Memorial Day

I received the following email from a friend who has served as President of the Board of Hospice of the Western Reserve (Cleveland, Ohio), and who continues to be very involved in the organization, including serving on the Board. I thought his reflections were worth sharing.

"At 4:00 PM this afternoon, Hospice of the Western Reserve had a “pinning” ceremony at the David A Simpson Hospice House.

The pinning is a part of a Natonal initiative called Peaceful and Proud.

Oscar, a Tuskegee Airman, was given a hospice pin in recognition of his service to his country.

Oscar’s wife is a patient and she was too ill to come to the ceremony, but his children and grandchildren were there.

Oscar was first a Marine, but his feet got flat when he had to carry a shot down pilot through a battle.

He did not know until later that the pilot had been his high school physics teacher.

Since he could no longer be a Marine, he transferred to the Aircorp.

He said his group of fighters, “never lost a bomber.”

He flew 20,000 hours and twice flew across Russia undetected.

The ceremony started a few years ago when Hospice, as well as others, discovered that the WWII vets were beginning to tell their stories as they reached their death beds.

1000 WWII vets are now dying every day.

The pinning is a simple ceremony to express our thanks.

At a ceremony at Parmatown two years ago, several vets were being recognized.

A man was anxiously pacing in the background and as the ceremony was concluding, he came up with a little chip on his shoulder and said that it is “too bad the ceremony is only for WWII vets.”

He continued, “a lot of good people died in Vietnam and all the vets that returned got was yelled and spit at.”

The Hospice people immediately told him the program was for all service people of every branch and every conflict.

They stayed and presented this man with a pin, a speech of thanks and the crowd of watchers continued to grow as he stood there with tears streaming down his cheeks.

He received an extended ovation.

He told the presenters that this was the first thanks he had received, after 40 years."

Guinness and His Mini-Me

I looked down at my dog, sleeping at my feet while I watched the Heat/Celtics game, (sigh), and had to laugh. He was sleeping on the golf club cover my friend Fern had given me because it resembled Guinness.

Guinness, our Wheaten Terrier, is going to be 13 years old next month. I have been observing his aging process with great interest, and of course, sadness. The evening walks are very short now and I no longer have a companion to drag me around the neighborhood. He can no longer hop into the car, but must instead be lifted up and placed. Getting out is becoming equally difficult and sometimes, in his haste, he ends up tumbling out. I am sure it hurts. He spends most of his time snoozing. Getting up and laying down seem to be done with forethought and his joints are obviously stiff. He cannot lift his leg very high so he pees on himself and has to be washed off like a baby.

Because he has developed a seizure disorder, he is on Phenobarbital 24/7. In fact, I am convinced he is an addict as he seems to know when the doses are due and gets quite excited for his next fix. At first, he was so loopy he could hardly walk straight but he seems to be on a mellow high now. I believe that he also has the aging disorder, "sundowners", that occurs with senile dementia in humans because when it gets dark, he gets restless and begins a circular pace around the coffee table until I sit by him and he settles. My brother does a great imitation of the lower jaw tremor that Guinness has developed, and which becomes very pronounced near food or anything else he considers exciting. His little bottom teeth jut out and shiver. I just hope we don't have a hurricane this fall because I will have to wrap his mouth with duct tape to prevent serious injury.

Food itself has become a real dilemma. Guinness seems to be starved all of the time, yet his weight is the same and there are no abnormalities in his blood work that would indicate any underlying problem. He has reverted to being a bad puppy and gets into the trash, licks the suntan lotion off of my legs, and eats the fish food off of the surface of the pond when Harry feeds the goldfish. I worry a fish will go along also in his intensity. He has almost been knocked unconscious by the dishwasher and refrigerator doors because the second they are open, he is half inside looking for any errant morsel and they can be shut before we realize where he is. My kitchen floor gets a complete wash frequently, and not by me. I have to wash it after he does.

Guinness's need to be close has increased to the point that I now have three legs and seem to be stumbling over the extra one quite often. I just hope I am not at the top of the stairs during one of these tripping episodes. Guinness was always a slut for attention, but fortunately now he is not jumping up, just living under us. He is a little more civilized, finally.

We got Guinness from a breeder in Nebraska and he was flown in a crate to us. I have no guilt that I did not "rescue" a dog. I knew what I wanted, Sam viewed the videotape of the litter and picked the runt. His breed is frisky, eternally puppy like, and shed free. I acted offended for years when the kids implied that he was dumb, but secretly I knew his charms did not lay in his intellect, but in his ability to make me laugh. He would tear through our Cleveland house so fast that he could not stop on the hardwood floors and almost knocked himself unconscious. When he jumped the invisible fence and ran away from home years ago (dogs will not cross back over them), and was missing for three days, I was so upset and riddled with guilt that I had forgotten to put his collar back on after a bath. I posted fliers, ran an ad and lo and behold, I saw an ad in the paper for a found "poodle". Wrong breed but right dog. A call verified that he had been picked up near my home on our normal walking route by a greyhound rescue person. Guinness spent three days pampered in a kennel surrounded by greyhounds. I will never forget that when I picked him up and he was spinning and jumping in excitement, all of the other dogs in the kennel (greyhounds) were calmly lying about looking at me like they were saying "thank god you have come to get this pest out of here." He never had a calm bone in his body until this past year or so.

Guinness was also "skunked" numerous times in our old neighborhood. Not one to learn the first time! (The kids were right). I would be in bed with the screens open to the cool night air and suddenly smell the signs. Dreading the results, I would open the front door and try to grab him before he could run in the house and all around every room as we chased him in the middle of the night to get him in the shower for a treatment. The house would smell for days.

Guinness may be needier now. And, he may be "taking" more than he is "giving." But all I have to do is look down and see him with his "mini-me" plopped on his head, and I laugh, and it is worthwhile.

What's In A Name

This particular orchid is called Psychopsis. I think if you look closely at it, you will understand why. In the garden, it grows at the top of a tall stalk and seems to quiver and shake in the wind, as though it has its own little anxiety disorder.

This encyclia cochleata is commonly known as the "cockleshell" orchid. It looks like a clam shell with legs.

This one is an encyclia Renee Marquesa, but I call it Jimmy Durante. It is one of my favorites. Look at that proboscis looking labellum. I wonder what exotic looking insect is attracted to it somewhere in the wild.

The name of this orchid has no bearing on its looks. I think it is named "Everglades", but what fascinates me about this one is not only is it over 5 feet tall, but also that the flowers are perfectly aligned on each stalk on both the front and back. You can view it from either side. Perhaps it should be called the mirror orchid. I just love it's yearly display which lasts for perhaps a month.

On a Lighter Note

After a day of fishing, the clean up is a real pain. You are hot, sunburned and tired. But, you still have to clean the boat, clean the gear, clean the fish AND clean yourself since seriously, you are super disgusting. But the dockside entertainment lightens the load. The minute the fish cleaning begins, the birds start arriving. Seagulls fly around shrieking "mine, mine, mine" and gorgeous egrets jockey for position with pelicans to receive tidbits. I thought Harry was awfully gassy until I realized that the egret, when annoyed, makes the loudest farting sound ever! I tried a couple of times to grab one of those long tail feathers for our fly tying friend Pete, but no luck. I never tire of how new and fresh experiences "down here" are compared to what I have known the first part of my life.

What's Right vs My Right

I think blogging is like therapy, except that is is totally the opposite of private. It is a soapbox but also a venue for discussion. I want feedback because I hope to continue to grow and improve as I age and not shrink, become narrow minded and brittle. I think about people that I encounter in my daily life, and those that I enjoy spending time with are the ones that can laugh at themselves and the absurdity of life, are accepting, and open minded. Throw in treating their fellow brethren kindly, also, and they rank right up there in my view. Complaining endlessly is a real turn-off to me. I love the glass half-full analogy as it applies to people. I know the Pollyana in me annoys the hell out of some folks, and I try to tone it down, but if we don't look at the bright side of all situations, we will go mad. The world is too cruel. I would walk around in a perpetual state of depression and doom if I wasn't able to see the glory in the sunset, the beauty in the nature around me, the humor of the egret sitting on the side of my pond waiting to eat my goldfish, or the absolute joy in the video I just received of my naked grandchildren playing the drums on all the pots and pans in the kitchen with wild abandon.

This ramble may not make sense other that I struggle with the issue of doing the right thing all of the time. I want to be a good person, a good friend, a good employer, a good citizen of the world and a good neighbor. If I am being rigid, judgemental, unaccepting or controversial, I want to know. I want to be able to analyze and make the decision that is right. I want to be assertive but not overbearing. I want to learn, to grow and to be better. It is hard!

My current dilemma with a neighbor has made think me hard about "rights." The family that lives diagonally across our canal has a very large cage full of parrots. They obtained them several months ago, pull the cage out from under their house where they have a large recreational area set up and the birds sit outside during the daytime. They squawk and screech off and on during the day. It is not a pleasant sound and for me; it is as annoying as a fingernail scratching a chalkboard. It grates on my nerves and I can often hear them through our windows even when the house is closed up with the AC on. So, being outside make it even more difficult for me. I wrote a note to them in the beginning and mentioned that the sound carries across the canal and is disturbing. No response. Harry then called them, and again, and again. Their answers were "well, we pay taxes" (hey, so do I so what the heck does that mean) and later, "do you want to buy them" (indicating to me they are getting fed up also) but other than pull the birds under the house which didn't really change a thing, there was no resolution. I called the Animal Shelter for their advise since this is not the first time we have had a problem with birds in the neighborhood, and they asked me to come file a complaint. So I did. And the Animal Shelter personnel visited the neighbors. And nothing has changed.

So, now what? I keep thinking about my right to peace and quiet and their right to have pets. I think, should I become more tolerant or should they become more considerate? I have placed a judgement on them. I see them as not caring about their neighbors and they may see me as rigid and inflexible. What is right? What is my right? What is their right? What is the right thing to do next? Should I file a complaint with the city? I haven't' figure it out yet, but I do know that the bigger disappointment in this is that as fellow human beings, we could not come to a solution. Isn't this a minuscule scale version of the what is happening all over the world?

Just Plain Low Life

Theft is a huge problem in business, and in the hotel business especially. When Harry and his family owned the hotel in California, I was shocked at the numbers of loss - food from the restaurants, booze from the bar, silverware - and that was just employee theft. Add what guests stash away and you are talking serious money.

At the motel, of course, we have a much smaller scale and a staff that I would trust my grandchildren with. But, guests do steal and it always makes me ponder the state of humanity. Guests will leave behind a lesser quality towel that they have stolen from another property and take ours. Or, if they have traveled with a pillow in a car, they replace their pillow with ours. As if we wouldn't notice when the case is removed and we discover a gross, filthy lump. (How people must live at home is another story.) Just taking towels, using washclothes to clean their cars, removing even blankets, ice buckets, etc. is normal. Fortunately, all of the baggage restrictions on airlines helps because no one wants to lug too much home anymore. But yesterday, I really saw a new low when the housekeeper reported the wastepaper basket missing and even the batteries from the fan and tv remotes. Come on folks! You pay for a room to sleep in which does not include the contents. We even had someone try to take the flat screen TV off of the wall. Duh! Did they think we wouldn't notice it missing??

The Banana Room

The word that Sam used the most through his adolescence was "banana." I don't know why, actually, but it was the answer to many questions, and comments such as "you're a banana" popped out of his mouth. I think if was an avoidance technique and as annoying as when a kid repeats what you say back to you. When we used to go back and forth to the Keys, before moving here, we decorated a downstairs room for Sam and I made this sign. Since Sam has moved into the bigger apartment downstairs, the "Banana Room" is often used for guests who want their own space and privacy. It has all of the amenities, minus a stove. But since I do the cooking around here, no one is complaining.

March hosted an array of guests. First, Matt and his boss came for a long weekend of fishing. In exchange for a plane ticket to paradise, Matt played captain again. Oh, he just hates that. So much that he never stops grinning. We had a very nice visit and three great weather days. The catching wasn't as great as usual but the fishing was.

After Matt's visit, my brother Tom Nord, arrived for his annual trek south. We love having him here and he, Harry and Sam just seem to find endless puttering tasks. I go about my usual routines and leave the boys behind because their conversation has little interest to me. I mean, how can you talk cars for ten days straight? Tom purchased a Saab convertible in Orlando, brought it here and with a very small investment in parts, fixed it to resell for a tidy profit. During Tom's visit, Sam's best friend Susan and two girlfriends arrived for OSU's spring break. Full house and lots of fun.

Now everyone has gone and we are somewhat back to normal. Harry finished yet another idea of mine - a small water lily pond where the sewer installers trashed the front landscaping. Although it needs a plant, and some time to grow mossy, the effort was fantastic. I like this arrangement! I suggest the creation and he does the labor!

So, the "Banana Room" is empty until our next company arrives. In the meantime, I have some ideas for remodeling it also...