Remembering Lou Conner...

                     

  This past week has been filled with loss, death, and memories...lots of memories.  My life long friend Lou Kirby Conner, who taught me how to keep a secret and cross my eyes, died Friday.

    My first memories of Lou and me were as little girls walking to grade school every day. One day she told me her version of 'the facts of life' she had heard from who knows where.  She was so wrong but I believed it. We thought we were really smart seven year olds. In turn, I would tell her who was arrested on Saturday nights. We lived across the street from the jail and when the weather was warm we sat on the front porch and watched some small excitement on an otherwise dull Saturday night. I may have embellished the events somewhat, telling how the police  guns were drawn and at times there were fights with lots of blood and broken teeth. It made for an interesting walk to school.

  In the second grade I got sick and had to be taken off of all sugar. I had to have three blood transfusions, thanks to Jimmy Wilmuth for donating the blood.  The doctor warned me that if I ate any sugar I would get even sicker. Mama deputized Lou to make sure I did not eat any sweets on the way to and from school or at lunch. Lou reported to Mamamae or Mama every day. On my 8th birthday, Dr. Jackson said I was much better and Lou and I had chocolate cake...best cake I ever ate.

   Lou was the first one in our group of friends to get a transistor radio. I wanted one soooo bad. I had to wait five months until Christmas to receive mine. The radio channel to listen to at night was WLS Chicago. Dick Biondi was our d.j. He was always 'cool' playing the best music. He was the first to play the Beatles at night. He  was just this side of always being fired, Kids loved him. He was the beginning of our rebellion.

   If memory serves me right, Lou and Richard Conner were the first couple to fall in love in our age group. . Most of us had crushes on boys but were far from love. I was in love with Paul McCartney for a year.  That idea soon began to change as Tommy Carter grew up and entered the picture.

   I remember Mama and I went to Lou's wedding. They were the most beautiful couple I had ever seen. If I remember right it was a Thanksgiving wedding. I know it was Fall colors.

  When I stayed with Daddy the month before he went into ICF, I spent a lot of time at Lou's apartment.  Lou and I began talking just like we had seen each other daily for forty some odd years.  She was my sounding board when Daddy was just being Daddy. I listened to her life. Some connections never break. We understood where the other was coming from. I will forever miss Lou Kirby. She was my friend. The years and miles did not change that fact.

 

 

Want to Start a War at the VA? Ask One Question...Then Shut Up!!

 

 Tommy and I spend a lot of time in Columbia, Missouri at the Veterans Hospital. When we make a right turn at the stop light on Stadium, I see row after row of huge red, white and blue American flags line the driveway, I am always struck by the  power hidden in the lives of the men and women who walk through those doors.

Some vets are pushed in wheelchairs,others hobble on crutches or use a cane. Many have their caregivers accompany them. Wives, sisters or friends who are more than ready to help their friend or loved one. There are also many men and women who enter and look like nothing is wrong with them. It is checkup time for them. There are hundred's of reasons to be at the V.A. on any given day. Not all wounds are visible.

  Conversation is usually friendly and casual. Mostly about how far people traveled, the weather and occasionally the news. Men and women seldom share their service experiences. War is seldom mentioned. I have heard four stories about war since we began using the VA in 2009. The story that sticks out most in my mind was told to me by a man who was a Korean War veteran.  He was a tall man, probably in his 80's perhaps 90's. A piece of shrapnel had finally, after all these years, began pushing through his kneecap. He pulled up his pants leg to show me. His knee looked red and infected. Farther down, his leg was riddled with small healed scars. I was amazed the bit of shrapnel had been in there that long. He wasn't worried about his leg. For a few moments he was back in Korea. He spoke to no one in particular about a long brutal battle that lasted three days. He thought they would all die before help arrived. All too soon his name was called and he went back to see his doctor. I would have liked to have heard the rest of the story. However I think he was through talking out loud. He was lost in thoughts from many years ago. As he walked off he turned and said, "It was Hell." Enough said.

   A couple of weeks ago Tommy and I were in the lobby waiting for his name to come up on the t.v. screen, mounted in one corner of the lobby, allowing people to know when their scripts were ready. In the middle of the two elevated  medication t.v.'s there was a regular t.v. turned to a 24 hour news channel. The subject that day was  Ash Carter's decision women could serve in front line combat, with the possibility of being drafted. The young man setting next to me groaned when he heard the news. Tommy leaned over and whispered in my ear,"Don't you say a word." It is funny how sometimes I go deaf at the oddest times. This just happened to be one of those times.

  I waited hoping the young man next to me would say more on the subject. He didn't. His eyes never left the t.v. Tommy's eyes never left me. My eyes never left the vet. He was about 30 years old. He had a military haircut and the military walk. Sharp steps with a purpose. He got up and returned with a cup of coffee and continued to watch the t.v.

  Finally, I asked the young man what he thought about Carter's idea. He smiled at me and looked back at the t.v. I thought that was smart on his part. He didn't know me and there was no point in provoking a possible confrontation with a crazy woman. He then surprised me by saying his main problem was the weight issue. He had worked with a lot of female soldiers who were good at what they did however, it concerned him when it came to the weight issue in war. He believes it would be very hard for a woman of 115 pounds to carry a wounded soldier of 170 pounds, and her weapon, if they were under fire. What sounds good on paper doesn't always work in real life. 

  Tommy saw his name on the monitor and we were ready to grab his meds and leave. It had been a long day. I shook hands with the young man and wished him safety and happiness. He smiled and said, "Thank you." Whatever his future, I hope he has a long life filled with love and adventure.

  I have a life quote that floats to the front of my mind often when I am unsure about a situation. It goes something like this, "Just because you CAN do something, doesn't mean you should."(Ian-Jurassic Park).

  I will be the first to say I don't have the answer to the latest Washington bright idea. But when Jacy or Rowan turn eighteen, I would hate to see them drafted. I would also be very proud of them and support them 100% in whatever they had or chose to do. Perhaps it is because I am getting older that I see things differently. I married a Marine and would do it again in a nano second. Our middle daughter joined the Army Reserves, we have two nephews in the Marine Corp now and a niece who has been in the Army for sixteen years. These young men and women are impressive. They will have a heck of a story to tell one day, to someone at their nearest V.A. God bless them all.

  

 

 

 


 
  

  

Some Days are Unbelievable---Yesterday was one of Those Days...

   I knew Tommy was sick Tuesday night. What I didn't know was how sick he really was.  I slept on the couch beside his recliner because I had an uneasy feeling. I should have followed my gut instinct and drove him to the hospital that night. However, that is not as easy as it sounds. Tommy would not have gone. He would have flat out refused because he had an appointment for the next day.  Since he lives by his watch, that would have messed up his plan by being at the VA and in the emergency room 14 hours early. I took a xanax and tried to sleep. I believe in picking my battles. I should have fought harder and longer in this war.

   Sure enough the next morning he was sick. Really sick.  He was short of breath and could not walk 20 feet without having to stop. We arrive at the VA and go to his doctor. We didn't have an appointment and this usually messes up the little receptionists day to no end. She hates to see us coming--me in particular--Tommy in general. However, luck was on our side and she was busy. The man who waited on us knew how sick Tommy was and got the nurse immediately.  She took one look, scanned his chart and said we are going to the ER ASAP.  Tommy was once again in congestive heart failure. He had been out of his fluid pills for 4 days and he was gaining at least 2 pounds a day of fluid around his heart. Everyone got busy working on him. I felt a big sigh of relief flood my  bones. After all the tests, blood work he was given Lasix im and observed for awhile.

   Tommy's nurse told him he was lucky he did not have to be admitted because there was not one available bed in the VA. He went on to say, there were no beds at the University Hospital, Boone Hospital and Ft. Leonard Wood had two beds that were probably filled by now. He said this was the first time the hospitals in Mid Missouri had faced this problem. I am sure the full moon did not help with this situation.

  We were at the VA for about ten hours, he had another appointment and he was advised to keep it because it would be a long time before he could get an appointment with this particular doctor. To say he was exhausted was mildly put.  Today he feels worse than yesterday. I am right there with him. 

  We were given a 'bridge' of medicine to get him through until his meds arrived in the mail. The administrator wanted to give him 5 pills and I asked for 7 and got them. I wanted a whole bottle. That didn't happen. 

  I know my guardian angel was doing double time yesterday. I tried to behave and I did. I must admit it was a heck of a time to leave my nerve pills at home. If my memory doesn't improve, I think I will tie that bottle of relief  around my neck...just in case.

  Today has had its own set of aggravation's. I hate computer phone calls---just hate them.  We received a call about a new physical therapy place and appointment for Tommy.  The robot could say everything right except the doctor's last name...and she talked too fast. I was trying to write down everything 'she' is saying and all the  information. I never could understand the last name.  I had to hang up--the robot was through talking. I guess she figured if I didn't get it in four repeats--I wasn't going to get it and she was right.

   About that time the phone rings again and it is a nice lady from Louisiana wanting to know how my previous phone call went and did I need any extra information.  Well, she asked and I told her all about the fast talking rude computer. The lady was laughing her butt off. She said wait just a minute please and I think she put me on speaker phone while I tried to explain that she was the one I needed to talk to and not a machine. And the machine needed to be able to speak perfect English, especially when it comes to doctor's names.

   Everything got straightened out. We have an appointment for tomorrow. The receptionists and I decided to move it to Monday since Tommy is having such a hard day. He hears us talking and has a fit--so he has an appointment for tomorrow. I am putting the Scarlette O'Hara to it and as "God is my witness, I will not feel sorry for Tommy while they turn him every way but loose".  

Rant over...I am going to take a long nap.

One of The Best Mornings in January...

   I created a new blog about two months ago entitled "Slipping Down the Drain". Perhaps it was not a good idea to create a blog when depressed and stressed to the max. I hoped writing would help me get out of the slump I was in. I was wrong. I soon found out I could not write. I had a title and that was all I had. Along with Elvis, my muse had left the premises.

  For the most part all I wanted to do was sleep, read, and sleep some more. I was worried sick about my husband's health. We had faced heart attacks, broken bones,a near death experience and many other things in our 45 years together. However, things got better--faster. This time we were locked in limbo. Tommy still faces unrelenting pain most days. The physical therapists says he is improving and he is. It just seems like it is taking forever. Patience is not a virtue of mine.

  I no longer wanted to write about our lives. There wasn't much humor in our lives to share. I wanted to write about the changes going on in our world--both good and bad effecting our daily lives. Maybe because it is an election year, maybe because for the first time we have an anti American President, maybe the threat of ISIS looms closer all the time or it could be the fact that we no longer stand solid with Israel. Whatever the reason, I felt like our country was literally "slipping down the drain". That is how this blog began. One scared woman who is mad as Hell at her government for throwing the best of our country down the drain...and for smiling while it spins.

  We live in strange times. Things occur daily now that at one time were creative, scary themes of Science Fiction movies. As a child, I watched these movies on Saturday afternoons at the local theater; usually with one hand over my right eye while peeping through my fingers as the world was destroyed. It cost a quarter to go to the movies. I think popcorn was a dime and sodas were 15 cents. It was money well spent. I was scared spitless for several hours, however as soon as I left the theater I was safe.

  Fact and fiction are now partners in an uncertain future. Feeling safe is a muddied emotion that seldom offers a lasting comfort. There is never a day when terrorism does not enter my mind or strike somewhere in the world. Never is there a day when I do not have extremely unkind thoughts about the leaders of our country.  At times it is hard to tell one side from the other. Lying has become all to easy for many people and leaders. Common sense no longer resides on Capital Hill.

 Then out of the blue, I had a wonderful morning. Something inside me said, 'Write about the common ordinary beauty in the little things life offers most people each day. Help them remember small joys'.

  I began to desire writing about small, unusual encounters happening with the people I meet in this lovely but unpredictable world we share with billions of strangers. The meetings result in a few moments of unexpected connection between two strangers. Our lives touch and then we go our separate ways. Good things still happen in our world. I needed to be reminded of this fact.  

 My first story is a feel good story. It is true and I think about it often. I wish I had done more the day it happened, however it did start me on a conscious 'pay it forward' attitude every chance I get. I try to look harder for the good in people and our world. Some days I do good other days I fail miserably and have to start all over.

 Tuesday morning started out like any other winter day. Tommy and I drank coffee while listening to the new winter weather advisory in effect for some week in January.  More snow was in the forecast, a possible five inches might fall, causing us to decide to make a quick trip to town and stock up on extra supplies before the anticipated snowfall arrived.

   The trip to town was beautiful. Deer were feeding in nearly every field, trying to fill hungry stomach's before the storm covered their eating area with multiple inches of snow.  Birds, at feeders, stuffed their little fat bellies until they seemed unable to fly. Nature was getting ready for the snow. We rounded a corner spying in a barren tree, a bald eagle searching for his prey. The eagle is Tommy's lucky totem. We knew it would be a good day from that point on and it was.

  Soon we were in town strolling into WalMart, 'our own personal sink hole'. We took our lists and split up to get the shopping done faster. Immediately, I became side tracked  by the life of a young mother and her three small children. She was out numbered and loosing ground fast. I remembered those days as if they were yesterday.

  I had never met the young mother however, my heart reached out to her the second I witnessed the familiar predicament she was in.  She was a small woman with dark hair and tired eyes. It was early in the morning and she wore last nights lack of sleep on her face like a type written letter. I remember those days and nights. I often wore that look.

 She had twin boys, with sandy blond hair, big blue eyes and a desire for chocolate, in the process of climbing into the cart. The mother stopped the climbing by placing one of the little boys in the shopping cart, while holding a newborn baby in her arms. I am still not sure how she did that. The other little boy stopped and looked through the bars on the cart trying to figure some way to climb in. His brother, in the cart, looked at him and yelled, "No!". He liked having the cart to himself. In the mother's arm a newborn baby slept. A cloth jumper of sorts lay beside her purse in the part of the cart where people often let small children sit.   Without thinking, I asked her if she needed some help. She smiled and said, "No, I think I can do this." The mama in me came to the forefront saying, "I don't see how you are gonna do this."  She started laughing and looked  around her at her son on the floor. "Alright... I can use some help and thank you." I told her no problem, I had three daughters and I remembered trying to shop with them. My daughter's were spaced out. I never had three babies under the age of three.  She was my new hero.

  I asked her little boy if I could place him in the cart with his brother. I had no back up plan if he said, "NO!!" Thankfully, he nodded 'yes' and I placed him in the cart before he changed his mind. I looked at the mom and she smiled. So far no one was crying.

 I looked at the cloth contraption in the buggy seat and said, "I have on idea what to do with this".  She laughed and handed me her baby daughter. It was instant love at first sight. It has been a long time since I held a newborn baby. She was precious. She made me anxious for my new granddaughter to be born.
I marveled at how small and perfect a baby is. She got comfortable in my arms and that was fine with me. I glanced at her mother. She was in the process of putting the cloth contraption together so she could place her daughter in it. It looked like a sling and when I handed her the baby she slipped her daughter into the sling without waking her up. I have to admit I was impressed. I still can't figure out how she put the sling together safely, but she did.

   I told her I would be happy to help her shop however she insisted everything was going to be fine. She smiled and walked off. I shook my head with admiration and doubt. I was wondering where she was going to put the groceries. What if all the kids started crying at once? What if the baby got hungry or pooped? 

   I stood and watched them walk off--silently wishing her well. Finally, I turned around to go find Tommy. I was excited to tell him about my adventure into modern day motherhood. He was all ears and smiles. We eventually met the mother in the store. The kids were fine. The baby was still asleep. One little boy was sitting on a bag of diapers. The other little boy was trying to climb out of the cart. The mom very calmly put a can of Folgers coffee into the cart and asked him to "Hold the coffee down so it wouldn't spill". Brilliant!!! He was delighted to have a mission. After that, I quit worrying about her. She had it covered and had a plan. I marveled at her as they continued to shop. I was tempted to give her my phone number and tell her anytime she needed help shopping I would be glad to help. Tommy told me that wasn't a good idea. I disagreed as usual, but didn't share my number.

  I enjoyed my morning. It was a trip to the future and a trip down memory lane at the same time.  Both trips were nice...different but nice. It was a nice positive way to start my blog. In my corner of the world, for a few minutes, life was normal, peaceful and good.

  If I am not mistaken, when I listened to the news this morning, the Pope was pissed at Donald Trump. A man killed 6 random people for no known reason. Two of the people were a father and son looking at used cars. I bet they were looking to buy the son's first car. A sink hole swallowed a portion of a home and I burned the banana bread while writing this last post.   Hmmmmm life continues at warp speed, once again Science Fiction is on the rise and rapidly running true to form. Life does indeed imitate fiction.