An Unexpected Gift

On December 21, the last of the red blossoms dropped from our Christmas cactus. Actually, I always thought we should name it a Thanksgiving cactus since it bloomed brilliantly during that holiday. Then, on December 22, I noticed that the plant had some new blossoms.

"Did you notice the new buds on our Christmas cactus?", I said to my husband. "They weren't there yesterday. In fact, it was blossomless".

Bob had noticed. That was no surprise since he is more observant than I.

"I don't understand. There was nothing there a day earlier."

On the 23 of December there were more buds and several blossoms. On the 24th more buds and blossoms appeared. Today, on Christmas, the plant is resplendent with blossoms and buds.

I still do not understand. Never before has one of these plants re-blossomed immediately after shedding every flower. They have bloomed twice a year, months apart, and that was that, and what I expected. This plant, a Christmas gift we received last year, placed in the back seat of our vehicle after a Christmas gathering, is truly a gift that keeps on giving.

This Christmas we are enjoying the rich colors from early November, continuing until ???? It is a mystery.

Tonight, I know nothing more, except this, "happy Christmas to all, and to all, a good night".

The Annual Countdown

We came around the corner of the store pushing a cart. There was the sign - Ten Shopping Days Until Christmas!

Ten shopping days left. I had given only passing thoughts to the holiday, being absorbed in my many volunteer activities. But the countsown sign reminded me that I had personal tasks...gift wrapping, card writing and overall unwinding before the holidays. It was time to pause for personal reflection and a re-charge of my batteries.

I began my yearly connections with old and new friends. As I wrote cards,  the music from the radio was interrupted by a shocking news story. I had long learned to tune out "fiscal cliff" arguments, waiting for the final decisions, but this story gripped me along with the rest of our country.

Another tragedy for so very many because of the demons in one lost soul. After the intial shock and conflicting details, the news was filled with the same old gun control issues. It was to be expected, as always, after a mass killing. This time the tone was sharper, but the extremes came gushing out....from "ban everything" to "arm the teachers".

It made me pause. Do you suppose the next step will be "arm the kids?" This may sound ridiculous but I have lived through a lifetime of extremes in our culture. Where is the middle?....."in medio", as my old Latin teacher would say. We cannot seem to really listen to the "others", foreign to our view of the world. Getting into their skin, walking around in it for a while, might, just maybe, bring us closer to agreements that would work, and smooth out the rugged paths of our lifetimes.

Meanwhile, some things never change. I find comfort in rituals that remind me of safer times and places, devoid of violent television, computer games, and the constancy of the noise of instant communication. It is no wonder that the photo of Mr. Rogers went viral in no time. It seems that other people yearn for the presence of a man who exemplifies calm, understaning, acceptance and warmth.

There are only a few days remaining until a holiday with familiar carols, rituals, family, friends, feasting, and, hopefully, acceptance of the best of who we are and who we are becoming.

Mr. Rogers, you touched many children and adults. May your words of comfort remain with us long after this holiday, this crisis, and during conflicts to come. You taught us that safety lies within.

Only Thirty Minutes

I held his hand while he stared at the clock on the wall.

"I have thirty minutes", he said.

I continued to hold his hand.

"I'll stay with you", I told him as I held his hand.

After a time he looked at me and said, "Sometimes I think I should have gone with the others on Guadalcanal".

His words broke my heart. I know from his testimonial he gave me a few months back, that his service during the Battle of Guadalcanal as a medic, and later, as a prisoner of war, was a terrible time, etched in his memory over a lifetime of struggles and joys - both the good and the bad. I believed nothing could have been worse than those weeks during World War II. But I was wrong. His dying, facing him at this moment, was his only struggle, fresh and painful, while his years in the South Pacific had faded in comparison.

"I'm sorry", was all I could say, but I stayed and held his hand.

After thirty minutes had passed he repeated, "I have thirty minutes".

I stayed for another thirty minutes, and another. I waited until his wife arrived for her daily visit to him at the VA hospital.

"I couldn't leave him alone", I told her. He thinks he is going to die soon".

He lived for a few more days. he died on a Sunday and, as far as I know, he was alone. His wife arrived a short time later. I hoped that some nurse or attendant had been with him. I don't know, but I don't feel that anyone should leave this life without someone by their side, someone holding their hand, someone listening to their final words.

My consolation is that his story, his words of his years of service, will live on. They will be in my next book, VOICES OF VETERANS, which will include stories from WWII through the present conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan.

His words will be a testimonial to his life and to the service of all of our veterans.

Humor, Acceptance and Hope

Yesterday a new president was inaugerated as president of the Oglala Sioux Tribe on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. The ceremony was full of pageantry, solemnity and tradition, as well as an easy going, relaxed acceptance of its schedule and missed details.

The printed programs arrived part way through the ceremony, a person was incorrectly identified (much to the crowds enjoyment), everything proceeded ahead of schedule, to the dismay of the master of ceremonies, ("I will get fired for this", was his frequent comment) and a last minute unscheduled speaker or two took over the microphone.

The casual approach, mixed with the solemnity and traditional rituals, from the passing of the sacred pipe, the drumming, the elegant headdresses on the elders, the annointing of the new president with a feathered headress and all of the speakers who made notice of not only the newly elected officials, but also the retired ones, made for a comfortable and impressive ceremony.

I couldn't help comparing yesterday's inaugeration to our ceremonies....precise, dignified, on schedule and not unexpected. In spite of the fact that I am not of the Lakota culture, I thoroughly enjoyed the pageantry, as well as the "going with the flow" attitude.

What was most noteworthy was the utmost respect for the elderly, their traditions, and, in the midst of the poverty and despair among the people, the underlying and strong message of hope - hope for the future - hope for the generations to follow.

I can only imagine that over the years of suppression on the reservation, that the Lakota people are growing, in large fact to their humor, relaxed attitude and eternal hope and struggle for a better tomorrow.

Goodbye to Tim

Our former neighbor was buried today. We said goodbye to a gentle soul, full of humor and goodwill toward the world around him. We never heard him complain, but if anyone had a right to do so, it was Tim.

His life was filled with duty, to his country when he served in the navy, and to his fellow man during his twenty-nine years career in law enforcement, working for the FBI and the San Francisco State Police.

After an accident Tim was confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life. He and his wife moved to the Black Hills and opened a handicapped accessible camp ground on their land beneath the Seven Sisters mountain range south of Hot Springs. I remember him sitting on the road in his wheelchair, waiting cheerfully for guests to arrive at their campground - guests who never showed. They moved here in 1994 and while he could, he continued to help others by volunteering at the drug and alcohol center in town and he partipated in a parade via his wheelchair. He supported the Save our VA campaign, knowing he was dependent on it for many of his needs. His wife brought him there many times during emergencies, and that is where he died.

He was a delight to be around and I was proud to intoduce my daughter to him when we stopped to visit him while he was at the VA in Milwaukee. Years later, when he was lined up in front of our house to join the parade, my daughter happened to be visiting. We went into the street to talk with him and he remembered her, although he had met her only once before during his hospital stay in Wisconsin. He was in the parade, giving living testimony to the terrible effects of too much alcohol.

It was fitting that this man of courage and duty received military honors after the service. A police officer in full uniform sat in the chapel during the service and the Hot Spring's veterans were lined up outside, giving a military gun salute in tribute to a gentleman who served his country and offered joy to all who were fortunate to have known him.

Goodbye, Tim. You enriched our lives, and thank you, veterans. You gave him honor.

Taking the Time

We were in Rapid City yesterday and while there we stopped at Menards. I went to the back room to see if I could find a small plant for a certain window. Bob discovered an interesting plant and the perfect size. The problem was that it was the only one left in an almost impossible spot to reach. I was struggling to get it down when suddenly an elegantly dressed woman of mature age came by and offered to help. She began taking large plants off of the lower and middle shelves so that Bob could step on the bottom shelf to reach my chosen plant. When he brought it down the woman admired the strawberry begonia plant, commenting on its many possibilities.

"Do you work here?" I asked, impressed by her kindness. I was not surprised when she replied in the negative. After all, she was dressed to the tees, as if she was going to attend an important banquet. She chuckled at my question, said her goodbyes and moved on, out of our lives.

It was a brief encounter, but it reminded me sharply of the importance of taking time...time for pleasures, for connections, for relaxing, for helping others not on our list or agenda for the day.

I am often advised by my husband that I too often am rushing to here or there, saying "I gotta, I must, I should, I have to". My thoughts or words could change to "I want to, I may, I would like..."

That special lady from Rapid City took time out of her busy schedule to help this little old lady purchase the plant she desired. I did not have to have it, she did not have to stop and help, but she did. I was impressed by her giving of her time, and her interest. She moved on, our of our lives, but she lives on in my thoughts of gratititude and reminders to "stop and smell the flowers" on life's journey.

This is a busy time of year, but I will remember.

"Water, Water, Everywhere and not a Drop to Drink"....

We are in another battle in our county. In addition to working to save our VA for our veterans we are now faced with an even more serious issue...that of saving our water for our ranchers, our Wild Horse Sanctuary, our Plunge, our river, and all of the citizens and businesses in this county who get their water from our Madison and Inyan Kara Aquifers.

The list of horrors:

l. A Canadian Hedgefund Company, Powertech, has applied for a water permit in our county to obtain permission for 550 gallons a minute from the Madison Aquifer and 8,500 gallons a minute from the Inyan Kara Aquifer. They say they plan to mine uranium from these most sensitive aquifers that supply water to not only our county, but up into the rest of the Black Hills and into the Pine Ridge Reservation.

This foreign company has never mined for uranium, may sell the water rights to foreign investors such as China, and the money from these endeavors will drain out to the foreign countries, robbing us of our most valuable resource. In essence, foreign countries could own our water.

2. We do not need more uranium in our country. We have an ample supply.

3. The water could most likely get polluted with radioactivity, arsenic, selenium and other contaminants, making this water unfit for cattle or humans. Our ranches could "dry up and blow away", leaving our county with a huge loss of taxes.

4. Billions of gallons needed for the mining could diminish the water levels, drying up springs, possibly forever.

5. Pubic health is affected by exposure to radiation. You can check the records.

6. Adding to all of these possibilities (proven to have occurred at other sites) is the fact that our legislatures in Pierre, the capital of South Dakota, passed a bill stripping the DNER of its regulatory and protective services for "in situ leach" uranium mining. These men who are supposed to protect the interests of their constituents, have essentially given away our water. Why would they do this? We do know that one of those state legislators represented his mother in a land dispute acquiring Powertech leases for her at the same time he helped pass this bill.

Now we are in a battle to fight this disaster. Over the centuries inventions have emerged and our lives have improved in many ways. One thing that never changes from the beginning of history is the corruption and greed, maybe ignorance, that lies inside of humankind. Thankfully, and hopefully, these instances that bring out the worst in some people can also bring out the best in others trying to keep our environment healthy for generations to come.

Are the maybes and coulds and possibilities worth the risk of the forevers?
I am not a gambler when it comes to the health of our planet and our people.

Check out www.powertechexposed.com
or, The Rapid City Journal, November 17, under Forum, also on November 23, under opinion by David Rooks, or on November 24. The Hot Springs Star for November 20, two articles on the Opinion page.

Hello Again, Again. Goodbye Again, Again

We can always count on our Christmas Cactus plant bringing color to the gray of November and December. It blooms on cue, in time for Thanksgiving, lingering into December. Our second cactus on our porch lags a few weeks behind, with brilliant blossoms to follow.

And now, goodbye.....

For the second time we lost our colony of bees. A few days ago they simply disappeard from their hive. They seemed to be thriving all summer, downing the sugar water we supplied during the flowerless months of October and November. They were many and active, (I have two bites to prove it), but suddenly they are gone from our lives. We know they had an ample supply of honey they worked so diligently to harvest all summer.

Was it colony collapse? Was it the effect of the pesticides that neighbors spray to keep immaculate lawns? We may never know, but we think we may not try our bee endeavor again. It isn't the work involved, but the heartache that follows their absence. It amazes me how much I count on the little buzzers flying around, dancing on our flowers, drinking water from the bird bath, diving into the hive, loaded with yellow or orange pollen, then flying off to forage and fertilize our part of this world.

We intend to harvest the honey they left, a reminder of their energy, devotion to the colony and their part in the continuation of the lives of the plants that surround us with their beauty. They are remarkable creatures.

For now we say goodbye. We may change our minds. There is a hole to fill.

All Tuckled In

We are waiting for our first snow storm of the season. The prediction is for rain with an additional one inch of snow. That much needed moisture will be very welcome. Living in a banana belt is great, but it also brings drought and wildfire concerns.

As I drove home today I saw that Bob had covered the bee hive for the winter. Our weather stripping is finished, new windows installed, the tomatoes are ripening in the basement and his motorcycle is stored in a shed close by since we often have mild winter weather that allows for some afternoon winter bike rides.

As I drove my car into the garage I was filled with a feeling of safety that I used to experience as a child when I saw the wood pile ready for the long winter, the basement stocked with my mother's jars of jellies, pickled fish and other preserves from our garden and lake, and the meat from rabbits and deer harvested in the fall by my father and brothers.

Our winters in northern Minnesota in the 30's and 40's were harsher than the weather today. The snow was deep, sufficient for making snow forts and wonderful, wandering tunnels. Storms would last for several days, cutting us off from the town which was a mile away. My parents stocked our shelves and wood sheds before the storms engulfed us. They were always prepared and I always had the sense of security that came from their preparedness.

I never completely got over the instinct to stash away more than we need. Bob says I am like a squirrel, and since now we live with few major storms and within a block of the grocery store, it is unnecessary for me to hoard more than we need. I guess I never will completely get over the need to prepare for the worst. I learned it well from my parents. I do think I am buying less at one time, but I hope I never lose that feeling of security I get when I see the bees tuckled in for the winter.

(Note) I use the word "tuckled" to differentiate from the expression when my mother
"tucked me in" for the night.

The Allure of the Alley

Crunch, crunch. It is the sound I hear as I walk the graveled alleys in town. I miss living in the country, but one of the positives of moving to town after the Alabaugh fire is the enjoyment I feel when walking the alleys of Hot Springs. As I hike them on my way to a store or to the river walk, I remember.

I grew up in northern Minnesota in a small location of about twelve houses rented by the mining company for their employees. The alley ran down the middle of the location and all of the activities took place there. Neighbors visited in the alley, walked the alley, and drove the alley. We kids ran the alley, biked the alley and played in the alley. We made our daily plans in the alley, chased our dogs and walked it each day to catch the bus to school.

Years later, after my mother died, my father moved in with my sister. She died soon after and he moved in with us. Our house was too small to give him his own space so we looked at houses to better meet his needs. While searching, I researched on how to take care of your elderly parent and was focused on finding a home with a bathroom close to his bedroom and living area, and large windows allowing a lot of light.

Bob, on the other hand, had his sights set on a house with an alley. "Neighborhoods with alleys are important in making friends". The rest of us were at work or school, barely having the time to greet our next door neighbors. My father would be home alone with his dog and hobby of chopping wood and keeping the fire roaring during the cold weather. He was a very outgoing person and had always made friends easily.

We found the house with the extra bedroom and bath, a large window, a fireplace and, most important, an alley in a neighborhood with many retirees. We ordered wood for my father to cut and pile for the fireplace and settled in to our busy lives.

His birthday was on the horizon and I wondered out loud to Bob, "Who can we invite for this occasion"? He had left his old friends miles away, and my brothers lived states away. We thought we could invite the next-door neighbors who we barely knew. We heard my father talk about them. When I invited them they asked, "What about Barney and Doris? They love your Dad".

We had only lived in this house for a few months, but we asked them to invite any neighbors who knew my father. His birthday arrived, and fourteen neighbors came to celebrate. They had met and grown to admire their new neighbor as he walked his dog down the alley, stopping to visit with each and every one of them along the way. It was a neighborhood gathering, the first of its kind, and five more to follow until he left us a few months after his 92 birthday.

A Memorial Gathering

On a very blustery day in our 100 acre woods (Hot Springs, South Dakota), an intimate group gathered at our public library to remember one of the active contributors to our community. It was at noon, lunch was served and close friends shared memories of the woman who had unexpectedly and suddenly died among her flowers and garden that she passionately tended each year.

A memorial service was held earlier, but this gathering was a dedication of a brick laid in the libray patio, and a time to reflect on an artistic life which had many years of influence on the arts in the area.

Stories were shared, both funny and poignant. It was most refreshing and hopeful to hear the strengths and weaknesses of another human being. It was a reminder that we all have our good sides, as well as our dark parts. This person, as most of us, was flawed, but grew and made the most of her gifts. What more can we ask of ourselves? And how much will we accept the totality, the light, as well as the dark, of those who share our lives?

Where is Reason?

All three of our congressional delegation wrote another letter to Secretary Shinseki, officially announcing their opposition to the VA Health Care System of the Black Hills plan to close the Hot Springs VA. (You can view it on our site: theveteranstown.com)

The first letter asking the Secretary of the VA to come from Washington to see for himself the facility in Hot Springs and listen to the proposal created by the citizens of Hot Springs, has been ignored up to now.

Senator Tim Johnson, Senator John Thune and Representative Kristi Noem are opposed! Why can't the U.S. Veterans Affairs Secretary, Eric Shinseki respond to their requests?

The Hot Springs plan is far superior to serve the needs of rural veterans, as well as a plan that cuts costs in comparison to the plan put our by the VA Health Care System of the Black Hills.

What is wrong with the administrators of the VA? Will they listen to reason? Their plans seem to include the destruction of all rural VA facilities in the United States. They look only to the larger hospitals in the larger cities serving the needs of all veterans, even though many veterans prefer the intimacy and calm of the rural ones.

Is their plan to force many veterans to receive treatment at regular hospitals? It has been proven that treating veterans at VA facilities is more cost effective and helpful than sending them to civilian hospitals.

It is not rational to ignore the Hot Springs plan in any way, monetarily or healing wise. Again I wonder, what has happened to reason?

Closing In and Closing Out

The sun warmed me as I sat on the back steps enjoying what the forecasters predict will be the last balmy day for who know how long. Our bees were venturing out, but fewer than usual. Everything in nature had slowed a bit, except for the birds stuffing themselves at the bird feeders.

As I sat for that time, enjoying the late aftenoon fading rays of the sun, I heard Bob closing the windows....not just the inner ones as he usually does on cooler evenings, but I heard the swish of the storm windows, doubly closing out his expectations for the cold to come.

I sighed. It has been a wonderful October, but November is rearing its head. "Get used to it," I said to myself. It is coming and it is time to say goodbye to my favorite season. I have to get my mind re-set to the wonders of the coming season, the ones following, and then, as always, I will greet my pet season once again. I do know that as I grow older, time seems to escape me faster than ever, and so it will not be too long before I will be once again warming my chilly bones on the back porch in the late afternoon rays of the sun.

To the Honorable Eric Shinseki

It's all about hope, unity and commitment to the cause of all veterans. We continue on with one voice. We knew from the beginning that this would be a long, difficult struggle. We have been meeting, planning, making posters and writing letters, all in preparation for a visit from the Secretary of Veterans Affairs in Washington in response to an invitation from our congressional officials from South Dakota, Nebraska and Wyoming. You can read their letter on our website, theveteranstown.com. Please visit it.

The following is one of my letters to the one who will make the final decision regarding the future of the VA in Hot Springs, SD.

Oct. 13, 2012

Dear Secretary Shinseki:

You have recently received a letter from the congressional representatives from South Dakota, Wyoming and Nebraska regarding keeping our VA in Hot Springs, SD. They all realize that saving this VA in its present location is very crucial to the health and well-being of veterans from the Indian reservation who face a huge hardship if they have to travel further for their health care, and who are treated with respect at this facility. This is also of importance to rural veterans from Nebraska and Wyoming. Another critical reason is that the veterans with PTSD and addiction issues recover better in the serene atmosphere of a small town, separated from the triggers they encounter in the larger cities.

I have interviewed many veterans from all branches of service and from all conflicts who use this VA for their care. They are passionate about saving this VA, and are increasingly mistrustful of a government who is taking away their lifeline to sanity, sobriety or physical well being.

I am capturing their testimonials in my next book, Voices of Veterans. This book will include the passion of the veterans, along with the fervor of a community known as "The Veteran's Town." This small community came up with a brilliant and innovative proposal which was largely ignored by your administrators who were appointed under your watch. This proposal will not only save the taxpayers and the VA money, but it will enhance the much needed treatment for our many returning veterans.

Please listen to the voices of our veterans, most of whom live in the rural areas or the reservations. Many from urban areas, such as Denver, choose this facility because of the exceptional and personal care, and also because of the tranquility of the surroundings.

We are looking forward to your visit so that we can show you first hand this facility and community of which we are so proud.

Very sincerely,

Mary Goulet

Three Trapped Mice, See How they Run!

During the summer months I fed the birds saflower seeds, as suggested by a reader, to deter the greedy grackles until they fly south in the fall. Yesterday I went into the tool shed to retrieve my stash of sunflower seeds. I reached into the large plastic bucket to be greeted by a surpised mouse. (Actually, we were both surprised.) I went for help from my husband, being squeemish about reaching into the mouse's space.

Bob calmly tipped the can over. Out ran a terrified mouse. "Well," said Bob. "There is another mouse in here." He managed to shoo that mouse out, at the same time that we heard a third critter scurrying around at the bottom of the tattered bag of seed. It took some maneuvering, but my calm partner managed to flush the last one out.

I must say, those three mice must have been in there for a long time. The plastic bag inside the plastic container was shredded among the seeds, and the mice looked rather plump as they exited their prison. I wonder if they thought of it as a prison. I know they could not climb back out, but in the meantime, they gorged themselves while trapped at the bottom.

There are two ways of looking at a situation such as those three, tiny mice found themselves in while in confinement: they could expend all of their energy trying to escape, or, keep feasting and hope for rescue. Fortunately these little guys were discovered by a couple who "live and let live" unless forced to do otherwise.

Meanwhile, "Attention, all you stray cats out there. You are welcome to sustain yourselves in our back yard. Winter is on its way and there are some plump, furry creatures who may help you make it through the cold days ahead!"

A Touch of Summer

One moment it is balmy and the next moment it is cold and snowy. The snow does melt as it hits the ground, but it definitely is a warning of the season to come. Our September was gorgeous, but much too dry for our drought-filled winter, spring and summer this past year. We need the moisture, and much, much more to fill our lakes, rivers and parched ground. I remember our drought from 2000 to 2007 and the ensuing devastating fire of 7-7-7. So I welcome moisture in any form, even though the flakes were a mite sudden for my system.

The forecast predicts milder days ahead. Our bees will return outside once again, only to discover that all of their sources for nourishment have frozen in our first frost. Two days ago they were buzzing around, seeking the last remnants to carry to their hive for the colder days of winter. Now they are inside, hidden from our view, but I will supply them with sugar water on the warmer days to help sustain them and their queen, waiting for the new pollen and nectar that come with spring.

Bob gathered the remainder of our garden that he so carefully tended for four months. The squash are stored in the basement. There are some cucumbers, zuccini, peppers and numerous tomatoes. The green ones, also in the basement, will ripen, hopefully, and not unlike the honey for the bees, will help sustain us through the days ahead with that special sweet flavor not found in the store bought tomatoes.

The red flowers that Bob planted in our front yard planter are blossoming as if it were summer. He very carefully covers them at night, removing the cover when it warms to a safe temperature. My heart, too, warms when I look out our window. I don't know how long before the days become too cold, but for now all who pass can enjoy the brightness of a touch of summer.

Some Days are Better

The World War II veteran was sitting in his wheel chair in the VA hospital staring out the window. His wife called to tell me that he wanted to see me. He had a fall coming out of his house early in September. She called 911, the police arrived and took him up the hill to our VA. They told him that he would never go home again and that he had seven months to live.

"I didn't expect to end up like this after all of my years. I have seen better days, but then I have seen worse," he said as he looked at me sideways.

We both knew that "worse" he was referring to was his time as a medic on Guadalcanal during the war. He had told me some of his story one sunny afternoon last summer as I sat in his living room. He omitted parts that were too difficult for him to recall. His wife filled in the missing pieces, and I understood why he was loath to revisit those horrific times.

"I have known both the drama and the comedy. I prefer to talk about the comedy."

The nurses and aids who look after this tough old veteran seem to appreciate his sense of humor. He does not dwell on the negatives from his 89 years of living. He focuses on the positives, of which there are many. But always, among the lightness, lurks the pain.

"I have to live to make 90."

I have no doubt that he will make it to 90. He is determined to live out this next "blip" of his life, in the warmth of a hospital that cares about the veterans who served. His life, the part he shares reluctantly and infrequently, will live on in his story that will go to Washington and also in my book, a testimonial to all veterans from all branches and all conflicts.

A Veteran's Lament

He stood out as he wheeled his cart into the grocery store. The blue vest on his large frame brightened the aisles. The vest was covered with many striking patches, each designating his part in his service to his country in Vietnam. As he came closer my eye caught one patch in particular that identified him as a POW.

"Hi, Johnny. I love your vest!"

He stopped to proudly explain who had made the vest for him and how he had entered it into a contest at the VA and it won an award.

I admired everything and then told him that I didn't know he had been a POW. Of course I asked him if I could interview him for a testimonial for the stories I am gathering for Save our VA, and later for my next book. He was adamant in his refusal.

"I don't use this VA. I won't give you a story, but you can quote me on this. I have great insurance from my work and I wanted to leave my spot for a veteran who cannot afford to go to any other hospital. And now they are treating them like shit!"

This quote is from a veteran who proudly served his country during an unpopular war, and spent time as a prisoner of war. His anger at the government's proposal to close our VA that has served veterans for over 100 years is a sad commentary on those who sent these young men and women to fight for all of us, and who are now trying to limit their promised benefits that are still given to our representatives in Washington.

Johnny, your anger is understood by many, and we many are behind all of our veterans. We support you and will continue to fight for you as you once fought for us.

Autumn, Welcome, Autumn

It was not only the first day of autumn, but a gorgeous one, to boot. My energy level was high as I scurried around doing the chores best left for that perfect fall day. I was highly motivated to transplant all of my indoor plants for the winter, shop for larger planters to accomodate those plants that are becoming root bound in last years pots, purchase and arrange the bird seed in the shed for easy access during the blustery days, and, in my eagerness to be prepared, I even put out my suet feeder usually left for the chilly November days.

The feeling of satisfaction is always there in late September as I stand by the stove cooking up my first pot of chili for the season. Somehow chili always tastes at its prime on the first day of autumn after a summer hiatus of salads and grilled meats.

New neighbors have just moved in. I saw them painting, cleaning, hauling and dumping. They must be exhausted. I told Bob that he should bring some chili over. It is one of my comfort foods and perhaps it will be restorative to them. Bob responded, "That is so old-fashioned to bring food over to new neighbors."

Well, maybe I am old-fashioned. I have that right since I have lived for eight decades. My mother always greeted new neighbors with a friendly hot dish and homemade baked bread. But I suppose in those days neighbors were around for many years and spent more time on their front porches and chatting over the fence with the folks next door. I know times have changed and we all spend more time isolated in front of our televisions, and on our computers and tweeting with our many unseen facebook friends, but down deep, part of me remains in that distant neighboorhood, along with my parents and our neighbors long gone, Mr. Rogers, Andy Griffith, and the Fonz. We knew everyone face to face, eye to eye, blemish to blemish, busybody to busybody and, most of all, helpful to helpful when the need arose.

The arrival of this new season reminds me that times have changed and much of it for the best, but I can still try to keep a spark of the warmth and graciousness of the old days around, maybe as more of a reassurance to me than to my new neighbors.

Last Night's Phone Call

Rewarding is a word I have not heard tossed around very much, and yet what can be more special than the feeling of being rewarded? Looking back I have experienced many rewards during my lifetime. Of course, in my work as a teacher and a counselor I have known the joy of opening minds to learning, growing, self-awareness, confidence, and on and on. Teaching and counseling both have their frustrations and failures, but they also have many, many satisfactions.

I am grateful to have been in two professions that have given me as much as I have given. It must be sterile and lonely working for money and status only. That work brings material things for sure, but for me, material stuff by itself is empty and unfulfilled.

During my retirement I began my latest profession of writing. I started writing because I finally found the time to do an activity that I had long enjoyed from the other side as a constant reader, and I soon discovered that it forced me to focus my thoughts and feelings that previously had only floated in the back burner of my mind.

It didn't take long to also get the rewards of my labor. I received notes, letters and phone calls from those that felt strongly about my writings. What a bonus! My work was affecting some of my readers, and, at times, influencing their lives.

Last night I had a phone call from a friend in the Twin Cities who recently began reading my book, "Cascade of Flames", and wanted to share his thoughts and feelings about the firefighters and evacuees involved in this disaster. I am busy on my next book about the veterans and rarely think of that last book, but he brought it back to focus for me, and I remembered warmly the many folks I had interviewed and how a natural disaster can change, and deepen lives forever.

Also, my friend brought my book to his place of business and was sharing it with his customers. That, dear friend, is the greatest of compliments. I hope you are reading this so you will know how deeply I appreciated your words and your gesture. Any writer will understand how I feel about last night's phone call. My wish is that all of you who struggle to put your thoughts on paper for others to read, will one day receive a call such as I did last night.

Cool Down!

It is September and we should't be surprised when the weather cools and the air smells like Fall. But, it was a rather dramatic drop from the constant heat of the past summer to the chill-in-the-air that envelops us today. Don't get me wrong. I am definitely not complaining. This is my favorite time of the year when I can walk the river walk with a light jacket, do the chores with no perspiring, water the plants, the bees and the birds less frequently, close the windows at night and cover up with a blanket. I always whine over the extemes of the heat slowing up my activities and the cold numbing me while I pull on a pile of blankets or sweaters.

Each season has its special beauty, but this is truly the easiest time of living. Bob is working away each day putting in new windows, a job that was almost impossible at times during the peak of the hot days. I am using the oven again, and preparing meals that will warm up the house. After three months of absence from our household menu, the stews, baked chicken and chili dinners are a welcome change.

Also, to add to the fresh energy, my health has recovered after a year of battling fatigue after my three surgeries of last summer. Don't let the doctors fool you. It takes more than six weeks to get back on board. Well, there are still occasional lapses, but that could be due to my years creeping up on me. They are beginning to take a toll. I must remember this....slow down, take more rests and expect a little less of this body after 80 years. I should keep reminding myself not to work until I fade to exhaustion. I am grateful to be able to keep up as much as I do, so I say welcome to my new world of a slower pace, and I will remember to take time to relish the seasons in their turn.

Happy cool down and slow down from the Black Hills of South Dakota.

The War Continues

On Monday, September 10, VISN 23 of the VA administration told our steering committee for Save our VA that they were going to submit their original proposal as is, along with their insights about our proposal. If they don't accept key elements of our proposal, they will be rejecting our veterans, native American veterans from the Pine Ridge reservation, the citizens of this area and our congressional representatives, Republican and Democratic, and the governor of our state of South Dakota. Our community has fought long and hard to keep this very special facility open to serve our veterans who have fought for this country. We are angry, frustrated, disappointed, but committed to fight on for the cause of our veterans from all wars and branches of service.

Our proposal beats the VA proposal hands down and our representatives are going to Washington to discuss it with General Shinseki who heads up the VA. We have reason and numbers on our side. Our proposal will not only serve the veterans who have served us, but it will benefit the taxpayers in the long run. You can check it out on our web site, theveteranstown.com. The proposal is there for all to read.

What I have come to realize through all of this long, stressful battle, is that we have a group of ordinary citizens in Hot Springs, who are not only talented and thoughtful, but who are hard working, resourceful, resilient, hopeful and definitely determined to keep this the town for veterans forever.

Off We Go

Remember the song, "Off we go into the wild blue yonder?" Well, we are off again, but not into the blue sky, so don't know why I thought of that song.

Since 1989 I have been part of a research study titled ARIC (atherosclerosis risk in community study). I am proud to be included in this research of the heart and brain. I told myself when I began this project that it was the least I could do for the advancement of health research. When I lived in the Cities it was an easy jaunt to the research center. It is a bit more of a hassle driving the 600 some miles, but I am grateful I am still alive and able to be included in this study.

Each year the project loses more participants, mostly through death and illness. This will be my fifth time actually going through the tests. Other years we contribute through phone calls. I really hope I can continue to drive the distance as long as possible to be of as much assistance as I can. It is a wonderful feeling to feel useful. As long as I am useful, I know I am living, not just alive.

I will check in on return from new adventures.

Bob's Bounty

After a summer of digging, planting, weeding and copious watering, Bob's garden is paying off big time.

It reminds me of a story. Our neighbor grew a huge zuccini crop. Every one who passed by was offered a zuccini or two. After a time no one passed by. Then our neighbor went around the block with his little red wagon, knocking on doors, offering zuccini to those who opened up to him. The day soon came when the neighbors stopped answering their doors.

We have produce overflowing on our kitchen cabinets. We have given zuccini and cucumbers to everyone who stops over. We even offered some to a salesman who showed up on his yearly visit. I have used every zuccini and cucumber recipe I know. I am beginning to think I should freeze or dry some of the bounty.

The tomatoes are less of a problem, but even they are starting to arrive in numbers that are beginning to overtake our needs. They are easier to unload than the zuccini, that is for sure. I asked Bob why he planted so many zuccini when I remember purchasing only one plant. He replied that a friend had given him four or five plants in the spring and he didn't know what they were so he planted them all.

Is there a lesson here?

What I do know is that I love fresh home grown veggies, and I am happy to share the fruit of my husband's hard labor.

A One Year Anniversary

Wow......Has it really been a year since I began this blog? Twelve months ago I was talked into delving into the blog world. I admit, I was reluctant and cautious. Would this ol' lady have enough ideas to share with whomever out there showed any interest?

I decided to give it one year. I did, and here I am, still chugging out weekly thoughts and feelings. It has not been a chore. In fact, it has taken little time from my life, with the exception of the few weeks I took off when I was deeply immersed in taking testimonials from veterans to send to Washington, and, eventually, to publish in my next book.

So, I guess it is happy anniversary to Hello, Goodbye, Hello. I usually don't look back once I post a blog, but I rather enjoy typing out musings on life, and today I am looking back at the many new experiences I am still experiencing in this latter time of my life. All in all, life has been extremely good to me. I look back with gratitude at the past year and wish for myself a year ahead that continues to be filled with interesting adventures to fill my bag of memories that will remain within me in the years to come.

And, for now, I will continue to jot down reflections. Hope all of you (including you readers from Russia and Germany) stay with me for the time being and enjoy the ride.

Yet Another Goodbye

Life is always filled with goodbyes. Some are more painful than others, and some are permanent. I want to keep saying hello because I know, sooner or later, I will be experiencing another goodbye.

This week my husband and I are seeing off friends we have had for many years since moving to Hot Springs. During our time here we have greeted the new wife and seen two children born to the couple. They are leaving for better opportunities for sure, but for me it means no more lunches and shopping in Rapid City with us girls, no more political chats with the husband, and nor more watching the children grow, learn and develop into adulthood.

We will keep contact, but it will not be the same. We may get photos of the children at their different stages and, hopefully, we will see one another now and then. What we will have are fond memories of the years we did spend with one another and rejoice with them in their new life. They have enriched our lives with their friendship and that will remain within us long after they move away.

Goodbye, goodluck and the best of the best from us.

Where's the Water?

Early mornings are never my best, most alert moments, so when I flushed the toilet early last Friday I barely noticed that the water gurgled, rather than flushed. On to the kitchen and I poured my glass of water and filled the cat's water dish from the water purifier spout. I began making our breakfast and then turned on the regular water faucet. No water! One sigh and gasp from that taken-for-granted spigot, and then, nothing.

A water main must be broken but I carried on fixing morning nourishment since we had a five hour trip to Colorado and another five hours return facing us that day. My always resourceful husband hurried down to the river with two large buckets. He met another person who was like-minded and told Bob that the spring in town had a long line and so he came to the river for his water.

We returned home that night to running water. Was it only five years earlier when we were not dependent on the city or power companies for water or any utilities other than telephone? We have traded independence for convenience in our present life in the city. I remembered when a powerful spring snow storm took out the power lines in the country. We did not notice anything amiss. Our water came from our cistern rain water, our lights from our solar panels and our refrigeration and heat from the propane tank. Our radio announced that the power was out all over the county. It remained out for about two weeks. Generators were chugging along in homes during that time. We never did use our back-up generator. We had sufficient power from the energy of the sun behind the grey clouds and warmth from our cheerful wood stove in the basement.

It was a liberating feeling, living off of the grid. I wrote about it in my first book, "A (not so) Simple Life". The Alabaugh Fire took away that life for now. It is easier living in town with everything handy, but on days like Friday, when the water was silent, I remembered fondly our days when we returned to our rustic roots and were liberated, for a brief moment in our lives, from dependence on those major monopolies.

Behold, the Ant

It was another hot one. We have had more than the usual miserable days this summer. I try to do my river walks before the sun hits full force but this morning my pace slowed to match my mood. Then I noticed the ant. He was tiny and tugging furiously on a small piece of a cracker lying on the sidewalk. The piece was small, but the ant was about a tenth of the size of the morsel he was attempting to haul off. I paused to watch his struggle. He pulled and scurried around the food, pulling from different sides. I was impressed by his determination. Was he ever going to give up?

I stood and stared while he continued to try to move his treasure across the sidewalk. Ater a few minutes I looked around, hoping no walker or bicyclist would crush the little bugger into the cement. He had worked so hard!

Suddenly he stopped, dropped  the food and began to move on without a backward glance. I stooped down, broke a small piece and placed it in front of this ever-so-small insect. In an instant he grabbed ahold of the manageable piece and carried it into the grass, and, I suppose, to his family of ants.

Will  I remember when I feel overwhelmed by a task and want to give up, perhaps I should try to complete pieces and, in the end, I just may carry off the entire prize, or, the one part may be just fine?

PTSD. How Many, How Long?

He was sitting silently by the bridge on our river walk in his wheel chair clutching his large bottle. I greeted him cheerfully and he responded eagerly. It was clear that he wanted to talk. He wanted a connection to someone....anyone. In a short time he shared his loneliness, guilt and dependency for comfort from his bottle.

"I have nightmares. The booze helps calm them but they always come back. I was in the army for ten years and the marines for eight. I lost my leg from a land mine in Kuwait. I woke up in Germany. My leg was gone and my brothers were killed. Why was I still alive? My family leaves me alone. I am alone with my bottle. You don't understand, I killed young men. I killed them!"

This Native American veteran, eighteen years in service to our country, still fights his personal wars. His demons of guilt consume him. Serving his country is lost in his fog of alcohol. What remains is loneliness, disconnect and pain. The missing leg is painful at times. The pain of surviving when his comrades did not, and the pain of killing others are his constant companions, along with that large bottle he clenches so tightly by his side.

Perhaps we will meet again along our lovely Fall River. Perhaps we will talk some more. Perhaps he will decide to wheel himself up the hill to our healing VA and check himself in for help with his enduring torment. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Summer Sizzles

There is no denying that this is one hot, hot summer! There are always the hot days, but this summer has had more of its share. Even our cat spends more time in the cooler basement. The bees pile up outside of the hive in larger clusters in the evenings after their long days of foraging in the gardens in the neighborhood. The hornets are joining them at the bee water, (much to my dismay). I do my chores earlier than my norm and concentrate on water exercise while skipping over the long walks.

Today we were driving past a back, fenced yard. A large white, thickly coated long haired dog was standing. I saw no movement whatsoever. He stood, head hanging, tail drooping. The sun was full upon him in that enclosed space. I wondered if there was shade in that yard. "Where were his owners"? My guess was that they were inside of a much cooler house, perhaps even with air conditioning. I looked at the temperature as we drove past that silent dog. It was 102 degrees.

We are fortunate to have our fourteen-year old grandson for two weeks. He seems not to notice the heat, but then I don't think I did much at his age either. He is attending a British Soccer camp held each year in our town. The youngsters come eagerly to play and learn. They join each other on the field before the class begins, kicking the balls, running and shouting. They don't seem to notice the heat. They live for the moment and that moment is their passion for a game. Forget the heat. They want to play, learn and have fun. Ah, youth.....

Meanwhile, I head back indoors, not allowing the cat to sit on my lap for long. The summer sizzles. I enjoy watching the Olympics, especially the swimming.

Scanning the Skies

Fires are erupting all over the area. I often smell the smoke and I find myself looking upward at the clouds. Are they clouds or smoke? Sometimes it is easy to distinguish one from the other. When the white puffs are billowing strongly in one direction I know that it is smoke.

Before the Alabaugh Fire I never looked at the skies in the same way. Now, at the height of fire season, I look up more often, not to admire, but to search for warnings. The county and the Red Cross set up a shelter for evacuees at our civic center. There were not many using it since the area evacuated was sparsely populated. I dropped in to see if I could be of any assistance. I was never called during the few days it was open, but I had a chance to visit with some of the people making use of the service. We talked about their concerns and it felt all too familiar. I assured one elderly woman that if the electricity went out, her insurance company would cover her freezer full of a side of beef. I did not mention the mess she might face if the possibility occurred. No need to add to her worries.

Today the owners were allowed back to their homes, the Red Cross closed up the shelter and life seems back to normal in our quiet community nestled in the Southern Hills. But the lightning continues to strike, smaller fires are still burning and the firefighters are still protecting, back burning and fighting the flames. This is fire season in our Hills, after all. We get used to it....sort of. Nature has always burned the forests, making room for the new, but now we have more people residing here. There is more to protect - more structures and more lives.

Fire is a powerful reminder that life is still filled with change. We may get too complacent living in our peaceful spot of the world. Life always has a way of jolting us out of our complacency and reuniting us with the struggles of others who meet greater challenges than we ever face in our idyllic Southern Black Hills of South Dakota.

The West is on Fire

Oh, oh, here we go again. It has been five years since our horrific Alabaugh Fire of 7-7-7. This morning my husband pointed out the huge cloud to the north of town. My instant reaction was a flash of panic followed by plans for evacuation. What should I pack, are the cars gassed up, do I bring the special food for our elderly cat?????

One time going through a fire was quite enough, thank you. I suppose since I am a seasoned veteran of evacuation through a wildfire, I should be a bit calmer. That was not the case when I first looked at that ominous cloud of white surging over our town. My mind began to race to what, where and when.

My more laid back husband met the challenge in his own way. He drove up the nearby mountain to the home of friends and saw the flames clearly. He said not to worry since they were about fifteen miles away.

Fifteen miles! Those words were not much consolation. Fifteen miles is uncomfortably close for me. Could we lose our picturesque town? That thought is too overwhelming for me to dwell on for long.

The phone was ringing as I got home. It was a friend asking us to join her for lunch. Yes, yes, that is just what I needed at the time. A cool restaurant and casual conversation over iced tea. I just may be over reacting inside my gut. The fire may not even be heading our way, and too much worry in advance is not helpful. Either way, if the time comes to leave our home for a second time, we will be armed with experience. I have my fingers crossed that will be of some help.

For now we can only wait and trust our courageous firefighters to hold back the flames. They are out in the 100 plus degree heat clothed in their fire resistant, woolen suits, while we wait in our air conditioned homes and cling to our trust.

A Fresh Outlook

There is a lovely path that follows our meandering Fall River through the town of Hot Springs. During all seasons the river cascades from its source at the spring at the north end of Hot Springs, past the historic sandstone buildings, through the newer section of town, apartments, homes and onward through the country side until it hooks up to the Cheyenne River, which eventually flows into the Missouri River, then on to the grand Mississippi and, of course, at the end of its voyage, streams into the Gulf of Mexico.

I walk this path often. Today I made my trip early to avoid the excessive heat. As the seasons continue, my walk time will change to a later one. During the winter months I will venture out during the warmest time of the day. The seasons change, but the river is constant, soothing, peaceful, invigorating and reassuring.

The grasses and trees and flowers lining the walk emerge in the spring, blossom, flower, droop and die, but the river flows on and on, ignoring the changes on its banks. The turtles and ducks remain through all seasons as the water retains its unchanging warm temperature from its bubbling wellsprings from deep inside the earth at the north end of our scenic community.

It is said that the Indians fought a battle over control of the healing waters. The peak above the springs is known today as Battle Mountain. The river seemed well worth fighting over. It feels eternal. At least it is still here, coursing through our town, a companion to the walkers, joggers, tourists, veterans, skateboarders and skipping children. In this heat it is not uncommon to see children splashing in the water. Families picnic on the park benches. Neighbors stop and talk. Tourists ask, "Where are the bugs"?

One bench has become my half-way resting place. It is beside an especially gurgling, lively spot in the river. I sit and reflect and, at times, visit with someone who enjoys the same bench. It can be a meditative time, or a social interlude. Either way, it fills my soul.

I am grateful to have this enchanting pathway through the heart of our historic town. It was one of the most fortunate exchanges we made when my husband and I lost our home in the country. When I miss our life I wrote about in "A (not so) Simple Life", I stop what I am doing and hit the alley to the river walk. I often see deer, ducks and birds, and, I now enjoy the water, the walkers and a diverse view of our buildings, looking upward from the river below. It brings a different perspective and that is always a good thing for me. Too often I need to get out of my rut of a comfort zone or self-pity. The walk along our river always does the trick.

Reflections from the Antiques Roadshow

After many years of enjoying Antiques Roadshow on public television, my husband and I had a chance to attend the event in nearby Rapid City. Since we lost our antiques in the Alabaugh Fire, we had little to bring, but we dug up a few interesting items. My husband, more than myself, is a dedicated viewer of the show, and was pleased to obtain tickets.

After a few hours of standing in line, he seemed less impressed, but we both admired the organization and volunteers that made the whole event more enjoyable.

It was interesting to talk to others in line, some curious, others eager to find they had a hidden gem among their possessions. There was a comradery among people who treasured items that often had a history of their own in being passed down from generation to generation. History seemed to come alive among the items that were rolled or carried in to be evaluated by the experts.

Many were disappointed at a value that was lower than their expectations. I wondered how many would still treasure the item after receiving the news that their  special piece was not as special to the judges.

It was reassuring in some strange way to realize that getting older can make something, or, perhaps, someone, increase in value. It is the unique antiques that go up in value. That is a reminder to me that getting older can be valuable. We older folks do have years of living, and, hopefully, accrued wisdom and perspective to offer those who follow us. Keeping my mind open to change while holding on to the depth of the past, can be tricky, and, at times, frustrating, but for me the fluidity of ideas and the sorting through them is what keeps me young and growing.

Walking Tall

You can feel it in the air. As I walk through our community there is a sense of electricity, hope, anticipation and deep-felt pride.

The proposal created by members of our small town is brilliant and we all know it. It is such a win-win for everyone...the community, the VA, and mostly, the veterans who use this facility.

If the powers-that-be do not see the magic of its cost effectiveness and the potential of its healing for veterans, then there is something very, very wrong in the system.

Our South Dakota legislatures and our governor are on board. They realize the power of this proposal. If our local government gets it, we believe that the guys in Washington who manage the care for veterans will also get on board our veteran's train.

At the end of our brief time on this earth, most things that we fussed about during our lifetimes will fade to nothingness. What I hope remains for me is the legacy I will leave. When I touch the lives of others, bringing support and comfort, that is what will be with me as I say goodbye to my years of teaching, counseling, parenting, writing, and, at this time, working with a diverse group of people who put aside their political, religious, cultural, social and age differences to unite for a common cause.

During the past six hectic months of planning, writing, drawing, researching, baking, fund raising, marching, speaking and meeting and meeting and meeting again and again, we have proved to ourselves that we can rise above our differences to formulate a plan that will serve all of our veterans who have served our country.

Our working together through many dark times of negativity, is, in itself, a legacy worth leaving. There is a bounce in our steps. We are walking tall!

Conquer Chigger Bites

Readers seemed intrigued by those irritating chigger bites. My husband came up with a solution to the itches. One tiny dose of Dimethyl Sulfoxide (DMSO) relieves the itching once and for all. I tried the other popular remedies. Each of them required repeating and long term application. The DMSO worked instantly and permanently. Hope it works for you, too. Those bites are far worse than the ones from the mosquito.

Good luck if you are unfortunate to be bitten. It might work on mosquito bites, but since they are rare in the Hills, I have never tried the "chigger solution".

Bye, bye itchiness, bye, bye, bye.

So Long, Grackles

Some posts back I wrote about my battles against the ever-so-clever grackles. Then wonder of wonders, I had a suggestion from a reader that really worked. The email said I should change my feed from sunflowers to safflowers. I was busy with other things in life but I finally had the chance to purchase a bag of safflowers and lo, and behold, the grackles have disappeared from the feeder, the finches have it all to themselves, along with the ever-present chickadees, nuthatches and a few other unassuming visitors.

Peace has returned to the Lee-Goulet back yard and the ground beneath the feeder is slowly clearing from the mess of the sunflower seeds. Safflowers may be more expensive, but they are neater, and because the voracious grackles do not dine on them, the seed lasts longer, which I hope will make it less costly in the long run.

As I look out at the less demanding feathery diners I think about wars among nations and other groups and the instinct to want to take charge and control others. Perhaps an alternative strategy may provide a solution with less conflict. Resolving issues in this way brings less stress, wasted energy and time.

Thank you, Bill, for responding to my problem. One small vexation has left my life. Hmmm..... I must remember this when facing other dilemmas that will certainly arise during my lifetime. After all is said and done, my battle with the grackles taught me a valuable lesson.

Growing Support for our Veterans

The big day finally arrived! Six months after the VA administration made the announcement that they would be closing our VA and leaving a clinic, resulting in longer drive time for many veterans, outsourcing of their care and the construction of a Domiciliary in an urban setting which would be less conducive to the healing of veterans with PTSD or other emotional issues, the final proposal that committees worked on, was presented to the entire community before it was shown to the VA in Washington and to the rest of the country. It is a remarkable proposal, growing services to the veterans, while at the same time, lowering the cost to the taxpayers from the plan proposed by the VA.

When have you known a group of citizens from diverse backgrounds join together, at their own expense, to create a new vision for a rural VA facility that will help a community, veterans, and their families? Veterans will receive more help emotionally, physically, educationally and financially. More veterans will be able to return to civilian life, finding work and success at personal relationships. In the long run our country should see less homeless veterans, greater employment and more intact families from this segment of our population. These are the men and women who have served our country and whose families have faced adversity along with the spouse/parent. Their world changed forever in one way or the other and our country needs to help them adjust to the world they left when they joined the service.

The proposal from the Save Our VA committees has addressed many of the issues facing not only our returning veterans, but also the veterans from past conflicts who still carry scars from their time in the military.

You can read the proposal, "Building an Integrated Veterans Support Community" on the website of our local paper, The Hot Springs Star, or on theveteranstown.com. If it isn't on at this time, give it a few days to check it out.

Be prepared to be impressed, hopeful and grateful to the community of Hot Springs, South Dakota.
Can Eric Shinseki ignore a proposal for a demonstration project that will be a guide for VA facilities nationwide, be cost effective for the taxpayers, while helping those who served to find healing, work and a sense of belonging during their lives as civilians?

It just makes sense. Helpful and less expensive. Who wouldn't want to go down this path?

Ch, Ch, Ch, Chiggers

My introduction to chiggers came with a load of hay we ordered for our llamas when we lived on our land south of Hot Springs. Those little buggers are almost impossible to detect, with the exception of the itchy red bump they leave as a lengthy memento of their visit. That first exposure to those sneaky insects was a shock to this old lady who had never been exposed to them in Minnesota. I knew mosquitos, black flies, sand flies and other miserable bugs from living 65 years among the lakes of Minnesota,  but during all of that time I had never met up with a chigger. Those annoying pests were kept in store for my elder years in South Dakota.

During my first time dealing with them I scratched one little bump until it became infected. Do not, I repeat, do not scratch one! I still have a scar as a reminder of that initial attack back in about 2004. Eventually it involved a visit to a doctor to take care of an infection.

We are now living in town, away from such annoyances, and yet on Monday I found one bite through that dreaded itch. By the time Monday had turned over to Tuesday I had nine more spots begging to be scratched. One more magically appeared this morning.

It is an old wives tale that finger nail polish destroys them. By the time you are bitten those tiny red monsters have long gone. The website suggests calamine lotion or other such remedies to sooth the itching. Whatever works, or doesn't, do not scratch!!!

Still remaining, in addition to the itches, is the mystery of where they came from. My husband does not have one bite. He was not with me in the Miss South Dakota parade on Saturday, Our Save Our VA group lined up in a park outside of town. Maybe, just maybe some of those cheeky chiggers hopped a visit then. Don't know, and maybe never will. It may remain another of life's little mysteries.

"Ah, a (not so) sweet mystery of life".

Our Part in a Miss South Dakota Parade

The worst part of being in a parade is that you are in it and cannot see the other entries.
The best part of being in a parade is riding through town and greeting townspeople and being greeted with waves, cheers, thumb's up and salutes. Several of us PR members from Save our VA committee decorated a golf cart notifying citizens of the upcoming "roll out" presentation of our proposal to Washington for saving and growing our VA.

Finally, after over five months of work by many dedicated individuals committed to the health care of our veterans, the completed product will be shown to the community of Hot Springs at the same time as it will be revealed to the press.

The whole process of working together in smaller groups on separate issues, all combining to help us save a unique and much needed place of healing for veterans, has been challenging, invigorating, inspiring, exhausting and extremely satisfying. There is power in numbers and commitment to an idea. There is power in a positive attitude of victory for a common cause.

Watch our Facebook page on our website, the veteranstown.com for continuing coverage of Hot Springs making history.

Phase one is completed. Phase two is about to begin.

"June is Busting Out All Over"

Our yard is at its peak of blooms and buds. The yellow roses have wilted, but the red and white ones are splashing colors shamelessly among daisies and brilliant red sweet peas, while some are climbing the trees and lilac bushes, reaching high, as if to call out, "notice me, notice me".

In the front yard the miniature rose bushes are heavy with red blossoms. They fill the window where our old cat loves to lie, enjoying the early morning sunlight. The bushes are so thick with flowers, they block some of the light, but cat is entertained by the fat bumblebees that dart among the blooms, landing when one catches their fancy.

In the garden the veggies are emerging in various stages. A green tomato or two are developing swiftly. Our bees are especially busy, flying in and out of the hive, laden with pollen and nectar. They are speedier than the bumbling bumblebees and harder to spot, except when they stop at the bee bath to take in water.

In the midst of all of this dazzling beauty, the baby birds are taking their first awkward flights, at times landing at my feet, blinking stupidly up at me while their frantic parents call from a nearby tree, "Watch out for that person! Fly away, fly away"! And of course, they do.

One robin is furiously pulling up dry grasses for a nest. Other robins were on that project weeks ago. Why is she so slow? Perhaps she is on a different time table. Perhaps her nest was destroyed. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.....

Is it any wonder that I love the month of June, so full of color and new life?

A Historical Veteran's Powwow

We made another first! Our small border community of Hot Springs hosted a day at a veteran's Powwow on the neighboring reservation of Pine Ridge. If you want to see military solemnity and honor to our veterans, this is the Powwow to attend. Veterans - black, white and red - marched proudly together, united in a common bond of "veteran hood".

Pictures are worth more than any words. For some great shots, go to our website, theveteranstown.com, and click on Facebook and William Ing's photo essay.

Under the Color of our Skin

A Native American Korean veteran was sitting on a park bench in front of the book store in downtown Hot Springs. I sat down beside him as he was sipping on his cup of coffee and we talked about his life, which was colorful, to say the least. After years of working as a cowboy on different ranches, he was ordered by a judge to go into a substance abuse treatment program at the VA in Hot Springs. He has remained sober, and in Hot Springs, ever since.

He talked about how things have changed at the facility. In former times he said that the staff didn't know what to do with people of color - black or red. They didn't treat them the same as the white veterans back then.

The Korean veteran sat for a while nursing his coffee. Then he said quietly, "They didn't seem to know that we are all alike under the color of our skin. We all have our hopes and dreams."

Thank You, Veterans

This Memorial Day has more significance to me than any in the past. After four months of taking testimonials from veterans from WWII through Afghanistan, my appreciation for their service has grown. This includes the veterans who never saw combat, but  made their promise to do whatever and go wherever their country asked.

Each branch of the service and each war zone had its special issues but all veterans have strong bonds of commonality. They were willing to fight for the rest of us who enjoy the freedoms that we could be in danger of losing on the home front. Freedom does not come easy. It has a price. If our veterans serve "over there", the rest of us Americans should support them by our willingness to fight for the freedoms too many of us take for granted. That is not a simple fight. Issues are complex. We can remain open and continue to read, listen and learn. It takes time and energy, but if we remain gullible and thoughtless and follow the clever, simplistic ads that bombard us everywhere, or believe that we should follow one path because that is the way we have always done things, or we have discomfort with change, or, if we pursue change simply for the sake of change, we will, in time, lose what our veterans have fought for since our country took root.

Happy Memorial Day from the Black Hills of South Dakota.

Mortality Matters

Many of us ignore death most of the time. We gloss it over with words such as "he passed", "she crossed over", "he is in a better place".

When I was young we said "died", period. We had wakes (visitations) that lasted a day or more. The body was viewed in the home and I even remember when I was a tot that I was held up to my uncle's body to give him a parting kiss. (That was pretty traumatic at the time, but I did face death head on, with no frills about it).

One of the ways we look at death as children is through our pets that come and go from our lives. Each time a special pet dies we grieve at our loss, often with vague realization of the permanency of their absence. If we do not lose a parent, friend or sibling until we are adults, we remain distant from the realities of the brevity of life. Life feels ever so long and permanent in our youth.

Each time I attend a funeral, which become more numerous as I age, I re-look at my own dying. It is not an easy look for the most part. In a few years I will be a blip on the screen of life and after those who knew me are gone, there will be no memories of me on this earth.

This is a reminder to make the best of the time I have to live my life to the fullest, and that will be unique to me....the road only I can take.

It always gets back to "hello, good-bye, hello" until the last goodbye.

A neighbor died recently. He was quiet, thoughtful, gentle and unprovoking. I would like to be that kind of neighbor, although that is not my nature. I guess the best kind of neighbor I may hope to be is one that is not critical, is accepting and available in emergencies.

One of my veterans that I interviewed died around the same time. He was a Korean War veteran, and alert and healthy when we visited a few weeks before his death. I was shocked when I saw his obituary. I learned that he died as a result of a fall. He had an opportunity to fight for his country one more time with his offering of his testimonial for Save Our VA in Hot Springs. He was proud of his story that was going to Washington as a voice of one of the veterans who cared about other veterans.

The deaths of both of these men reminded me of the numerous "good-byes" I have said during my lifetime and the gratitude I have for the ways in which each of these individuals have touched my life in one way or another.

Life is short. Each departure is a remembrance and a preparation for my own final "good-bye", and each one a memorial to the preciousness of "hello".

Rain, Glorious Rain!

What is the dirt without the rain?

For those of us who live in the high desert area of the country, rain is welcomed whenever it arrives. Our winter was snowless, with a predictor of a drought to come. That may still be what awaits us, but last night this renewing soaking rain began and is still coming down as I write, bringing hope that drought may not dry out our forest, as it did five years ago before the out-of-control wildfire of 7-7-7 that devastated many homes and affected our entire community.

The soaker rain is the best. Much of the water in the hard rains washes off into the river. This marvelous soaker seeps into the ground that lays so hard and parched this spring. The flowers are going "aaaaaah", the gardens are being drenched, the robins are enjoying an easy feast of the water- logged worms, and we people are rejoicing and sighing with relief. We may have a fire-free summer after all.

Powwow on Pine Ridge

Border towns near the Indian reservations, more often than not, have higher pockets of overt racism than other communities. When any minority increases near a population of "others", the prejudice increases. In urban areas an influx of another color, religious, or culture group can cause fear, resentment or hostility. Breaching walls between two diverse groups is difficult. It has been so since the beginning of contacts between different tribes in ancient times, to the invasion of one country into another with natives residing there, to a minority group moving into an established area. Differences abound from language, customs, foods, clothing, beliefs, music, and traditions handed down from ancestors. Those differences can cause misunderstanding.

Change and discomfort go hand in hand. Reaching across bridges of prejudice can arouse feelings of anxiety that some may prefer to cover with generalities, assumptions and self-talk that put the other group in an inferior light. Some would rather explain differences with "I have the better way and I will avoid you so that I will not feel insecure about my lifestyle or threatened by yours".

I have learned over my many years that the more a person is comfortable in their own skin, the more that person can appreciate and understand the other person, even though that understanding may be limited.

Last February many Native Americans from the nearby reservations took a step into our world by joining us in our march/ride on our Hot Springs VA protesting the announced closure of this "national treasure". Veterans from the tribes, veterans from the area and the townspeople from this Veteran's Town joined together. We were all united in the cause to help our veterans who were feeling angry and abandoned by the possible closing of a hospital that had been successfully treating veterans since the Civil War.

The Indians arrived in town on the day of the march with their war ponies, war bonnets and native regalia. Before the march, during a ceremony in the park, they danced a native dance and shared with us their tradition of showing respect to all veterans. The Lakota, who come from a long line of warriors, have never lost their respect for their veterans. During the Vietnam time the veterans from the reservation returned to a warm welcome for having served their country, unlike many other veterans who faced scorn, taunts, and tomatoes and eggs thrown at them by fellow citizens who had not served in the military.

Our community, a border town to Pine Ridge, was extremely touched by the Indians who marched with other veterans and residents from Hot Springs. We wanted to make some gesture in return. We are doing that by supporting a powwow they have each June honoring their veterans. Some of our citizens have met with the tribe on Pine Ridge, offering to assist in honoring the Native American veterans during one day of their four day event which includes dancing, feasting, awards and an intial ride by the veterans on their horses from Fort Robinson to Pine Ridge.

It is an historic step. We found a bridge with all veterans united in one cause. What a gift our struggle has brought to us! No matter what the outcome for saving our VA in Hot Springs, we have created a common bond. My hope is that bond will continue to grow, bringing greater understanding between our cultures and appreciation of the differences. We are, after all, more alike on the inside, than the external diverseness which has brought so much separateness and mistrust over the years.