Time May Heal

For years after the devastating Alabaugh Fire of 2007 in which we lost most of our possessions and home, Bob and I stopped going to auctions. In my first book, A (not so) Simple Life, I wrote a chapter about auctions and my addictions to them. Bob and I had furnished much of our house with antiques purchased at auctions. Attending them had been a refreshing break for Bob from his work of building our retirement home.

Then came the fire that wiped out that very special "off the grid" house and Bob lost all enthusiasm for auctions. When I would coax him with an ad announcing one he would say, "I lost patience for them". And, indeed, if we did go to one on occasion, we left within a few minutes.

Last week there was an auction two blocks from our house. The sign outside was difficult to ignore as we passed it every day. On the day of the event we stopped for a few minutes, and, to no surprise, we left after a brief scan of the items. I had business to attend to and when I came home later Bob was not there.

It was late when he came home. He hitched the trailer to the car and disappeared again. A short time later he returned. The trailer was filled with several items, one of which was a lawn mower. It was obvious that he had gone back to the auction.

The next day Bob was out mowing the lawn. It looked especially nice. "Why did you get a lawn mower?" I asked. "You already have two."

It turned out that this was a special mower and quite new. It not only mowed, but it mulched the leaves and grass. No more raking and the mulch was good for the grass! As usual, Bob had looked for some deals and had managed to snag a few. Some of his auction patience had returned. Shock after any trauma has long-term effects, but, in time, some of the small joys in life do return. I have seen it in both of us, and for that I am grateful.

An Ode to October

What a difference a year makes. In early October, 2013 our beautiful Black Hills were covered with snow. Cattle had frozen by the hundreds after the devastating early storm that brought rain, cold, wind and snow, all of which were too much for the cattle and horses caught by the unexpected fury of the twists of nature.

Today we have passed the half way mark of October. The sun brightens the turning leaves, the air is crisp and clear and we are all enjoying the balmy waning days of Autumn. I have hopes that this coming winter will be milder and sunnier than the drawn out gray and freezing days of last year.

They yard signs for the November voting are prominent in many yards. "Vote for me", they proclaim. They, too, have promises, not unlike the weather. They suggest that they will make our lives better, that they will represent us, the voters.

As I enjoy my peaceful walk to the river and back, I wonder if, like the weather, the elected officials will turn their backs on their promises. Will they really listen to our hopes, or, like last year's October weather, will they turn to rain on our hopes, followed by the cold and wind of their personal desires and leave us covered with the heavy, wet snow of their ignorance or greed and self-interest?

I suppose only time will tell. Hope does seem to "spring eternal", but reality often crashes those same hopes. But then, many of the candidate do admit what they really stand for, and they do get elected. It follows that those that vote them in should not be surprised or complain with the results. We will see. Many promises of hopeful Autumn are dashed in the midst of winter.

This week promises to be sunny and mild. I intend to enjoy the weather as forecast. It may have to carry me through the reality to come. Beautiful, colorful October. Long may you reign!

Drip, Drip, Drip

Chilly and wet, a typical October day. This is the type of day that calls for hot chili, cocoa, a good book and snuggling up by a fire. It is a forecast of the colder, gray days to come, with less sun, longer nights and, hopefully, more time for musing, reflecting and absorbing.

It seems that there have been more and more days of activity, filled with meetings, letter writing, group activities, fund raisers, etc., etc. Today, soggy and gloomy, is a reminder of quieter days to come...days for renewal and rejuvenation, days to catch up on those un-finished magazines, days to sleep in without guilt or a to-do list. Everyone can use these kind of days.

Today is one of them. I will close this blog with ahhhhhhhh, I am retuning to the fire, in cozy slippers, with a book. Do not disturb!

A Promise Kept

I first met Fred in 2012, a few months after the announcement on December, 2011 about the planned closure of the Hot Springs VA. I was taking testimonials from veterans who used our VA and wanted it to remain open. The testimonials were to be sent to the VA administration in Washington, DC.

Fred had fought for his country in Vietnam and he volunteered once again, this time to fight the battle to save our VA. He was hesitant to tell his story. He was modest about his time in the service but resolute about the importance of saving the Hot Springs VA that was crucial to his health care. His diabetes and neuropathy, which had left him house-bound, were connected to his exposure to Agent Orange, the herbicide used by our military to destroy the vegetation in jungles of Vietnam. When Fred went to the VA they would bring out the maps and ask him where he had been in Vietnam. He said that he had received excellent care from the VA.

The following are Fred's words from part of his interview with me: When I joined the Marines and went to Vietnam I believed in the cause. I thought that Communism would spread like the domino effect and I wanted to do my part to keep that from happening. Six months into it I began to realize that it was a lost cause. They were a third world country and couldn't, and, at times, wouldn't defend themselves. It's a tall order to go from a peasant country to a democracy. From that time on I was looking forward to getting out of the service, but I had a personal sense of responsibility and I had made a promise to my country. Now my country is breaking their promise to us.

It was an American policy that when flyers were down they would try to go in and get them to safety. They did everything they could to protect their people and fly out to rescue them. How's a guy from Crawford, Alliance or Pine Ridge Reservation going to feel when they have to take a three hour ride in an ambulance to get to the hospital? It will take an extra hour and a half to get to Fort Meade from Hot Springs. When someone was down in Nam, they risked their own lives to get him out.

Long ago Fred kept his promise to his country even when he no longer believed in the cause. Then he became worried that soon that same government he once served would break its promise and deny him and other veterans accessible and quality health care. Agent Orange left its ugly mark on this loyal veteran of the Vietnam War. His last years were spent in a nursing home in Rapid City.

With quiet determination and dignity Fred fought his final battle by sharing his story. His words will live on in Reveille in Hot Springs, a book of testimonials by and for all veterans, past, present, and those yet to come.

He was buried today with full military honors. May he finally rest in peace.