December in Scottsdale is usually the coldest month of the year. This year was no exception, in fact, it seemed colder than any of the past 17 years we have lived here. One uninvited visitor was old Jack Frost who came barging in one night and stayed for ten. We tried covering up our sensitive plants and shrubs to no avail. He proceeded to wipe his frosty hands all over Grandma’s basil plants and our Arizona Yellow Bells, among others. He has since left us, thank goodness, but with no guarantee that he won’t return any time soon.
The other visitor, that none of us welcomes, was a flu/cold/sinus bug that hit me just after Christmas. I tried to dislodge the bug with Daquill, Claritin, Nyquill and Theraflu, but the best results came from a good old-fashioned salt water gargle that Grandma recommended. I’m still hoarse, but am now over the hump and on the down side of getting well. If you ever get the bug, heed Grandma’s call and use a salt water gargle! We had planned to go to a German restaurant New Year’s Eve, but had to cancel out. I was looking forward to some Sauerbraten und Rotkohl, washed down with a good Pilsener. Oh well, that’s a good resolution for 2008.
31 December 2007
19 December 2007
Storms
As he quite often does, Rick Watson (Life 101) hit a memory button when he wrote about getting bread and milk in advance of a storm. The memory goes like this:
It was a big storm that had blanketed western New York and left our street covered in several feet of snow. The neighbors banded together and had potluck meals made from whatever stock was available. After a few days of no plows in sight, my wife and I decided to take a toboggan and hike a couple of miles to the nearest grocery store to see what staples we could find, as our family of nine was running out. A neighbor across the street asked us to pick up some milk for their new baby. When we reached the store, we found that most of the staples and just about everything else had been cleared out. We went to the dairy section and asked a clerk if there was any more milk to be had since neighbors needed some for their baby; the clerk said he would check in back for us. There was a couple standing nearby with a cart full of milk, who volunteered to give us some of theirs because “we don’t need it all”, but I refused with the reply that they certainly must need it or else they wouldn’t have taken it all. When the clerk returned with two quarts, we thanked him and went on our way. I don’t remember whether or not the couple kept all the milk. I certainly hope they put some back for the next person.
It took a few more days before the street was plowed and life returned to normal, but I never forgot the panic that set in on otherwise sane people when they thought they might starve to death before the next shipment of groceries would arrive.
It was a big storm that had blanketed western New York and left our street covered in several feet of snow. The neighbors banded together and had potluck meals made from whatever stock was available. After a few days of no plows in sight, my wife and I decided to take a toboggan and hike a couple of miles to the nearest grocery store to see what staples we could find, as our family of nine was running out. A neighbor across the street asked us to pick up some milk for their new baby. When we reached the store, we found that most of the staples and just about everything else had been cleared out. We went to the dairy section and asked a clerk if there was any more milk to be had since neighbors needed some for their baby; the clerk said he would check in back for us. There was a couple standing nearby with a cart full of milk, who volunteered to give us some of theirs because “we don’t need it all”, but I refused with the reply that they certainly must need it or else they wouldn’t have taken it all. When the clerk returned with two quarts, we thanked him and went on our way. I don’t remember whether or not the couple kept all the milk. I certainly hope they put some back for the next person.
It took a few more days before the street was plowed and life returned to normal, but I never forgot the panic that set in on otherwise sane people when they thought they might starve to death before the next shipment of groceries would arrive.
13 December 2007
Where Or When?
The song “Where Or When” was written by Richard Rodgers & Lorenz Hart for the musical “Babes In Arms” which debuted in 1937. I just recently listened to it and found that it could be classified as the theme song for the Alzheimer’s Institute. It certainly does help understand what an Alzheimer patient goes through, although the composers certainly didn’t intend it that way. These are the lyrics:
“When you’re awake, the things you think
Come from the dreams you dream.
Thought has wings, and lots of things
Are seldom what they seem.
Sometimes you think you’ve lived before
All that you live today.
Things you do come back to you
As though they knew the way;
Oh, the tricks your mind can play.
“It seems we stood and talked like this before.
We looked at each other in the same way then,
But I can’t remember where or when.
The clothes you’re wearing are the clothes you wore,
The smile you’re smiling you were smiling then,
But I can’t remember where or when.
“Some things that happened for the first time
Seem to be happening again,
And so it seems that we have met before
And laughed before, and loved before,
But who knows where or when.”
What do you think?
“When you’re awake, the things you think
Come from the dreams you dream.
Thought has wings, and lots of things
Are seldom what they seem.
Sometimes you think you’ve lived before
All that you live today.
Things you do come back to you
As though they knew the way;
Oh, the tricks your mind can play.
“It seems we stood and talked like this before.
We looked at each other in the same way then,
But I can’t remember where or when.
The clothes you’re wearing are the clothes you wore,
The smile you’re smiling you were smiling then,
But I can’t remember where or when.
“Some things that happened for the first time
Seem to be happening again,
And so it seems that we have met before
And laughed before, and loved before,
But who knows where or when.”
What do you think?
12 December 2007
The Clinton Theater
When we moved to Rochester, there was a movie theater about five blocks away - the Clinton Theater. The normal program included a newsreel, two movies, one of which was a “B” movie, an episode of an adventure serial, and coming attractions. Friday nights were when most of the kids in the neighborhood would be there because there was usually a western, where the good guys wore white and the bad guys wore black. We all knew to BOO the bad guys.
The admission was about a dime, but one could earn a bunch of passes by delivering a monthly program to houses around the area. I “signed up” for that one time and was autoed to a suburb and dropped off, where all the houses were served by mailboxes at the curb. Not being familiar with rural mail delivery, the other fellow and I decided that we needed to raise the little red flag on the side of the box to let the homeowners know that there was something in the box for them. After we had finished our round, we were picked up by the theater owner, who handed us our passes. On the way back home, we told him we had made sure to raise the red flags. Well, he told us that we shouldn’t have done that; the red flag is a signal to the mailman to stop and pick up mail from the box. It was too much to go back and lower all those red flags. I imagine the mailman was a little perturbed to have to stop at every mailbox, when not all of them had mail to be picked up.
I don’t remember ever again being asked to deliver the monthly programs.
The admission was about a dime, but one could earn a bunch of passes by delivering a monthly program to houses around the area. I “signed up” for that one time and was autoed to a suburb and dropped off, where all the houses were served by mailboxes at the curb. Not being familiar with rural mail delivery, the other fellow and I decided that we needed to raise the little red flag on the side of the box to let the homeowners know that there was something in the box for them. After we had finished our round, we were picked up by the theater owner, who handed us our passes. On the way back home, we told him we had made sure to raise the red flags. Well, he told us that we shouldn’t have done that; the red flag is a signal to the mailman to stop and pick up mail from the box. It was too much to go back and lower all those red flags. I imagine the mailman was a little perturbed to have to stop at every mailbox, when not all of them had mail to be picked up.
I don’t remember ever again being asked to deliver the monthly programs.
Fearless Mice
According to today's Guardian (www.guardian.co.uk), scientists have genetically modified a mouse to be unafraid of cats. Maybe they'll be able to genetically modify jihadists to be unafraid of the rest of civilization.
07 December 2007
Smoke Rings
Congratulations to daughter-in-law, Sharon, for quitting smoking. She has tried a new prescription drug and it is working. Read all about it at her blog "Mimi's Blog" through the link on the right.
My own "adventure" with smoking started in 1949 in Stillwater, Oklahoma. My college roommate, Nelson, was a smoker. One day I asked him to teach me how to smoke, so he gave me a cigarette and I lit up. My first attempt was to suck in some smoke, then try to swallow it. Ugh! Don't try that at home! But after a few more drags I was off and running. I was 18 at the time, and trying to be cool. I was 36 when I quit, so I had smoked half my life. I tell people that it took me a day to start and 18 years to quit.
At one point in my quitting trials, I started smoking cheroots, until I found I had both a cigarette and a cheroot lit in my ash tray. Another time, I tried a pipe, because my Doctor said it was almost impossible to keep them lit. He was right; I gave them up because of the frustration level it built up. I had quit once for a 3-month period. The problem was that I hadn't convinced myself that I was ready to give up smoking completely. It took a few months of debate before I finally won the argument with myself. From that point on, no more cigarettes.
If you're thinking of quitting, talk to your family Doctor about the new prescription drug. My son, Jamie, has started on it now, and I pray that it will work for him. (I'm also praying that Gail and David will try it.)
My own "adventure" with smoking started in 1949 in Stillwater, Oklahoma. My college roommate, Nelson, was a smoker. One day I asked him to teach me how to smoke, so he gave me a cigarette and I lit up. My first attempt was to suck in some smoke, then try to swallow it. Ugh! Don't try that at home! But after a few more drags I was off and running. I was 18 at the time, and trying to be cool. I was 36 when I quit, so I had smoked half my life. I tell people that it took me a day to start and 18 years to quit.
At one point in my quitting trials, I started smoking cheroots, until I found I had both a cigarette and a cheroot lit in my ash tray. Another time, I tried a pipe, because my Doctor said it was almost impossible to keep them lit. He was right; I gave them up because of the frustration level it built up. I had quit once for a 3-month period. The problem was that I hadn't convinced myself that I was ready to give up smoking completely. It took a few months of debate before I finally won the argument with myself. From that point on, no more cigarettes.
If you're thinking of quitting, talk to your family Doctor about the new prescription drug. My son, Jamie, has started on it now, and I pray that it will work for him. (I'm also praying that Gail and David will try it.)
02 December 2007
Joe Maloney
We lived next door to the Maloney family, Joe, Jim and their parents. In the 1940s, we played together; he was four years younger than me. One time, Joe’s mother bought him an archery set with blunt-tipped arrows. Joe was excited and went into the back yard and shot an arrow straight up; it came down and hit his brother in the top of the head. No real damage done, but that was the end of archery at the Maloneys.
Joe’s father worked as a night guard for the Rochester Psychiatric Hospital (the Insane Asylum, in days of yore), and Joe was used to going there and wandering around the complex. One day, Joe “borrowed” his father’s revolver and headed to the Pinnacle hill area, a wooded, hilly unpopulated tract on the southern edge of Rochester, where he wound up shooting himself in the hand and falling down a cliff. The firemen were called, by whom I don’t know, and rescued Joe. That was the end of “borrowing” his father’s revolver.
Joe worked at many jobs, including handling dynamite, or at least he boasted of it. He had been to Ireland to visit relatives and had kissed the Blarney Stone, so it was difficult to determine fact from fiction. I did find him at work at Haloid Xerox in a paint spray booth in the early 1960s. At one time he told me that he had had his colon removed and offered to show me his colostomy bag, but I declined.
He and I double-dated at one point, he with his fiancee, June, and I with a cousin of his from Ireland. Joe stood a little over six feet and June was about five feet four. They always seemed to get along well when we were together, however there was another side to Joe that I never saw. To read about that, go to http://www.dun-laoghaire.com/michael_maloney.html for the rest of the story.
Joe’s father worked as a night guard for the Rochester Psychiatric Hospital (the Insane Asylum, in days of yore), and Joe was used to going there and wandering around the complex. One day, Joe “borrowed” his father’s revolver and headed to the Pinnacle hill area, a wooded, hilly unpopulated tract on the southern edge of Rochester, where he wound up shooting himself in the hand and falling down a cliff. The firemen were called, by whom I don’t know, and rescued Joe. That was the end of “borrowing” his father’s revolver.
Joe worked at many jobs, including handling dynamite, or at least he boasted of it. He had been to Ireland to visit relatives and had kissed the Blarney Stone, so it was difficult to determine fact from fiction. I did find him at work at Haloid Xerox in a paint spray booth in the early 1960s. At one time he told me that he had had his colon removed and offered to show me his colostomy bag, but I declined.
He and I double-dated at one point, he with his fiancee, June, and I with a cousin of his from Ireland. Joe stood a little over six feet and June was about five feet four. They always seemed to get along well when we were together, however there was another side to Joe that I never saw. To read about that, go to http://www.dun-laoghaire.com/michael_maloney.html for the rest of the story.
01 December 2007
An Unpleasant Visit
I've been in a morgue only once, and that was more than I had ever thought would happen.
Gerald was the youngest of six children, about 5' 9'' tall, blue eyes. He had married, had children and then was divorced when his alcoholism got in the way of his life. He told me that he had never suffered a hangover no matter how much or how long he drank. He would run out the drunk then check into the hospital to dry out. In between bouts, he hung around those of us who did drink, but said he didn't mind. The last time he went in to dry out he was told that his system couldn't handle the strain of another treatment.
His sister had divorced my brother and moved into a house in Rochester with her children; Gerald would stay there off and on. When she moved to the suburbs, he stayed on at the house and started drinking again.
My brother and his son went to the house one day to check on Gerald and found him sitting in a chair in the basement with a shotgun to his chest - dead. The police were called and it was ruled a suicide. The kitchen cupboards were filled with almost empty whiskey bottles. Someone had told Gerald that one could always tell an alcoholic because they drained every bottle; we think he always left a little in the bottle so he wouldn't be so labeled.
The police wanted positive identification, but his sister didn't want to go, so my brother and I went. Fred wouldn't go look at the body so it fell to me. It was Gerald.
I hope I never have to visit another morgue.
Gerald was the youngest of six children, about 5' 9'' tall, blue eyes. He had married, had children and then was divorced when his alcoholism got in the way of his life. He told me that he had never suffered a hangover no matter how much or how long he drank. He would run out the drunk then check into the hospital to dry out. In between bouts, he hung around those of us who did drink, but said he didn't mind. The last time he went in to dry out he was told that his system couldn't handle the strain of another treatment.
His sister had divorced my brother and moved into a house in Rochester with her children; Gerald would stay there off and on. When she moved to the suburbs, he stayed on at the house and started drinking again.
My brother and his son went to the house one day to check on Gerald and found him sitting in a chair in the basement with a shotgun to his chest - dead. The police were called and it was ruled a suicide. The kitchen cupboards were filled with almost empty whiskey bottles. Someone had told Gerald that one could always tell an alcoholic because they drained every bottle; we think he always left a little in the bottle so he wouldn't be so labeled.
The police wanted positive identification, but his sister didn't want to go, so my brother and I went. Fred wouldn't go look at the body so it fell to me. It was Gerald.
I hope I never have to visit another morgue.
22 November 2007
Thanksgiving Day 2007
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Today is the day my family celebrates a day that our ancestor, Miles Standish, participated in back in the 1620s. We are thankful to him for being part of the first Thanksgiving celebration, which has since become a truly American tradition. God bless you all and God bless the United States of America.
Today is the day my family celebrates a day that our ancestor, Miles Standish, participated in back in the 1620s. We are thankful to him for being part of the first Thanksgiving celebration, which has since become a truly American tradition. God bless you all and God bless the United States of America.
21 November 2007
"Chinese Fire Drill"
Two daughters joined the Henrietta Hi-Lites, an all-female color guard that marched in parades around the county and participated in contests in New York and Canada. Chris was a flag, that is, she carried one of the large banners and had to go through some maneuvers while on the march. Gail was a rifle, so she carried a wooden rifle and had to perform a bunch of manual-of-arms exercises while marching. They weren’t members at the same time; Chris joined first, then when she retired, Gail joined. If I remember correctly, there were some rifle marks in the family room ceiling from over zealous practices.
The manager was Jim Fleming, who was assisted by his daughter Kathy. Parents were asked to help with transportation for distant performances, so I volunteered. We had a nine-passenger Ford station wagon, so I could load up the car with Hi-Lites.
One trip took us to Toronto, Canada, where they were entered in a competition, so lucky me got to be chauffeur, along with Jim and another parent. Jim led the way with me next in our caravan. Unfortunately, Jim made it through a traffic light, turning right, but we didn’t. By the time the light changed and I turned, there were very dim taillights way up ahead, so I sped to catch up. Well, that wasn’t Jim. We pulled into a gas station to get directions, but the fellow there couldn’t find the hotel or the street on his map. So we turned around and retraced our steps, finally seeing the lights of the hotel up ahead. Well, we drove around and around the hotel, but couldn’t find any way to get there because of the construction, until I drove through a barricaded street and there we were. We did manage to make it to the bar just as last call was announced.
The next morning, we were up bright and early so we could get to the competition hall where we spent the day in total boredom waiting for our turn. I don’t remember winning first place.
On the way back to Henrietta, we were stopped at a traffic light, when someone asked if I could roll down the rear window, which I did. Suddenly, someone shouted “Chinese Fire Drill” and all the doors flew open, Hi-Lites jumped out of the car and rolled out the rear window, then piled back into the car, making sure they were all in different seats. I was stunned and almost forgot to go when the light turned green. From then on, I was prepared for the confusion when anyone made the announcement, but people in nearby cars looked on in shock.
The manager was Jim Fleming, who was assisted by his daughter Kathy. Parents were asked to help with transportation for distant performances, so I volunteered. We had a nine-passenger Ford station wagon, so I could load up the car with Hi-Lites.
One trip took us to Toronto, Canada, where they were entered in a competition, so lucky me got to be chauffeur, along with Jim and another parent. Jim led the way with me next in our caravan. Unfortunately, Jim made it through a traffic light, turning right, but we didn’t. By the time the light changed and I turned, there were very dim taillights way up ahead, so I sped to catch up. Well, that wasn’t Jim. We pulled into a gas station to get directions, but the fellow there couldn’t find the hotel or the street on his map. So we turned around and retraced our steps, finally seeing the lights of the hotel up ahead. Well, we drove around and around the hotel, but couldn’t find any way to get there because of the construction, until I drove through a barricaded street and there we were. We did manage to make it to the bar just as last call was announced.
The next morning, we were up bright and early so we could get to the competition hall where we spent the day in total boredom waiting for our turn. I don’t remember winning first place.
On the way back to Henrietta, we were stopped at a traffic light, when someone asked if I could roll down the rear window, which I did. Suddenly, someone shouted “Chinese Fire Drill” and all the doors flew open, Hi-Lites jumped out of the car and rolled out the rear window, then piled back into the car, making sure they were all in different seats. I was stunned and almost forgot to go when the light turned green. From then on, I was prepared for the confusion when anyone made the announcement, but people in nearby cars looked on in shock.
19 November 2007
More About Art
In 1949, in my freshman year at Oklahoma Agricultural & Mechanical College, I was rooming with Nelson Cohen, also from Rochester, in a 16 ft. sq. surplus Army hut in Oretoopa Village, a temporary student housing project a healthy walk away from the college campus. The furnishings were sparse - two surplus Army cots with cotton mattresses, a central heater, and two wardrobes and dressers, with a study table for each of us. The outside was covered loosely with tar paper, which didn’t quite keep out the Oklahoma soil from blowing in each and every day. My buddy, Smitty, lived two doors down. One day, when things were a little slow, Smitty and I started drawing caricatures on my desk. When we finished, we had drawn Smitty, Kendig, Nelson and me. Too bad we couldn’t keep the desk.
11 November 2007
Racism
Racism is alive and well in the United States. You can thank the media for that. Why? Well, how many times have you read in the paper or heard on the radio or TV the words “Latino”, “Hispanic”, “African-American”, etc.? What kind of an image do those words convey? One nation of “Americans“? Or a multicultural nation of fragmented groups?
Wouldn’t it be better for all of us if the media called us all “Americans” and tried to bring us together, rather than using words that try to keep us divided? I think so. Which would you prefer?
Wouldn’t it be better for all of us if the media called us all “Americans” and tried to bring us together, rather than using words that try to keep us divided? I think so. Which would you prefer?
04 November 2007
Art
When we lived in Batavia, NY, there was an Indian - Mohawk, I believe - who stayed occasionally at my grandfather’s house. We called him “Chief” but his name was John Hill; he worked as a laborer on construction and traveled from job to job on a bicycle. One day my brother and I were talking with him when he pulled out a pencil and paper and proceeded to draw a picture of a locomotive. I was amazed at his drawing skill as well as his ability to draw from memory. If I remember right, he played a mean harmonica, too.
In the eighth grade in Monroe High School in Rochester, I took Art as an elective subject. There was an annual competition among the schools for best art, called the Scholastic Art Exhibit. The best entries were displayed at the foremost department store in town, Sibley, Lindsay & Carr, Co. I had entered a colored pencil drawing - 8 ½ x 11 - of a section of wallpaper of pigs. Yes, pigs! It won Honorable Mention and went on display for all and sundry to view. I think that’s about the time my parents bought me a set of colored pencils that I carried with me for many years.
In the eighth grade in Monroe High School in Rochester, I took Art as an elective subject. There was an annual competition among the schools for best art, called the Scholastic Art Exhibit. The best entries were displayed at the foremost department store in town, Sibley, Lindsay & Carr, Co. I had entered a colored pencil drawing - 8 ½ x 11 - of a section of wallpaper of pigs. Yes, pigs! It won Honorable Mention and went on display for all and sundry to view. I think that’s about the time my parents bought me a set of colored pencils that I carried with me for many years.
31 October 2007
Halloween 2007
Boo! Did I scare you?
Grandma and I walked for about 30 minutes this morning before breakfast. We try to get out at least 3 times each week, and do some walking at other times, like cruising the mall. Not really pushing it like we do in the morning, but not coasting either. We both need the exercise, not because of weight loss, but for the cardiovascular system. Do you walk?
This afternoon we are to meet a new - to us - Doctor who will schedule us each for a colonoscopy. I plan to tell him all about my fainting spell in July when I was preping for one with a different Doctor. I don't want to go through that again!
The past two days we have taken Ginger out front for short walks. She likes the grass and will go about two doors down before she looks up at me for pity. That's when I get to carry her home. We keep her weight steady at 28 pounds, which I can manage for a few feet.
Happy Halloween!
Grandma and I walked for about 30 minutes this morning before breakfast. We try to get out at least 3 times each week, and do some walking at other times, like cruising the mall. Not really pushing it like we do in the morning, but not coasting either. We both need the exercise, not because of weight loss, but for the cardiovascular system. Do you walk?
This afternoon we are to meet a new - to us - Doctor who will schedule us each for a colonoscopy. I plan to tell him all about my fainting spell in July when I was preping for one with a different Doctor. I don't want to go through that again!
The past two days we have taken Ginger out front for short walks. She likes the grass and will go about two doors down before she looks up at me for pity. That's when I get to carry her home. We keep her weight steady at 28 pounds, which I can manage for a few feet.
Happy Halloween!
24 October 2007
The Party's Over
Most people don’t realize it, but the party’s over. It won’t be long before there will be more mosques in Europe than cathedrals, churches and synagogues. Why? Well, look at the demographics, urges Mark Steyn in his book “America Alone”. Between 1970 and 2000, “the developed world declined from just under 30 percent of the global population to just over 20 percent, and the Muslim nations increased from about 15 percent to 20 percent”. The fertility rate in Europe is BELOW the level needed to sustain the population; in America, it’s about right. So our European cousins will be faced with ever increasing numbers of immigrants from Muslim nations to take up the work that the declining local populations will no longer be there to perform. And will they assimilate into the culture of their new “homeland”? Well, look at what happened in Florida when a Muslim woman went to court to keep her face covered on the picture on her driver’s license.
Better start boning up on “The Koran” so you can converse intelligently with your new neighbors. I already have.
Better start boning up on “The Koran” so you can converse intelligently with your new neighbors. I already have.
16 October 2007
Split Rock
Well, after writing about Split Rock, I decided I'd better put up a picture or two so you could see just what it looks like. So here are two, one with son-in-law David, so you get an idea of scale. Big, eh?
11 October 2007
A Random Thought For October
I realized early on that I would never make a good ballplayer because I couldn't learn the knack of spitting.
10 October 2007
Ginger
Ginger, our Pembroke Welsh Corgi, is feeling a little poorly today. She's on antibiotics and pain pills for the next few days. She visited the Vets yesterday for teeth cleaning. Despite Grandma brushing her teeth every morning, she had to have 11 teeth extracted - 9 incisors and 2 molars. We had not noticed any signs of discomfort, so were quite surprised. She now gets her dry food smashed up and watered down, and her treats smashed. We'll ease up on the smashing after about a week.
Other than that, she acts as normal as can be expected for a 77 year old with arthritis.
Other than that, she acts as normal as can be expected for a 77 year old with arthritis.
09 October 2007
Lean-tos
Youngest daughter, Gail, and her husband, David, recently visited a part of the Adirondacks that we camped in many moons ago. It’s called Split Rock, because of a huge rock split down the middle. The rock is usually dry, but is sometimes almost under water during especially heavy rainfall in the area. By hopping rock-to-rock across split rock, we would be able to fish for trout in a large pool in the Deer River.
The Post Card we received had a copy of a lean-to painting from the 1800s, and revived a memory of a trip to a different area in the Adirondacks. The group included Roger Roberts, an Englishman expatriot engineer working at Xerox, my brother Fred, sons Mark and Jamie, and Fred’s son Rick, Jamie‘s friend Mike, and Rick‘s friend also named Mike. We had rented canoes and paddled our way across Raquette Lake to a campsite that consisted of several lean-tos, where we spread our sleeping bags and cooking gear. Along with our food and clothes, we had packed a large supply of worms, which were our preferred bait.
After we set up camp, Roger rigged his fishing rod and headed to the shore. He was an avid fisherman, and had plenty of experience in the lakes and rivers of England. One thing that we didn’t realize about fishing over there is that they chum the water before trying to catch any. When we did wander over to see how he was doing, we found him having a great time catching Sunfish - about 3 or 4 inches long - not big enough to keep for dinner. What was upsetting to us was that he was chumming - throwing handsful of worms into the lake - in order to catch one small fish. Well, we educated him on the spot; the fish were so hungry that only part of a worm was needed to catch those little guys.
We fished a while on Raquette Lake without too much success, so decided to break camp and head to Split Rock. My recollection is that the weather turned dismal on Raquette, so we sought dryer waters at Split Rock. Unfortunately, it was raining at Split Rock, so we decided against setting up camp and drove into St. Regis Falls and camped at the Waverly Inn, a VERY rustic building but with a well-stocked bar. So we dried out on the outside and watered down our insides.
Not too much later, Roger was called back to Rank-Xerox, but sent some pictures of our adventure, including one of the group of us under a tarpaulin during the rainstorm. About ten years after that, I had word that Roger had passed away. But the memory lingers on.
The Post Card we received had a copy of a lean-to painting from the 1800s, and revived a memory of a trip to a different area in the Adirondacks. The group included Roger Roberts, an Englishman expatriot engineer working at Xerox, my brother Fred, sons Mark and Jamie, and Fred’s son Rick, Jamie‘s friend Mike, and Rick‘s friend also named Mike. We had rented canoes and paddled our way across Raquette Lake to a campsite that consisted of several lean-tos, where we spread our sleeping bags and cooking gear. Along with our food and clothes, we had packed a large supply of worms, which were our preferred bait.
After we set up camp, Roger rigged his fishing rod and headed to the shore. He was an avid fisherman, and had plenty of experience in the lakes and rivers of England. One thing that we didn’t realize about fishing over there is that they chum the water before trying to catch any. When we did wander over to see how he was doing, we found him having a great time catching Sunfish - about 3 or 4 inches long - not big enough to keep for dinner. What was upsetting to us was that he was chumming - throwing handsful of worms into the lake - in order to catch one small fish. Well, we educated him on the spot; the fish were so hungry that only part of a worm was needed to catch those little guys.
We fished a while on Raquette Lake without too much success, so decided to break camp and head to Split Rock. My recollection is that the weather turned dismal on Raquette, so we sought dryer waters at Split Rock. Unfortunately, it was raining at Split Rock, so we decided against setting up camp and drove into St. Regis Falls and camped at the Waverly Inn, a VERY rustic building but with a well-stocked bar. So we dried out on the outside and watered down our insides.
Not too much later, Roger was called back to Rank-Xerox, but sent some pictures of our adventure, including one of the group of us under a tarpaulin during the rainstorm. About ten years after that, I had word that Roger had passed away. But the memory lingers on.
The Grieving
I had never paid much attention to the period after the death and funeral. People died, were buried and life went on. Actually, it was never that cold a process, but it seemed like that from a distance. However, up close and personal, there is a time period needed by the grieving survivors to be able to come to grips with the empty spot in their lives. So it was after the deaths of a niece, my parents, a step-daughter, my in-laws, that I needed that time to grieve. And so it is now that we have lost our beloved Pepper. It has helped to talk about her life and the suddenness of her death with others who have lost one of their beloved. I still tear up, and may for a long time, she was so special to me. I still talk to her and one day I felt her presence in the room. I know she has no more fear, no more aches and pains, and that consoles me.
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