In the Steam Room

Steam filled the room, blurring the face of the man who came in and sat down next to me. As always, the intimacy in the steam room encourages conversation between strangers and friends alike. It flows out as swiftly as the sweat pouring out of the heated up bodies.

I grew up with Finnish saunas in the north woods of Minnesota. Saturday saunas were standard among cabin owners, Finnish or not. With those saunas the wood was heated for about eight hours before pouring water over the rocks, unlike the steam rooms at our Plunge health club, which creates heat almost instantly, without the time consuming effort of pouring water over heated rocks. A user need spend no effort on heat preparation, allowing the entire time for enjoying the relaxing heat and the conversation.

The beginning words are casual...weather and water. These topics are usually followed by who, where, etc. The man who had just seated himself next to me said he came from Colorado and was living at the Dom. Oh, a veteran, and the topic slid to our domiciliary on the hill of which we are so proud. He was a patient in one of the programs.

"How did you happen to come to our VA?" I asked.

"My counselor at Fort Collins told me that I should come to the Hot Springs VA, and I am happy that I did. It is a great facility."

I warmed at his words. I have heard these so often in the past few years. "I could not make it through the program at other VA's. I came here and it is the best program. I believe I will make it here."

Yes, it is hard to believe that our VA has been going through so many cuts over the past years. The slow bleed has drained the Dom of many counselors and doctors, but those who remain manage, somehow, to maintain the excellence our VA has always shown for many years in treating the physcal and emotionl needs of countless veterans from many states beginning with the Civil War veterans and up to the present retuning soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan.

"They know me by name. They do not treat me like a number as is done in the larger VA hospitals. Here I receive respect and treatment tailored to my needs."

I hear this high praise almost every time I talk to a veteran, but it is in the steam room, sauna or the hot tubs where veterans join me in healing and sharing. Our health club at Evans Plunge heals more than aching bodies.

Remembering Shirley

Shirley Temple died last week. Unlike other celebrities from another era, her passing received scant notice. I did receive one email from a high school classmate recalling someone we "grew up with."

How could I forget? She was a huge part of my depression-era childhood. She sang, danced, smiled and cheered us a bit during those dark days of unemployment and for some, despair over a disappearing style of life.

Cheering us up a "bit" meant a lot to many of us. She lit up the screen with her bouncy curls, sunny smile and perky, can-do attitude. We fell in love with her and she never let us down. She remained a model of positiveness among nagging gloom. There were no scandals such as we are bombarded with by the press today regarding the movie idols and their use of drugs and sensationalism in a desperate effort to retain the spotlight.

Shirley remained in that light through her talent and upbeat aura, retiring out of the limelight when she reached adulthood, followed by a life of service to others. She never disappointed us fans, with the exception of her early retirement. Looking back, it seems a wise decision. Her impact was as a child star and I believe she recognized that early during her stardom. She moved on, leaving her movie career, but also a legacy of films that would live on to delight more generations of children..Talk about maturity!

So goodbye to a positive influence on my childhood. Thank you, Shirley, for being you. You helped me during my formative years to remember that "being oneself, the best self one can be" is the most fulfilling and satisfying life to lead.

Footprints in the Snow

There are two sets of tiny prints leading up to our back deck. It is a mystery as to whom they belong. We have been feeding our calico stray for over three months, but now and then another black and white cat shows up looking for food. This unusually cold weather has brought out a huge orange cat. Both of these must be strays to be wandering around in this bitter cold. My heart goes out to them. They must be cold and hungry and we guess that one or the other finishes the food that Skitty Kitty leaves behind. Another thought is that we are now feeding three abandoned critters.

Growing up in the north woods of Minnesota was a great place for footprints in the snow sightings. My father could identify each one of them, and taught me which was the hare, the deer, the wolf or the squirrel. Winters and snow were plentiful in those deep woods and I learned who had been visiting our neighborhood.

Moving to the southwest corner of South Dakota was another matter. Snow came less often and disappeared within hours or a few days. There were a few occasions when we spotted the tracks of a cougar, the deer, wild turkeys or pack rats, but these sightings were fewer than during my childhood years in the snows of Minnesota that arrived in October and remained through April.

While we lived in the country south of Hot Springs I still felt the familiar thrill from my childhood when I came across a set of tell-tale prints crossing our land. I knew who had visited us the night before.

After the wildfire we moved into Hot Springs where I see more prints every morning when I open the curtains to the day than I did when we lived in the country. Of course the town is surrounded by the hills that are home to the turkeys, deer and other wildlife.They visit us more in the winter when their food sources are scarce and our bird feeders are full.

Snow has been more constant this winter and I am able to identify our nightly visitors most mornings. I still enjoy observing tracks in the snow, but the sight of prints of the stray cats is a bit upsetting. They should be enjoying the comforts of a home, curled up on a lap or a sofa, or sitting in a window sunning themselves and twitching at the birds having lunch at the feeder.Someone, somewhere at sometime discarded them carelessly, leaving them to fend for themselves in a world that at times, may be cold, windy and lacking in nourishment.

For now I find some comfort in providing them with sustenance that will, hopefully, ease their journey through our back yard.