Hershey

If you know me at all you know I am not a "pet person". I can't understand having animals running around causing all kinds of problems, most of which create a disgusting backyard ambiance. However, I did fall in love with one little puppy who came into our lives years ago. We named her Hershey. I don't know why but that's what she was stuck with...

Hershey was one of a large litter of....mutts. Their lineage obviously came from all over the neighborhood. We had a chance to pick one out "for free", and if you have ever had a pet you know the phrase "for free" is meaningless. Our boys, Jamie and Cody, immediately chose the runt of the litter because she was cute. I could not for the life of me distinguish one little mutt from another but those two boys had to have the cute, little...runt. So Hershey came into our family. (This is another phrase I didn't get at the time. Dogs are not family!) 

Hershey was typical of all puppies when first separated from mom and siblings. She was fun to be with during the day. She loved the boys so much she would pee when she got excited. She was nearly always excited. The night time brought new problems though. I insisted Hershey be an "outdoor" pet. I will explain why I used " " on the word outdoor later. Hershey did not like being alone in the backyard at night. Night after night she cried, howled, and begged to be let indoors. I continued to go to the boys rooms to tell them their dog was being a nuisance and it better stop. After the first two unsuccessful nights I gave up on the boys and brought her inside, made up a bed for her next to our bed, and slept with one arm hanging down into the box so she wouldn't feel lonely. I threatened her within an inch of her life if she made a mess in the house and she listened. This impressed me and I began to develop a small ember of....like for this animal.

Before I go further I will explain "outdoor" pet as an adjective rather than a redundancy. I was raised in a family where pets absolutely never came into our house. They were outdoor only. This one rule wasn't my dad's rule. It was my mom's. She forbade animals in the house. If you knew my sweet mom at all you knew she rarely forbade anything. She was a hoot....but she did not like dogs, cats, or anything else she couldn't either ride or eat. We could have any pet we wanted as long as it wasn't a cat, bird, lizard, snake, or rodent. We could have a dog and we had several over the years but only one ever made into the house for a brief moment. Our poor little dog Handy sneaked in an open back door one day and paid the price. He ran out of that house just a bit faster than the shoe my mom had thrown at him while she screamed bloody murder. Us kids didn't even come in for several hours after that. This is how I came to believe pets were strictly for outdoors.

I married a beautiful young lady who loved pets. We hadn't discussed this particular conflict before the marriage so I had little to stand on when the arguments started. While we were still in a one bedroom apartment learning how to be a married couple I came home to find a really ugly little mutt sitting in my chair! Rather than the prescribed, "Honey! I'm home!", Debbie heard me yell, "Arghhh! Debbie, there's a stupid mutt sitting on my chair! ARGHHH!" This scared the little pup and caused her to pee...all over my chair. My hysterics grew much more alarming as I ran toward my chair yelling for that dog to get out of there. This caused the poor little urchin to do the other thing dogs do....all over my chair. We did not keep this little pup for long. Luckily Debbie found a suitable home for her. This turned out to be a blessing for the puppy because Deb had found her wandering around the construction area of the new DFW Airport. I never knew while she was out there because the new dog was all I was interested in. She found it lost, dirty, hungry, and scared. She brought her home, gave her a bath in our bathtub, fed her and groomed her. Then I came home and made Deb get rid of her.

As the years passed and and the family grew, Debbie always wanted a pet around. I would not yield on my rule of no pets in the house so she kept her little orphans outside as they came and went. This was until we got Hershey.

Hershey was without a doubt, the smartest dog I've ever met. I would swear she would understand and commiserate with me when I sat out on the patio and complained about my stupid career choices. She learned to never bark unless she needed to give us a warning of impending doom...like the trash men coming by. AND, the best feature Hershey offered was never even trying to come into the house when a door was open. She knew her place. While she was still learning about her new home though she ran into a few problems on her own. Our yard was a pet's delight. Trees, pond, shed, and toys inadvertently left outside were a constant source of entertainment for her. I had a nice stack of firewood stacked next to our two trashcans which were just inside the gate leading to the front. Hershey learned really quick that she could climb up the firewood, onto the first can, and then jump up to the larger can. Here she could see out to the front if she stretched her little body far enough. It was her special place.

One morning the boys couldn't find Hershey. They came in worried because they could hear her crying but couldn't find her. I went out back with them and sure enough, Hershey was no where to be found.....but we could hear her. Eventually one of the boys figured out where she was. She had done her normal thing and jumped up to the tall can not knowing that one of us had left the lid on crooked. She hit that lid and fell in as it flipped over and slammed shut. Poor little thing spent the whole night in the trashcan. 

Hershey also impressed all of us because she actually understood us when we gave her a command. I know she did although she never shook her head and replied, "You got it boss". She just did as she was told and she never had to be told a second time. One afternoon I was going to cross the street to visit with my neighbor George. The boys were playing with Hershey in the front yard but when I stepped into the street Hershey tried to follow me. I turned around and said, "Hershey! Stay!" And stay she did. She sat down at the curb and waited for me to tell her what to do next. George and I wandered off to his garage out back and I was there for about two hours. When I came home I found Hershey still sitting  where I had told her to stay. She was waiting for me to tell her it was okay to go on back to the backyard. My ember of like was growing for Hershey and now I was beginning to think of her as family.

Debbie never gave up asking about letting her pets roam inside the house. When Hershey won me over I gave in and told her she could let Hershey in but she still had to sleep outside in her doghouse. Debbie went to the sliding glass door and called for Hershey. Hershey ran up and stopped at the door. Debbie told her to come on in. She looked at Debbie as if she were asking if there was a trick involved. Finally she ventured in and the boys were delighted. They played and Hershey was good. No damage, no accidents so it became a normal thing to let her in to play. She never seemed too anxious to stay for long inside. After just a bit she would wander back to the sliding door and hint she would like to go back out. Hershey was turning into the perfect pet. I loved that little dog.

We were so impressed with Hershey we began to brag about her like a grandparent would brag about a grandchild. Debbie loved to demonstrate Hershey's obedience and "smarts" by entertaining guests. She would go to the sliding glass door, open it and say, "Hershey, in!" Hershey would come in and say hello to everyone. Then Deb would slide the door back open and say, "Hershey, out!"....and out she would go. One day the boys had some friends over and they were sitting on the floor watching TV. Debbie told them to watch while she went to the glass door, slid it open, and invited Hershey in. As soon as Hershey came in Debbie told her to go out. Then she repeated the process, inviting Hershey in to play with the kids then telling her to go back out. Hershey always obeyed immediately by running full speed at the open door but on the last demonstration of the day as Debbie yelled for Hershey to go out, she slid the glass door closed and poor little Hershey ran right into that glass door. She didn't get hurt, as far as we know, and that's the only reason I'm sharing that memory. We all laughed til tears came at the situation but then immediately the boys and their friends all ran to Hershey with love and kisses. Debbie did feel bad but even today if that story is told she can't help but laugh.

One holiday weekend we decided on a trip to the Hill country to see some of my relatives. Jamie had his first job so he had to stay home and promised to be careful, not let strangers in the house, have no parties, and take care of Hershey. On Sunday afternoon we got a call from Jamie. He was worried about Hershey. Something didn't seem right. Now, normally I would have gone on with my weekend and not worried about it but Hershey was family. We packed up and came home a day early. We got home and immediately went out to check on Hershey. We found her swollen, lethargic, and struggling to breathe. This was a Sunday night. No veterinarians were open. In a panic we found an emergency animal hospital in the next town over and took Hershey there. They thought she had been bitten by a snake so they treated her, gave us some pills to force down her, charged us a small fortune and sent us home. We fixed a bed in the garage for her and she seemed comfortable. She could at least breathe without difficulty. The next day though she was worse. We watched over her most of the day but by late afternoon we knew we had to get her back to that hospital. We loaded her up and got over there in a hurry. The doctor on duty was the same as had been there the night before so he knew what he was dealing with. We were escorted in immediately ahead of a couple other pet owners waiting their turn to see the doc. When they saw the shape Hershey was in they didn't seem to mind at all. 

As all four of us stood around that stainless steel table with the boys both crying, the doctor tried to figure out what he could do for Hershey. His aide was there as well and they were trying to figure out what to do while Hershey got worse by the minute. Her breathing became labored and she wouldn't wake up as we patted her and talked to her. The doctor finally told us our little dog was dying and there was nothing he could do. Now all four of us were crying (yes, I did cry for a pet). The aide and the doctor both had tears in their eyes as he suggested we go ahead and "put her down". I never liked that phrase but it made sense to me then. We had to help Hershey since she couldn't help herself. She was struggling for each breath. The doctor told us we should go ahead and leave while he did what needed to be done. I felt like I was leaving a close friend behind and I have a lump in my throat right now as I tell you about it. We went to the waiting room and mourned the loss of our little dog. When the doctor came out and told us Hershey was gone I couldn't bear to see her again. The doctor offered to have a service come get her and bury her in a pet cemetery. Now, I have never been one to spend money on an animal but right then I didn't care how much it cost. I wanted Hershey taken care of properly.  We agreed to have Hershey buried in this cemetery and paid the enormous sum of money to have it done. This cost, along with two emergency hospital visits in two days, cost more than I would ever have willingly spent on any pet for any reason....but this was Hershey.

A week passed after Hershey was gone. The boys and I had emptied the yard of all memories of our little friend. We gave the dog house away, threw away the food and water bowls, and I hauled off my stack of firewood where I figured the snake had probably been. Then we got a card from the cemetery owners thanking us for "trusting them with our precious pet" and advising us Hershey had been buried with dignity. Debbie and I both wondered if dignity was an act of kindness or the name of another pet.

I wish I had another dog like Hershey but I know I never will. Debbie still loves animals and wants to bring them home as pets but I don't allow it anymore. None of the later pets have measured up to Hershey's standards and Debbie eventually grows tired of them and gives up on them. I don't want to say "bye" to another little dog.....I'll say "bye" to cats all day long. I can't stand cats.

A Glimpse of Memory....

I've been bemoaning the fact that my old memories have faded away. It happened during my surgery and multiple CT Scans (although the neurosurgeon poo-pooed that idea). I have been working toward getting them back, the memories I mean, along with the normal use of my legs and vocal chords. It's a long journey but I'm getting there. I know people are as tired of hearing about it as much as I am living it. 

A few days ago I was sitting in my den feeling sorry for myself when something Debbie said jolted a memory to the surface. It wasn't a monumental memory....wasn't particularly funny even but doggone it, it was a memory. I'll tell you about it but first a word from our sponsor: 

Do you suffer from chills, memory loss, lack of balance, inability to finish a sentence? Do you feel like you aren't giving yourself enough time to race to the toilet when racing anywhere is pretty much out of the question? Well, don't feel like you're alone. More than half of the people we interviewed at Mother Beatrice's Home for the Aged, suffer the same malady. But, due to a recent scientific breakthrough, you can have the comfort and peace of knowing you aren't alone. Simply buy this 700 page book titled, "I Tried to Stay Young....I Failed" written by the well-known author, Ima Olf Art. You won't be able to put it down...unless you need a nap. Quantities are limited. Buy now!

We've had the opportunity to host a college intern this summer. She's a sweet girl but shy. We're really trying to make her feel at home. In fact, Debbie made her do the dishes just last night....just kidding. We don't know how to entertain young people anymore. If you are older than six, you've outgrown our talents. We don't know how to do anything but watch TV and work in the yard. (Debbie works, I watch). This sweet girl (I'll call her Gina) is finally coming out of her room to visit with us occasionally now but she still doesn't seem at home. One evening she came into the den and sat down in one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the room and started watching one of our super intellectual shows. Debbie invited her to come sit on the sofa with her. She did. Debbie then told her we don't have any rules about furniture and stuff. "Go ahead, take off your shoes, stretch out, put your feet on the coffee table. Get comfortable." That last comment reminded me of the time I realized that even as a stinky, skinny little boy, I was still important and welcomed. 

We absolutely did not put our feet on any of the furniture. We had an ottoman which was not to be used as a footstool by us smelly old kids. We could sit on it if our clothes were clean but we could not put our feet on the ottoman. It was 'furniture'. The same held true at my aunt Ramona's house but only in the formal living room. The den was lovingly offered for our destruction. But when we went to aunt Cricket's house, there were no rules. I'm serious. This wonderful woman who laughed all the time and carted us around to junk yards, playgrounds, and anywhere else we suggested showed me I was welcome. We lived close enough to aunt Cricket that we could go visit her regularly. It was about a twenty minute drive to her house unless uncle JD was driving. Then the trip lasted about ten hair-raising minutes. On one occasion, probably the birth of another sister, I had to spend the night at aunt Cricket's house. I was warned to be on my best behavior. After my shower that night I came into their den and sat down in the only chair I knew no one else would want and sat there with my hands in my lap. The show being watched was some old comedy and everyone was laughing and having a good time. They were even eating ice cream IN THE DEN and not at the dining room table. I didn't know what to do so I became invisible, or so I thought. I had been perfecting invisibility for several of my six or seven years of life, however aunt Cricket saw me anyway. I'll never forget what she said and how she said it; "Rusty, get over here and grab a spot. Put your feet up on the coffee table and get comfortable. Peggy, (my cousin) get in there and get Rusty a bowl of ice cream." This type of thing had never happened. I know it's a silly little memory but it was important enough to me that as I searched back for fond memories, this is the first one that came back. I sure loved my aunt Cricket...still do love her. I'm sure she's reading this. I think Heaven would not be heaven if my blogs were blocked.

One more amazing thing happened this week. I was hitching a ride home from a little league game in my son Cody's car. As we drove along Cody said to Carter, "Hey Carter, see that old bicycle shop over there? It was a grocery store when I was in high school and I worked there!" Carter was so impressed he almost acknowledged Cody's comment. That made me offer, "Hey Carter, if you really want a blast from the past, one of these days I'll drive you by the old derelict building that was a brand new grocery store where I worked as a kid!" I'm thinking Carter was overwhelmed with awesomeness because he had a bit of a glazed over expression on his face which told me he couldn't wait to see that old building. Whether I ever drive by that old building again or not, that quick jolt of memory brought back a flood of fond memories stretching from high school, through college, and into my professional career. As soon as I got home from the game I grabbed a notebook and wrote down eighteen memories I had recalled. Stay tuned because I've got some catching up to do. There will be stories ranging from 'chasing the shoplifter' to 'blazing grasshoppers' to 'life in the fast lane as a 19 year old "boss". I can't wait to write them. I hope you can't wait to read them.

Seasons...

I'm not a huge fan of spring time. Oh sure, it's nice to be freed from coats and sweaters...to be able to sit out on the porch without either freezing or sweating, and to look forward to summer for some reason. But spring doesn't hold a lot of memories for me. I do remember the joy of switching over from football to baseball. I was a miserable failure at football, never even considered basketball with all that running and stuff, but I was a fair baseball player. At least I knew what was going on during any given game. Other than that, I wouldn't bother with spring. 

Spring is when bugs start to show up. Creepy crawly bugs of all sort begin to show up. The absolute worst spring time spectacular is the coming of the season's termite swarms. Now, we haven't been bothered by termites in nearly 25 years but before that every stinking spring we would be swarmed...and it didn't matter which house we owned...termites swarmed in the spring. It got to where I started down a path of depression right after Christmas worrying about termites. 

Spring is when it starts to warm up a bit too much. This year we've been blessed by a reasonably long spring. Normally in Texas winter ends on one day and summer begins the next but not this year. I have to admit, it's been nice. But I still don't like spring. Spring is the prelude to summer and summer in Texas is...to remain a Christian...not very nice. 

I despise summer. Cookouts, fire works, baseball games, or anything else remotely considered fun can not compensate for the cotton-picking heat. I begin looking forward to fall sometime around the middle of June. Sadly, it's a long wait since fall generally happens in late November down here. Fall is always a nice weekend though.

Winter is....eh, you know. It's winter. Nobody likes winter. So now you know I'm only happy during the weekend we call "fall". So why do I live in Texas you ask? Go ahead, somebody ask. You back there on the third row second seat....speak up boy! Well, I'll tell you why I live in Texas. Two reasons come to mind. First of all my mama lived in Texas the year I was born so I felt I needed to be here for that. Secondly, grandchildren. I can't move away from my grandchildren. Just watch though. All of them will graduate from college, marry, and move off to Idaho or Colorado....or maybe Virginia! The less intelligent ones might move to Florida, but I know none of them will stay here. If I'm still breathing I'll be stuck right here in Texas. Just me and Deb. The boys have already said they're out of here as soon as all the kids leave home. Why will we still be here in Texas? Because Hurst is in Texas and Debbie can't leave Hurst. 

Don't get me started on Debbie's love of Hurst. She was dropped on her head as a baby and never fully recovered. And, I didn't start this story with the plan of talking about Hurst, or Texas, or seasons for that matter. Truth be told, I can't remember the story I was about to tell. It's gone from my memory now. I thought of it during the night and managed to hold on to it til I started writing, then POOF, it was gone. If my memory doesn't come back completely soon I'm going to have to start making stuff up.

I told Debbie recently I was having flashbacks of my youth but always late at night. She suggested I write myself notes about the memory before going back to sleep. Very few people carry pen and paper to bed with them and I'm one of those people. Then she reminded me I could make notes on my phone to be read back later. I thought that was a great idea and began putting words down to spark my memory. So far I have "Starbucks", "Pelican, and "Giant Snake". I don't know where to go with those notes. I'll keep working on it.

In the meantime, if you remember something from the past and I was even remotely related to the incident, please let me know. Maybe it will spark a story. I do have memories left that aren't funny. It seems sadness and misfortune aren't easily forgotten but I sure don't want to write about any of that. My job is to lift your spirits and I know I've failed lately. This NPH did a number on my brain. Stupid NPH....stupid, stupid, stupid...but hey, at least I'm still handsome!

Downtown...

 It was the best of times, it was the worst of times....oops, sorry. That's the start of another short story....about the French Revolution....and I didn't write it. My stories are about the best and worst times of growing up in the 50's and 60's. There were very few "worst times" but a whole lot of "best times". I'm sorry for anyone who didn't get to grow up in that time frame.

I was out for my daily 1-1/4 mile walk today and got to thinking about how much excitement grew with us kids as we knew shopping day in downtown was coming up. If we still did our shopping this way now we would be considered old fashioned, out of sync old people but I just bet we would have more fun. We didn't get to downtown as often as some of my rich cousins living over in River Oaks and Lake Worth. Downtown for them was just down the road on Jacksboro Highway straight into the city where it turned into Henderson Street. The drive for them was accomplished by one of two wonderful aunts who took the time to learn how to drive when they were teens. 

My mom never took that time needed to learn to drive. When we lived in River Oaks this wasn't a problem because either Aunt Ramona or Aunt Cricket would always let us tag along wherever they went. Then my dad decided to do us a favor and move us out to Hurst, or as family members referred to it, "the sticks". He wanted us to have more open country to roam around in without fear of getting run over on those busy streets all the sane people lived on. There was nothing.....nothing in Hurst at the time but a grocery store, drug store, doctors office, and the dime store. All these establishments were centrally located out on old Highway 183. We did have lots of safe areas to play and explore but we did not have access to wheels and a licensed driver to take us anywhere else unless my dad was off work....and in a willing mood. These two things didn't merge very often but not because daddy was an ogre. He just worked so much when he finally had some time off he wanted to spend it at home and not "galavanting all over town". This was his favorite phrase, "I don't want to go galavanting all over town for crying out loud!" He was a funny guy.

I have gotten so far off the subject now I've got to stop to remember what I was originally writing about.....hmmm...give me a minute. Let's go to the kitchen for a snack..............well, that was a bust. Debbie really needs to go grocery shopping. But I did remember my story.

Going downtown in the 50's was exciting for just about everyone in the family. There were so many things to see like the gospel preachers yelling to us about Hell, the air vents on the sidewalks where hot air would swoosh up on us from some mysterious place, the air-conditioned drug stores where you could get an ice cream cone for a nickel, and most important of all, the old man with no legs selling pencils. He got around by using his hands like feet. He was always, always there. Daddy never failed to buy a pencil from him but then he always gave the pencil back. Oh sure, daddy grumbled about having to be downtown instead of home but that didn't stop him from shopping as hard as the rest of us. Most of the memories I have though of downtown were before we moved to Hurst and we would hitch a ride with one of our aunts. I was so small back then that we had a protocol we had to follow. Cindy had to walk right next to Mama and I had to follow close behind while holding on to the hem of her dress. That was evidently a common way to keep the kids in tow back then. Many a big sale at Leonard's Dept store was spent holding on to mama's hem while making beady eyes at some other kid holding onto his mama's hem. If we let go of that hem all was lost. And that happened one day.

I loved going up the escalators in the stores to the second and third floors. The windows up there were always open and you could look down on the people on the sidewalks. Great fun, but mama wasn't always shopping next to a window. Usually the really big sales were closer to the escalators and far away from those wonderful open windows. One day she stopped next to a window to look at some outfit she would love to have but never buy. I got busy looking out the window and let go of that hem. I had the best time at the window dropping little pieces of trash found on the floor. Feathers were my favorite although they were few and far between. Anyway, I eventually realized my right hand was hemless and the panic started to rise. I looked around and mama and Cindy were gone! I held the scream in until I had a chance to do a reconnaissance of the area and luckily spotted my hem. I ran over and grabbed on to the hem and held on tight for about fifteen seconds. That's how long it took me to realize the hem I was holding did not belong to my mama. The scream came then. I yelled like a girl which brought attention to the owner of the hem I was holding. She screamed even louder and pulled her hem away from my sweaty little fingers. That made me scream with a new and improved, blood curdling scream previously unused by me. I was awash in unfamiliar hems and scared out of my mind. Fortunately, mama found me pretty quick since I had stopped all activity on the second floor of Leonard's. She put her hem back in my hand and told me not to ever do that again...I did not.

As I grew a little older and the trips to downtown were less frequent I was allowed more freedom during shopping day. I could wander around as long as I stayed on the same floor and didn't drink from the pale green water fountain. (That's another story too sad to tell.) I did use the green fountain once though out of curiosity. The water tasted the very same as the white one next to it but some old man really got on to me so I never did it again. He scared me so bad I wished I had mama's hem to hang on to. It didn't take long for the appeal of shopping to grow stale. You can only watch women look at clothes for so long before you want to run out the door screaming for mercy. The attraction of open windows disappeared after some fool introduced air-conditioning to the better stores. There was no appeal to downtown shopping anymore. That is, until Leonard's opened their world famous discount basement store. That's a story for another time but I will say the last time I visited that basement I was grown with a family of my own. A family member who will remain unnamed absolutely had to visit this famous basement while he was in town. Like I said, another time....

It's Been A While.....

 .....a good long while since I felt like writing. My health seemed to be going south really fast and along with the health issues came a deep, deep depression. I felt justified with the depression though because doggone it, I couldn't do anything I loved to do like mowing, raking leaves, cleaning out the gutters....you know, the stuff we all love to whittle away our hours doing. I couldn't even walk in my neighborhood. I tried, I really did but I couldn't make it happen. My old pal Charley, from around the corner, tried to help me go for walks but I kept falling down and it got to where he couldn't help me up anymore. On my last attempt, we were less than a half block from the house when I lost my balance and fell. The dizziness was so bad I couldn't help Charley as he tried to help me up. Finally we were both worn out. It was a sad sight seeing two old men sitting on the curb wondering what we could do. A teenage boy on a bike road by eventually and asked if we needed help. He got us both upright and standing and we slowly made our way home. Charley hasn't offered to walk with me since even though on my own now I can get all the way around the block. I'm so proud of myself. 

I put both my walkers up in the attic this past week. That's something else I'm proud of....putting those things away, out of sight, AND climbing the attic stairs to put them there! I think the doc has finally gotten the adjustment right on my shunt and so far no more hematomas have occurred. I'm beginning to feel like my old, lovable self again. I plan on taking on the yard work again this spring even though Debbie and the boys think differently. I am not too old to take care of my own yard! Period!

My memory is slowly returning and it's causing me to have some sleepless nights. I keep having recurring thoughts of the past which I think, "I should write that down!" Usually by the time I get up and find pad and pencil the memory has left me but some are staying around. I hope to share them with you if you're still interested in reading them. The following happened right here in good old downtown Hurst, Texas, when I was about thirteen. I had no use for girls but my mind was beginning to think they weren't as disgusting as I had earlier imagined. It was a difficult time and I wouldn't want to relive it, but back then it was all new and exciting. Those girls out there scared me half to death but I couldn't stop thinking about them.

Our junior high youth group from church had a Christmas party and I was talked into going by my friend, Harry. Harry had a way of getting us both into trouble so I went to the party with him warily. Before the party broke up one of the grownups commented that none of us guys were getting anywhere near the mistletoe. We all nodded, shook our shoulders, uttered "Uh" or "No way". We were pretty cool. Finally someone gave me a shove and there I was right under the mistletoe with everyone laughing and giving me a hard time. Before I could get out from under it a beautiful little lady named Peggy grabbed me and planted a big kiss right on my lips. It was my very first kiss. I was stunned. I got so flustered. I could feel my face turn bright red and the heat went all the way to my toenails. All the noise around me became a garbled echo in my head. Harry had to lead me over to the couch and set me down. That's all I remember about the party until it was time to go home. Harry's parents came to pick us up and we wandered out to the car along with others who were leaving. Peggy walked up to the car and asked Harry's parents if they would mind taking her home since it was on the way. Before we loaded up she grabbed me and kissed me again! I was in love!!! That ride home could have lasted forever.

Peggy and I both went to Hurst Jr. High so aside from seeing her at church I saw her throughout the day at school. I followed her around like a little puppy dog without having a clue how I was supposed to act. She was so cotton picking cute and she knew how to flirt. She strung me along at school and flirted with me at church. She even winked at me when I tried to help with communion one Sunday. I nearly dropped my trays. I was one wasted youth all during this time because I had never had anyone show me any interest, much less a good looking girl like Peggy. I sure hope everyone gets to experience what I did back in the early sixties with a beautiful girl picking me out from the herd of clueless guys to charm for a few weeks. 

Our courtship was short-lived of course. I had no idea how to act around a girl so I stumbled through the relationship on a daily basis. Eventually she got tired of me. I had no money, no imagination, and no way to get around aside from my bike or Harry's parents. Our love life consisted of two kisses, hand holding, day dreaming, and one date courtesy of again, Harry's parents. They were good people! I don't know how they wound up with Harry. That one date was to an old Mexican food place close by. I had never been to a Mexican food place before and had no idea what to order, what to do, or how to impress my date. It turned out I didn't have enough money to pay the bill so both Peggy and Harry's parents helped me out. It was a disaster. She lost interest in me shortly after that and I can't blame her at all. I still had a lot of growing up to do. Thanks for the memories Peggy. Wherever you are I hope your life has been wonderful!

Election Day...

 Here it is....the much anticipated "mid-term elections". I hope everyone reading this has voted, or will vote before the day is done. Debbie and I cast our ballots on the first day of early voting. That isn't a real screamer of a headline normally. We always vote but this election is so critical to our nation at this time. Our once great nation has fallen victim to special interest demands and evil schemes. I am not political. I have voted on both sides of the Parties in the past so I'm not pushing any specific agenda. However, if my simple little brain, housing a defunct computer chip shunt, can see what's happening in this country I'm sure it is, and has been obvious to all you smart people out there. 

I don't care how you vote. It's none of my business but if you don't care how things go and don't bother to vote, I will assume you have no children or grandchildren to worry about. Things appear to be swirling swiftly down the proverbial toilet bowl and I'm worried about the world we are leaving behind. Ours has not been a stellar generation and this election is one of the last in which we can feel that we really contributed to the future. Most of our heroes are gone now and we are the old people who should be spilling out vast wisdom to the younger generations. Sadly, we haven't shown much wisdom and the younger generations aren't listening anyway. There is no one to blame but the parents who raised these youngsters. That be us.

I tried and tried to write something humorous today but I just don't have it in me. We need to take the time to know the candidates and look beyond the rhetorical words to see who they really are. We need honest, wise, brave leaders. Party affiliations aside, we don't have that in Congress. My prayer is for that to change in Washington. 

Sorry for the seriousness. Like I said, I really tried to be humorous. Maybe tomorrow....

So That's Where You've Been...

Okay, I told Debbie I was posting a story today even if the creek does rise...which it won't at this time of year. I've had my coffee, read my Bible, pleaded with the Lord to take control of this mess, brushed my teeth, and found some soothing music to enjoy. All set....here goes..

My last post was in February, and I apologize for this, but it isn't my fault. I have a strict policy of never writing while I'm depressed. Those who've known me long and well understand this and also recognize how long a period of time can pass before the darkness goes away. Depression hasn't been my entire problem this time though. In April I decided to fall in my garage while sweeping sawdust. I hit my forehead on the corner of my work table and knocked myself out. I woke up after fifteen minutes (a fact relayed to me later) on my belly with my face pressed onto cold concrete. My first thought was, "Why in the world did I decide to take a nap on the garage floor?" I tried to get up but couldn't lift my head off the floor. I yelled for Debbie. She didn't hear me. I yelled "Help" and nothing. I yelled "Free chocolate" and no one came. I finally managed to reach my phone and called Deb. She came running and immediately called Cody, our neighbors Charley and Susan, 9-1-1, and the Salvation Army. All but those rascals at the Salvation Army came running. They told Debbie she would have to put me on the front porch and wait until one of their drivers was in the area.

I was in a bad way, enough so that I didn't argue when the paramedics insisted on carting me to the ER. In fact, I don't remember anything about the ambulance ride or my introduction to the ER staff. I also don't remember anything before hitting my head....it's a complete blank. I could have been pushed but a poltergeist would have had to do the pushing. I don't really think that happened. I just didn't know at the time why I fell. Of course I now know my balance issue and other problems weren't just my imagination. I spent three days in the hospital nursing a severe concussion, huge knot on my forehead, two black eyes, and a nice headache.

Well, that was supposed to be the whole story before I got started on my slap your knee funny story I was about to tell, but my sad tale didn't end there. I had to see a neurosurgeon who diagnosed me with Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, or NPH. I know! I never heard of it either! And of course the doc, my wife, and both sons took this as serious information and insisted on more tests, more CT scans, more MRI's and more time in the hospital. It's been a tough six months since then, including enough CT's to cook bacon, hospital time, and brain surgery. Supposedly my problem was fixed when a hole was drilled into my brain and a shunt (formerly known as 'foreign object') was installed. It did work though. I didn't realize how bad I had gotten until it was fixed. I felt 25 years younger! Good old neurosurgeons! Can't beat 'em....but, and this is a big but...

...the shunt was set too high for removing the excess spinal fluid in my brain. After a few weeks of outstanding good health I went for a followup CT scan. That same day I got a call from the surgeon's PA asking how I was feeling...any dizziness....any headaches....numbness?? Nope, I felt great. The PA then said this was quite surprising. I needed to have someone drive me to the hospital immediately. Reservations had already been made and they were expecting me with needles, tubes, uncomfortable bed, and all the other stuff associated with hospital time. It turns out the shunt was removing the spinal fluid so fast two voids had been created in my brain. One 'ventricle' had shrunk and one had completely collapsed causing the brain to pull away from whatever the little protective sac around the brain is called. I was bleeding internally. Oh my goodness. That was a bit unsettling. Over the next several weeks I was placed on limited activities, which meant doing absolutely nothing but sitting. I had several more scans while adjustments were made unsuccessfully. I was still bleeding. Finally, they had to turn the shunt off. Actually, a shunt can't be turned off. The drain tube has to be crimped to block any more drainage. This involved an incision in my neck which is still hurting as I write.

After the shunt was turned off I slowly drifted back to my old self with my balance problem, dragging my left foot causing a shuffle no dance song will ever be written for, and a speech problem from vocal chords taking an extended medical leave. 

And this is where I've stayed for weeks. Debbie deserves a medal for all her help and support. She makes sure I try to stay as active as an immovable object can stay. She takes me to church as long as I stay close to her. She even takes me out to eat occasionally because my appetite is still perfectly healthy. Sadly, I can't remember the funny story I was going to tell. Sorry about that. It's completely gone from my defective brain. Memory loss is another fun symptom of NPH. I had forgotten to mention that earlier.

Oddly, I'm not depressed over this situation I find myself in. I'm perfectly content sitting and watching the  world go by. I know I will eventually be fixed again and life will go on. I still get to enjoy my family, especially those not so little grandkids. I enjoy reading and watching old movies. I just can't seem to remember too much about my earlier years right now. If I can't get those memories back I will get depressed eventually...but not today. Today all is good. I'm going to shuffle on in to the den, hug my wife, eat some lunch, and ...take a nap. I wasn't going to include the nap thing but Debbie will probably read this. Honesty is the best approach. Love to all!!