Try It You'll Like It

I've always been a volunteer.  Before I graduated from high school, I volunteered to lead a Girl Scout Troop. Now granted, this was before background checks, but I must have been slightly qualified. After all, I could start a fire, cook a mean campfire stew, use a pocket knife and hike! Oh, and I was a girl!

I've volunteered lots of places. I even worked, for a short time, as a Professional Volunteer Director. Once, I volunteered to pass out flyers, at my polling place. I only did it once, because another volunteer threatened to kill me! Seems like someone had destroyed some of her yard signs. Seriously, I wasn't guilty. It wasn't me. With that experience, I was one and done with politics!

My latest volunteer position is at the nationally recognized Kansas City's World War I Museum and Memorial. I regularly work an afternoon shift, two days a week. By volunteering there, I am able to combine both my love of people and history. Most of the volunteers, at the facility, are either retired teachers or former military. They are a great bunch of folks!

The Great War has always been a part of my life. Two of my great uncles, Walter and Harry, were combat veterans of the war, having served in the trenches, in France. My grandpa, Tom, was drafted, trained, but never made it across the Atlantic. The Wintle Boys were all born and lived in the same small Kansas town. It boggles my mind, thinking of them traveling by train across the county, seeing New York City, and boarding a ship in Hoboken. Then, sailing the Atlantic Ocean. Talk about 1917 Culture Shock!

The WWI Museum has a temporary exhibit, highlighting items that entertained the troops. When I volunteer in that room, I sing WWI era songs, like "Mademoiselle From Armentieres" and "How Ya Gonna Keep 'em Down on the Farm", to the Museum Visitors. When I sing, I think about Harry, Tom and Walter. Homegrown Doughboys serving "Over There".

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All Powerful Lord: We pray to you in the hard times.We are thankful in the good times. But, we should be thinking of You, and talking to You all the time. You have asked us to "Pray without ceasing." Wars are senseless. Grant us Peace.

 

Don't Ask

 I have a scheduled visit my regular doctor next week. I'm calling her doctor, because she has a Medical Degree, framed, hanging on the wall of the examining room. I go to see her, or someone like her, once a year, because I am old and I am on Medicare. I am not expecting her to find anything wrong with me, although I will do the required pre-blood and urine tests, one week before the appointment. Also, because there is a large, neatly lettered sign on the wall that reads "If you have a specific issue to discuss with the doctor, please make another appointment", I won't be discussing any of my ailments.

Any day now, I am expecting to receive the 5 or 6 pages of "fillable on line" pre-apppointment paperwork, from her office. Then, and only then, will I be seen by someone. Last time, I saw the nurse practitioner, instead of the doctor, and other than taking my blood pressure and temperature, neither she nor the doctor touched me.

On those papers, I will be asked to reveal, yet again, many intimate details about my aging life. You see, I have been required to fill out similar forms, every year, for many, many years. And, no, I don't know why they don't keep them on file, for future use! 

One of the questions, I will no doubt be required to answer, will be "What pronouns do you wish us to use?" Really? 

Now, if these professionals actually read the paperwork, that I email back to them, they will know that I am 76 years old, and that I checked female box. Until recently I was married, to a man. I am now a widow. That happens to a lot of women, who live long enough. I have birthed 4 children (whose 13 kids call me GrandMA), and had one miscarriage. I have yearly mammograms (aren't those fun???), bear the scars of 6 or 7 (it was a while ago, so I have forgotten, PTL, the exact number) breast cancer related operations, and I've survived chemo and radiation, for the same issue. Oh, and let's not forget the pelvic exams! And, yes I have had numerous jobs, some of them pretty demeaning, where I have been paid a whole lot less than my male counterparts. 

Actually, I believe that I am going to write down that I prefer Queen, Her Highness, or Madam, as my preferred pronouns. Yes, I know that those are actually nouns, but if the truth be known, I don't think the medical professionals actually know the difference. 

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Dear God. I am not confused. I know WHOSE I am. Remind me what really is important on this journey.

Bigger Than a Breadbox

SPOILER ALERT!!!! This blog is in two semi connected parts.

#1. Last Wednesday, whilst driving through my "hilly" neighborhood, I came to a stop at the bottom of my street. Across the intersection was a box truck, going slowly up the next hill. The back of the truck was open and, oh my, about a half dozen ginormous, wheeled recycling carts were being dumped out, mistakenly, onto the street. Some of the carts kept rolling and eventually made it across the intersection, coming to a stop in front of me. Others just fell over and lay dead on their yellow plastic sides. The driver eventually stopped, got out of the truck and rounded up the escaped carts,

I was highly amused. It was terribly funny.

#2. Saturday evening, I pulled into my driveway and found one of those same, or maybe their cousin cart, in a similar prone position, in front of my garage. I smiled, shut off my car, got out and attempted to right the thing and pull or push it out of my way. I wanted to drive the car into the garage for the night. OMG the thing was huge, heavy, bulky and definitely not rolling anywhere by itself. I managed to get it upright and rolled safely in front of the empty side of my garage. This monstrosity is not going to be a helpful addition to my single-life, weekly trash routine. 

My smile is fading. I am not amused, at all.

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Lord. Life is crazy hard, sometimes. There are days when it is difficult to be positive. A trash bin larger than me, is going to be hard to deal with. I know I will manage it eventually, because You will be with me, no matter what my struggles. But, I'm asking, why is life sometimes harder than it needs to be? Give me strength and grant me the wisdom to make good choices.

 

"Judge Not, ..........."

 As it happened, I recently caught myself in a really poor choice of grammar usage. (I thought about using the word grammarage, but you would know that I made it up.) Well, in describing something that everyone once did, I used the word "useta". As in, "Remember when we "useta do that." OMGoodness, I said to anyone who was listening. Did you hear what I just said? Well, I was aghast!

Fast forward to today. A very nice, older woman was telling me how her grandfather was in the Calvary in WWI. She talked for quite a length of time about a photograph, that she had in her possession, of the fine horse that her grandfather rode in the Calvary. 

Now, had it not been for my recent faux pas, I might have attempted to correct the woman with some snide remark about her grandfather's service in the Holy Land, during the war, on Mt. Calvary. Oh, how I wanted to. But, I didn't. I kept my mouth shut and nodded to express my interest in her story. 

Lesson learned. No one is perfect. Not even a charter member of the North Kansas City Grammar Police.

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Great Lord. Patience is a virtue. So is silence. Please, help us to concentrate on the virtues, of a life well lived. Guide us all down the right path. Remind us (especially me) that Silence is truly Golden.

"They grow in caves underneath the ground."

About 70 years ago, my well-meaning parents took me on a tour through Marvel Cave, in Branson, Missouri. I remember the circumstances, clearly. It was hot and I was scared to death. That tour, nearly three quarters of a century ago, began with at least 4 million stairs down into a dark, cold, wet hole in the ground. I remember going down the stairs and after that, I don't remember anything, because I think I was crying hysterically! 

So, my traveling companion, who has been exploring and photographing caves, for years. says, "Come with me on a guided tour of an underground laboratory, in June." I asked if it were safe, and when the answer was yes, I agreed to go. This lab, dear readers, is a cave. 

Truthfully, I knew it was a cave, when I agreed to go. I also knew that we were going to be camping overnight, at the cave site. Now, I have camped more recently than 1952, I just haven't camped, in this century!

I went. I survived and I mostly enjoyed the experience. My companion made sure that I was thoroughly prepared. I wore a caver helmet, complete with a powerful headlamp. Once I figured out how to walk without staggering under the weight of the "hat", I was quite comfortable. And, only when I asked another explorer, near me, if there were any stairs involved at this cave, did my enthusiasm waver. That person, who was directly behind me said, "Some. Maybe just a few more than Marvel Cave."

I did not fall, nor did I get trapped underground in a tiny space. I made it in and out and I am even considering trying spelunking, again. New experiences or even re-visiting old experiences are adventures and growth. I intend to run toward new adventures, for as long as I can.

Gracious God. Open our hearts so that we may feel your constant presence. You are always with us. You are our Shield and our Protector.

"Let Them Eat Cake"

On a recent trip back to my hometown, I was reminded that memories are sweet. However, sweet memories, of good food, can sometimes leave a bad taste in your mouth.

One of the special treats of my childhood was taking a trip to a local bakery. Now, this was a classic, old-world type of place, complete with an authentic brick oven. This bakery was known for their Italian bread, which had extra crispy crust and soft white insides. And, they had the best breadsticks. These breadsticks were hard, crispy long fat wads of rolled dough. The baker gave them free, one apiece, to kids who came into the bakery with an adult customer. On a lucky day, they were warm, right out of that brick oven.

Well, for 70 years, I've treasured memories of those crunchy bread sticks. Nothing I have eaten, in 49 states (I haven't been to Hawaii) and several foreign countries has ever come close, to the ones I remembered eating as a child. 

Now, just recently, I was told that you could purchase those same cherished bread sticks, at one of the grocery stores, back in my hometown. Well, I sure as shootin' filed that away in my  "Gotta do that, ASAP" Bucket List. This week, while visiting my hometown, I stopped at the suggested store, and purchased 2 bags of the cherished bread sticks.

Yes, they looked just like I remembered them. But, alas. They weren't really very tasty. My traveling companion, likened them to burnt toast. Well, I wouldn't quite go quite that far....just maybe stale toast. Could the reason be, that I didn't have a stick of Oleo to spread on it? Maybe, my taste buds are a bit more refined then they were, at age 5 or 6? Anyway, this was one time that the memories are far sweeter than the actual present-day thing!

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Dear Lord, we remember many things. As we look back on the good memories, help us remember the blessings and gifts that we have been given. Show us how to be thankful and non-judging. Remind us to do our best and to love one another.

"Don't Worry, Be Happy"

This year is half over. For you technical folks, that isn't exactly fact. That's science according to Nancy's "sorta" calculations. But, with the year reaching a middleness, Moi, your aging philosopher, perceives that it is time for a little reflection.

Nothing, in life, stands still. The universe is constantly in motion, and so are its inhabitants. The circumstance of our existence is constantly changing. Who we are and what we do changes from day to day. I like that. I choose to embrace that. 

And, we have to move forward. The world spins.....in only one direction, folks! Lives are not improved by dwelling on what should have happened or what could have happened. Stuff happens. We'll never know why. Accept it, learn from it and move on. Live in the present. Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a hope. Let's face it, the present is all that we really have!

The following is not original, but I think it is a good thought, at this half-way month......"A good place to be happy is here. A good time to be happy is now." (author unknown)

Please, be happy. Know that God is Good.