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.