Perfect Shades

I remember sitting in the yard at my grandparent's house when I was 6 or 7 years old and my grandfather telling me about the shade that was provided by the tree we were sitting under.  He had said that at one time the tree had provided a perfect shade.  What he meant by that is there was no sunlight that filtered through the tree.

I thought of that the other day.  I have no idea why that particular memory came back to me.  It was just a snippet of a film clip that played in my head and then was gone.  I didn't appreciate what he had said at that time other than be impressed that a tree could do such a thing.  Then again it was young, in the sense of tree years, and strong.  Just as we all were at one time.

Then the storms of life come along and start chipping away at the strength and perfection that we once had and were.  Our lives start to show the signs of living, with spots of sunlight shining through our perfection.  Such as it is with me now.  I am now, showing more and more my imperfections that my body is forced to undergo with this disease.  I am no longer the perfect shade for my loved ones.

Instead I am riddled through and through with something that I cannot fight and can no longer provide that perfect shade to shelter my loved ones.  Should I conserve my strength to fight this and let them take on the mantle of the perfect shade?

I may never know.

What I do know is that at one time, for the briefest of moments, I enjoyed the perfect time, and the perfect shade of that tree with my grandfather.  I can only hope that my grandkids will have their "perfect time" memories of me.

Until next time....................

Addicted

I received an email from a dear friend this morning about a devise that looks like a pepper mill, indeed is a functional pepper mill, but is actually a devise that when activated will shut off all electronic devises in the house including television.

What a classic idea.

I am old and I am about to tell you how old.  When growing up my Dad got off of work at 5 pm.  Unless he had to stop at the feed barn or run another errand for my Mom, he would be home at 5;05.  My mother would have supper on the table and ready for him to eat when he got there.  We would sit and eat and the TV would be off.  Of course in that day and age there was not much worth watching as it still is with more than 200 available cable channels to choose from, from 5 to 5:30.

The National news was the first to come on at 5:30 and that was the only exception to having the TV on during meal times.  The local news, local being the city 75 miles away, would come on at 6.  Besides the ten o'clock  news that was it for news broadcasts until 6 am the next morning.

Meals were a good time for us.  We didn't talk that much as I recall but being together with few distractions was wonderful in and of its self.

Then came cell phones.  We became fascinated with being able to take calls, text, and surf the web from something that didn't even have a cord.  For my generation it was almost magical in its function.  We focused so much on getting to know everything that that graham cracker sized piece of electronics could do that we soon developed a habit, in short became addicted.

We wanted to know, and know now.  We talked/played/surfed on it until we fell asleep from exhaustion and woke up sometime later with the phone on our stomach, at which time we just had to check our mail.  Not only did we use it as an alarm, we checked it again for messages as soon as the alarm went off for the second or third time.

Now our kids think it is normal to do this, and if they are not on it five minutes after hanging up they complain that they have no friends.

In the mean time we we have lost the good times of just being together without a phone glued to an ear or music blaring in an ear bud, or texting constantly, or LOL'ing at posts on social media and updating our status from 10 minutes ago.  I think it time for something to happen to bring those times back.

Pepper any one?


Until next time....................

Thoughts On The Future And A Thank You

Just back from the ER.......again.

Two years ago I was in and out of the ER and hospital quite frequently.  Chest pains and other problems running the gambit from hernias to my knee.  It seemed that I could not stay out of the hospital for more than two months at a time.  Up to last week I had not been in the ER this whole year.  Now in a one week period I have been there twice.

It scared me.  Not because of anything major wrong, but knowing that in the future, nearer than I want it to be, I may be there more and more.  As my disease progresses I know my journeys there will be more frequent and my stays longer each time.  That's what scares me.  Knowing that I will be there and not around people that I love and not where I want to be.  Oh, I know the people that I love and that love me will be there for me, but it is not the same thing.  By a long shot.

On another note, I want to say a word of praise for the people that take care of me here.  They, with very few exceptions, are very professional and very caring.  I have never been taken care of with such concern for my comfort and well being as I am here.  I will miss this, and them more and more as time goes by.  I wish I could take them all with me when I move.  Realistically, I know I can't.  Thank you Nurses and Doctors and all support personnel!  Y'all Rock!


Until next time..........................

Catching Up

It has been a while since I last wrote and many things have been going on in that time.

We took the grandkids home and they will be starting school on Monday again.  A time that all kids loath and all parents look forward to.  We dropped them off to their Mother on Wednesday and when we got back home we were greeted with a strange but welcomed silence.  I had wanted to get in a few more hunting and fishing trips with the boys but couldn't work it in.  Another trip to Mammoth Springs would have been nice too.

On Thursday we met with my niece in Little Rock and had a short but enjoyable visit with her.  I then was able to go to Bass Pro Shop and poke around.  To say that the people put on quite a show is something of an understatement.  Friendly sales staff and lots and lots to see.  You almost have to go and take a few hours just to look around.  Then maybe again that is what they want you to do.  It is a proven fact that the longer you can keep people in a store, the more money they will spend.  I must admit we did buy a few odds and ends.

On the way back and after we picked up our four legged girls, I dropped my rifle off at my cousin's son's house so he could work up a leather shell holder for my .45-70 Govt.  It was good to meet him and to visit with him and just relax instead of hurrying on home for once.

When we got home I finally admitted to myself that I was not feeling that well.  I started coughing and gagging.  Hard coughs.  Those that you think will bring up toe nails eventually.  I coughed so much I made myself sick, although my stomach was not feeling good to begin with.  I tried to throw up which is impossible for me because of a hernia repair I had done several years ago.  What I did bring up was just gross.  Not only that but it had blood in it.  After getting in bed I threw up some bright red blood.

Long and short of it we wound up in the hospital and yesterday I had an EGD to find out where the blood was coming from.  My peg tube and gotten pulled and in the process caused an ulceration in my stomach which proceeded to bleed and make me sick.  I am glad they found it and got it corrected.  I just hope that I don't have this to look forward to in the future.  

In the future I know there will other stays in the hospital and times of not feeling good.  I hope that they are few and as far between times as I can make them.  Until then I will be jamming in as much life as I can and playing with my big boy toys and just enjoying life as I am given it.

Until next time........................

Of Things Beyond Our Understanding

I got a late night text last night from a child I dearly love.  At first it scared me because of the hour that I received it.  Usually, as most parents know, when you get a text or phone call late at night it is about something bad that has happened.  Not so last night and if you give me just a little of your patience I will explain.  Sort of.

To understand this you must know where I am coming from in my raising.  My Dad was a Deacon in our Baptist Church growing up.  Every time that there was something going on at the church he was there to lend support and do what was needed.  We were always there early and I think that is where I get my insistance of being early wherever the wife and I go, which leads to some conflict between my wife and I as she is always late.  I tell her that she will be late to her own funeral and I sincerely hope she is.

Any way I was raised as a Baptist and baptized as a Baptist.  My Army dog tags even reflect that.  I even went to a Baptist college, Ouachita Baptist University, and was married in a Baptist Church.  The churches my family attended when the girls were young were all Baptist.  I no longer consider myself as Baptist.  When people ask now I tell them that I am either Druid, or Celtic (that is with a hard 'c' on both ends).

The reason being?  Several years ago there was a movement within the SBC and by a lot of the SBC pastors to politicize the pulpits.  They went so far as to say and I quote, "If you voted for Clinton you will go to hell!"  This from a pulpit on a Sunday morning.  Time, energy, money, and space was devoted in bulletins and official church publications telling parishioners how and who to vote for, what causes to support, and if you did not then you were certain to burn in Hell.

To begin with, when Paul was faced with the same, or similar, questions, his response was this, "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's."  Also in the charges to pastors, he emphasizes caring for the spiritual, and physical well being of the flock, bringing hope and encouragement to the down trodden and sinful.  There is no where in Biblical teaching where it is stated that preachers/pastors have the responsibility to tell their flock what to do politically.  And nor should they.

This, and I will have good friends who will try and tell me I should not feel this way, is why I left 'organized' religion.  I go to church not to hear of things political, but to renew my soul, and to find comfort for it as well.  If this is wrong so be it.  Those that know me, I think, will see my true beliefs reflected in how I try to live each and every day.

Now to the question that started this off,  "Daddy do you believe in God?"  The short answer is this, I believe that there is a higher power that has charge of the whole of what we can see, of what we can understand, of we cannot understand, and what we cannot see.  Has this belief changed since being diagnosed with ALS?  No.  I am at peace with what is going on with my body and my eventual demise and I think that is a large part of what religion is meant to give to us.

(Sorry for this being so long today, I just could not answer this in one line.  If you have been offended by what I have said, I will not apologize because each of us are entitled to our own beliefs and opinions.)


Until next time....................

More Randomness Ramblings

If you watch The Walking Dead have you wondered where they keep getting all of the ammunition and crossbow bolts since there is no one to run the factories to produce them?

There are those in the world that think they are doing great things by just living.

Puppies and cats know more than we think and are smarter than we are.

I miss the taste of good coffee.  On the deck.  Early in the morning.  Watching the world wake up.

The boys keep me guessing and on my toes.  Not a bad thing at all.

Old friends are the best friends.  Not because they know where the bodies are but because they still love you despite them knowing all of your faults.

Being with some one and not having to talk and still have a good time is priceless.

There is no one in the world more precious than a sleeping child in the arms of his mother.

There is in each day a miracle, you just have to keep your eyes open to see them.

I hope these make you think just a little and maybe make your day a little better than it was.


Until next time...............

Sometimes Shorter Is Better

As some know there are two things on my bucket list that I want to do above all others before I pass.  One is to go feral hog hunting and the other is to take a deer by archery and modern gun in the same year.

To fulfill one and a half of those items I bought a Henry H010 .45-70 not too long ago.  Should be enough gun to take care of anything in North America unless Woolly Mammoths should be suddenly resurrected through the efforts of modern science.

Having failed miserably when in my youth trying to learn how to shoot a recurve bow, and now sadly lacking the strength to manipulate a compound bow, I decided that I may need to try that dreadful imitation, according to bow purist, a crossbow.

I did my research and looked at my limitations, monetary (some going for as much as $3,000 or more) and physical (I really didn't see me being able to pull the bow string on a 165 lb pull weight), and finally settled on one from a local Mom and Pop shop here in town.  I bought it from there because I knew I could take it back and have any problems taken care of by their on site bow guy.

I went out today and zeroed the sights and was very pleased overall with it, wait for it, except for one thing.  It came with a cocking rope that halves the draw weight to approximately 86 lbs.  Before I plunked down the money for it yesterday I made sure that would a comfortable weight for me to handle.  I had no problem at all at the shop.  Today, however, was a slightly different story.  I did seem to be able to pull it far enough back to get the bow string into the firing mechanism and locked up to fire.  No matter how hard I pulled or the different techniques I tried I just could not get it to lock up.

A friend from next door made the comment that I needed to shorten the stroke by about six inches.  (Insert here that look of incredibly-obvious-ideas-that-I-should-have-known looks.)

I thought to myself, "Well duh turtle breath, shorten the cocking rope!"  I did by taking up about three inches on each handle and tried again.  Yeppers I finally got that brain you promised oh mighty Wizard of Oz!  For the rest of the time we shot it today, it was a pleasure and I had no problems at all cocking it.  Success!

Some times shorter is better and in this case, all I had to do was shorten up on the rope and success followed.

I'll let you know if I get the bucket list completed.  I might even invite you to the wild game BBQ.  If you're good.  And if I feel like it.....

Until next time......................