As I lay dying (or so I thought)

Yesterday I thought I was entering my final illness, persistent cramping diarrhea. The pain was worse than childbirth (except for the actual birthing). The effects of dehydration were debilitating, as you can imagine. My sister and my nephew had both commented on bellyaches, so I thought there's probably just something going around, and it was nothing major.

As the day wore on, I changed my mind about that. If there had been gas in our car I would have had my husband take me to the hospital, even though I have no insurance and every test, every procedure, every help would have to be paid for by us. At that point (about 3 in the afternoon) even the IV for dehydration would have been worth the cost. Because I was afraid to drink anything, even warm water.

Instead, I went to bed.
While in the bed, I reviewed my life. It's the first time I ever did that when I wasn't contemplating suicide, so it was a novel experience in its way. The results of the review were more satisfactory this way, I have to admit, but there were some things not so satisfactory.
Of course.

I wished I had played more with my girls when they were young. More walks, more pushing on swings, more silly talk, more books read together, more time. Just more time to enjoy them. But pushing swings is boring after the first couple of shoves to get them going, and neither of my daughters had any great interest in books when they were young. We did walk, from time to time, and the walks nearly always had that 'special' air. I suppose that's a good thing. The regret over not taking enough walks is partly because it indicates a lack of special times, so if the times it happened were special -- well, there's just a balance there, so that one is probably okay.
I hope.

I wish I'd had more patience at some times in some of my jobs, but I have no big regrets over any of those. I gave every job I ever did everything I could, everything I had. Sometimes I didn't have much, and sometimes I hated the work, but I gave it my all. Sometimes my all was more, often less, but it was what I had and I put it into the work.

My writing? I have four completed novel manuscripts on top of the bookcases. I have three of those novels on floppies, which do me  no earthly good these days, but maybe somewhere, someday... someone. I have various writings here and there. It would be nice for my family if I could become posthumously famous, so that I'm not leaving my family nothing but a hole in their hearts.
I hope.

The good-bye letters I wrote a few months ago worried me a bit. I thought about tearing them up before I died, but decided I'd just leave a note with them. Don't remember if I dated them or not. Probably not. I wanted them to be generic, any time. I have letters written to Tracy and to Rex and, I think, to Jean. I haven't been able to bring myself to pout anything in writing for Tammy-and-Hailey. No good excuses for saddling her with my responsibilities, which she would be the one carrying the brunt of the load after the dust settles. No good excuse, no reason.
Anyway, I decided to just write a note, or maybe I'd get a chance to tell Jean before I expire in the hospital. "Hey, never mind those. I wrote them for Christmas last year, or maybe the year before."

It was a different thing to look back at my life this way, from this new angle. I didn't have no instant conversion to wanting to continue living in spite of all its pain, which I have seen happen. I wanted the pain to stop. I wished that I had done some things differently, but feel that I did the best I could at the time.

That's what we should all be doing. The best we can, with what we have. The what we have can be time, or energy, or even interest. Money of the lack thereof is a partial excuse, not a good one.

Be the best you that you can be.

Do the best you can with what you have.

Watch and work and learn and live.

Then,  you can contemplate death with equanimity. Is there any better way to live?

Remember

Today is Memorial Day 2012.
So, put your memory to work.
 Remember these:
The young people who graduated two or five or fifty years ago, and enlisted instead of enrolled.
The memorial parades for the young men and women in your community.
The crack of the 21 gun salute honoring those who served.

When I was young, Memorial Day was spent honoring all our dead. Remembering them, putting flowers on graves that went unvisited all year round. I was pretty old (for a kid) before I knew that the day was focused on the military.

That didn't seem fair, at first. The whole memorial day for remembering everyone seemed a lot more fair, why pay special attention to the warmongers? Can you tell I was a child in the 60s?

Memorial Day was created for those who served. If it honors those who served reluctantly as equals with those who served willingly, that's fine. Those who served reluctantly had a better idea of what the cost could be, what the cost would be. But guess what? They went anyway.

That's no small thing.

All our veterans deserve equal honor. They all deserve to be remembered.

Today, take time to remember. You are here because they were there. Wherever your 'here' and their 'there'   are/were.

Environmental Assessment: Asian Longhorn Beetle: Bethel Ohio

To anyone interested in this fight -- yes, that should be you, if  it isn't -- the Environmental assessment has been prepared, and the officals want to hear from you. They are seeking opinions from the public. Please read the report thoroughly -- it will take a while and multiple readings -- before deciding your stand. But please, do take a stand. Do make your voice heard. The report can be read here: http://www.bethelalb.com/ALB-OH-ClermontCounty-2012-EA.pdf

Now, they are not promising that they will act on what people tell them. They are a government organization which means essentially that they will infer everything and promise nothing. But they are asking for opinions. Let's give them that much.

This is important to everyone, although it is most important to the people of Bethel. It is their trees that are being eradicated. (Not the beetle.) It is their properties being destroyed, it is their countryside being laid bare for flooding and wind erosion. It is their small hometown being turned into a hot spot.

The numbers are hard to comprehend, but there are people gifted with the ability to put the concepts into words. Bill Skvarla, beetle activist, offers this example:  If the street tree in front of the Midway Theatre is the only tree in Bethel that has a beetle, every single healthy uninfested host tree in the entire Village will be destroyed according to USDA's EA-Alternative B.

Imagine that.
Imagine if your home town had to be denuded of all its tall shady trees because a tree in the town part of town had a problem. Would you like that? Would it seem reasonable to you to lose all the shade on your house because someone a half mile away had bug holes (and maybe-probably bugs) in one of their trees?

This is a problem for everyone, not just Bethel. If the government can do this to us, they can do it to others. Maybe the excuse won't be the Japanese long-haired beatles. Or green borers. But There will be something,
I promise you.

And you will have to suffer it, because allowing this without a fight sets a precedent. A precedent of government takeover of your private property. A government takeover of your community's landscape. A government takeover of your right to stand up and say "No!" to the chainsaws and bulldozers.

Read.
Research.
And speak out and speak up.



http://bugs.clermontcountyohio.gov/ALB.aspx;
http://www.agri.ohio.gov/TopNews/asianbeetle/;
http://clermont.osu.edu/news/asian-longhorned-beetle-found-in-ohio-osuextension-offers-information-hotline; the APHIS ALB plant pest page
http://www.aphis.usda.gov/plant_health/plant_pest_info/asian_lhb/index.s
html.

Apologies. Be back soon

husband sick
house being worked on. (No bathroom floor. Toilet sitting on waste pipe and little else.)
holiday weekend.

Lots of excuses, not writing too well. Am on internet, but in short spurts.
Thanks for reading.

I am my Appliances.

I have to say, there seems to be something to the idea that household appliances last ten years before they need replaced. I've finally owned major appliances, purchased new, that have lasted ten years. And, true to statistics, they have started to break down.

My dryer makes a horrible noise. I don't know if it works at all or not (the drum will turn sometimes), because that very strange, very loud noise makes me afraid to find out. I don't want the thing to explode, after all. Or catch on fire. Or put out power for the whole town. Anyway, that's the dryer.

Then the heating element in my oven went out. This has happened before, and isn't really a big deal, except that it happened. It's frustrating. Last night, one of my burners caught on fire. It's a burner I've used infrequently but regularly, and there was no reason for it to ignite. It was not on high heat. Scorched and burned one of my brand new beautiful red pans, too.

That leaves the refrigerator and the washer. The washer has had problems for a long time. Nothing major, nothing unexplainable, nothing impossible. It cleans my clothes, as long as the necessary adjustments are made.
Haven't had too many problems with the fridge. It wants to freeze everything on the top shelf, or nor quite freeze things in the freezer, and there's a shelf in the freezer that is at the wrong level and it wont come out. But other than that, it cools on. (I hope I'm not jinxing it by talking about it.)

This all reminds me, strongly, of what happened to my body once I turned forty. I started having accidents like stepping in a hole and falling up stairs and smacking the back of my hand into bread racks. After the accidents, the remnants -- the places that I had injured -- just started aching, often for no reason.

But, like my appliances, I'm still here.
I'm still doing my job(s).
There have to be adjustments, there has to be timing, and things may be done differently. But the jobs can be done or got around.

We'll all  work on until completely dead, and even that may not be "The End".

We (me and my appliances) can be harvested for parts when our usefulness as ourselves is over.
That's a nice thought.

Cutting of infested trees draws complaints | CommunityPress.com | cincinnati.com

Cutting of infested trees draws complaints | CommunityPress.com | cincinnati.com

ID yes, DL why?

I'm in favor of everyone being required to have an ID, and to have to use it when looking for assistance, or employment, or to vote (once per election,) or other as-needed occasions. I have absolutely no problem with that. In this day of illegal immigrants and Identity Theft and background checks, it's a really good idea. Even then it's not foolproof, but at least it's a start.

What I do have a problem with is the requirement for a driver's license. There are people being denied employment because they don't have this.

Now, there are many reasons for not having a DL, not all of them suspect. Being able to pay for a car and insurance. The cost of gas. The number of traffic accidents and fatalities. The 'suspect' reasons, ones that an employer might have a reason to know about include suspensions and special conditions.

Me, I don't think the employers need to know this stuff, unless your specific job involves driving. (If you don't have a license, you probably aren't applying for such a position.) They don't even need to know your reasons for not having a DL, especially if you do have a valid state ID. It's an epic invasion of privacy  -- invasion of thought processes. Invasion, perhaps, of private fears. Invasion into your bank accounts, finances, and God knows there's too much of that already going on.

My daughter can't get a job with day care centers because she has no DL. She doesn't want to drive a van full of toddlers to the firehouse. She doesn't want to run down to the grocery store when the manager spills the day's milk. She wants to take care of children. She trained for it, she had personal experience with it.
But she can't get the job she trained for because she doesn't drive. Instead, she walks or bikes past the day care centers on her way to work at McDonald's.

A former co-worker, also a McDonald's employee, went to college. She took the classes, so popular on commercials, to learn medical transcription, coding, and billing. She worked really hard, got good grades, passed her classes, acquired references from her instructors, and fared forth into the job market.

She almost got hired several times, but not one of the companies, not even a temp service, would hire her.
Why?
Because she didn't have a Driver's License.

Is it the employer's business how an employee gets to work?
I don't think so.

Now, if it becomes a problem, then yes, it is. But until there is an absentee problem -- and both my examples are exemplary employees at their low-level, low pay jobs -- then no, it is not.

It just isn't.

Draw Deep, Reach High.

To me, there is nothing more beautiful than a tree. It doesn't matter the type, or the season, or the shade, shape or color. I love trees.
Even ugly trees have a beauty, a symmetry (or dis-symmetry) that catches the eye and takes the breath away.
Is there anything more striking to the eye than the deep luscious green of a Scotch Pine or Blue Spruce towering against the pale blue of a December sky?

Trees connect earth and sky, drawing from deep within and reaching for the unreachable. They maintain beauty and grace as they do so, even in unlikely ways from unlikely places. When bare in winter, their bare bones etch  lines on the horizon -- pen-and-ink drawings of starkness.  Fully gowned in summer greens, these bones peek through, offering glimpses of grace and strength. Spring pastels greet the return of the sun, and the colors are muted for eyes no longer accustomed to bright colors. Autumn brings a bright farewell from the deciduous, a blast of color that will fade in our memories -- nothing could really have been that brilliant, could it? -- until spring tiptoes the colors of life back into our lives.

Our trees are under attack.
Now, under Mother Nature's rules, everything is always under attack from something else. It's the way of growing stronger, living longer. What doesn't kill, makes stronger, no matter the species.

The attacks I speak of are not those of Mother Nature, although She started it. She sent an explosion, an excursion, an invasion of tree-eating bugs. We responded, trying to eradicate the bugs, not with insecticides, not with vaccines or medicines. We have responded to this threat to our trees by destroying the trees.

Can you imagine if this logic was applied to people? (It has been, in the past. Now called racism, and no one wants to admit their part in it.) Can you think of any more diseased species than Humans? Can you think of any more destructive force than Humans?  Has any species trampled more ground, destroyed more places, ruined more lives than Humans?

It may be that Mother Nature has had enough of us. She may be getting ready to destroy our habitats, to tear down our homes, to remove the blight of our being from the face of her earth.  Who can blame her?

And the trees will stand tall against the landscape. Their roots will draw deep from the Earth herself. Their arms will lift to the sky, seeking sun and light and fresh air.

 Between earth and sky, the trees will remain.

If we let them.

Dieting not always key to weight loss

Dieting not always key to weight loss

I Want Summer

I want summer! I want it to come. I am tired of rain and fog, rain and clouds, rain and … you get the idea. I want it to be summer, and I want it now.

I want the flowers; the roses and honeysuckle that sweeten the air. I want to see fields glowing with greens, from the first fuzzy yellow haze of beans to the grass green of corn. I want to watch the colors of the treetops deepen; from spring green to their deep summer shades.

I want it to be warm. No, I want it to be HOT. I want to sweat, I want the air to sweat, and bring closer all the sweet perfumes of growth.

I want the dry scent of dust to clog my nose and tickle my throat. I want to smell the ripening of tomatoes and blackberries. I want to open the window and know that some neighbor has freshly mown his lawn.

I want days that linger, even after the sun has gone. I want light to remain in the sky, coloring the white puffy clouds above me. I want long gorgeous sunsets that last for hours, painting the brilliant blue skies with petal pinks and vivid oranges. I want to listen to the children playing up and down the street, to hear the roar of the crowd at the Little League games behind the school. I want to go to sleep to the purr of a weed-eater, and waken to the roar of a lawn mower. I want to hear the gentle spitter-spat of water sprinklers and the splashings from swimming pools. I even want to hear the nerve-grating chorus of cicadas as I try to sleep.

Come, summer, with your warmth and your beauty. Chase away these rainclouds that cause the days to drag and the nights to blur. Bring to me your clear sharp colors, your clean, crisp scents, and your soul-awakening sounds. Bring me your warmth, your light, your joy.

Bethel - Asian Longhorned Beetles

Bethel - Asian Longhorned Beetles

Making it work

Sometimes it seems that the easier we make it to do things, the more complicated the resulting problems. I'm talking about machinery, like automobiles. Remember when any person with a hammer, a screwdriver, and a piece of baling wire could solve your problem? You didn't get to reach 70 miles in an eye-blink, and you didn't have refrigerated air freezing your eyeballs in that same time span, but you could get to where you needed to go, and repair was cheap, easy, and available. (If you couldn't do it yourself.)

My particular mechanical Nemesis is a riding lawn mower. We have a mower that won't start, turn over, cough -- anything. It's like trying to start a car in 'Drive'. Nothing happens.
We've done and checked the obvious stuff. The safety switches, at least those we know of. The battery has been replaced, and we paid to have the starter system replaced. It worked for us one time after that.

We have a push mower, but my husband can't push. He can barely walk from the front room to the bathroom, carrying nothing more than his own skin and bones. I can push the mower, but I'll be darned if I can start the darned thing. Pulling and pushing at the same time requires a degree of coordination that is not in my make-up.

Then there are environmental issues, gas emissions and all that. If you can smell it, you're breathing it. Not a good option for anyone, but there's something seriously bad about a breathing-disabled person spending time on this undertaking.

I'd love to get an old fashioned mower, with blades that go round and round on a reel. The newer ones are not as heavy as they used to be, but I don't even mind that. I find  pushing a motor around to be a pretty heavy chore. And there's that breathing thing to contend with while walking behind.

This is a big debate in my household. My husband is in eager-beaver favor of all the mechanical devices and luxuries (that don't work, or break down repeatedly.) I prefer simpler things. If one must walk behind a lawn mower, one may as well be directing it. It's nice to be able to reverse direction when needed by simply backing up, too.

Yeah, I really want one of those push mowers. They are called reel mowers, and come in a variety of sizes and abilities, just like the polluting motor varieties that are easier only until the first break down. They are surprisingly affordable (at least for people who actually have money) -- smaller sizes typically run from 70 to 90 dollars (US).

If you're in the market for a mower, and especially if you're looking at walk-behinds, do some research. Maybe a reel mower would work for you, and you will never have to buy gas for it. Maintenance is usually minimal and simple. You will get a little extra exercise, and with the reel mower, you won't be breathing in poison straight to your muscles.

When it comes to lawn care, let's all get reel.

Good Deed for the Next Generation.

I've done another good deed for the next generation. I introduced my daughter's not-yet-four -year-old to the public library. A few weeks ago, circumstances made it necessary for her to accompany me to a writers group meeting

Hailey had one question. "Are there toys?"

The meeting was in a room just off the children's section, so it was easy for me to keep an ear and an eye on her.

At first she just sat in a chair with her hands folded in her lap. I came out and showed her the toys, and told her she could play. She said "Okay, Mammaw," and folded her hands and sat in her little chair.

Fortunately there was another little girl at the library with her daddy. The other little girl brought  Hailey puzzles and puppets, and got paper from the librarian  so Hailey could write with the crayons. The daddy got her to play in the castle. (I really had to keep an eye when he got involved, although I knew he was probably harmless. These days, probably just isn't good enough. Sad fact.)

They left, and Hailey worked kid sized wooden puzzles, one after the other after the other. She had them stacked neatly on the table, and the stack was nearly as high as her head.

We left early -- watching the kid and attending the meeting was a little more difficult and disruptive than I had expected.

Today, my daughter came by, and she asked me what happened when I took Hailey to writers group with me. It seems that now, every time they go to town, Hailey hollers out, "There's the berry, Mom. Are we going to the berry? I want to go to the berry."

So, another generation introduced to the magic of the public library.

Now, we just have to keep the libraries open for them.

Jeanieology

I've found a new way to spend my time and exercise my brain, while I hope for work and stave off health crises. Thanks to two of my sisters, I've been introduced to the addictive world of genealogy.


My sister Rita has long been the family switchboard. She knows who to call, how to inform, and when and where and why of multiple generations. It's one of the things she does.

My sister Jean is the Family Archivist. This is a job she sort of inherited, sort of fell into, and definitely made her own. If she can't tell you about the dead people in the family, probably no one knows. But Jean will try to find out. She's the one for the job. She knows who to ask for help and how to get others interested.

Between the two of them, I've been seduced into the pastime. They became my drug pushers, and Jean has become my supplier, and I need a regular fix.


Everyone grows up with family stories, hearing about odd aunts and whispered about cousins and disappearing uncles. Have you never wanted to solve those mysteries? Everyone has some vague nobility in their lineage, whether it be an Indian Princess, a German Baron, a gypsy queen. Wouldn't you like to find out the truth about that?
 The medical climate today almost insists that if you don't know about these people, you need to find out. Too much disease is being discovered as genetically linked. Too many character traits are being uncovered as symptoms of diseases, syndromes, etc. There is a social imperative to know where and who you came from.

Besides that, it's just plain fun.