Words from The Crone

Around our dinner table we have some very lively conversations and often the topic is around something we have read in the paper or came upon on the Internet.  This morning was no exception.  From the front page to the Op Ed page were a variety of articles about the looming fiscal cliff.  You know, that January 1^st date when all hell will break loose in our country because we have gone over a financial cliff in terms of dealing with a rising deficit and rising expenses; an unsustainable and untenable situation.

The Republicans who have a majority in the house (albeit a smaller one) are digging in again about raising taxes on the wealthy.  The Democrats who have a majority in the Senate are digging in again about changing Social Security and Medicare.  Nothing has changed from last summer.  Nothing.  So, folks, looks like we are going to take a white water rafting trip over the fiscal falls, or fall off a cliff into the abyss.  Nothing can be done about it, right?

Many of the articles I have read say the American people are calling for compromise.  Sure, that makes sense.  Isn’t compromise the art of politics anyway?  You give me this and I’ll give you that.  But, when you get down to the nuts and bolts of negotiation there is something else that creeps into the conversation – ethics.  Ha, you say, politicians have no ethics, and some days it surely seems that way.  I think it is ethics that is hanging our congress and leadership up in their underwear.

The democrats are saying that to change Medicare or Social Security is putting the burden of debt reduction on the backs of the poor and the elderly while leaving the rich and the richer scott free and that is unethical.  Maybe.

The Republicans are saying that to increase taxes on only the wealthy would be crippling the producers which would jack up unemployment, send more business overseas, cause a continuation of the recession, and be unethical.  Maybe.

In some respects they are both right and both wrong.  What if, we did both?  I haven’t spoken to one person (including some very wealthy people) who didn’t feel that the richest Americans should not only pay more taxes, but in the case of corporations pay taxes period.  I haven’t spoken to anyone who didn’t think that we all have to bear the burden of reducing the debt.  No one (in the age group affected) has told me that that it would bother them if one wasn’t eligible for Medicare until age 70.

Similarly, there is not a whisper that an increase in the age one receives Social Security would be a disaster.  In fact, most people under age 55 are skeptical about whether or not Social Security or Medicare will even be available to them if the system isn’t fixed.  Years ago the contributions of 16 people supported one person on Social Security.  Today, two people’s contribution support one person.  This is unsustainable.

It would be unethical to take away from those who now have those benefits as they depend on that income.  It is not, IMHO, unethical to tell younger generations that the pot will be half-full or even empty for them and they need to start planning some retirement savings right now because Uncle Sam was never intended to be sole support for them after age 65 or any age for that matter.

Surprisingly, most intelligent people that I speak to are in favor of a single payer healthcare system.  Why not?  The rest of the world is now on that system.  I am old enough to remember that there were three basic needs that, on a humanitarian level, needed to be met – Food, Shelter, and Clothing.  Today, there are four basic needs to be met – Food, Shelter, Clothing, and Health Care.  This all comes under the cloak of what does a person need in order to survive.

Therefore, it is highly ethical for a government body (supported by all the people) to take on that basic need for medical care.  Health care is no longer simple or inexpensive.  Health insurance likewise.  In my day we bought in-hospital insurance.  We paid for everything else and it was affordable.

Today our medical system is so technologically advanced and so expensive that insurance is the only way to cover those expenses and that insurance today is so expensive that a large portion of our population can’t afford it.  A conundrum that needs to be solved if we accept the fact that health care is a basic human need.

As a society we are living much, much longer lives than when the Social Security/Medicare/Medicaid programs were instituted.  It is only ethical, not to mention fiscally responsible, to change the parameters of those programs as society changes.  It is not unethical to advance the age one begins to receive those benefits from 65 to 70.  And, it is not unethical to have a single payer healthcare system that provides for every single American citizen.  It has worked for others it can work for us.

Finally, is it unethical for us to raise taxes on the wealthy?  On corporations?   On small businesses?  I think not.  To be scriptural about it, Jesus said in Luke verse 48: “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.”  In this day and age when money is the basis of exchange (we don’t barter much anymore) then those with much money need to give back to those with less money in an equitable manner.  In the Jewish tradition, farmers were expected to leave a corner of their fields for the poor to use to plant crops in order to feed themselves.

I am not for exorbitant taxation, but neither am I for obscene corporate/athletes/celebrities salaries and bonuses which is only one form of self-indulgence.  The very rich must help the very poor because it is their system of overindulgence that essentially creates the poor.  I am also not for a purely socialistic form of government, but there is a level somewhere in between that distributes wealth in a manner that is equitable and ethical for all.  We cannot sustain an economically ethical country if the rich are getting richer, the poor getting poorer, and the middle class is shrinking.

Yes, my friends, it is more than time for our politicians to compromise.  We all have to give in on something.  Politics and ethics need to work together.  Our citizens will support both approaches and who knows, we might even wind up with a surplus at the end of the Obama administration.  Now wouldn’t that be nice?

When President Obama won his second term last night I knew that God had answered my prayer.  I prayed so hard for this win.  I had long conversations with Jesus about helping Obama win this election.  I even promised Jesus that I wouldn’t ask for anything frivolous like having my Giants win a football game until after the election.  I prayed without ceasing.  I even prayed for an Obama victory when we said our grace at meals.  I mean, I really, really prayed really, really hard.  And so, last night at 11:06pm when they announced the Obama win I knew that Jesus had been listening.

But.  But, then I thought about all of those people who probably prayed as earnestly as I had that Romney would win.  Did God not answer their prayers?  I knew that they were all feeling very bad about last night’s election.  Some might have even been angry that God did not support their candidate.  Some may even be fearful of what the future holds now that their peep is not the POTUS.  I really feel bad for them.  But.  But, God did answer their prayers, God said “No.”  Your candidate isn’t going to win.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the day after both nominating conventions were over and the candidates were announced that everybody all prayed for their candidate at one time.  Then God would answer the prayers of people and the POTUS would be revealed.  Done.  There would be no campaigning, no political ads, no mud-slinging, no lies, no anxiety on either side about who would be elected, endless, endless days of wondering and worrying.  God would reveal and that would be that.  Voila, here’s your POTUS for the next four years.  The only folks disappointed might be those who don’t believe in God at all and would still want to vote.  God fearing folks would accept God’s call on this, right?  Sigh, ain’t ever gonna happen that way.

I’m exuberant over the Obama victory.  Still, I’m not sure what I’ll say to all my friends who voted and prayed for Romney.  I want to be pastoral, but one can’t say, “Oh, it will be okay,” or “Time will heal your disappointment.”   You can’t say “well maybe next time” because you don’t really want their party to win even next time.  You can’t say “Nah, na, na, nah, na,” or “Told you so,” because that would nasty.  You might say “I’m sorry your guy lost,” but you wouldn’t mean it.  What do I say?  Probably nothing.  As if it never happened.  If they want to talk about it they will have to find a fellow “red state” fellow with whom to commiserate because I’m too happy right now.  I want to be pastoral, but it is hard.

Well then, here we are with nothing changed and yet, everything could change.  We still have a republican house, a democratic senate, and Barak Obama.  Nothing has changed.  However, the republicans can no longer forge energy toward keeping Obama as a one-term POTUS.  They don’t have to worry about his re-election; there won’t be another one.

Congress, if it is smart (and sometimes I wonder), might just get down to the business of running the country, they might start thinking about the people, about what is best for us not whether or not they will get re-elected or what is best for the party or for their retirement benefits. Everything could change if Congress and the POTUS really do work together to resolve the issues facing America – the debt, jobs, energy, education, medical care, equality for all….yeah, you’ve heard this before.  These are the issues our President talked about in his acceptance speech.  Now we all, and I mean ALL, both the “reds” and the “blues,” need to get our act together and put aside our differences.  It used to be that way and if we do it again, everything could change.

My prayers now will be that both parties, all elected members of congress, all those elected to any public office in every village, town, city, state or federal venue, will roll up his or her sleeves and get down to the work of making America a country that God will be proud to have created.

A few puffy clouds dot the sky over the gazebo in my backyard and the sun is shining bright as can be.  The fountains have been turned off for the season and the mild wind sends ripples across the pond.  What a relief.  Whew.

Not just three days ago Hurricane Sandy graced us with her presence.  Sandy is the largest hurricane/tropical storm/nor’easter ever.  Ever. Ever.  Or, so they say.  Well, at least in recorded history, or in the lives of anyone still alive.  This was one big mama and she wasn’t fooling around.  She moved slowly like a crouching panther moving toward its prey, slinking closer and closer.

Everyone from North Carolina up to Maine watched this mammoth beast approach.  Waiting, wondering where she would strike.  A passel of computer models sent out colored streamers over the weather map in every direction, none of them certain as to where the strike would occur.

At once it was the Outer Banks, NC, another time it was predicted to sneak up Delaware Bay and gobble up Philadelphia and anything in its path.  Another model said, “No, no, it will run over Long Island and decimate Connecticut.” Yet still another predictor suggested either the Jersey Shore or even Manhattan itself.  We all waited to see which one our Sandy would choose for the kill.

Hurricanes have a yin and yang.  One side is gentle, but firm, the other side is fierce and destructive.  How Sandy will wreak havoc on you depends on whether or not you experience her yin or her yang.  Her soft side is to the south, her fierce side to the north.  If you look down on Sandy from space her soft side would be on the left.

On Monday, October 29^th, we knew which side of Sandy we were on.  By the barest of distance she passed just north of our little piece of Delaware, spitting and snorting as she worked her way over Cape May, NJ, then across Delaware Bay and on up into Pennsylvania.  Her wrath just missed us and in our little community of some 166 homes on 23 acres, the worst thing that happened was one gas grill flew off a deck onto the grass. Whew!  God blessed us.

Not so for those on the north side.  The devastation, death, and destruction was unbelievable.  From NJ up through into Manhattan the damage was utterly indescribable.  Floods, fires, torn-up homes, two children ripped from their mother’s arms died, submerged subways, crushed roads.  Awful.  Terrible.  My mother would have said that Armageddon had arrived.  I said the panther pounced.  Ripping away at anything in her path.  Growling along at an unbearable panther pace..

The storm took two full days to move over us.  Not surprising considering she was 1,000 miles wide and 1700 miles long and traveling at only about 15 mph.  Sure, she picked up speed just before she went for the jugular and slammed into land, but only to about 30 mph.  Not fast enough for my liking.  And certainly not fast enough for those weathering the worst side

Like some giant snowplow the waters piled up in front of her as she slouched closer and closer to shore.  The moon was full adding to the pull of the tides.  Our marina gazebo was half-way under water and remember we were on the soft side.  At least it didn’t tumble into the bay.  And our marina completely disappeared beneath the water.  Fortunately, every single boat had been hauled and so, waiting silently in the deep dark, our docks survived as well. Whew!

Our prayers are not for us now, we are fine.  Our prayers are now for those who have no homes, have lost loved ones, and must now face the enormous task of rebuilding their lives.  A woman on NPR said it best, she essentially said, “I have no place to go.  I am sleeping on a friend’s couch and I have nothing left.  I don’t know what I am going to do because on Monday morning, I still have to be atwork.  I need some place to live in the short term.”

Unless we are living it, we tend to forget in the aftermath what it means to lose everything but your life.  You have only your memories.  You have no clothes, no food, no car, no furniture, no home.  You have nothing.  The only “Whew” that you have is that you are still breathing.  Let us not forget these folks and do what we can to help.  Even if it is only to pray for them.

As I was gulping down my morning regimen of various pills numbering something around 14 or 15, my R and I started talking about what all these pills do for me.  We also were discussing the latest medicine my cardiologist wanted me to take for my extraordinarily high cholesterol.  It was a packet of powder which, when mixed with water or juice, became a “suspension.”  It was more like trying to swallow a slurry of mud.  Blech….  It was awful.  I threw it out and emailed my doctor to send me the pill form.

At any rate, I blithely suggested the idea that maybe someday all of our nutrition would also come from pills.  Like the Jetsons, my daughter suggested.  Yeah, something like that.  Of course, we all tossed off that notion as being ridiculous, but hey, maybe it will be like that in say 2212.  Who knows?

Then I got to thinking about the broader implications of our all our nutrition being in pill form.  What a time saver that would be.  Just think about it.  First, we wouldn’t need to spend time shopping for food.  Then, we wouldn’t need to spend copious hours sweating over a hot stove cooking, or grilling, or chopping up food, or mixing ingredients.  We would save hours not poring over which recipe to make for the next potluck supper or company dinner.

We also wouldn’t have to spend time cleaning up, scraping dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, or washing them by hand.  We wouldn’t have to spend time putting clean dishes away either.

I am most certain all this pill food would save us tons of money.  For example, we wouldn’t need any appliances except maybe a sink.  We could substitute our big refrigerator for a smaller one just for any liquids we might want to wash down our pills and keep ourselves hydrated.  Just think of all the electricity we would save too.

We could also downsize the kitchen freeing up precious space for something else like doing our hatha yoga, storing our crochet yarn, or maybe just accommodating that large screen TV you never knew where to put.  Or, like every other family, it could become extra storage space – you know, we never have enough of that.

And, finally, we wouldn’t need to spend hundreds of dollars on dutch ovens, pots, pans, utensils, china, stoneware, bowls, cups, etc.  All we’d need is a couple of glasses for the liquid we were going to use to wash down those pills and keep us hydrated.  Oh, and a mug or two for our morning coffee.  NO ONE would ever suggest giving that up!

But, while all of this is well and good, let us not forget that we would need to keep a good set of both red wine, white wine, and champagne glasses.   And, maybe some tumblers and short glasses for our whiskies.  After all, NO ONE would think of asking us to give up our libations now would they?  Nah, of course not! 

Me and my bright ideas!  My R is going to be 80-years old this December and I thought it would be a great idea to gift him with a cruise somewhere.  I knew that he always wanted to take one of those barge trips in France, or a river cruise in Europe.  Grateful that I had a destination, I started searching the internet for a cruise sometime this fall. 

Since both R and I are mobility challenged we figured we needed to take my daughter, K, with us to schlep our luggage and be our gofer.  She was all for the idea so now I knew there would be three us, not two.  Great start – I knew where we were going and who was going.

Well, this fall has come and almost gone and I am no closer to booking a cruise than I was when I started this adventure last spring.  The cost of such a cruise in Europe is astronomical.  I figure I could take a trip to the moon and back for what a cruise on the Rhine would cost the three of us.  Even when I looked at the specials and bargain tours the cost was in the high, many thousands of dollars for each of us to be crammed into a tiny stateroom for almost two weeks and to further wreck our already bad backs trekking around on cobblestone streets.

I’ll give you the fact that all of our meals were included and even most of the myriad fees they listed, some of which were so mysterious that even the best psychic would have trouble figuring them out.  However, tours and treks off the boat were all extra.  Drinks on board were extra.  Gratuities were extra.  Breathing was extra. Extras were extra.  Blah, blah, blah.  $$$$$$$$

OK, Europe is out.  At dinner one night someone mentioned the Panama Canal.  Wow, great idea, let’s see about that.  For one thing the prices for the tiny stateroom (with a balcony I insisted upon) were a much more reasonable couple of thousand per person.  Furthermore, K could stay in our stateroom for only a few hundred dollars more which meant we wouldn’t have to pay double for her to have her own cabin.  Maybe we could do this if I robbed my 403(b).  Of course, the extras were still extra, but hey, we were saving money on details such as airfare to Europe and back.

We even had our choice of leaving from New York City, Miami, or Los Angeles.  Well, that’s a no brainer since we live on the mid-Atlantic coast so New York was a great place to depart.  Cruising through the canal and debarking at Los Angeles would be our only airfare.  Not bad since a flight home from LAX was about $500/per person, not thousands.  Problem is that this cruise out of NY only leaves once a year in April.  So what?  We are retired and flexible. Right?

Not so much so what.  R has a bad, ratty bunch of bones in his lower back.  He has just recovered from a major episode of not being able to walk without extreme pain.  Surgeon says he will have to have surgery when all else fails or he falls down and can’t get up.  And that failing may be well, anytime in the future.  The doctor said the surgery timing would be three days in the hospital, seven days in rehab, and 12 to 16 weeks of recovery with maybe Physical Therapy thrown in for good luck.  Not optimum timing for planning a cruise in April when it is already almost November.  Even if he had the surgery tomorrow, April would be “iffy.”

Given our circumstances, if we go for the April 2013 date, trip insurance seems like a good idea, right? But that costs about $600/per person and is non-refundable if we don’t need it.  Well, now the costs are mounting up and my R is not only worried about the timing, but how much the cost of this trip will be.  Groan.

So, bottom line, I give up.  The timing is bad, the cost is rising, the future is uncertain, and quite frankly I’m thinking maybe I’ll just hand him the 112-page color brochure from the cruise line, some pictures of the Panama Canal, and wish him a happy birthday.  I’ll even take him out to dinner at a nice restaurant on the water, have a champagne toast, and we can pretend we are on the ship!  Cheers!

Here is an amazing story, a bit long, but worth the read, from a flight attendant on Delta Flight 15, written following 9-11:

“On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, we were about 5 hours out of Frankfurt, flying over the North Atlantic. All of a sudden the curtains parted and I was told to go to the cockpit, immediately, to see the captain. As soon as I got there I noticed that the crew had that “All Business” look on their faces. The captain handed me a printed message. It was from Delta’s main office in Atlanta and simply read, “All
airways over the Continental United States are closed to commercial air traffic. Land ASAP at the nearest airport. Advise your destination.”

“No one said a word about what this could mean. We knew it was a serious situation and we needed to find terra firma quickly. The captain determined that the nearest airport was 400 miles behind us in Gander, New Foundland.He requested approval for a route change from the Canadian traffic controller and approval was granted immediately–no questions asked. We found out later, of course, why there was no hesitation in approving our request.

“While the flight crew prepared the airplane for landing, another message arrived from Atlanta telling us about some terrorist activity in the New York area. A few minutes later word came in about the
hijackings.

“We decided to LIE to the passengers while we were still in the air. We told them the plane had a simple instrument problem and that we needed to land at the nearest airport in Gander, New Foundland to have it checked out.

“We promised to give more information after landing in Gander. There was much grumbling among the passengers, but that’s nothing new! Forty minutes later, we landed in Gander. Local time at Gander was 12:30 PM! …. that’s 11:00 AM EST.

“There were already about 20 other airplanes on the ground from all over the world that had taken this detour on their way to the U.S. After we parked on the ramp, the captain made the following
announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, you must be wondering if all these airplanes around us have the same instrument problem as we have. The reality is that we are here for another reason.” Then he went on to explain the little bit we knew about the situation in the U.S. There were loud gasps and stares of disbelief. The captain informed passengers that Ground control in Gander told us to stay put.

“The Canadian Government was in charge of our situation and no one was allowed to get off the aircraft. No one on the ground was allowed to come near any of the air crafts. Only airport police would come around periodically, look us over and go on to the next airplane. In the next hour or so more planes landed and Gander ended up with 53 airplanes from all over the world, 27 of which were U.S. commercial jets.

“Meanwhile, bits of news started to come in over the aircraft radio and for the first time we learned that airplanes were flown into the World Trade Center in New York and into the Pentagon in DC. People were trying to use their cell phones, but were unable to connect due to a different cell system in Canada. Some did get through, but were only able to get to the Canadian operator who would tell them that the lines to the U.S. were either blocked or jammed.

“Sometime in the evening the news filtered to us that the World Trade Center buildings had collapsed and that a fourth hijacking had resulted in a crash. By now the passengers were emotionally and physically
exhausted, not to mention frightened, but everyone stayed amazingly calm. We had only to look out the window at the 52 other stranded aircraft to realize that we were not the only ones in this predicament.

“We had been told earlier that they would be allowing people off the planes one plane at a time. At 6 PM, Gander airport told us that our turn to deplane would be 11 am the next morning. Passengers were not
happy, but they simply resigned themselves to this news without much noise and started to prepare themselves to spend the night on the airplane.

“Gander had promised us medical attention, if needed, water, and lavatory servicing. And they were true to their word. Fortunately we had no medical situations to worry about. We did have a young lady who
was 33 weeks into her pregnancy. We took REALLY good care of her. The night passed without incident despite the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

“About 10:30 on the morning of the 12th a convoy of school buses showed up. We got off the plane and were taken to the terminal where we went through Immigration and Customs and then had to register with the Red Cross.

“After that we (the crew) were separated from the passengers and were taken in vans to a small hotel. We had no idea where our passengers were going. We learned from the Red Cross that the town of Gander has a population of 10,400 people and they had about 10,500 passengers to take care of from all the airplanes that were forced into Gander! We were told to just relax at the hotel and we would be contacted when the U.S. airports opened again, but not to expect that call for a while.

“We found out the total scope of the terror back home only after getting to our hotel and turning on the TV, 24 hours after it all started.

“Meanwhile, we had lots of time on our hands and found that the people of Gander were extremely friendly. They started calling us the “plane people.” We enjoyed their hospitality, explored the town of Gander and ended up having a pretty good time.

“Two days later, we got that call and were taken back to the Gander airport. Back on the plane, we were reunited with the passengers and found out what they had been doing for the past two days. What we found out was incredible.

“Gander and all the surrounding communities (within about a 75 Kilometer radius) had closed all high schools, meeting halls, lodges, and any other large gathering places. They converted all these facilities to
mass lodging areas for all the stranded travelers. Some had cots set up, some had mats with sleeping bags and pillows set up.

“ALL the high school students were required to volunteer their time to take care of the “guests.” Our 218 passengers ended up in a town called Lewisporte, about 45 kilometers from Gander where they were put up in a high school. If any women wanted to be in a women-only facility, that was arranged. Families were kept together. All the elderly passengers were taken to private homes.

“Remember that young pregnant lady? She was put up in a private home right across the street from a 24-hour Urgent Care facility. There was a dentist on call and both male and female nurses remained with the crowd for the duration.

“Phone calls and e-mails to the U.S. and around the world were available to everyone once a day. During the day, passengers were offered “Excursion” trips. Some people went on boat cruises of the lakes and
harbors. Some went for hikes in the local forests. Local bakeries stayed open to make fresh bread for the guests. Food was prepared by all the residents and brought to the schools. People were driven to
restaurants of their choice and offered wonderful meals. Everyone was given tokens for local laundry mats to wash their clothes, since luggage was still on the aircraft. In other words, every single need
was met for those stranded travelers.
“Passengers were crying while telling us these stories. Finally, when they were told that U.S. airports had reopened, they were delivered to the airport right on time and without a single passenger missing or
late. The local Red Cross had all the information about the whereabouts of each and every passenger and knew which plane they needed to be on and when all the planes were leaving. They coordinated everything beautifully. It was absolutely incredible.

“When passengers came on board, it was like they had been on a cruise. Everyone knew each other by name. They were swapping stories of their stay, impressing each other with who had the better time. Our flight back to Atlanta looked li ke a chartered party flight. The crew just stayed out of their way. It was mind-boggling. Passengers had totally bonded and were calling each other by their first names, exchanging
phone numbers, addresses, and email addresses.

“And then a very unusual thing happened. One of our passengers approached me and asked if he could make an announcement over the PA system. We never, ever allow that. But this time was different. I said “of course” and handed him the mike. He picked up the PA and reminded everyone about what they had just gone through in the last few days. He reminded them of the hospitality they had received at the hands of total strangers. He continued by saying that he would like to do something in return for the good folks of Lewisporte.

“He said he was going to set up a Trust Fund under the name of DELTA 15 (our flight number). The purpose of the trust fund is to provide college scholarships for the high school students of Lewisporte. He
asked for donations of any amount from his fellow travelers. When the paper with donations got back to us with the amounts, names, phone numbers and addresses, the total was for more than $14,000!

“The gentleman, a MD from Virginia, promised to match the donations and to start the administrative work on the scholarship. He also said that he would forward this proposal to Delta Corporate and ask them to donate as well. As I write this account, the trust fund is at more than $1.5 million and has assisted 134 students in college education.

“I just wanted to share this story because we need good stories right now. It gives me a little bit of hope to know that some people in a far away place were kind to some strangers who literally dropped in on
them. It reminds me how much good there is in the world.”

“In spite of all the rotten things we see going on in today’s world this story confirms that there are still a lot of good and Godly people in the world and when things get bad, they will come forward.
“God Bless America…and the Canadians.”

My daughter, Kristen, has taken up oil painting and my, oh my, does she have talent. Who knew? Not us, and I think that she may have surprised even herself.

She is taking lessons at the Rehoboth Art league in Rehoboth Beach and is sucking in all that she can on the subject.

She haunts the thrift shops for books on oil painting and reads far into the night. At every opportunity she paints and paints and paints.

On our vacation last summer we even took a two day trip up to Acadia National Park in Maine so that she could spend one day painting. The first day we traveled the loop looking for something unique. Most of the places were rather ordinary.

Finally, Kristen asked one of the park rangers if they knew of any pretty places to paint and the ranger directed her to a little known spot called Duck Creek. Here is the picture she painted and we love it.

We are hopeful that she becomes a successful artist who is rich and famous so she can take care of us in our dotage.

I just returned from a trip to Denver and geez-o-man, I have to tell you that airports have certainly changed since my corporate days of flying every week. I guess the change is due to some population explosion, mostly aliens I am sure, or some cultural phenom.

For example, an airport used to be for well, airplanes. Today an airport stretches for miles in every directions and while there are still airplanes, you have to traverse these miles and miles to get from curbside check-in to your gate.

And, during your journey, which may take up to five days, for your shopping convenience airports are now also shopping malls complete with food courts. You can buy anything from newspapers to your favorite perfume or even a cute little doo-dad for your dog at the airport.

What used to be one small food café tucked away in an airport corner, is now front and center a plethora of restaurants from just liquor bars or coffee bars up to exclusive four-star dining experiences.

The Denver airport even has this huge atria full of nothing. Just these very colorful soaring arches. Nice, but they have nothing to do with airplanes or convenience for the frequent or infrequent flyer.

I can remember when each airline had one, I said one, of those “member lounges” where frequent fliers could buy a membership relax in a living room atmosphere waiting for a flight. Now, since there are miles of long treks to gates, there are multiple “lounges” per airline. I guess there was an alien overflow.

Airports have upgraded some conveniences for their customers. You no longer have to walk a half-mile in the opposite direction to find the ladies (or gents) room. Now they have them back to back every quarter of a mile or so. Nice, especially for those of us in the “elder” generation.

The larger airports also have installed moving walkways that move with you as you walk supposedly getting you to your gate faster. They work. And, they work even better if you walk faster.

Being unable to walk from my dining room table to our kitchen without some back pain, I utilize handicap aids at the airport. And boy, let me tell you that is one helluva trip. I remember last year in the Charlotte airport it was a two-wheelchair, two-motorized cart, and one elevator ride for almost three days to get me to my connecting flight. I was exhausted just being wheeled around.

Denver wasn’t much better. That was a two wheel-chair, one motorized cart, and one train ride to get me from arrival gate to baggage claim. I thought that poor man pushing me was taking me back home. Not to mention the fact that each of these “pushers” or “drivers” expected a tip and I was running through five dollar bills like I was manufacturing them in my back yard. The $25 luggage fee was nothing compared to my tips.

Security is much easier when you are in a wheelchair. First, you don’t have to take off your clothes. Second, your “pusher” loads up your little container and puts it on the conveyor. Third, you just get up and walk into the full body scanner, walk out, and voila, there is your wheelchair and all your stuff and off you go again.

That full body scanner is almost like getting into the Star Trek Transporter. The rounded plastic doors close, lights come one, a whirring sound is made as the scanner scans, and then you’re done and the doors open up and whoa, guess what? You’re on the other side of security. Magic.

Ah, yes, airports just ain’t what they used to be. One could literally spend weeks inside one and have all of his or her daily needs met. Maybe it could be a new kind of retirement home for the elderly. They could go in, armed with five dollar bills, get in a wheelchair and be taken anywhere at any time to do most anything. The sleeping accommodations are not so good, but they could join one of those “lounge” clubs and sleep on a couch. I hear that airports also have full medical facilities now for the occasional heart attack or stroke victim so that takes care of their medical needs.

Luckily, my flight left on time, arrived on time, and I wasn’t able to spend much time in those shops, but hey, next time maybe I’ll arrive really early, like a week early, and do a little Christmas shopping and have me a great meal so I won’t have to eat those peanuts on the plane that cost me $4!

I knew that I hadn’t written a blog in a while, but I was shocked to find that my last blog was posted on August 23rd. Has life become so busy and full that I am not taking the time to do one of my most favorite things – write. Or, do I have writer’s block and simply didn’t have anything to say? Well, that wouldn’t be true.

There is so much going on in my world and in your world and The World that one hardly knows where to begin. For example, I could lament about our Ambassador and three others who were recently killed in Libya. The world is still crazy out there with crazies who think storming an Embassy and killing people is an acceptable form of demonstration. And then, and THEN to have to a candidate for POTUS use his air time to comment on this disaster to dis our sitting POTUS and tell lies about his actions is disgusting.

I could tell you how afraid I am that our obstructionist Congress will not extend the Violence Against Women Act. How could they not? Oh, yeah, I forgot, there is a Republican War Against Women out there and that scares the bejeezus out of me too. I am terrified when we have a congressman who actually believes that there is a distinction between rape and legitimate rape, and believes women can prevent a pregnancy when raped. Because if there is one of them there are probably more. I think it is immoral for any governing agency to tell a woman what she can and can’t do with her body. That is her decision alone. Oh, don’t even get me started.

My cleaning lady overhead me talking about Obama the other day and asked if I was going to vote for him? When I said “Yes,” she asked me why when he was doing such terrible things. When I asked her what she meant she told me that Obama plans to raise Medicare Part B premiums from just under $100 to $247 next year. Lies told by the Republican Party like that also terrify me. First, for the lie, but second because people like my cleaning woman believe this stuff and the Republicans are preying on them.

Well, I brought her over to my computer and summoned up the great guru “Snopes” and showed her that it was a lie. Then I pointed out several other lies that the Republican Party has told about the Democrats and how they have one stated goal – to get Obama out of office, no matter how they do it. The interests of the people of the United States be damned. Then I told her how the RP also doesn’t believe that everyone (which includes the LGBT folks) should be treated equally and fairly. She’s voting for Obama.

And that’s only talking about stuff going on in the world and how I feel about it. In my private world, my husband, R, has something in his back causing unbearable pain. He can’t stand alone on his two feet. He can’t walk upright. We have a cane and two walkers (one up, one down) to help me get around. His pain meds aren’t helping. He’s miserable.

Therefore, I am now the sole sustainer for all that makes a household run. R feels pretty shitty about that because he has always been the care-giver/sustainer and he feels guilty because he can’t do his share. Poor guy, I wish he would just wallow in his pain, moan, groan, and wait until we have his testing done and find a way to fix what’s a ailing him so I could just sympathize with him. But no, now I have to deal with his guilt too, which strangely enough makes feel a bit guilty myself. Don’t know why though. Sigh. Sigh again. Maybe I should just agree. Who knows? Our inside joke answer to that question is always, “The Shadow Knows.” (Only those 60 or older will understand that, I’m sure).

Oops, I’ve exceeded my 500 plus or minus words by quite a bit. I’m leaving on a five day trip to Denver in a couple of days, but I’ll try to be more conscientious about blogging. Maybe I’ll have some news from Denver to report. Who Knows? The Shad………….

My sister, Barbara, was born in 1931 in Michigan. She was a Down’s Syndrome child, but back in those days she was called a “Mongoloid” because her face had a slightly oriental look and no one knew what else to call those children. They were considered “retarded” and more often than not institutionalized. Today we know more about these wonderful gentle children and we know that their condition is caused by an extra chromosome. We also know that they can live long useful lives. Not so back then.

Today we know that most of these Down’s babie are a product of an older woman with eggs that are more mature. However, my mother was only 24 when she had Barbara. It was such a trauma to our family to have such a child that it took my mother another eight years before she felt comfortable getting pregnant again and another ten years after that to have my brother. She didn’t have amniocentesis tests back then and would have had no way of knowing if she would have another baby like Barbara. I recall that when I got pregnant with both of my children I worried about having a Down’s baby as well and there was no amniocentesis for me either.

Barbara lived at home for many years until my parents divorced when she was 14 years-old and she was then sent to live in a Roman Catholic home for the mentally challenged in Illinois. The court in its wisdom(?) awarded custody of Barbara to my father and custody of me to my mother. That has always bothered me, but being who Barbara was, it never seemed to faze her that we lived apart or that she lived in a home.

My sister was an embarrassment to our family. Having a mentally challenged child in those days somehow reflected on the mental state of the entire family. I am not sure that my father ever really accepted her as his issue. My mother, when speaking to strangers about her children always said that Barbara was either “away at school” or “a teacher living in another state.” I never heard her ever tell anyone that Barbara was mentally challenged. Later, after the Kennedy’s “came out” about their challenged daughter, Rosemary, my mother eventually brought Barbara to her home for a vacation. Then she would tell everyone about Barbara as if it was now politically correct to have birthed her rather than be a stigma on the family. So sad.

Barbara spent every summer vacation in Michigan with her fabulous Aunt Alice, my mother’s youngest sibling. Why not with our family I often thought? Well, because we lived in California and she lived in Illinois and most of the family still lived in Michigan. And, because she could not travel alone to come see us. And, because my mother didn’t want her friends to know that she had such a child. That’s why. However, every summer, and some Christmases, for sixteen years we traveled to Michigan to spend two-three weeks with Barbara and the family.

Once, I do remember that my mother brought Barbara to our home for the summer in 1961 after we had moved to New York. I had married and moved out of the house and Barbara moved into my old digs. She came and stayed with me for a day and I took her with me to visit one of my friends and her family for lunch. Afterwards the mother of my friend remarked how wonderful it was that I treated my sister like a “normal” person. Wow, did that remark take me aback. Like, really, how else are you supposed to treat people. It had never occurred to me to treat Barbara any differently than I would treat anyone else. And, it wasn’t just because she was my sister. People are weird, I concluded.

I remember very little about my sister because we were never really close. I was six when we were separated and so there was precious little time to develop sibling rivalries, spats, or giggles together. Our visits were always upbeat and very brief since I actually spent more time with my father on our trips to Michigan than with my sister. One thing that really impressed my little toddler brain however, was the fact that Barbara loved to suck on lemons. Eweee…how sour, but she would sit in front of the radio (no TV for us then) and suck on a lemon for hours. Funny how one remembers such strange little details.

I also remember that Barbara always used to talk about the future…”When I get married,” or “When I grow up,” or “When I have a boyfriend.” The doctors said she had the mentality of a four year-old and those were her four year-old dreams. It always made me sad when she would talk like that because I knew it was never going to happen. We always agreed with her however, and never burst her bubble. I remember once how she had an obsession about marrying her dentist someday.

Barbara also liked the swing and our dad built us this great big swing and a teeter-totter in the back yard. We would play for hours on them. He also, by himself, built a picket fence around the property so neither of us would wander. Even so, one day in the winter Barbara walked out of the front door and disappeared. I remember my dad and the neighbors spent the entire day looking for her in the woods next to our house. My mother sat home and cried. They finally found her about a mile away, crying and cold. Poor baby.

In the summer of 1966, Barbara finally moved back home with our mother for good. In 1963 my parents had moved to Monterey, California and mom flew out to Michigan to bring her back to spend the summer there. Like most Down’s children, Barbara had many medical issues. During her visit that summer her heart problems flared up and she was unable to travel back to Michigan. Her heart filled her entire chest cavity and she was in heart failure.

When Barbara was born my parents were told that “mongoloid” children rarely lived past their teen-age years. Barbara defied those odds. She died peacefully on the night of December 3, 1968, at home with her mother where she belonged at the age of 37. I was always grateful that she was in mom’s arms when she died.

I’m not sure exactly why, but I always cry whenever I think of my sister, Barbara. Perhaps I am still mourning the loss of a sisterly relationship I never had. Perhaps I feel that I could have, or should have, done more for her. Who knows? I surely don’t, but I will always remember her with enduring love and fondness.