Two months ago I was happily enjoying my retirement and the second fifty years of my life. Then the activity director of the retirement community where my Kiwanis club volunteers decides to quit. Two of the residents talked me into applying for his job. I did and now I’m an activity director for nearly 90 residents living in a retirement and assisted living community in the Portland area.
It has been an exciting two months. They have kept me busy and many of my “normal” activities have gone by the wayside. That includes keeping my by blog. There is just too much to do each day and for the first several weeks I was exhausted at the end of the day.
Now things have gotten better and an email from someone who had found this blog reminded me of how much I miss writing.
I am the oldest employee at the facility and there are only a few residents who are younger than my 59 years. According to one of my twin daughters I get to hang out with my peers all day. Yes, that’s right and I am enjoying every minute of it.
According to George E. Vaillant, author of Aging Well: Surprising Guideposts to a Happier Life from the Landmark Harvard Study, there are four “basic tasks” that are essential to postjob satisfaction: social activity, play, creativity, and lifelong learning. Neglect any of these, he says, and you will not enjoy your later years as fully as you might.
My job is to create opportunities for social activity, play, creativity and lifelong learning. It is an interesting challenge, especially with people have withdrawn into themselves or have physical or mental challenges.
This month I organized a Red Hat Society. Next month we will have our first men’s breakfast. Sometimes I just sit and talk. That is what they seem to like; someone to listen to their life story and each of them has a unique story.
I’ll be writing about my adventures at the old folks home.
Tom
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
Portland's Baby Boomers Social Club
Last Saturday night I stepped way outside the box and attended a singles dance sponsored by The Baby Boomers Social Club. It was a spur of the moment thing. I saw a tv new report on the dance and decided to go.
Getting there was easy. The Portland Red Lion is right on the MAX (rapid transit) rail line. Many of the boomers who grew up in Portland remember it as "Top of Cosmo", where in the 1960s and 70s it was the place to go for Prom Night or that special night on the town. The view is spectacular overlooking Portland city lights and the Towers of the Convention Center. It is a nightclub atmosphere offering music from the 50s to the 70s with a few 80s.
I got there early so that I could attend the dance class. For the past 45 years I have been telling myself that I cannot dance fast. There were two women for every man at the class. I knew I was going to be in for a fun evening.
After a short half hour lesson the games started. I found a spot to set at the end of a long table. Before long I was joined by Elizabeth, Arlene, Maureen and Evelyn. Like most boomers, they could dance and they took turns with me. It was a fast four hours and before I knew it I was on the train heading home.
The following is from their website http://www.babyboomerssocialclub.com. They say it better than I can.
“The Baby Boomer Generation was born 1946 to 1964. Boomers grew up in a time of change, music was changing, we ushered in rock n roll and we proved it was here to stay. There were many societal changes whereby we were called "The Me Generation, If It Feels Good Do it". Well, it still feels good to dance and the Baby Boomers Social Club is meeting that demand and making it happen for hundreds of Boomers. Music is good for our soul and dancing is good for our hearts. Most all health organizations tell us we all need to exercise more, what better way than meeting a group of your peers and dancing to the music you love. The Baby Boomers Social Club provides this form of recreation and entertainment.”As we get older, our children leave home, our parents or a spouse pass on, or we could be in a rut and need change. There is emptiness and we all deal with change differently. The Baby Boomers Social Club is here to help us get out of our comfort zones, go out and meet new and old friends, to establish new relationships to last our lifetime. The Baby Boomers Social Club provides an atmosphere where friendships can be cultivated and members feel they have an extended family. We want to grow into our old age and beyond "in our own way". As always, we are changing the definition of middle age and old age. We are not going to age quietly.
“Everyone has their own reasons for coming but many are saying, "We really needed a place like this", "we needed a place for our age group, our time and our music". Some have run into friends they had not seen for 25 years.
“We can be ourselves, aging rock n rollers out to have fun, dance and remember the good times. We are now making more good times. We have left our inhibitions, clicks and attitudes back in high school, now we just have fun.”.
Getting there was easy. The Portland Red Lion is right on the MAX (rapid transit) rail line. Many of the boomers who grew up in Portland remember it as "Top of Cosmo", where in the 1960s and 70s it was the place to go for Prom Night or that special night on the town. The view is spectacular overlooking Portland city lights and the Towers of the Convention Center. It is a nightclub atmosphere offering music from the 50s to the 70s with a few 80s.
I got there early so that I could attend the dance class. For the past 45 years I have been telling myself that I cannot dance fast. There were two women for every man at the class. I knew I was going to be in for a fun evening.
After a short half hour lesson the games started. I found a spot to set at the end of a long table. Before long I was joined by Elizabeth, Arlene, Maureen and Evelyn. Like most boomers, they could dance and they took turns with me. It was a fast four hours and before I knew it I was on the train heading home.
The following is from their website http://www.babyboomerssocialclub.com. They say it better than I can.
“The Baby Boomer Generation was born 1946 to 1964. Boomers grew up in a time of change, music was changing, we ushered in rock n roll and we proved it was here to stay. There were many societal changes whereby we were called "The Me Generation, If It Feels Good Do it". Well, it still feels good to dance and the Baby Boomers Social Club is meeting that demand and making it happen for hundreds of Boomers. Music is good for our soul and dancing is good for our hearts. Most all health organizations tell us we all need to exercise more, what better way than meeting a group of your peers and dancing to the music you love. The Baby Boomers Social Club provides this form of recreation and entertainment.”As we get older, our children leave home, our parents or a spouse pass on, or we could be in a rut and need change. There is emptiness and we all deal with change differently. The Baby Boomers Social Club is here to help us get out of our comfort zones, go out and meet new and old friends, to establish new relationships to last our lifetime. The Baby Boomers Social Club provides an atmosphere where friendships can be cultivated and members feel they have an extended family. We want to grow into our old age and beyond "in our own way". As always, we are changing the definition of middle age and old age. We are not going to age quietly.
“Everyone has their own reasons for coming but many are saying, "We really needed a place like this", "we needed a place for our age group, our time and our music". Some have run into friends they had not seen for 25 years.
“We can be ourselves, aging rock n rollers out to have fun, dance and remember the good times. We are now making more good times. We have left our inhibitions, clicks and attitudes back in high school, now we just have fun.”.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Ladies in Red Hats
Have you noticed older women running around in red hats and purple outfits? They are members of an organization called The Red Hat Society. I went to their website (http://www.redhatsociety.com/) looking for information about the group. I found the following poem. I have reprinted it here is all the disclaimers. Thank you ladies, for brightening my day.
"Ode to the Red Hat Society"
by Sue Ellen Cooper
A poet put it very well. She said when she was older,
A poet put it very well. She said when she was older,
She wouldn't be so meek and mild. She threatened to get bolder.
She'd put a red hat on her head, and purple on her shoulder.
She'd make her life a warmer place, her golden years much golder.
We read that poem, all of us, and grasped what she is saying.
We do not need to sit and knit, although we all are graying.
We think about what we can do. Our plans we have been laying.
Instead of working all the time, we'll be out somewhere playing.
We take her colors to our hearts, and then we all go shopping
For purples clothes and hats of red, with giant brims a-flopping.
We're tired of working all the time, and staying home and mopping.
We order pies and chocolate fudge, and rich desserts with topping.
We crown ourselves as duchesses and countesses and queens.
We prove that playing dress-up isn't just for Halloween.
We drape ourselves in jewels, feathers, boas, and sateen.
We see ourselves on television and in magazines.
We laugh, we cry, we hug a lot. We keep each other strong.
When one of us goes out for fun, the rest all go along.
We gad about, we lunch and munch, in one big happy throng.
We've found the place where we fit in, the place we all belong.
We do own the rights to this poem, and we share it with our members freely. The "Ode to the Red Hat Society" may not be used on product for sale or in the promotion of product for sale except by express written permission from the Red Hat Society.A beautiful bookmark with this poem on it may be found on sale at the Red Hat Society Imperium.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Nancy, I miss you so
Nancy,
I miss you so!
I have become just
a shadow in the
chambers of my mind.
I have nothing
but old letters,
cards, emails
and memories
to keep me company.
There is a lonely
wind blowing
cold within me,
searching within a
heart made empty
Of song.
I am missing you
with a madness
that wrenches my
soul and renders
me incapable of
living in this
world of walks, sunsets,
full moons and
endless nights
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Perspectives - an email story
This arrived by email this morning from a good friend. The author is unknown. It's too badpeople don't give credit where credit is due. I did a web search and checked the Urban Legend site (www.snopes.com) without success. I'm going to go ahead a reprint the story here. Enjoy.
One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family.
On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?" "It was great, Dad." "Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked. "Oh yeah," said the son.
"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father. The son answered: "I saw that we have one dog and they had four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.
We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.
We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.
We buy our food, but they grow theirs.
We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them."
The boy's father was speechless.
Then his son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."
Isn't perspective a wonderful thing? Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don't have.
Appreciate every single thing you have, especially your friends!
Please pass this page on to friends and acquaintances to help them refresh their perspective and appreciation.
"Life is too short and friends are too few."
One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family.
On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?" "It was great, Dad." "Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked. "Oh yeah," said the son.
"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father. The son answered: "I saw that we have one dog and they had four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.
We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.
We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.
We buy our food, but they grow theirs.
We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them."
The boy's father was speechless.
Then his son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."
Isn't perspective a wonderful thing? Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don't have.
Appreciate every single thing you have, especially your friends!
Please pass this page on to friends and acquaintances to help them refresh their perspective and appreciation.
"Life is too short and friends are too few."
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Welcome Home
Welcome Home
I found this in my inbox this morning. It was from an old friend who forwards a dozen or so emails each week. It got me thinking about my homecoming 37 years ago. I arrived home from the USS Sanctuary (AH17), a Navy hospital ship, on February 28, 1968. There was no cheering.
I checked out this story on the Urban Legend site (www.snopes.com). The status is undetermined. Maybe it really happened. Maybe it is an exercise in creative writing. It is however, the kind of homecoming that every one of our returning men and women should receive. Tom
Welcome Home
I sat in my seat of the Boeing 767 waiting for everyone to hurry and stow their carry-ons and grab a seat so we could start what I was sure to be a long , uneventful flight home. With the huge capacity and slow moving people taking their time to stuff luggage far too big for the overhead and never paying much attention to holding up the growing line behind them, I simply shook my head knowing that this flight was not starting out very well.
I was anxious to get home to see my loved ones so I was focused on "my" issues and just felt like standing up and yelling for some of these clowns to get their act together. I knew I couldn't say a word so I just thumbed thru the "Sky Mall" magazine from the seat pocket in front of me. You know it's really getting rough when you resort to the over priced, useless sky mall crap to break the monotony. With everyone finally seated, we just sat there with the cabin door open and no one in any hurry to get us going although we were well past the scheduled take off time. No wonder the airline industry is in trouble I told myself. Just then, the attendant came on the intercom to inform us all that we were being delayed.
The entire plane let out a collective groan. She resumed speaking to say "We are holding the aircraft for some very special people who are on their way to the plane and the delay shouldn't be more than 5 minutes. The word came after waiting six times as long as we were promised that "I" was finally going to be on my way home. Why the hoopla over "these" folks? I was expecting some celebrity or sport figure to be the reason for! the hold up.........Just get their butts in a seat and lets hit the gas I thought.
The attendant came back on the speaker to announce in a loud and excited voice that we were being joined by several U. S. Marines returning home from Iraq!!! Just as they walked on board, the entire plane erupted into applause. The men were a bit taken by surprise by the 340 people cheering for them as they searched for their seats. They were having their hands shook and touched by almost everyone who was within an arm's distance of them as they passed down the aisle. One elderly woman kissed the hand of one of the Marines as he passed by her.
The applause, whistles and cheering didn't stop for a long time.
When we were finally airborne, "I" was not the only civilian checking his conscience as to the delays in "me" getting home, finding! my easy chair, a cold beverage and the remote in my hand. These men had done for all of us and I had been complaining silently about "me" and "my" issues. I took for granted the everyday freedoms I enjoy and the conveniences of the American way of life I took for granted others paid the price for my ability to moan and complain about a few minutes delay to "me" those Heroes going home to their loved ones.
I attempted to get my selfish outlook back in order and minutes before we landed I suggested to the attendant that she announce over the speaker a request for everyone to remain in their seats until our hero's were allowed to gather their things and be first off the plane. The cheers and applause continued until the last Marine stepped off and we all rose to go about our too often taken for granted everyday freedoms.........
I felt proud of them. I felt it an honor and a privilege to be among the first to we! I come them home and say Thank You for a job well done. I vowed that I will never forget that flight nor the lesson learned. I can't say it enough, THANK YOU to those Veterans and active servicemen and women who may read this and a prayer for those who cannot because they are no longer with us.
I found this in my inbox this morning. It was from an old friend who forwards a dozen or so emails each week. It got me thinking about my homecoming 37 years ago. I arrived home from the USS Sanctuary (AH17), a Navy hospital ship, on February 28, 1968. There was no cheering.
I checked out this story on the Urban Legend site (www.snopes.com). The status is undetermined. Maybe it really happened. Maybe it is an exercise in creative writing. It is however, the kind of homecoming that every one of our returning men and women should receive. Tom
Welcome Home
I sat in my seat of the Boeing 767 waiting for everyone to hurry and stow their carry-ons and grab a seat so we could start what I was sure to be a long , uneventful flight home. With the huge capacity and slow moving people taking their time to stuff luggage far too big for the overhead and never paying much attention to holding up the growing line behind them, I simply shook my head knowing that this flight was not starting out very well.
I was anxious to get home to see my loved ones so I was focused on "my" issues and just felt like standing up and yelling for some of these clowns to get their act together. I knew I couldn't say a word so I just thumbed thru the "Sky Mall" magazine from the seat pocket in front of me. You know it's really getting rough when you resort to the over priced, useless sky mall crap to break the monotony. With everyone finally seated, we just sat there with the cabin door open and no one in any hurry to get us going although we were well past the scheduled take off time. No wonder the airline industry is in trouble I told myself. Just then, the attendant came on the intercom to inform us all that we were being delayed.
The entire plane let out a collective groan. She resumed speaking to say "We are holding the aircraft for some very special people who are on their way to the plane and the delay shouldn't be more than 5 minutes. The word came after waiting six times as long as we were promised that "I" was finally going to be on my way home. Why the hoopla over "these" folks? I was expecting some celebrity or sport figure to be the reason for! the hold up.........Just get their butts in a seat and lets hit the gas I thought.
The attendant came back on the speaker to announce in a loud and excited voice that we were being joined by several U. S. Marines returning home from Iraq!!! Just as they walked on board, the entire plane erupted into applause. The men were a bit taken by surprise by the 340 people cheering for them as they searched for their seats. They were having their hands shook and touched by almost everyone who was within an arm's distance of them as they passed down the aisle. One elderly woman kissed the hand of one of the Marines as he passed by her.
The applause, whistles and cheering didn't stop for a long time.
When we were finally airborne, "I" was not the only civilian checking his conscience as to the delays in "me" getting home, finding! my easy chair, a cold beverage and the remote in my hand. These men had done for all of us and I had been complaining silently about "me" and "my" issues. I took for granted the everyday freedoms I enjoy and the conveniences of the American way of life I took for granted others paid the price for my ability to moan and complain about a few minutes delay to "me" those Heroes going home to their loved ones.
I attempted to get my selfish outlook back in order and minutes before we landed I suggested to the attendant that she announce over the speaker a request for everyone to remain in their seats until our hero's were allowed to gather their things and be first off the plane. The cheers and applause continued until the last Marine stepped off and we all rose to go about our too often taken for granted everyday freedoms.........
I felt proud of them. I felt it an honor and a privilege to be among the first to we! I come them home and say Thank You for a job well done. I vowed that I will never forget that flight nor the lesson learned. I can't say it enough, THANK YOU to those Veterans and active servicemen and women who may read this and a prayer for those who cannot because they are no longer with us.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Sweet Dreams
The following is from Joe Tye’s Spark Plug for February 25, 2005.
Joe has a hypothesis, but it’s a hypothesis based on facts. These are the facts:
Fact 1: The average American is chronically sleep-deprived, to the tune of upwards of an hour per night.
Fact 2: The average American spends between 3 and 4 hours per day watching television.
Fact 3: Long before you become physically dysfunctional, you begin to lose mental and emotional capacities. The first thing to go is usually the ability to think creatively. Shortly thereafter, you lose the capacity to be enthusiastic and optimistic.
Fact 4: People who are sleep-deprived have impaired judgment that causes them to do stupid things such as running up big credit card bills through shopping therapy as a replacement for real joy (debt can put a real damper on love within a household).
Fact 5: Sleep deprivation causes reduced energy levels, resulting in people ignoring their loved ones and not undertaking enjoyable but strenuous activities in favor of less emotionally-taxing activities such as couch vegetation.
Here’s his hypothesis: If that average American would replace just one hour of daily TV watching with one extra hour of sleep, there would be a lot more love, a lot more joy, and a lot more prosperity in this world.
How about it, are you getting enough sleep? I know I’m not.
Joe has a hypothesis, but it’s a hypothesis based on facts. These are the facts:
Fact 1: The average American is chronically sleep-deprived, to the tune of upwards of an hour per night.
Fact 2: The average American spends between 3 and 4 hours per day watching television.
Fact 3: Long before you become physically dysfunctional, you begin to lose mental and emotional capacities. The first thing to go is usually the ability to think creatively. Shortly thereafter, you lose the capacity to be enthusiastic and optimistic.
Fact 4: People who are sleep-deprived have impaired judgment that causes them to do stupid things such as running up big credit card bills through shopping therapy as a replacement for real joy (debt can put a real damper on love within a household).
Fact 5: Sleep deprivation causes reduced energy levels, resulting in people ignoring their loved ones and not undertaking enjoyable but strenuous activities in favor of less emotionally-taxing activities such as couch vegetation.
Here’s his hypothesis: If that average American would replace just one hour of daily TV watching with one extra hour of sleep, there would be a lot more love, a lot more joy, and a lot more prosperity in this world.
How about it, are you getting enough sleep? I know I’m not.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Certified Organic Pot
It was bound to happen. Medical-marijuana is legal in California (along with ten other states) and now Mendocino County officials want to be able to certify the locally grown pot as organic.
According to an article from the Associated Press article, the officials in Mendocino County are simply responding to the request of two local growers. There is also concern of reports of people getting sick from pesticide treated pot.
It seems to be the next logical step as medical-marijuana moves into the mainstream. The states with medical marijuana laws are issuing “user” cards. According to the article at least one insurance company paid a claim for a stolen pot plant.
Certifying pot as organic will open all the doors:
County fairs will be revived as pot growers compete for the best in county and the best plants will go on to the state fairs. Will the judges get to smoke the pot as part of their evaluation?
The state agriculture research centers and state agriculture colleges will be able to conduct research on improving the pot plants.
Will we see pot growing 4-H clubs? How about a pot growing merit badge for Scouts?
What fun is it to just look at the plants in the fair. Will pot we have pot tasting parties like we do wine? Why should the judges at the county fair have all the fun?
Counties, such as Josephine in Oregon, would be able to advertise that their pot is the “best in Oregon”. Please note, I lived in Josephine County for six years and never smoked any of their pot. Experienced second hand smoke – yes.
Of course all of this leads to the final acceptance by the state – the taxing of pot. It would just be another sin tax that would help balance the local budgets. It might even replace the declining alcohol and tobacco tax revenues.
According to an article from the Associated Press article, the officials in Mendocino County are simply responding to the request of two local growers. There is also concern of reports of people getting sick from pesticide treated pot.
It seems to be the next logical step as medical-marijuana moves into the mainstream. The states with medical marijuana laws are issuing “user” cards. According to the article at least one insurance company paid a claim for a stolen pot plant.
Certifying pot as organic will open all the doors:
County fairs will be revived as pot growers compete for the best in county and the best plants will go on to the state fairs. Will the judges get to smoke the pot as part of their evaluation?
The state agriculture research centers and state agriculture colleges will be able to conduct research on improving the pot plants.
Will we see pot growing 4-H clubs? How about a pot growing merit badge for Scouts?
What fun is it to just look at the plants in the fair. Will pot we have pot tasting parties like we do wine? Why should the judges at the county fair have all the fun?
Counties, such as Josephine in Oregon, would be able to advertise that their pot is the “best in Oregon”. Please note, I lived in Josephine County for six years and never smoked any of their pot. Experienced second hand smoke – yes.
Of course all of this leads to the final acceptance by the state – the taxing of pot. It would just be another sin tax that would help balance the local budgets. It might even replace the declining alcohol and tobacco tax revenues.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Thoughts of Gary Hann
I made my first posting to my Faces of Oregon Blog. I decided to use an article I had written about a high school classmate we lost during the Vietnam War.
In the process of rebuilding my computer files I came across an article I had written about my best friend in high school.
I wrote this in September of 2001. An email from one of my twin daughters, talking about her first day of high school, reminded me of a similar day, 41 years ago. It was on the first day of school at Stayton Union High School, in Stayton, Oregon, that I met Gary Hann. I don’t remember the class, but we were sitting in alphabetical order and this redhead from Aumsville starting bugging me right from the beginning.
We remained friends through our 4 years of high school. During our junior year I decided to join the Naval Reserve. I was planning to join the Navy upon graduation. By joining the reserves I figured I could gain experience and have a step ahead of my classmates. Gary decided to join also. His father had been a Marine during WWII and refused to allow Gary to join the Marine Corps. He decided that the alternative way to the Marines was via the U.S. Navy Hospital Corps, whose members provide the medical support for the Marine Corps.
During the summer between our junior and senior years we spent two weeks at a reserve boot camp at the Naval Amphibious Base, Coronado, California. The San Diego Naval Training Center had been closed due to meningitis outbreak and a temporary two-week boot camp was set up across the bay. After those two weeks, we spent two weeks aboard a Destroyer Escort, stationed at Treasure Island, San Francisco. Those two weeks included a weekend cruise to Monterey Bay.
Upon graduation Gary and I reported to the Hospital Corps School in San Diego, California, for a sixteen-week course in instruction. During this time the Gulf of Tonkin incident was stages, which lead to the buildup of U.S. forces in Viet Nam.
Corps School was crowded. We were together 24 hours a day for those sixteen weeks. He had the bottom bunk in and I had the top one. When Gary found out I was writing Wanda, who was a year behind us in school, he started writing her too. When he didn’t write, she would ask about Gary and would also let me know when he did wrote.
Those sixteen weeks went by fast and we all realized that we had a good chance of going to Viet Nam with the Marine Corps. Close friendship drafted apart during this period. I think that deep down we knew that many of the class would not survive. We saw the reminders everyday. The halls of Corps School were lined with the pictures and citations of the members of the Hospital Corps who had been awarded the Medal of Honor. Most had been awarded while serving with Marine Corps units and most had been awarded posthumeriously. We were young, invincible and didn’t dwell on such things.
Upon graduation I was ordered to the Naval Hospital on the Marine Corps Base, Camp Pendleton, California. Gary went to the Naval Hospital, Oakland, California. After six weeks of ward duty, Gary volunteered for duty with the Fleet Marine Force and his offer was accepted. The Field Medicine School is at Camp De Mar, on the beach at Camp Pendleton. I saw Gary and couple of times. He spent a weekend with me in the barracks at the hospital.
Every month another 25-30 corpsmen were drafted from the hospital and every month my name was missing from the list. I lasted until December, when my name was finally on the list. I believe there were 25 of us on the list. 23 sets of orders came from the Bureau of Personnel: Fleet Marine Corps. Two of us waited and waited. I remember joking with a nurse that I was going on a Mediterranean cruise. We were both shocked when I got orders to the USS America, the Navy’s newest aircraft carrier and she was on her first Mediterranean cruise.
So, while Gary went west to the Fleet Marine Force and duty in Viet Nam, I went east and joined the USS America at Nice, France.
It was another classmate, Wanda, who wrote and told me that Gary had been killed in Viet Nam. It was a shock.
That was in 1966 I have not forgotten Gary and his friendship. For years I felt that it was my fault that he was killed. He joined the Navy because I did. He went to Hospital Corps School because I did. It has taken a long time to realize that Gary would have joined the service and would have found his way to Viet Nam.
I stayed in the Navy and dedicated my service to the memory of Gary Hann.
I moved to Gresham, Oregon, in September 2000 and on a clear spring day I made my way to the Oregon Viet Nam Memorial, in Washington Park, above downtown Portland. Here, on a series of marble tablets, are the names of 741 sons of Oregon, who gave their lives during the Viet Nam War. I said goodbye to Gary that day. I have taken others and introduced them to Gary.
Thank you Gary, for being such a great friend. You will always be a part of my life and you the first of the Faces of Oregon.
In the process of rebuilding my computer files I came across an article I had written about my best friend in high school.
I wrote this in September of 2001. An email from one of my twin daughters, talking about her first day of high school, reminded me of a similar day, 41 years ago. It was on the first day of school at Stayton Union High School, in Stayton, Oregon, that I met Gary Hann. I don’t remember the class, but we were sitting in alphabetical order and this redhead from Aumsville starting bugging me right from the beginning.
We remained friends through our 4 years of high school. During our junior year I decided to join the Naval Reserve. I was planning to join the Navy upon graduation. By joining the reserves I figured I could gain experience and have a step ahead of my classmates. Gary decided to join also. His father had been a Marine during WWII and refused to allow Gary to join the Marine Corps. He decided that the alternative way to the Marines was via the U.S. Navy Hospital Corps, whose members provide the medical support for the Marine Corps.
During the summer between our junior and senior years we spent two weeks at a reserve boot camp at the Naval Amphibious Base, Coronado, California. The San Diego Naval Training Center had been closed due to meningitis outbreak and a temporary two-week boot camp was set up across the bay. After those two weeks, we spent two weeks aboard a Destroyer Escort, stationed at Treasure Island, San Francisco. Those two weeks included a weekend cruise to Monterey Bay.
Upon graduation Gary and I reported to the Hospital Corps School in San Diego, California, for a sixteen-week course in instruction. During this time the Gulf of Tonkin incident was stages, which lead to the buildup of U.S. forces in Viet Nam.
Corps School was crowded. We were together 24 hours a day for those sixteen weeks. He had the bottom bunk in and I had the top one. When Gary found out I was writing Wanda, who was a year behind us in school, he started writing her too. When he didn’t write, she would ask about Gary and would also let me know when he did wrote.
Those sixteen weeks went by fast and we all realized that we had a good chance of going to Viet Nam with the Marine Corps. Close friendship drafted apart during this period. I think that deep down we knew that many of the class would not survive. We saw the reminders everyday. The halls of Corps School were lined with the pictures and citations of the members of the Hospital Corps who had been awarded the Medal of Honor. Most had been awarded while serving with Marine Corps units and most had been awarded posthumeriously. We were young, invincible and didn’t dwell on such things.
Upon graduation I was ordered to the Naval Hospital on the Marine Corps Base, Camp Pendleton, California. Gary went to the Naval Hospital, Oakland, California. After six weeks of ward duty, Gary volunteered for duty with the Fleet Marine Force and his offer was accepted. The Field Medicine School is at Camp De Mar, on the beach at Camp Pendleton. I saw Gary and couple of times. He spent a weekend with me in the barracks at the hospital.
Every month another 25-30 corpsmen were drafted from the hospital and every month my name was missing from the list. I lasted until December, when my name was finally on the list. I believe there were 25 of us on the list. 23 sets of orders came from the Bureau of Personnel: Fleet Marine Corps. Two of us waited and waited. I remember joking with a nurse that I was going on a Mediterranean cruise. We were both shocked when I got orders to the USS America, the Navy’s newest aircraft carrier and she was on her first Mediterranean cruise.
So, while Gary went west to the Fleet Marine Force and duty in Viet Nam, I went east and joined the USS America at Nice, France.
It was another classmate, Wanda, who wrote and told me that Gary had been killed in Viet Nam. It was a shock.
That was in 1966 I have not forgotten Gary and his friendship. For years I felt that it was my fault that he was killed. He joined the Navy because I did. He went to Hospital Corps School because I did. It has taken a long time to realize that Gary would have joined the service and would have found his way to Viet Nam.
I stayed in the Navy and dedicated my service to the memory of Gary Hann.
I moved to Gresham, Oregon, in September 2000 and on a clear spring day I made my way to the Oregon Viet Nam Memorial, in Washington Park, above downtown Portland. Here, on a series of marble tablets, are the names of 741 sons of Oregon, who gave their lives during the Viet Nam War. I said goodbye to Gary that day. I have taken others and introduced them to Gary.
Thank you Gary, for being such a great friend. You will always be a part of my life and you the first of the Faces of Oregon.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Second Wind Dreams
A couple of years ago I became away of an organization called Second Wind Dreams (http://www.secondwind.org/) They have goal of enhancing the quality of life for those living in eldercare communities.
The program began with the work and passion of P. K. Bevill, PhD. Who co-wrote Second Wind, a heart warming book about life within nursing homes. Today the program reaches facilities in 38 states, Canada and India, and is changing our perception of aging one dream at a time.
According to their website there are basically five categories of dreams: (the following is taken from the website)
·Relationship Based Dreams: So that the resident can reunite with friends and family members that they may not have seen in many years. One resident had not seen his brother in over 40 years! Approximately 12% of the dreams are this kind.
·Life Long Dreams: Learning to play the piano, swimming with the dolphins or going to Graceland are just a few of these powerful dreams. Approximately 6% of dreams fall into this category.
· Dreams to Relive Past Experiences: A simple trip to a favorite restaurant, paint supplies so that a resident can go back to creating paintings make the difference, feeling needed when they can relive their jobs. These are 14% of the dreams.
·Dreams for Fun: An unbelievable 46% of the dreams fulfilled are just for fun. Our residents want to go to the Price Is Right, ride a go-cart and ride all the roller coasters at an amusement park.
·Need Based Dreams: Imagine needing something as simple as a cup holder for your wheelchair or a dress so that you can attend church again and no matter what you do you will never be able to get it. This is a humbling 22% of the dreams.
Seniors who are living in eldercare communities are most need of assistance. Family support may be non-existent, money can be at a premium, especially for our Medicaid supported seniors, and these senior adults are often our frailest— the ones who need a dream fulfilled.
The lack of dreams and goals can have serious physical and mental consequences. By fulfilling dreams we improve the quality of the residents’ lives by stimulating residents both physically and mentally while giving them the special attention they deserve.
According to Second Wind Dream, older adults and their dreams shine much brighter than anything we will do. “As each dream unfolds, the local community sees the wonder of older adults and understands that each stage of life is unique and bountiful. Long after the dream has been fulfilled, the effects linger on.
Organizations, such as Second Wind Dreams, cannot do it all. According to the Texas Department of Aging and Disability Services, 60% of nursing home residents have no visitors.
What have you done to reach out to the eldercare residents and other elderly citizens in your community. Take a minute and post a comment or send me an email.
The program began with the work and passion of P. K. Bevill, PhD. Who co-wrote Second Wind, a heart warming book about life within nursing homes. Today the program reaches facilities in 38 states, Canada and India, and is changing our perception of aging one dream at a time.
According to their website there are basically five categories of dreams: (the following is taken from the website)
·Relationship Based Dreams: So that the resident can reunite with friends and family members that they may not have seen in many years. One resident had not seen his brother in over 40 years! Approximately 12% of the dreams are this kind.
·Life Long Dreams: Learning to play the piano, swimming with the dolphins or going to Graceland are just a few of these powerful dreams. Approximately 6% of dreams fall into this category.
· Dreams to Relive Past Experiences: A simple trip to a favorite restaurant, paint supplies so that a resident can go back to creating paintings make the difference, feeling needed when they can relive their jobs. These are 14% of the dreams.
·Dreams for Fun: An unbelievable 46% of the dreams fulfilled are just for fun. Our residents want to go to the Price Is Right, ride a go-cart and ride all the roller coasters at an amusement park.
·Need Based Dreams: Imagine needing something as simple as a cup holder for your wheelchair or a dress so that you can attend church again and no matter what you do you will never be able to get it. This is a humbling 22% of the dreams.
Seniors who are living in eldercare communities are most need of assistance. Family support may be non-existent, money can be at a premium, especially for our Medicaid supported seniors, and these senior adults are often our frailest— the ones who need a dream fulfilled.
The lack of dreams and goals can have serious physical and mental consequences. By fulfilling dreams we improve the quality of the residents’ lives by stimulating residents both physically and mentally while giving them the special attention they deserve.
According to Second Wind Dream, older adults and their dreams shine much brighter than anything we will do. “As each dream unfolds, the local community sees the wonder of older adults and understands that each stage of life is unique and bountiful. Long after the dream has been fulfilled, the effects linger on.
Organizations, such as Second Wind Dreams, cannot do it all. According to the Texas Department of Aging and Disability Services, 60% of nursing home residents have no visitors.
What have you done to reach out to the eldercare residents and other elderly citizens in your community. Take a minute and post a comment or send me an email.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Down but not out!
For the past two days I have been experiencing major computer problems. Not all is lost. A recent backup will allow me to recover much of my work. It's just the pain of having a good friend die.
Friday, February 11, 2005
A 10 Second Kiss Can Save Your Life - Part 2
Here is part 2 of the 10 Second KISS. These are the excuses people have come up with for not practicing the 10 second kiss.
Excuses:
Excuse #1: I’d like to give my wife a ten second kiss when I get home, but I’m afraid my breath will smell and she’ll be offended.
Solution: Invest in fifty two rolls of breath mints, one for each week of the year.
Excuse #2. I can’t kiss and keep time all at once.
Solution. Set the microwave or oven timer until you get a feel for how long 10 seconds is. If you go over ten seconds…oh, well!
Let’s try something. Everyone close your eyes and raise your right arm. Either one will do. When I say start, keep your arm up for what you think is ten seconds, then lower it. OK, let’s go.
Excellent. Now, turn to the person sitting next to you… just kidding.
Excuse #3. The kids (or grandkids) keep getting in the way.
Solution. Let them try. What better childhood membory could they have than trying to squeeze between Mommy and Daddy or Grandmother and Grandfather while they were kissing.
Excuse #4. The phone rings, or I’m already talking to someone on it and can’t clear my mind of our conversation when I hang up.
Solution. Let the phone ring. Whoever it is can call back or leave a message on your answering machine. If you’re on the phone, tell whoever you’re talking to that you spouse just walked in and you want to finish the conversation later. Your spouse will get the message that they matter more to you than whoever was on the other end of the phone line. The same goes for the computer.
Excuse #5. The Dog is all over me as soon as I open the door.
Solution. Life begins when the children leave home and the dog dies. No. Just don’t dare pet your dog before you kiss your spouse. Block out the barking, panting, sniffing and go for the kiss.
Excuse #6. When I come through the door at the end of the day, I get hit with a million problems at once. I cannot get my spouse to stop talking along enough to kiss me.
Solution. Don’t come in the same door every day. Come in another entrance and kiss your spouse. Sneak in the side door.
Excuse #7. My spouse seems so tense at the end of the day. I don’t want to be a bother.
Solution. The loving energy you’ll transfer to your spouse through your kiss will work wonders to relieve tense and make your spouse feel cherished.
Excuse #8. The mail always comes first.
Solution. Hide the mail and give it to your spouse after you kiss. After a few days the mail will be forgotten.
Excuse #9. A kiss always leads to sex.
Solution. Don’t let it. I kiss shows you love your spouse, rather than a means to an end. The alternative is just accept it.
Excuse #10. I only see my boyfriend once or twice a week and it’s usually in a public place. It’s too embarrassing to kiss each other like that in public.
Solution. I agree. Why not meet in the parking lot instead and give each other the kiss there.
These have been just 10 of what are probabley hundreds of excuses. You have one. So what. Just Kiss.
The 10 Second Kiss is only part of the K.I.S.S. Plan that author Ellen Kreidman, PhD, describes in her book The 10 Second Kiss.
After the 10 second kiss, comes:
· The 5 second compliment. Compliment at least one thing your mate has said or done – every day.
· 30 minute talk. Talk and listen to each other for thirty minutes every day (with the TV off)
· Hug for 30 seconds – every day.
· Stay connected sexually.
· Plan a fantasy for each other.
· Make love on the spur of the moment.
· Laugh together – every day.
· Make all your decisions based on love.
Excuses:
Excuse #1: I’d like to give my wife a ten second kiss when I get home, but I’m afraid my breath will smell and she’ll be offended.
Solution: Invest in fifty two rolls of breath mints, one for each week of the year.
Excuse #2. I can’t kiss and keep time all at once.
Solution. Set the microwave or oven timer until you get a feel for how long 10 seconds is. If you go over ten seconds…oh, well!
Let’s try something. Everyone close your eyes and raise your right arm. Either one will do. When I say start, keep your arm up for what you think is ten seconds, then lower it. OK, let’s go.
Excellent. Now, turn to the person sitting next to you… just kidding.
Excuse #3. The kids (or grandkids) keep getting in the way.
Solution. Let them try. What better childhood membory could they have than trying to squeeze between Mommy and Daddy or Grandmother and Grandfather while they were kissing.
Excuse #4. The phone rings, or I’m already talking to someone on it and can’t clear my mind of our conversation when I hang up.
Solution. Let the phone ring. Whoever it is can call back or leave a message on your answering machine. If you’re on the phone, tell whoever you’re talking to that you spouse just walked in and you want to finish the conversation later. Your spouse will get the message that they matter more to you than whoever was on the other end of the phone line. The same goes for the computer.
Excuse #5. The Dog is all over me as soon as I open the door.
Solution. Life begins when the children leave home and the dog dies. No. Just don’t dare pet your dog before you kiss your spouse. Block out the barking, panting, sniffing and go for the kiss.
Excuse #6. When I come through the door at the end of the day, I get hit with a million problems at once. I cannot get my spouse to stop talking along enough to kiss me.
Solution. Don’t come in the same door every day. Come in another entrance and kiss your spouse. Sneak in the side door.
Excuse #7. My spouse seems so tense at the end of the day. I don’t want to be a bother.
Solution. The loving energy you’ll transfer to your spouse through your kiss will work wonders to relieve tense and make your spouse feel cherished.
Excuse #8. The mail always comes first.
Solution. Hide the mail and give it to your spouse after you kiss. After a few days the mail will be forgotten.
Excuse #9. A kiss always leads to sex.
Solution. Don’t let it. I kiss shows you love your spouse, rather than a means to an end. The alternative is just accept it.
Excuse #10. I only see my boyfriend once or twice a week and it’s usually in a public place. It’s too embarrassing to kiss each other like that in public.
Solution. I agree. Why not meet in the parking lot instead and give each other the kiss there.
These have been just 10 of what are probabley hundreds of excuses. You have one. So what. Just Kiss.
The 10 Second Kiss is only part of the K.I.S.S. Plan that author Ellen Kreidman, PhD, describes in her book The 10 Second Kiss.
After the 10 second kiss, comes:
· The 5 second compliment. Compliment at least one thing your mate has said or done – every day.
· 30 minute talk. Talk and listen to each other for thirty minutes every day (with the TV off)
· Hug for 30 seconds – every day.
· Stay connected sexually.
· Plan a fantasy for each other.
· Make love on the spur of the moment.
· Laugh together – every day.
· Make all your decisions based on love.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
A 10 Second Kiss Can Save Your Life - Part 1
This is from a presentation that I put together a couple of years ago for Valentines Day. It’s long, so I’m going to post it in two parts. Give me your feedback.
Kissing can help you lose weight, relax, express love, boost your immune system, improve self-esteem, manage stress and stimulate your brain. Have I captivated your interest? Is it too good to be true? Science says no! There is one caveat; you have to be kissing your significant other. Kissing the wrong person at the wrong time can actually be hazardous to your health.
Here’s something that feels good, is natural, contains no additives, has no calories and is good for your health: Kissing! So pucker up, it could save your life.
Why Kissing? There are a number of reasons.
A serious, tongue-tangling French kiss exercises all the underlying muscles of the face – which some say could keep you looking younger and certainly looking happier. A pucker kiss only uses two muscles. A real French kiss activates all 34 of your facial muscles, and the highest level of serious making out, properly done, engages every muscle and tendon in your body.
Kissing will make you smile, too; and that’s definitely will make you look better, happier and healthier.
Kissing can slow the aging process – it tones your jaw and cheek muscles, reducing sagging.
Kissing might even help you lose weight, says Bryant Stamford, PhD, professor and director of health promotion center at the University of Louisville. “During a really, really passionate kiss, you might burn two calories a minute—double your metabolic rate,” he says. (This compares to 11.2 calories per minute you burn jogging on a treadmill).
Kissing is a “sensual meditation”, says Joy Davidson, PhD, psychologist and clinical sexologist in Seattle, Washington. “It stops the buzz in your mind, it quells anxiety, and it heightens the experience of being present in the moment. It actually produces a lot of the physiological changes that meditation produces.
While kissing isn’t a replacement for brushing your teeth, it does provide extra saliva that washes bacteria off your teeth. Kissing also boosts your immune system. By exchanging bacteria through a kiss you are stimulating your internal defense mechanism.
You live longer.
Now that we know kissing is actually good for you, what the problems. Here are the ten common excuses and the solutions.
Tomorrow I will post the common excuses for not kissing more and will include the K.I.S.S. Ten Second Plan.
Kissing can help you lose weight, relax, express love, boost your immune system, improve self-esteem, manage stress and stimulate your brain. Have I captivated your interest? Is it too good to be true? Science says no! There is one caveat; you have to be kissing your significant other. Kissing the wrong person at the wrong time can actually be hazardous to your health.
Here’s something that feels good, is natural, contains no additives, has no calories and is good for your health: Kissing! So pucker up, it could save your life.
Why Kissing? There are a number of reasons.
A serious, tongue-tangling French kiss exercises all the underlying muscles of the face – which some say could keep you looking younger and certainly looking happier. A pucker kiss only uses two muscles. A real French kiss activates all 34 of your facial muscles, and the highest level of serious making out, properly done, engages every muscle and tendon in your body.
Kissing will make you smile, too; and that’s definitely will make you look better, happier and healthier.
Kissing can slow the aging process – it tones your jaw and cheek muscles, reducing sagging.
Kissing might even help you lose weight, says Bryant Stamford, PhD, professor and director of health promotion center at the University of Louisville. “During a really, really passionate kiss, you might burn two calories a minute—double your metabolic rate,” he says. (This compares to 11.2 calories per minute you burn jogging on a treadmill).
Kissing is a “sensual meditation”, says Joy Davidson, PhD, psychologist and clinical sexologist in Seattle, Washington. “It stops the buzz in your mind, it quells anxiety, and it heightens the experience of being present in the moment. It actually produces a lot of the physiological changes that meditation produces.
While kissing isn’t a replacement for brushing your teeth, it does provide extra saliva that washes bacteria off your teeth. Kissing also boosts your immune system. By exchanging bacteria through a kiss you are stimulating your internal defense mechanism.
You live longer.
Now that we know kissing is actually good for you, what the problems. Here are the ten common excuses and the solutions.
Tomorrow I will post the common excuses for not kissing more and will include the K.I.S.S. Ten Second Plan.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Rekindling the Passion
According to Shad Helmstetter, the brilliant behavioral researcher and best-selling author of What to Say When You Talk to Yourself, the choices that we make every day determine our direction in life.
I had the opportunity to spent a week with Dr. Shad while attending The Life Coach Insitute. One of my favorite quotes of Dr. Shad is “Choosing to live your life by your own choice is the greatest freedom you will ever have.”
America’s Dream Coach, Marcia Wieder, suggests that we can use passion as a barometer for deciding what we will or won’t do when choice is an option. She says we can rekindle our passion by going on a “Passion Quest by observing what excites us versus what drains us.
We can then rekindle or reignite our passion by simply doing more of what we love. This can be applied to both work-related and personal matters.
I had the opportunity to spent a week with Dr. Shad while attending The Life Coach Insitute. One of my favorite quotes of Dr. Shad is “Choosing to live your life by your own choice is the greatest freedom you will ever have.”
America’s Dream Coach, Marcia Wieder, suggests that we can use passion as a barometer for deciding what we will or won’t do when choice is an option. She says we can rekindle our passion by going on a “Passion Quest by observing what excites us versus what drains us.
We can then rekindle or reignite our passion by simply doing more of what we love. This can be applied to both work-related and personal matters.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Is it a Stroke?
Every day I get emails encouraging me to read and then forward to all my friends. I have learned to check them out on the Urban Legends site (http://www.snopes.com/). Usually I discover they are false. This one turned out to be true. The following information is from the American Stroke Association. Email me if you would like the link to the web page.
Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness often spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke. Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions:
*Ask the individual to SMILE.
*Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS.
*Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE.
If he or she has trouble with any of these tasks, call 9-1-1 immediately and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher. After discovering that a group of nonmedical volunteers could identify facial weakness, arm weakness and speech problems, researchers urged the general public to learn the three questions. They presented their conclusions at the American Stroke Association's annual meeting last February. Widespread use of this test could result in prompt diagnosis and treatment of the stroke and prevent brain damage.
A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this e-mail sends it to 10 people, you can bet that at least one life will be saved. Help spread the word.
Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness often spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke. Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions:
*Ask the individual to SMILE.
*Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS.
*Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE.
If he or she has trouble with any of these tasks, call 9-1-1 immediately and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher. After discovering that a group of nonmedical volunteers could identify facial weakness, arm weakness and speech problems, researchers urged the general public to learn the three questions. They presented their conclusions at the American Stroke Association's annual meeting last February. Widespread use of this test could result in prompt diagnosis and treatment of the stroke and prevent brain damage.
A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this e-mail sends it to 10 people, you can bet that at least one life will be saved. Help spread the word.
37 Pounds - Weight Loss Update
Back on January 10th I wrote about my Monday Morning Weight checks. That morning I had weighted in at 235 pounds and had lost a total of 30 pounds. This morning I weighted 228 pounds. The downward trend continues and I feel great.
This past weekend there was quite a discussion of my buns at our annual Kiwanis Chili cook-off. Embarrassing, yes, but it also felt good to have people noticing. It made all the work worthwhile.
The last two pounds came off despite having a plate of spaghetti at the Gresham Senior Center fundraiser (my Kiwanis club had volunteered to helps serve) and being a judge at the chili cook-off. We had 15 outstanding entries and it took a lot of sampling to pick the winner.
It looks like I’ll be needing some new clothes soon. Everything is getting to be too big. That’s the kind of problem to have, right?
This past weekend there was quite a discussion of my buns at our annual Kiwanis Chili cook-off. Embarrassing, yes, but it also felt good to have people noticing. It made all the work worthwhile.
The last two pounds came off despite having a plate of spaghetti at the Gresham Senior Center fundraiser (my Kiwanis club had volunteered to helps serve) and being a judge at the chili cook-off. We had 15 outstanding entries and it took a lot of sampling to pick the winner.
It looks like I’ll be needing some new clothes soon. Everything is getting to be too big. That’s the kind of problem to have, right?
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Five Simple Rules to Being Happy
You may have seen these before, but a reminder is good now and then
1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.
1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.
What I Want to Write About
I believe that all of us are writers. Some of us are welling and able to come out of the closet and let the world know what is deep within our hearts.
I have been trying to explain why and what I want to write about. Kim Pearson http://www.primary-sources.com/ says it much better than I have been able too.
Her mission is to help people tell and preserve their unique and valuable stories. She publishes a free seasonal newsletter, filled with stories and poems, writing and remembering tips & tricks, upcoming events, and more. It is always informative and entertaining! You can subscribe at her website.
What I Want to Write About
Here is a piece I wrote during a "Write to Remember" class, about the reasons I do what I do:
I want to write about my real life and how it feels to be lonely some mornings and at the same time glad to be alone. I want to write about the giddiness that I feel when I see that the truth is not the truth, and that lies are sometimes the only honest way to go.
I want to write about the time my father threw a glass milk bottle at my mother, and how the bottle didn't hit her or even break; instead it swooped down one side of the porcelain sink and then up and out the other side, landing with a perfect tring right at Dad's feet. I want to write about how their laughter echoed off the walls like the pieces of broken glass that should have been there but weren't.
I want to write about the foregiveness that lives in the sweet secret river under the reeds of guilt and the mud of shame. I want to write about those stagnant emotional ponds full of fat tadpoles and biting bugs.
I want to write about the longing that fills my head and my hands that itch with fury. I want to write about how our stories merge together, and how our stories fall apart. I want to write about how the stories of my life are the stories of yours.
I want to write about the smell of new-cut grass and the taste of a mealy potato running with butter. I want to write about the moonlight hiding everything but the shadows. I want to show you how the shadows may speak to you if you listen with your heart as well as your ears.
copyright 2004 Kim Pearson http://www.primary-sources.com/ Reprinted with permission.
Why do you want to write? Share with us. Click on “Comments” below and then on “Post a Comment”.
Why do you want to write? Share with us. Click on “Comments” below and then on “Post a Comment”.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Lessons from our Elders
I published a weekly E-Letter for a couple of years. In October 2002 I published this article.
A friend sent the following to me.
"A few years ago my husband and I were given the opportunity to minister to some elderly ladies that attended the church where we were at the time. One of them kept asking us why we bothered with them because they were so old and feeble and really had nothing to do here anymore. I told her at the time what the Lord told me---that everyone has worth in his eyes, but it is in our own eyes that we are nothing. The reason for these ladies being here and not with him was because there were people here who needed to learn compassion, and the only way for them to do that was to care for people who were here who needed them, for whatever reason in the natural. If there were no people who needed us, we would never learn to be compassionate---it is part of becoming like Christ---he was compassionate to everyone of us!"
At one time our families were multigenerational with children, parents and grandparents all living under one roof. The grandparents had a roll in the life of the family. Children had a chance to know their grandparents.
Now the elderly are moved into retirement centers, extended care facilities and nursing homes. Elder care has become a growth industry. Once children took care of their grandparents and parents until the end, now they pick the facility where their parents will live out their lives. Today over 1.6 million people live in nursing homes.
I remember reading a book by Leo basically. He describes a class on love that he taught at the University of Southern California. One of the assignments for his students was to spent time in a nursing home with the elderly. I always remembered that story. Later I would encourage Club Scout Packs to adopt nursing homes and to have the Cub Scouts visit at various times during the year. I also remember doing a flag ceremony at a retirement center on Independence Day. My three scout age sons assisted me. The residents were wonderful.
Leo basically, the Love Professor, as he was fondly called, said "It's not enough to have lived. We should be determined to live for something. May I suggest that it be creating joy for others, sharing what we have for the betterment of personkind, bringing hope to the lost and love to the lonely."
On Monday nights you'll find me at the Cascadia retirement home in nearby Sandy, participating in a sing-a-long with fellow Kiwanians and residents. Together we make beautiful music. Lucille, Eleanor, Bob, Libby (we lost Libby this past August), Andy and all the others have taught me so much about life and living. I also found that I really like to sing. They are all very kind and don't tell me how bad I really am. The encouragement is wonderful.
When are you doing to bring hope to the lost and love to the lonely? Up to 60% of the nursing home residents have no regular visitors. My next column will be about the Adopt-a-Nursing home program.
A friend sent the following to me.
"A few years ago my husband and I were given the opportunity to minister to some elderly ladies that attended the church where we were at the time. One of them kept asking us why we bothered with them because they were so old and feeble and really had nothing to do here anymore. I told her at the time what the Lord told me---that everyone has worth in his eyes, but it is in our own eyes that we are nothing. The reason for these ladies being here and not with him was because there were people here who needed to learn compassion, and the only way for them to do that was to care for people who were here who needed them, for whatever reason in the natural. If there were no people who needed us, we would never learn to be compassionate---it is part of becoming like Christ---he was compassionate to everyone of us!"
At one time our families were multigenerational with children, parents and grandparents all living under one roof. The grandparents had a roll in the life of the family. Children had a chance to know their grandparents.
Now the elderly are moved into retirement centers, extended care facilities and nursing homes. Elder care has become a growth industry. Once children took care of their grandparents and parents until the end, now they pick the facility where their parents will live out their lives. Today over 1.6 million people live in nursing homes.
I remember reading a book by Leo basically. He describes a class on love that he taught at the University of Southern California. One of the assignments for his students was to spent time in a nursing home with the elderly. I always remembered that story. Later I would encourage Club Scout Packs to adopt nursing homes and to have the Cub Scouts visit at various times during the year. I also remember doing a flag ceremony at a retirement center on Independence Day. My three scout age sons assisted me. The residents were wonderful.
Leo basically, the Love Professor, as he was fondly called, said "It's not enough to have lived. We should be determined to live for something. May I suggest that it be creating joy for others, sharing what we have for the betterment of personkind, bringing hope to the lost and love to the lonely."
On Monday nights you'll find me at the Cascadia retirement home in nearby Sandy, participating in a sing-a-long with fellow Kiwanians and residents. Together we make beautiful music. Lucille, Eleanor, Bob, Libby (we lost Libby this past August), Andy and all the others have taught me so much about life and living. I also found that I really like to sing. They are all very kind and don't tell me how bad I really am. The encouragement is wonderful.
When are you doing to bring hope to the lost and love to the lonely? Up to 60% of the nursing home residents have no regular visitors. My next column will be about the Adopt-a-Nursing home program.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
A Hundred Acre Wood
For nearly two years I have been walking nearly everyday. Usually I walk through the Kelley Creek Parkway near my home in Gresham, Oregon. I love to walk. I meditate, I dream, I enjoy the changing seasons around me. I have walked in the cold of winter and the heat of summer. No two walks are the same.
One of my dreams is to have my very own Hundred Acre Wood. I guess I have always been jealous of Winnie the Poo and his friends. All of their adventures take place in their Hundred Acre Wood.
Growing up in the small town of Lyons, Oregon, I had hundreds of acres of woods to explore, but not a single acre was mine. Some my friends explored with permission, some we explored without permission, which we added to the adventure. In those days nothing was ever said. We only cut down trees that had no commercial value, primarily alder and Viney Maple. We dug holes and built forts and played war and cowboys and Indians.
I have been cleaning up computer files and I came across something it had written on March 20, 2002 about the park and my dream.
Spring had arrived in the Portland area. I celebrated by taking a walk through the parkway, which is an undeveloped City of Gresham park. Houses surround the parkway, yet the only sounds usually birds, the rushing water in Kelly Creek, and an occasional jet headed for Portland International Airport.
Actually it’s the spillway of a flood control dam that creates the sound. The sky was blue and there was a hint of warmth in the air, a sign of the coming spring. Leaves were appearing on the underbrush. Awakened to the coming spring, the birds were cheerfully singing. I spotted a squirrel sitting on a branch and eating what I assume is food saved from last fall. Is he thinking of the free stuff that will be coming as the seasons change?
Mother Nature and her helpers, the birds and small animals, plant the trees in a haphazard fashion.
Every time I walk through the parkway I get a clearer vision of my own hundred-acre wood.
I want wild land, overgrown, with lots of underbrush and stands of trees. There are thousands of such acres in Western Oregon. A lot of it was logged and forgotten. With small hills and valleys the sights change as I walk along the paths. The valleys can provide for small seasonal streams and the hills for vista points. There is also a health benefit. The hills provide a little exercise.
My paths are wide enough for two people and covered with shale to allow year around walking. This is Oregon and one must be prepared for rain.
For the most part I have left the haphazard plantings of Mother Nature. Brush had to be cleared to build the paths and a few small meadows were developed. Bridges were built over the low spots where seasonal streams.
One of my favorite spots is Spirit House, a small storage shed size cabin located in the far corner of my hundred-acre wood. There is no electricity. A Lateran provides light. A table and a couple of chairs are the only furnishings this is a place for meditation and thinking. I carry a coffee thermos and by notebook. Here I can spend hours reading from one or more of the uplifting books that I have stocked the cabin with.
There are other dreams I have about my hundred ace wood. They will have to wait for another day. It’s time to head out the door for my daily walk.
One of my dreams is to have my very own Hundred Acre Wood. I guess I have always been jealous of Winnie the Poo and his friends. All of their adventures take place in their Hundred Acre Wood.
Growing up in the small town of Lyons, Oregon, I had hundreds of acres of woods to explore, but not a single acre was mine. Some my friends explored with permission, some we explored without permission, which we added to the adventure. In those days nothing was ever said. We only cut down trees that had no commercial value, primarily alder and Viney Maple. We dug holes and built forts and played war and cowboys and Indians.
I have been cleaning up computer files and I came across something it had written on March 20, 2002 about the park and my dream.
Spring had arrived in the Portland area. I celebrated by taking a walk through the parkway, which is an undeveloped City of Gresham park. Houses surround the parkway, yet the only sounds usually birds, the rushing water in Kelly Creek, and an occasional jet headed for Portland International Airport.
Actually it’s the spillway of a flood control dam that creates the sound. The sky was blue and there was a hint of warmth in the air, a sign of the coming spring. Leaves were appearing on the underbrush. Awakened to the coming spring, the birds were cheerfully singing. I spotted a squirrel sitting on a branch and eating what I assume is food saved from last fall. Is he thinking of the free stuff that will be coming as the seasons change?
Mother Nature and her helpers, the birds and small animals, plant the trees in a haphazard fashion.
Every time I walk through the parkway I get a clearer vision of my own hundred-acre wood.
I want wild land, overgrown, with lots of underbrush and stands of trees. There are thousands of such acres in Western Oregon. A lot of it was logged and forgotten. With small hills and valleys the sights change as I walk along the paths. The valleys can provide for small seasonal streams and the hills for vista points. There is also a health benefit. The hills provide a little exercise.
My paths are wide enough for two people and covered with shale to allow year around walking. This is Oregon and one must be prepared for rain.
For the most part I have left the haphazard plantings of Mother Nature. Brush had to be cleared to build the paths and a few small meadows were developed. Bridges were built over the low spots where seasonal streams.
One of my favorite spots is Spirit House, a small storage shed size cabin located in the far corner of my hundred-acre wood. There is no electricity. A Lateran provides light. A table and a couple of chairs are the only furnishings this is a place for meditation and thinking. I carry a coffee thermos and by notebook. Here I can spend hours reading from one or more of the uplifting books that I have stocked the cabin with.
There are other dreams I have about my hundred ace wood. They will have to wait for another day. It’s time to head out the door for my daily walk.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
American Association for the Encouragement of Fidgeting (AAEF)
Fidgeting is good for you and must be encouraged. To that end I'm considering forming the American Association for the Encouragement of Fidgeting (AAEF). There was a news report in the Internet yesterday on the benefits of fidgeting. The Medical research has shows that the difference between obesity and leanness is very small, just a little bit of activity here and there.
Teachers and parents must be warned of the dangers of reducing or eliminating fidgeting by children. They may be contributing to the obesity problem we're facing today. I'm also worried that attorney's may get wind of this and start class action suits against schools and teachers. How about children suing their parents for making them sit still in the car, at the dinner table or in church?
The study reports that if you have a natural tendency to fidget you can use that to your advantage to help keep your weight now. However, if you’re not a natural fidgeter (or the urge to fidget has been repressed) don’t despair. You can walk and do other things to get physical activity back into your life.
The research has shows that the difference between obesity and leanness is very small, just a little bit of activity here and there. Taking an additional 7,000 steps (as long as it isn’t from the TV to the kitchen for snacks) each day would burn an additional 350 calories.
The article was published in the LA times Friday, January 28th. If you cannot find it, just send me an email and I will be happy to forward it to you.
Teachers and parents must be warned of the dangers of reducing or eliminating fidgeting by children. They may be contributing to the obesity problem we're facing today. I'm also worried that attorney's may get wind of this and start class action suits against schools and teachers. How about children suing their parents for making them sit still in the car, at the dinner table or in church?
The study reports that if you have a natural tendency to fidget you can use that to your advantage to help keep your weight now. However, if you’re not a natural fidgeter (or the urge to fidget has been repressed) don’t despair. You can walk and do other things to get physical activity back into your life.
The research has shows that the difference between obesity and leanness is very small, just a little bit of activity here and there. Taking an additional 7,000 steps (as long as it isn’t from the TV to the kitchen for snacks) each day would burn an additional 350 calories.
The article was published in the LA times Friday, January 28th. If you cannot find it, just send me an email and I will be happy to forward it to you.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
The Same Yet Different
36 years ago, as a long Navy Hospital Corpsman I met a slightly older Navy nurse by the name of Pat. No, this isn’t a love story. It was the beginning of a professional relationship and friendship that lasted all these years. We both stayed in the Navy. She retired to Florida. I retired to Oregon.
Email has allowed us to stay in touch. Pat emailed me last night to alert me to a CNN special, hosted by Paul Zahn.
The piece was produced by Alex Quade and reported on the medical care our troop receive from the battlefield in Iraq when they are wounded, through various levels of care in Iraq to the hospitals in Germany and the states.
Pat and I served for a year off the Coast of South Vietnam, support Marine and Army operations. I was assigned to the Urology ward and to the triage area, where at times we received causalities direct from the battlefield. Pat was one of the nurses I worked with every day.
Watching the show, I was impressed by the care being provided to our young men and women and how the different medical services are working together.
The medical personnel looked so young. Pat called them babies. That got me thinking and I found my cruise book (a year book for sailors) and looked through our pictures. There’s Pat, holding one of our young Vietnamese patients. I can hardly recognize myself. We were kids too.
Some of the tools are new. Military medicine has always taken advantage of the latest technology. I operated a kidney dialysis machine on board the Sanctuary before the manufacturer had even printed the manual for it. We had one of the three banks using frozen blood.
One thing hasn’t changed, the tender loving care that we gave our patients, is the same care being given today. I had tears in my eyes while watching the strength of the wounded troops and the strength, expertise and kindness of the Army, Navy, and Air Force medical personnel. It also brought back memories of the young men we treated so many years ago.
Email has allowed us to stay in touch. Pat emailed me last night to alert me to a CNN special, hosted by Paul Zahn.
The piece was produced by Alex Quade and reported on the medical care our troop receive from the battlefield in Iraq when they are wounded, through various levels of care in Iraq to the hospitals in Germany and the states.
Pat and I served for a year off the Coast of South Vietnam, support Marine and Army operations. I was assigned to the Urology ward and to the triage area, where at times we received causalities direct from the battlefield. Pat was one of the nurses I worked with every day.
Watching the show, I was impressed by the care being provided to our young men and women and how the different medical services are working together.
The medical personnel looked so young. Pat called them babies. That got me thinking and I found my cruise book (a year book for sailors) and looked through our pictures. There’s Pat, holding one of our young Vietnamese patients. I can hardly recognize myself. We were kids too.
Some of the tools are new. Military medicine has always taken advantage of the latest technology. I operated a kidney dialysis machine on board the Sanctuary before the manufacturer had even printed the manual for it. We had one of the three banks using frozen blood.
One thing hasn’t changed, the tender loving care that we gave our patients, is the same care being given today. I had tears in my eyes while watching the strength of the wounded troops and the strength, expertise and kindness of the Army, Navy, and Air Force medical personnel. It also brought back memories of the young men we treated so many years ago.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Thoughts of Spring
I know, it’s only the 24th of January, but my thoughts turned to spring this past week. We have had some unusually warm weather, hints of what is to come.
I love Oregon in the Spring (and in the summer, fall and winter too). It’s a time to get out and hit the back road. I-5 and I-84 is great for making fast time. If you want to enjoy the scenery you have to take the byways. For example, I live near the mouth of the Columbia Gorge, one of the most beautiful areas of the state. I-84 transverses the gorge and you can drive from my home in Gresham to The Dalles, at the other end of the gorge in less than 90 minutes. Most people make the trip in less time.
To see the real beautify of the gorge you need to take the Old Columbia River Highway out of Troutdale. An alternative is to take Route up the Washington side. Either route will make you slow down and enjoy all that the gorge has to offer. Even then you will miss much. There are places your car cannot take you. You can see a glance of Multnomah Falls from your car on I-84. On the Old Columbia River Highway you can pause in front of the fall and take a picture without getting out of the car. Or, you can park and walk the short distance to the observation area.
A little further east there is another falls. Most people drive right by. A few will stop and climb down to Oneonta Creek and walk up its bank to the logjam. Some will stop at the base of the large, tangled pile of logs and then turn back to their cars. A few will climb carefully to the top of the pile and look into the gorge. Then they will turn back to their cars and wonder what the attraction was.
A few will climb over the jam and wade up Oneonta Creek. It is impossible to make the journey without getting wet. The walls of the gorge preclude climbing. In the summer months the water isn’t deep. I’m 5”ll” and the water has never been deeper than my waist. The walk is level and after a couple of bends you can see Oneonta Falls.
It’s not a spectacular as Multnomah Falls. It’s the adventure of getting there that makes its exciting. Thousands of people will stop at Multnomah Falls. Only a few hundred will make the short trip up Oneonta Gorge to see and take pictures of Oneonta Falls. Sent me an email if you’d like to see pictures of the fall. Send me an email (or make a comment on this page).
There are hundreds of such spots scattered along the back roads of Oregon.
How did I find out about Oneonta Falls? I read an article in the local paper on a Thursday. I went Friday morning and there were a dozen people in the gorge. I went back on Sunday with my niece and we couldn’t find a place to park. That’s why we keep our favorite spots a secret.
I love Oregon in the Spring (and in the summer, fall and winter too). It’s a time to get out and hit the back road. I-5 and I-84 is great for making fast time. If you want to enjoy the scenery you have to take the byways. For example, I live near the mouth of the Columbia Gorge, one of the most beautiful areas of the state. I-84 transverses the gorge and you can drive from my home in Gresham to The Dalles, at the other end of the gorge in less than 90 minutes. Most people make the trip in less time.
To see the real beautify of the gorge you need to take the Old Columbia River Highway out of Troutdale. An alternative is to take Route up the Washington side. Either route will make you slow down and enjoy all that the gorge has to offer. Even then you will miss much. There are places your car cannot take you. You can see a glance of Multnomah Falls from your car on I-84. On the Old Columbia River Highway you can pause in front of the fall and take a picture without getting out of the car. Or, you can park and walk the short distance to the observation area.
A little further east there is another falls. Most people drive right by. A few will stop and climb down to Oneonta Creek and walk up its bank to the logjam. Some will stop at the base of the large, tangled pile of logs and then turn back to their cars. A few will climb carefully to the top of the pile and look into the gorge. Then they will turn back to their cars and wonder what the attraction was.
A few will climb over the jam and wade up Oneonta Creek. It is impossible to make the journey without getting wet. The walls of the gorge preclude climbing. In the summer months the water isn’t deep. I’m 5”ll” and the water has never been deeper than my waist. The walk is level and after a couple of bends you can see Oneonta Falls.
It’s not a spectacular as Multnomah Falls. It’s the adventure of getting there that makes its exciting. Thousands of people will stop at Multnomah Falls. Only a few hundred will make the short trip up Oneonta Gorge to see and take pictures of Oneonta Falls. Sent me an email if you’d like to see pictures of the fall. Send me an email (or make a comment on this page).
There are hundreds of such spots scattered along the back roads of Oregon.
How did I find out about Oneonta Falls? I read an article in the local paper on a Thursday. I went Friday morning and there were a dozen people in the gorge. I went back on Sunday with my niece and we couldn’t find a place to park. That’s why we keep our favorite spots a secret.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
The Prayer of Jabez
Three years ago today I started praying the Prayer of Jabez. I have missed very few days in between. Has it worked? I didn’t think so until this past week. Then I realized what had happened.
Every day I had prayed for God to let me do more for Him. What happened? I stepped forward and volunteered to serve on the Evangelism Team. I then found myself leading the team. That’s not all. Next Sunday I will start leading a ten week class on rekindling the dreams, the vision and the passion in our lives.
I asked for the opportunity to do more and God heard me. I listened to Him.
It’s going to be an interesting time. Can I help my church grow? Will the team and the congregation respond to my leadership? Will I be a good servant for God? Will people attend my class?
Every day I had prayed for God to let me do more for Him. What happened? I stepped forward and volunteered to serve on the Evangelism Team. I then found myself leading the team. That’s not all. Next Sunday I will start leading a ten week class on rekindling the dreams, the vision and the passion in our lives.
I asked for the opportunity to do more and God heard me. I listened to Him.
It’s going to be an interesting time. Can I help my church grow? Will the team and the congregation respond to my leadership? Will I be a good servant for God? Will people attend my class?
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Lessons from Waiilatpu
I had a great-great uncle, John Law Osborn. He was born March 1,1844 in Henderson County, Illinois and died Jan 24, 1848, in Oregon City, Oregon Territory. If he had a tombstone it would read:
John Law Osborn
1844 – 1848
He was less than 4 when he died, but what a life he lived. The real story is in that dash, that little mark on tombstone between the date of birth and the date of death. That little dash is what matters most about people. Oh, our date of birth is important. It tells everyone when we arrived on this earth. The date of death is important too. It tells everyone when we departed this earth. Family members and strangers will come a look at our tombstones. Genealogists will note the beginning and ending dates of our lives and fit us onto the family tree.
He learned to walk on the Oregon Trail. His sister Nancy was only five and Sylvia Jane was under four in the spring of 1845. His mother Margaret was pregnant when they started across the continent that spring. She gave birth to Alexander Rogers Osborn on the Continental Divide. The family spent the winter of 1845-46 at the Whitman Mission at Waiilatpu, in what is now Southeastern Washington State. They would come down the Columbia River in the spring of 1846. The wagon trail went as far as The Dalles. From there it was down the river on rafts, with a portage around the rapids at the Cascades.
In the summer of 1846 Marcus Whitman found the Osborn’s at the Willamette Mission and hired John Law’s father, Josiah, to work at his mission at Waiilatpu. The family journeyed back up the Columbia River by Hudson Bay Company boats, only to arrive in time to be at the mission for the massacre that occurred on November 29, 1847. His family had already suffered the loss of Sylvia Jane. She died November 24, 1847, at the Mission. Another child was stillborn on November 14, 1847. Both are buried in the Mission Cemetery.
The family survived the Indian attack by hiding under the floorboards of the Mission. Than night they would escape and reach Fort Walla Walla, an outpost of the Hudson Bay Company. On January 2, 1848, along with remaining sixty two captives who had been rescued from the Indians, they started down the Columbia River in open boats. Nancy would later talk of the cold and of the portages around Celilo Falls and the Cascades. The journey downriver took 6 days. On Monday, January 9th, the party was transported from Fort Vancouver, headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company, to where the City of Portland now stands. There Governor George Abernethy of the Oregon Provisional Government welcomed the former captives and survivors. John Law Osborn died two weeks later.
The family would settle near Brownsville, Oregon, in the Willamette Valley. Four years to the day after the death of Sylvia Jane, twin daughters, Narcissa and Melissa, would be born to Josiah and Margaret Osborn. Narcissa is my Great Grandmother.
Today only God knows the burial place of John Law Osborn, somewhere in the vicinity of Oregon City. There are no photographs of him. No books have been written about John Law. No movies have been made documenting his life. His story is all but forgotten, except for a handful of family members who have taken the time to research his short life.
John Law has taught us that it doesn’t matter how much we own, the cars, the house, or the cash we have in the bank. What really matters is how we live our life and how we love. What matters is how we spend our dash.
John Law was only given 46 months to live out his life here on earth. How much time will you have? Are there things you’d like to change, family members you’d like to spend time with, places you’d like to visit, books you’d like to read, stories you’d like to tell?
We just need to slow down enough to enjoy our life, to be less quick to anger and to show appreciation more. We need to love the people in our lives more and treat each other with respect and to smile more . The time will come soon enough when our eulogy is being read. Are we going to be proud of the things they say about how we spent our dash?
John Law Osborn
1844 – 1848
He was less than 4 when he died, but what a life he lived. The real story is in that dash, that little mark on tombstone between the date of birth and the date of death. That little dash is what matters most about people. Oh, our date of birth is important. It tells everyone when we arrived on this earth. The date of death is important too. It tells everyone when we departed this earth. Family members and strangers will come a look at our tombstones. Genealogists will note the beginning and ending dates of our lives and fit us onto the family tree.
He learned to walk on the Oregon Trail. His sister Nancy was only five and Sylvia Jane was under four in the spring of 1845. His mother Margaret was pregnant when they started across the continent that spring. She gave birth to Alexander Rogers Osborn on the Continental Divide. The family spent the winter of 1845-46 at the Whitman Mission at Waiilatpu, in what is now Southeastern Washington State. They would come down the Columbia River in the spring of 1846. The wagon trail went as far as The Dalles. From there it was down the river on rafts, with a portage around the rapids at the Cascades.
In the summer of 1846 Marcus Whitman found the Osborn’s at the Willamette Mission and hired John Law’s father, Josiah, to work at his mission at Waiilatpu. The family journeyed back up the Columbia River by Hudson Bay Company boats, only to arrive in time to be at the mission for the massacre that occurred on November 29, 1847. His family had already suffered the loss of Sylvia Jane. She died November 24, 1847, at the Mission. Another child was stillborn on November 14, 1847. Both are buried in the Mission Cemetery.
The family survived the Indian attack by hiding under the floorboards of the Mission. Than night they would escape and reach Fort Walla Walla, an outpost of the Hudson Bay Company. On January 2, 1848, along with remaining sixty two captives who had been rescued from the Indians, they started down the Columbia River in open boats. Nancy would later talk of the cold and of the portages around Celilo Falls and the Cascades. The journey downriver took 6 days. On Monday, January 9th, the party was transported from Fort Vancouver, headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company, to where the City of Portland now stands. There Governor George Abernethy of the Oregon Provisional Government welcomed the former captives and survivors. John Law Osborn died two weeks later.
The family would settle near Brownsville, Oregon, in the Willamette Valley. Four years to the day after the death of Sylvia Jane, twin daughters, Narcissa and Melissa, would be born to Josiah and Margaret Osborn. Narcissa is my Great Grandmother.
Today only God knows the burial place of John Law Osborn, somewhere in the vicinity of Oregon City. There are no photographs of him. No books have been written about John Law. No movies have been made documenting his life. His story is all but forgotten, except for a handful of family members who have taken the time to research his short life.
John Law has taught us that it doesn’t matter how much we own, the cars, the house, or the cash we have in the bank. What really matters is how we live our life and how we love. What matters is how we spend our dash.
John Law was only given 46 months to live out his life here on earth. How much time will you have? Are there things you’d like to change, family members you’d like to spend time with, places you’d like to visit, books you’d like to read, stories you’d like to tell?
We just need to slow down enough to enjoy our life, to be less quick to anger and to show appreciation more. We need to love the people in our lives more and treat each other with respect and to smile more . The time will come soon enough when our eulogy is being read. Are we going to be proud of the things they say about how we spent our dash?
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Electric Cows
There was an interesting story on the Internet this morning being reported by the Associated Press. The Blue Spruce Farm in Bridport is generating electricity for Vermont’s largest utility by using the methane gas produced by their 1,500 cows.
The process appears to be simple. The manure is heated and the resulting methane gas is collected and used to power a generator, which then sends the electricity onto the power grid. Customers have signed up to pay about cents more per kilowatt-hour for their electricity to support the farmers.
Wow, everyone seems to benefit. The consumers have another source of renewable power. The farmers are able to turn manure into a cash flow. The cooking the manure gets rid of close to 90 percent of the smell and the depleted manure can be used for animal bedding or as compost. The farmers can offset their electricity costs and recover the cost of the processing equipment.
Hopefully the dairies of Oregon will pick up on the idea. Maybe the engineers will be able to tap this power support at it source and also be able to capture all the methane gas produced by the cows. Attaching small generation units shouldn’t be a problem. The only challenge I see is keeping the cables from getting tangled as the cows wander over the pasture.
The process appears to be simple. The manure is heated and the resulting methane gas is collected and used to power a generator, which then sends the electricity onto the power grid. Customers have signed up to pay about cents more per kilowatt-hour for their electricity to support the farmers.
Wow, everyone seems to benefit. The consumers have another source of renewable power. The farmers are able to turn manure into a cash flow. The cooking the manure gets rid of close to 90 percent of the smell and the depleted manure can be used for animal bedding or as compost. The farmers can offset their electricity costs and recover the cost of the processing equipment.
Hopefully the dairies of Oregon will pick up on the idea. Maybe the engineers will be able to tap this power support at it source and also be able to capture all the methane gas produced by the cows. Attaching small generation units shouldn’t be a problem. The only challenge I see is keeping the cables from getting tangled as the cows wander over the pasture.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Stories about Sunken Grade - Coffee and the Gospel
Another Sunken Grade story. This one was inspired by a high school classmate.
Coffee and the Gospel
Even in high school Juanita was different. There was a certain grace about her.
It took me many months to ask her out. In fact I was home on leave from the Navy when we had our first and only date. She was (and remains) unlike any girl I had even known.
Later she would call herself a self proclaimed Jesus freak.
For many of us she was Pastor Juanita of Sunken Grade Church and Coffee Shop, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
When I came home from the Navy Juanita was away at college. I would run into her mother at the post office and she would keep me current on Juanita’s progress. Sometimes I felt like she was reminding me that her daughter was way out of my league and I agreed with her.
Of course Juanita and I were in two totally different worlds. She was working toward her goal of becoming a minister. I working at enjoying life in Portland during the week and in Sunken Grade on the weekends I came home.
Then Juanita came home.
There was only one empty building that was usable as a church. It was the old Sunken Grade Feedlot building. It had been used for several different purposes during its seventy years. In the late 30’s it had been a feed store. In 1961 it was converted into a restaurant. The new owners had high hopes that the coast traffic would increase as the highway was improved. The State Highway department decided to bypass Sunken Grade and after a couple of very poor seasons, they moved their restaurant to the new highway.
Juanita fell in love with the old building when she first saw it. It solved three problems. First it would provide a home for her church. Second it would provide a place for her to live. There was a small apartment on the back of the building. Finally, it would provide employment while her new church grew.
I came home to Sunken Grade too. The excitement of Portland had worn thin and I found it harder and harder to leave Sunken Grade Friday night.
One Saturday afternoon I had encountered Jack Powers, publisher and editor of the Sunken Grade Tribune. He offered me a job. Jack didn’t say it, but I soon realized that he was burned out.
The staff of the paper included Mae, Jack’s wife of 39 years, Eva Hollinghead, who had started as a high school reporter in 1915, and Howie Skidmore, typesetter and pressman. I was to be a Jack-of-all-Trades. Jack wanted me to be a reporter, sell ads and to learn about new publishing techniques. Mae ran the office and she was more than welling to let me do whatever I wanted.
Now I’m sure you think you know where this story is going. I go to the coffee shop, see Juanita, fall in love; we marry and live happily ever after. You’re wrong… will partly.
I did go to the coffee shop. Actually, I saw Juanita and her mother and the building on the day she first looked at it. I stopped by to welcome her home and to offer to help any way I could. Juanita promised to take me up on the offer and her mother gave me the evil eye. Even after all these years she was protecting her daughter from the sailor.
Coffee and the Gospel
Even in high school Juanita was different. There was a certain grace about her.
It took me many months to ask her out. In fact I was home on leave from the Navy when we had our first and only date. She was (and remains) unlike any girl I had even known.
Later she would call herself a self proclaimed Jesus freak.
For many of us she was Pastor Juanita of Sunken Grade Church and Coffee Shop, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
When I came home from the Navy Juanita was away at college. I would run into her mother at the post office and she would keep me current on Juanita’s progress. Sometimes I felt like she was reminding me that her daughter was way out of my league and I agreed with her.
Of course Juanita and I were in two totally different worlds. She was working toward her goal of becoming a minister. I working at enjoying life in Portland during the week and in Sunken Grade on the weekends I came home.
Then Juanita came home.
There was only one empty building that was usable as a church. It was the old Sunken Grade Feedlot building. It had been used for several different purposes during its seventy years. In the late 30’s it had been a feed store. In 1961 it was converted into a restaurant. The new owners had high hopes that the coast traffic would increase as the highway was improved. The State Highway department decided to bypass Sunken Grade and after a couple of very poor seasons, they moved their restaurant to the new highway.
Juanita fell in love with the old building when she first saw it. It solved three problems. First it would provide a home for her church. Second it would provide a place for her to live. There was a small apartment on the back of the building. Finally, it would provide employment while her new church grew.
I came home to Sunken Grade too. The excitement of Portland had worn thin and I found it harder and harder to leave Sunken Grade Friday night.
One Saturday afternoon I had encountered Jack Powers, publisher and editor of the Sunken Grade Tribune. He offered me a job. Jack didn’t say it, but I soon realized that he was burned out.
The staff of the paper included Mae, Jack’s wife of 39 years, Eva Hollinghead, who had started as a high school reporter in 1915, and Howie Skidmore, typesetter and pressman. I was to be a Jack-of-all-Trades. Jack wanted me to be a reporter, sell ads and to learn about new publishing techniques. Mae ran the office and she was more than welling to let me do whatever I wanted.
Now I’m sure you think you know where this story is going. I go to the coffee shop, see Juanita, fall in love; we marry and live happily ever after. You’re wrong… will partly.
I did go to the coffee shop. Actually, I saw Juanita and her mother and the building on the day she first looked at it. I stopped by to welcome her home and to offer to help any way I could. Juanita promised to take me up on the offer and her mother gave me the evil eye. Even after all these years she was protecting her daughter from the sailor.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Stories about Sunken Grade -
One of my hobbies is writing and I have created a fictional community, Sunken Grade, as a focual point of my writing.
Native American Woman Lake. (Nov)
An article in the Sunday Oregonian about the name changes for certain geographical features with less than desirable names reminded me of the renaming of Squaw Lake, outside of Sunken Grade, several years ago.
No one remembers how or why the oversized pond became known as Squaw Lake. For many years J. D. Walks owned the lake and a surrounding 750 acres of timber and meadows.
When J.D. died in 1915, title passed to daughter Helen, the wife of an attorney in Portland. The farm became a weekend retreat and summer home for Helen, family, friends and business associates.
Helen died in 1949 and ownership passed to a son, Congressman Jonathan Bigalow. His wife preferred life in Washington. Jon used the place for parties, most of which never made the society page of the Oregonian and only rarely came to the attention of the county sheriff. There was a rumor that a lady friend of the senator ran a bordello at the farm.
Jon and his wife died a few months apart-and they had no children. The farm went to Horace Greenleaf, a grandson of Helen and nephew of Jon.
Horace (actually goes by Ace) had a dream. There were several things that Sunken Grade lacked, including an airport, a country club, hot tub rentals, RV Park and golf course. His dream was to offer all these services and more.
Congressman Jon had put in a runway with help of the Naval Reserve units from Portland and Salem. It is the only field in the area. Jon allowed friends and neighbors to use it
The boathouse his grandfather had built became the Slip Inn. The inn became a hangout for many. Of course having the hot tubs nearby made it a favorite for lovers. Ace had spent a week in San Luis Obispo, California, with a cousin and she had introduced him to the hot tubs at the Sycamore Hot Springs. The tubs were scattered on an oak covered hill. Ace was able to copy that at Squaw Lake.
The large barn on the upper pasture became the clubhouse for the Sunken Grade Golf Course. The course started with a driving range and three holes. Every Spring Ace would add another hole and another campsite in the Squaw Lake RY Park.
The SG Country Club building was built new. Now realize, it is just a larger version of the Slip Inn. There is no steep initiation fee; all it costs is $10 for a lifetime membership. Everyone is welcome
Oh, the name change. When the government started remaining geographical sites Ace decided to go along. After much discussion at the Slip Inn and the Country club a new man was picked for the small lake. Someone had mentioned that a squaw was just a native American woman. Ace liked that and soon the sign on the highway pointed the way to Native American Woman Lake. The name of the RV park was also changed.
Everything else remained the same, including the name of the lake on county and state maps. Ace never got around to asking the state to change the name. Some of us still call it Squaw Lake.
Native American Woman Lake. (Nov)
An article in the Sunday Oregonian about the name changes for certain geographical features with less than desirable names reminded me of the renaming of Squaw Lake, outside of Sunken Grade, several years ago.
No one remembers how or why the oversized pond became known as Squaw Lake. For many years J. D. Walks owned the lake and a surrounding 750 acres of timber and meadows.
When J.D. died in 1915, title passed to daughter Helen, the wife of an attorney in Portland. The farm became a weekend retreat and summer home for Helen, family, friends and business associates.
Helen died in 1949 and ownership passed to a son, Congressman Jonathan Bigalow. His wife preferred life in Washington. Jon used the place for parties, most of which never made the society page of the Oregonian and only rarely came to the attention of the county sheriff. There was a rumor that a lady friend of the senator ran a bordello at the farm.
Jon and his wife died a few months apart-and they had no children. The farm went to Horace Greenleaf, a grandson of Helen and nephew of Jon.
Horace (actually goes by Ace) had a dream. There were several things that Sunken Grade lacked, including an airport, a country club, hot tub rentals, RV Park and golf course. His dream was to offer all these services and more.
Congressman Jon had put in a runway with help of the Naval Reserve units from Portland and Salem. It is the only field in the area. Jon allowed friends and neighbors to use it
The boathouse his grandfather had built became the Slip Inn. The inn became a hangout for many. Of course having the hot tubs nearby made it a favorite for lovers. Ace had spent a week in San Luis Obispo, California, with a cousin and she had introduced him to the hot tubs at the Sycamore Hot Springs. The tubs were scattered on an oak covered hill. Ace was able to copy that at Squaw Lake.
The large barn on the upper pasture became the clubhouse for the Sunken Grade Golf Course. The course started with a driving range and three holes. Every Spring Ace would add another hole and another campsite in the Squaw Lake RY Park.
The SG Country Club building was built new. Now realize, it is just a larger version of the Slip Inn. There is no steep initiation fee; all it costs is $10 for a lifetime membership. Everyone is welcome
Oh, the name change. When the government started remaining geographical sites Ace decided to go along. After much discussion at the Slip Inn and the Country club a new man was picked for the small lake. Someone had mentioned that a squaw was just a native American woman. Ace liked that and soon the sign on the highway pointed the way to Native American Woman Lake. The name of the RV park was also changed.
Everything else remained the same, including the name of the lake on county and state maps. Ace never got around to asking the state to change the name. Some of us still call it Squaw Lake.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Finding classmates and lost friends
Finding classmates and lost friends
One of my hobbies is searching for classmates and lost friends. The internet has made the search so easy. Sites like Classmates.com have also helped.
I enjoy the search. It’s like being a detective. But why search for friends from the past? The following poem was in one of the motivational E-Zines that I subscribe to:
Slow Dance
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down........Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last
Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask "How are you?" do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores running through your head?
You'd better slow down............Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last
Ever told your child, We'll do it tomorrow
And in your haste, not see their sorrow?
Ever lost touch, Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time to call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down.............. Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift.... Thrown away...
Life is not a race............ Do take it slower,
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
- Unknown
I have seen many good friendships fade away over the years as I lost contact with people. Good intentions isn’t enough, maintaining a friendship takes time and effort. E-Mail makes it easier and it’s amazing how friendships can be rekindled after nearly 40 years.
One of my hobbies is searching for classmates and lost friends. The internet has made the search so easy. Sites like Classmates.com have also helped.
I enjoy the search. It’s like being a detective. But why search for friends from the past? The following poem was in one of the motivational E-Zines that I subscribe to:
Slow Dance
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down........Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last
Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask "How are you?" do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores running through your head?
You'd better slow down............Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last
Ever told your child, We'll do it tomorrow
And in your haste, not see their sorrow?
Ever lost touch, Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time to call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down.............. Don't dance so fast
Time is short The music won't last
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift.... Thrown away...
Life is not a race............ Do take it slower,
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
- Unknown
I have seen many good friendships fade away over the years as I lost contact with people. Good intentions isn’t enough, maintaining a friendship takes time and effort. E-Mail makes it easier and it’s amazing how friendships can be rekindled after nearly 40 years.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Hardy Plant Society of Oregon meeting cancelled.
This is one of those days when the TV stations think they need to broadcast continuous coverage of latest winter storm.
Portland is being is currently caught under a layer cold artic air under a moisture laden air moving over the top of it. The rain is freezing as it hits the colder air. There is a quarter to half inch of rain on the group. Almost all events, with the exception of the National Ice Skating competitions, are being cancelled today.
There has been a continuous stream of messages across the bottom of the TV. One really caught my attention. The Hardy Plant Society of Oregon cancelled their meeting. I guess the weather is even too much for plants (or at least their owners.
Normally this kind of weather doesn’t last long. I’m looking forward to the return of the rain.
Portland is being is currently caught under a layer cold artic air under a moisture laden air moving over the top of it. The rain is freezing as it hits the colder air. There is a quarter to half inch of rain on the group. Almost all events, with the exception of the National Ice Skating competitions, are being cancelled today.
There has been a continuous stream of messages across the bottom of the TV. One really caught my attention. The Hardy Plant Society of Oregon cancelled their meeting. I guess the weather is even too much for plants (or at least their owners.
Normally this kind of weather doesn’t last long. I’m looking forward to the return of the rain.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
20 Things About Me.
This was an interesting exercise. I recently found my list and decided to keep it. Now I have a place for it, here in my blog.
I have 3 sons, 2 daughters (twins) and 3 grandsons.
I am always on a diet. This one is working: 30+ pounds in 3 months.
I like to sing but cannot carry a tune.
I like “chick flicks.”
I love living wherever I happen to be living.
One day I am going to learn to dance.
I always wanted curly hair – now I’d just like to have hair.
I am right handed.
My handwriting is terrible.
I blame this on taking technical drawing in school, being around doctors and computers.
I’m learning to cook.
I enjoy photography with a digital camera.
I enjoy writing.I love to read.2 things I would most hate to be without are a computer and ….
I am recovering Task Avoidance Strategy master.
My favorite movie is “A Walk in the Clouds”.
I like to walk.
I have a great lover and partner, Nancy, even though we are currently in a long distance relationship.
I’m a Methodist and a Kiwanian (and former Boy Scout leader/professional).
I have 3 sons, 2 daughters (twins) and 3 grandsons.
I am always on a diet. This one is working: 30+ pounds in 3 months.
I like to sing but cannot carry a tune.
I like “chick flicks.”
I love living wherever I happen to be living.
One day I am going to learn to dance.
I always wanted curly hair – now I’d just like to have hair.
I am right handed.
My handwriting is terrible.
I blame this on taking technical drawing in school, being around doctors and computers.
I’m learning to cook.
I enjoy photography with a digital camera.
I enjoy writing.I love to read.2 things I would most hate to be without are a computer and ….
I am recovering Task Avoidance Strategy master.
My favorite movie is “A Walk in the Clouds”.
I like to walk.
I have a great lover and partner, Nancy, even though we are currently in a long distance relationship.
I’m a Methodist and a Kiwanian (and former Boy Scout leader/professional).
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
It's almost up to zero
What a strange winter. Southern California looks more like Oregon than Oregon does right now. Yesterday it was reported that LAX has had 750% of normal rainfall for the first ten days of January. Portland International (PDX) is sitting at 44% of normal.
Right now the edge of a cold artic air mass is sitting just North of us. Yesterday, when checked the thermometer on the back porch the temperature was almost up to freezing. The temperature hovered around freezing all day.
The jet stream is coming out of Alaska and is diving south along the west coast. It turns inland over Southern California, where it is picking up all the moisture coming up from the Southwest. Normally the jet stream goes over Canada and we get all the rain and snow here in Oregon.
I would prefer the rain to the snow. The webfeet of most Oregonians don’t work well in snow and ice. We like the feel of moisture between our toes.
Hopefully the weather pattern will change soon and Southern California and Oregon will be able to return to normal weather patterns.
Right now the edge of a cold artic air mass is sitting just North of us. Yesterday, when checked the thermometer on the back porch the temperature was almost up to freezing. The temperature hovered around freezing all day.
The jet stream is coming out of Alaska and is diving south along the west coast. It turns inland over Southern California, where it is picking up all the moisture coming up from the Southwest. Normally the jet stream goes over Canada and we get all the rain and snow here in Oregon.
I would prefer the rain to the snow. The webfeet of most Oregonians don’t work well in snow and ice. We like the feel of moisture between our toes.
Hopefully the weather pattern will change soon and Southern California and Oregon will be able to return to normal weather patterns.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
La Conchita
My thoughts keep going back to the little California coastal community of La Conchita. The village of 200 is located between Santa Barbara and Ventura, sitting between US101 and the mountains behind it. When I lived in San Luis Obispo I drove past it numerous times, going to and from Los Angeles.
So far three residents have died and another 20 or so are missing in a massive mudslide. The same thing happened in the late 1990’s. I was on my way to a business meeting in Los Angeles and was delayed by a mudslide that destroyed the row of houses at the base of the mountain. The banana plantation at the west end of the village was also wiped out at that time.
Will the people of La Conchita be able to survive this latest mudslide or will this be the end of another small community? I’m sure if Ventura County and the State of California have their way, a historical marker will be all that is left of the village.
The deaths in La Conchita may seem insignificant when compared to the great loss of life caused by the tsunami in the Indian Ocean. I have only seen pictures from there. La Conchita has been a part of my life, if only seen from a passing automobile.
So far three residents have died and another 20 or so are missing in a massive mudslide. The same thing happened in the late 1990’s. I was on my way to a business meeting in Los Angeles and was delayed by a mudslide that destroyed the row of houses at the base of the mountain. The banana plantation at the west end of the village was also wiped out at that time.
Will the people of La Conchita be able to survive this latest mudslide or will this be the end of another small community? I’m sure if Ventura County and the State of California have their way, a historical marker will be all that is left of the village.
The deaths in La Conchita may seem insignificant when compared to the great loss of life caused by the tsunami in the Indian Ocean. I have only seen pictures from there. La Conchita has been a part of my life, if only seen from a passing automobile.
Monday, January 10, 2005
Monday Morning Weight Check
Monday mornings are always exciting. That is when I climb on the scales and see the results of my efforts over the past week. I have been trying to lose weight for years. However, I kept moving in the wrong direction. First it was going over 200 pounds for the first time.
Every year seemed to add a couple more pounds. This year it reached 265 and finally said enough is enough. I still considered myself thin, but the scale sand photographs told a different story and I didn’t like what I was seeing.
I tried several of the fad diets and none seemed to work until I saw the results of the South Beach Diet on a friend. He has lost over 60 pounds and looks great.
I think the roughest part of any diet is the first two weeks and this diet was no different. My two weeks were spent on a road trip and with the help of Nancy I was able to stay on track. Breakfast was especially hard. I love potatoes and toast, but had to give both up. The biggest change was reducing the amount of food I was eating.
It worked, the pounds started coming off. This morning I weighted in at 235. That’s a loss of 30 pounds from my top weight. I feel great and I can actually see my feet when standing. It’s wonderful.
Every year seemed to add a couple more pounds. This year it reached 265 and finally said enough is enough. I still considered myself thin, but the scale sand photographs told a different story and I didn’t like what I was seeing.
I tried several of the fad diets and none seemed to work until I saw the results of the South Beach Diet on a friend. He has lost over 60 pounds and looks great.
I think the roughest part of any diet is the first two weeks and this diet was no different. My two weeks were spent on a road trip and with the help of Nancy I was able to stay on track. Breakfast was especially hard. I love potatoes and toast, but had to give both up. The biggest change was reducing the amount of food I was eating.
It worked, the pounds started coming off. This morning I weighted in at 235. That’s a loss of 30 pounds from my top weight. I feel great and I can actually see my feet when standing. It’s wonderful.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
A New Year and a New Adventure
I recently discovered blogs. My son was with the Oregon National Guard in Baghdad (downtown, in the center of it all) and is enjoyed reading the blogs maintained by several reporters. I found the blog's contained the personal, behind the scene, stories of life in the war zone.
I have always enjoyed writing and consider myself an unpublished writer. I did edit a e-letter (email letter) for over a year and managed to reach over 100 subscribers. I also write at least 500 words each day. This is something Julia Cameron got me into while reading her The Right to Write.
I have no idea where is blog is going to go. I welcome your comments.
Tom
I have always enjoyed writing and consider myself an unpublished writer. I did edit a e-letter (email letter) for over a year and managed to reach over 100 subscribers. I also write at least 500 words each day. This is something Julia Cameron got me into while reading her The Right to Write.
I have no idea where is blog is going to go. I welcome your comments.
Tom
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