several years of delight from this beauty who by the way had made Boots' last year a joy. They shared a food bowl, they even shared the cave behind the rocker, one wrapped around the lamp post and the other close beside her.
A few years after Boots was gone, I noticed that Shadow didn't often react to loud noises - she just slept on. It wasn't long before I realized that she was deaf, probably a result of the noise from the trucks that would whiz by her in the streets and the honking horns of cars trying to avoid her. We soon developed a method of communication that included eye contact and hand signals. She was truly loved.
I have a picture in a pewter frame given me by the Veterinarian that takes care of all our 'babies' that has 'Pick of the Litter' engraved on it and the note that accompanied it attached. This sits along side the pictures of the other loved ones of my family.
For some people pets just don't fit into their lives. For us, we have always had at least one (but mostly two). Pets are forgiving, they give unconditional love when they receive it and sometimes even when they don't receive it. People perhaps should learn from the devotion shared between pets and their families.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
How Many Times Do I Gotta Learn to Walk?
This must really sound dumb ... but it's something that I keep count of due to my unusual life.
I first learned to walk about the age of 12-13 months, according to my Mom.
Then at age 6, I fell victim to a bone disease that put me in a childrens' hospital over 150 miles from my home and family and resulted in me having to learn to walk all over again.
The third 'restart' happened about 4-5 years later when I underwent corrective surgery on my other knee, ending up with crutches etc.
In 1990, the after effects of the original bone situation called for a total hip replacement and yep, that walker and cane gave me the confidence to once again, learn to walk.
Who ever would have thought that after 64 years that old demon would take over my life again! It did, and I ended up undergoing salvage hip surgery in January of 2009 and I'm still in the process of 'learning to walk again' . Oh I can get around with my quad-prong cane, but not without some difficulty.
For someone who has learned to be independent in spite of the inconveniences that have been thrown her way, this is difficult for me to take. I want to be able to get out of chair and step away on my own.
Although my patience is waning, my hopes are still high.
I first learned to walk about the age of 12-13 months, according to my Mom.
Then at age 6, I fell victim to a bone disease that put me in a childrens' hospital over 150 miles from my home and family and resulted in me having to learn to walk all over again.
The third 'restart' happened about 4-5 years later when I underwent corrective surgery on my other knee, ending up with crutches etc.
In 1990, the after effects of the original bone situation called for a total hip replacement and yep, that walker and cane gave me the confidence to once again, learn to walk.
Who ever would have thought that after 64 years that old demon would take over my life again! It did, and I ended up undergoing salvage hip surgery in January of 2009 and I'm still in the process of 'learning to walk again' . Oh I can get around with my quad-prong cane, but not without some difficulty.
For someone who has learned to be independent in spite of the inconveniences that have been thrown her way, this is difficult for me to take. I want to be able to get out of chair and step away on my own.
Although my patience is waning, my hopes are still high.
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