This I believe

 

It is impossible to define “soul” as that is part of the unknowable mystery of life.  However, I believe that we receive our soul from our parents at birth and that parts of our soul are disbursed at death to family members, friends and acquaintances.  So our souls continue to grow and accept parts of the souls of others as we age.  That means that we are a part of everyone who has gone before us and we will be a part of everyone who comes after us.  So when you think of me, it’s my soul tapping you on the shoulder and saying “Hiya, how ya doin’?”  And when I think of you, it’s your soul tapping me on the shoulder.

My Apology for Not Writing

 I started reading my old blogs (there was a period when I didn't write anything) and was surprised to find so many positive comments others had made.  And it suddenly occurred to me that I might not have acknowledged them.  I was disappointed to see that I hadn't responded to a distant cousin living in Germany (the Carman line), along with my other followers.  Also the comments from my friends, Rick and Jilda, and I really miss the words from Rick, a gentleman's gentleman, gone too soon.  So from now on, I'll try to do a better job of acknowledging comments.

Living in Florida

    Shirley and I moved from Ontario, New York, to our new home in Scottsdale, Arizona, in mid-1990.  By August 2008, we were residents at Westminster Village, a Continuing Care Retirement Community.  In March 2024, after Shirley's death in September 2023, I moved to Palm Bay, Florida, to live with my son, Mark, and his wife, Karen.  We live on a quiet street with a canal in the back, which ultimately drains into the St. John's River.  Sitting in the screened-in lanai, we can watch Sandhill Cranes, Whistling Ducks, a variety of songbirds, Osprey and Hawks.  Occasionally we hear Owls in the evening from the woods across the canal.

   There's a different lifestyle here than any other place I've lived.  Right now, at the age of 93, I'm barefoot with my shirttails hanging out, unshaven but showered.  Never in my life would I have suspected that I'd be living in such a carefree condition.  And the atmosphere is different.  Instead of the low, low humidity of Arizona, there's a higher amount of humidity to get used to.  Scottsdale, with a temperature of 100° and humidity of 15% is a lot different from Palm Bay, with a temperature of 85° and humidity of 95%, believe me!  But it's all in getting used to, which takes a little time and patience.  Now, after a year of acclimation, I feel like a Floridian, and happy with it.

Autumn Wind

 The Autumn wind swooshes

Roller-coaster fashion

Through, 

Then up and over,

And through again,

Denuding trees of all

Save a few fiery displays.

Uncle Miltie

 Here we are in Palm Bay waiting for Uncle Miltie, well, really Hurricane Milton.  All the outside has been cleared of furniture that might blow away, flower pots are in safe places, water pump in readiness on the patio.  News broadcasts show the path changing slightly as he nears the west coast, somewhat more to the south now, between Sarasota and Venice.  Family over there say they are prepared as well as they can be, or have evacuated to safer territory.  We should experience rain and wind as the force decreases between the west coast and here.  Nothing to do now but wait.

The Old Man

 Today, I let "the old man" in.  I'm referring to that quote of Clint Eastwood's when asked how he keeps on doing the things he does.  He answered, "When I get up in the morning, I don't let the old man in".  Or words to that effect.

Yesterday I had the 4th of a series of 6 BCG treatments for bladder/kidney cancer.  It hit me harder than any of the previous ones.  In 2012 I was diagnosed with "carcinoma in situ" of my bladder.  Fortunately, it was found early and the 6 treatments were successful.  This time we won't know until 6 weeks after the final treatment.  In the meantime, I try to keep the old man out, but he sure is persistent.

Cranes

 Marching majestically down the lane

Come the regal Sandhill Crane.

Summer is a Comin'

 The Plumeria are in full bloom.  Sandhill Cranes visit occasionally along with a pair of ducks.  The feeders continue to attract Cardinals, Bluejays, Woodpeckers, Sparrows, Doves and Grackle.

Squirrels help clean up the food dropped from the feeders, but they're not able to climb up to get at the source.  A length of stovepipe around the post keeps them off.  Temperature and humidity are beginning to rise to warn us of the coming summer.  We've seen a few of the launches at the space center, watching from the front lawn.  It takes a few minutes from the sight of the launch until the roar reaches us.  Impressive.

The Feeding Station on Gillmar Avenue

 

The Feeding Station on Gillmar Avenue

 

A Cosanti Chime announces the breeze.

As Woodpecker shrieks his way

To the suet.

Is it an invitation to feast

Or warning a solitary repast?

Shy Cardinal flits cautiously,

Startled by any movement,

Ready to shrink into the nearest tree.

Bluejay blathers in,

Elbows flailing,

Finding the choicest morsels.

Meanwhile, Mourning Doves

Nonchalantly

Pick at scattered seeds

Dropped from the largess above,

Ready to leave

At the unseen, unheard signal

Erupting in a whirr,

To flee

And whirl

And return

Acting fully nonchalant again.

Hummingbird helicopters through,

Ignoring everyone.

 

                                        Palm Bay, Florida

                                        April 2024

Hello from Florida

 After 15 years at Westminster Village in Scottsdale, Arizona, I have moved to Palm Bay, Florida to live with my son and daughter-in-law.  Last September, my bride of 46 years died of a cancer on the back of her tongue, a "smoker's cancer" according to her doctors - she never smoked, so figure that out.

After due consideration, the family and I agreed to move closer to family, so here I am, an official Floridian with a Florida ID card to prove it.  So a new chapter begins.

Just Plain US

Not too long ago, an American male died while being taken into custody by a group of law-enforcement officers. The officers have been arrested, charged with murder, and are awaiting as their case makes its way through the judicial system. We do follow the rule of law here in America.
In the meantime, large groups of Americans are peaceably protesting against this instance and other instances of police brutality across the country, in the hope that something beneficial will be done now. Also, in the meantime, other groups of Americans are using the above death as an excuse to destroy and loot property, attack and shoot at protesters, innocent by-standers and law-enforcement officers, in the hope that our American way of life will be replaced by something less free than a democracy.
In the background of all this, a large collection of politicians, ably assisted by the media, have been busy ensuring that their compartmentalization of America continues. You know the labels: White, Black, Latino, Jew, Christian, Muslim, African-American, Italian-American, etc. As long as we allow these labels to exist, we will never be able to come together as who we really are – Americans.

Nesting

Our patio wall has been accepted by a pair of Doves as their new home.  They've been busy for the last few days constructing the nest.  We're concerned because we need to get into the storage area next to the nest.  We hope the young mother will fly off to dine somewhere with her partner so we can rescue a few items from storage, such as toilet paper and paper towels.  The nest is right up against the screen and looks to be quite precarious, but they seem to be confident enough that it will suffice time will tell.

Teachers

One day, in our fourth grade classroom, Mrs. Wheat announced that her diamond ring had disappeared and that she would pay a 25¢ reward to any of her students who found it.  Needless to say, we all spent a good number of days with our eyes on the ground, not concentrating too much on what she might have been trying to teach us; 25¢ was big money back then!  But we did get through the school year.  The good/bad news was that the ring had been found, but by Mrs. Wheat herself, in her driveway after the snow melted, so our 25¢ dreams went up in smoke.

Miss Dildine, who would within a year become Mrs. Harrison, instilled in me a love for poetry.  She was a teacher of English, which included grammar, punctuation, pronunciation, enunciation and reading the classics aloud.  The first few weeks of high school were a bewildering experience for me, but I found some semblance of order in her class.  She opened my eyes to the wondrous world of literature, and I am forever grateful for that.

Ethics is an interesting subject, and one of my college professors brought the subject directly to us one day.  It was during the reign of McCarthyism and loyalty oaths.  About three months into the semester, our professor came into the room and announced that our class was dismissed for the semester as he had been fired.  He refused to sign the loyalty oath, not because he was a Communist, or even a Communist sympathizer, but because he believed the requirement to sign was not ethical.  Lesson learned.

  New York Times Sunday crossword puzzles, 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzles, Billiards, genealogical research and pin & ink drawing are just about all that keep me occupied these days.  Life is good.

Billiards

   Another resident, Bob Kaul, and I play a game of English Billiards every Wednesday morning.  We're fairly evenly matched, except this morning when he was off his game.  It's a nice change from 8-ball or 9-ball pool.  There are some videos on YouTube if you're interested in learning how it's played. My days of playing regular Billiards - three balls, no pockets in the table - back in the 40's and 50's seem to help me with angles and carom shots.  But the weekly practice is certainly needed.
   During our freshman year at Oklahoma A & M College - now OSU, having been upgraded to a full-fledged university - a group of us would shoot pool on the only pool table in the Student Union; the other five tables were for Snooker.  When we came from summer break, the pool table had been replaced with another Snooker table.  A much different game, requiring a higher level of skill than pool.  Something about smaller pockets, and a list of rules we always had trouble remembering.  Smitty, Kendig, Stolberg and Gaesser are gone now, just Cohen and me left of the Rochester contingent to carry the OAMC banner on.

Monday, 3 March 2020

Walked this morning - 2512 steps, so far.  Today is a day with an open schedule - nothing on, no stress.  I finished the New York Times crossword puzzle yesterday.  How do they come up with such challenges?  We have been working on jigsaw puzzles for a bit now - one on our dining table constantly, and one waiting.  Shirley orders them on Amazon; we like the Buffalo Games puzzles, especially those by Charles Wysocki.  When completed, we donate them to Westminster Village; there are several tables around the campus for puzzlers like us.
Have a great day!

Changes

Shirley and I have been trying to walk more lately, once before breakfast and again after lunch.  In the morning, we walk the halls and up and down stairs.  It's about a mile.  A little more than half that in the afternoon.  And we're now eating lunch later, it helps cut down our evening snack, so we sleep better, too.

Busy Body

When I agreed to become President of the Westminster Village Foundation, I didn't realize the amount of time it would consume.  I had been at it for about eight months, when I decided that all the changes I had wanted were either complete or in progress.  At that point, I submitted my resignation - Monday of last week.  Since then, my phone hasn't been ringing, no text messages, and my incoming email is down to one every three or four days.  What a relief!

Notes from a Jigsaw Puzzle Junky

Shirley and I have recently renewed our interest in jigsaw puzzles, as have some of our fellow Residents here at Westminster Village, Scottsdale,, so I was interested in learning the history of jigsaw puzzling.  Not being especially trustful of a Google search, I searched my own mind and found this:

Once upon a time, Og, the local Neanderthal artist, had just finished scratching out a reasonable rendering of the neighborhood Mastodon on sandstone (some say slate, but archaeologists aren’t too agreeable on the subject of the media used), when the baby of the family, Uzzle, grabbed it.  Before anyone reacted to the sudden display of agility by the toddler, the artwork had been tossed into the air (such an early display of hand speed!) and fell to the ground, which would ultimately be named Earth.  It broke into pieces.  Og, confounded by emotions of awe at the strength of his progeny and anger at the destroyer of his masterpiece, was about to kick the numerous pieces into a neighbor’s domicile (cave, to us).  However, his domicile mate, Egr, showing signs of her own degree of artistic talent, picked up the various sized pieces and proceeded to assemble them in proper order.  She had placed the oddly shaped pieces on a bed of soft mud, which quickly hardened (they were living in an area of dry climate soon to be named Ogizona), cementing them in place.  Egr quickly named this new creation, Egruzzle, unselfishly giving some credit to her offspring.  Centuries later, two archaeologists, Jigger and Sawdler by name, were amazed to discover this assemblage in a dark, dry cave (once considered a domicile).  Until carbon dating, and several visits to a local palm reader, the Neanderthal source was finally realized.  The secret of the origin of these puzzles, eventually named in honor of the two discoverers, has been a closely guarded secret – until now.

Brexit

I'm not surprised that Great Britain is pulling out of the EU.  When a country has to give up a good portion of it's sovereignty to a group of people who don't fully represent their culture and political philosophy, it's time to call a halt.