Power Wash at Dawn

You never know what you’re going to get in a motel, especially when you are traveling with friends and snag the last two rooms in a five-story inn. To hear Al tell it, we got the room with a king sized bed. He and Karen were to get two huge beds, a sauna, maybe a swimming pool, and all the amenities you could think of. I was tired, having gotten up at 3 a.m., and all I cared about was being able to sleep where no one could hear me snore. The sleeping was fine, but oh! the shower! It was built for a basketball player. I first stretched to see if the shower head could be aimed at my feet rather than over my head. Nothing moved. Bracing myself, I turned on the water. It hit me in the throat, and it was set for that deadly pulsing akin to machine gun fire. Off went the water. Even if I could have wrestled with it at eye level, I couldn’t have changed the setting. It was stuck tight. Obviously, since you are reading this, I survived. I looked like a drowned rat and felt like a limp dishrag, but I was wildly awake and saw the sun come up in a blaze of glory.

Yesterday we were up and on the road before night got a good start. Grandson David had planned to get up to have breakfast with us at 8. When it was announced that the college choir was having a retreat beginning at 8, we shifted the time to 6 to see him. We got up at 3 to drive from Pennsylvania to New York. David beat us. He was afraid he wouldn’t get up, so he stayed up all night. We needed all our wits to forage for food, nothing being open at 6, not even the diner! Three towns later we found a MacDonald’s where the workers were asleep on their feet. Fast food was anything but. However, we had a delightful visit and got him back to campus in time for his second breakfast at the retreat.

The rest of our day will seem boring to you, but we saw a handful of our dearest peeps in Stony Brook. John took a nap at the harbor while I walked in the village. As I was coming back, Dave drove by and shouted a greeting. I wouldn’t have recognized me from a car, but he did. He pulled up in the shade of a tree, and we had a great chat before he had to leave. We spent the next few hours having lunch and talking. What a treat! If you have time to look at the pictures, you’ll see a wealth of happy smiles.

Thom, Barbara, Kate, John, David, and Ruth — Thom, Barbara, Kate, John, Nathaniel, and Ruth

091915 Legends Ruth Thom K N JC AM BA — Ruth, Thom, Kate, Nathaniel, John, Anne, Barbara in Stony Brook

091915 Driveway goodbyes — Kate, Nathaniel, John, Barbara, Ruth, and Thom doing a long driveway goodbye

Get Lost!

I thought John and I had agreed we were going to town to run a few errands. I changed shoes and went from one end of the house to another looking for him. Sometimes he sits in the car waiting for me, but he wasn’t there, either. Going through the house again, I saw him coming up the front steps. He had been telling the workmen we were leaving.

On the way we dropped off the Jeep to get two new tires. I saw the vehicle pull into Sorrell’s, so I parked a few feet away and walked back. John was nowhere to be seen. I stood by Snot (our car, a Sonata) so that he could see me easily, and he reappeared in a few minutes. In the supermarket I lost him again as he zoomed around with the cart.

Once we were safely in the car together, I said, “I won’t ever have to tell you to get lost! You do it all on your own!”

Funeral for a Patriot

The American flag had high visibility at Uncle Howard’s funeral in Memphis. The day began for us as we drove by the public school where he was involved with the students and teachers. For years he timed his daily walk to coincide with the arrival of the walkers whom he greeted by name. He gave his eyewitness account of the bombing of Pearl Harbor over 300 times to school groups in the area.

The first thing I noticed as we approached the church was the array flags. You could have covered a battleship with them! Not only were flags at the front, but they also lined the side walkway. At the back, where most people entered, the flags had human attachments! Patriot Guard Riders stood there holding large flags from noon until 3:00. These bikers escorted us to the Memorial Gardens and again stood holding flags as the coffin was carried in for the ceremony.

I took a photo of the inside of the church before the crowd came. Almost every picture has a companion thought of “I wish I had taken…” The sanctuary was almost half full, but because I was treated as family, I couldn’t get that shot. A hint to the number of people expected was their having two or three guest books for attendees to sign. Howard was dressed in his uniform, as requested, and the casket was closed before the service began.

Although Howard was not blood kin of Freddy’s three children, he was their paternal grandfather in every other sense of the word. These young people are interesting, poised, and articulate. I wish you could have seen how they mingled with guests, talking with them easily, making introductions, and helping the infirm, of whom there were many. If our country were made up of young people like these, we old geezers would have no worries about the future of the US.

We didn’t expect to see anyone we knew, but our classmate Jan came through the door. There ensued a mini college reunion. Jan had played her violin for our wedding 51 years ago, but more to the point, she had visited Howard every couple of weeks for the last few years. Howard made a point of knowing every Snowdon person who passed the corner of the school, and Jan was the guidance counselor there. Somehow Howard made the connection that we knew Jan, and he invited her to meet us in his apartment in 2004.

091415 (15) John Jan Lowi Horne — John and Jan

Inanimate (in-anne-imate) objects speak to me, how I don’t know. There were roses lined up on a table in the church entrance, and they wanted me to take their picture. In due course, the roses rode the lapels of the pallbearers and were left atop the coffin. They marked Howard’s journey from the church where he spent half his life to his final resting place.

Celebrating Ron

We had a neighborhood carpool for Ron’s memorial service, going together with Shawn, Bob, and Logan. If there were themes for funeral gatherings, this would have had several. Neighborhood groups would be one. During the fellowship meal we met Mary and Tom again and were introduced to others who had lived on the street with Amy and Ron in Clemmons, NC. To hear them tell it, their lives looked like a TV situation comedy with lively children flowing in and out of all the homes. They had impromptu meals and cookouts, sharing the joys and struggles of daily living. They’ve scattered now, but the bonds are as strong as ever.

The family theme was uppermost. Half the church was roped off for family members! The service began with Ron’s grandson Paul carrying the wood cremation urn to the front. I wanted a photo of Ron there among us, but it seemed disrespectful. Ron was enough of a renegade that he might have winked his approval. The family members filed in together, fully filling those reserved pews. I recognized almost half of them and saw family resemblance in many of the others. Granddaughter Amy Elizabeth sang from the pulpit without any accompaniment. She was amazing. What poise she had! Everyone was proud of her, with good reason. Amy and Ron’s son Rob gave the eulogy. It was an emotional time, but Rob knew everyone there was fully supporting him.

The third theme was the outpouring of love from the members of the church. The musicians sang and played the music Amy picked out. Pianist and organist sang a duet. They had guitars, a violin, and bass playing enthusiastically. Everyone was invited to the fellowship hall to greet the family and eat a meal together. What a feast! Church groups are noted for good food, and this church was in the South where home cooking is an art.

I would have loved to watch the slide show on the monitor. Someone put together many photos of family events that showed Ron in the middle of family activities. Ron’s urn was there, so we captured him respectfully.

The Jeep gave us an excuse to chat with granddaughter Anna. A tire was visibly soft when we were ready to leave. Anna talked with us while the compressor chugged away. We were late picking Dennis up from work, but he was waiting patiently.

As I was writing this, the voices of the family came floating up the hill from Amy’s house to ours. The public service was over, and the family love flowed on.

Spotting an UMP

I spotted an UMP, an Upwardly Mobile Plant, while walking. I have to admit I don’t know the difference between weeds and wildflowers. Maybe it just depends on where they are. Not more than five minutes from the house were some tall plants in a rock garden, the rock garden being a bunch of large stones scattered above the ditch. One substantial weed/wildflower had attained its height over the past few weeks. I was amused that lavender morning glories had climbed the weed and were making more of a visual splash than the small white blooms. I’m not sure of the interpretation. Was one plant taking advantage of another, a victim in today’s parlance? Or was this a joint venture to present a living bouquet to roadside viewers? In any case, I have enjoyed the show.

Salute to Uncle Howard

John’s Uncle Howard, 97, died in his sleep last night. As recently as two weeks ago he recognized John’s cousin Harold on the telephone, so he was quite sharp almost to the end.

We met Howard when he married Aunt Kay, both in their mid-60’s at the time. The first thing we noticed was that he loved Kay deeply. They had many years to enjoy each other and travel before she had a stroke, and he took care of her until her death. Howard had no children of his own, but he was a much loved grandfather to Kay’s grandchildren.

He was a man of faith and a man of high principles. Within an hour of meeting him, you’d know that he was dedicated to serving others in his church and that he was a Navy man, through and through. He was a Pearl Harbor survivor, one of the last living ones in Memphis. He was always available to talk about Pearl Harbor to groups, especially school children. He became a pilot in the Navy and a stock broker after retirement.

My children remember Howard as a fun person who insisted on being addressed as sir. He came from Indiana, but the sir came from Navy discipline and years of living in Memphis. You didn’t give him a naked yes or no. It was yes, sir and no, sir. Adhering to standards made the children respect him without lessening their enjoyment of him.

We saw Howard one month ago and suspected we were saying goodbye for the last time. He had a hard time placing us, but he said all the socially correct things. He was caring and disciplined to the end.

I was chatting with college friend Bonnie a few minutes ago and mentioned that John’s uncle had died.

“Was that Howard?” she asked. “I’ve heard about him for years.”

That’s when I knew I should let everyone know that their e-mail acquaintance had gone to his eternal home.

A Jolting Realization

After a friend read about our keeping the two boys across the street one evening, he asked, “Where were you when my kids were little?”

I thought, “We weren’t fun then. Now we have a closet full of Nerf guns, thanks to grandsons David and Nate. The LGB (not to be confused with LGBT) trains stay on the porch, and we keep a supply of balloons to play with. There are two radio controlled cars, one of which is mine. A bowl of nuts and one of M&M’s stay on the counter, something I would never have done when our children were young. There is also an unlimited supply of soda, and the boys know where to get it. Thankfully no one has abused that. The fellows here don’t know that we also have millions of Lego pieces in a box.”

I just realized what all this means. Did you think of it before I did? This is the documentation that we have officially entered our second childhood! Do you want to come over and play?

Menu for Growing Boys

The neighbors across the street were going to a wedding, but the baby sitter they had lined up for Logan changed her mind. We were happy to have the lively 5-year-old and offered to pick up teen Dennis from work. What could I find to feed us on short notice? Our menu was candy, pie, and cake. Read on; it’s not quite as bad as it sounds.

Logan almost immediately said he was hungry. Trying to act responsibly, I asked him to wait until dinner. The boy tried again with John as soon as he came in with Dennis. The pseudo grandpa walked straight to the M&M bowl we leave on the counter.

“So that’s where you keep it!” Logan exclaimed. Perhaps Dennis had mentioned candy at home. Old man and little boy counted out ten M&M’s.

I was rolling out pastry on the counter. If you had a bit of meat from the end of a spiral cut ham, some eggs, cheese, and onions, what would come to your mind? All I could think of was quiche, so a pie with meat in it was our entrée. Was that too fancy for boys? Not if you saw how they ate it.

The green peas were duly counted out – 20 down Logan’s hatch earned him a little chocolate cake. Wonder of wonders, he didn’t finish the cake because he wanted to have a Nerf gun war with Dennis!

After a brief shoot-‘em-up, we settled in front of the TV to watch “Frozen”, one of the videos Dennis brought over. If the fellows were bored, they didn’t show it. Although I didn’t choose it, I was happy to see a film that had been popular. Better late than never.

We made our own video clip showing one bit of fun from the evening.

Neighborhood Watch

Our neighborhood watch had nothing to do with crime. We were standing by for death. Beloved neighbor Ron had a running battle with COPD, one he knew he was not going to win. His wife Amy let us know from time to time when he had a setback. Each time he bounced back, but never as high as he had been before. We were used to seeing him on the porch, tethered by a tube to a concentrator to help him breathe. It was a pleasure to stop by and chat with him. He had a wonderful sense of humor and was a great storyteller in the old Southern tradition.

112814 AM Amy JC Ron by EM — Anne, Amy, John, and Ron

We hadn’t seen Ron on the porch for over a week. When John spotted a red emergency truck leaving, he called Amy. She explained that Ron was slipping into a coma, and the end was near. The closest three households were in contact, keeping each other up to date. We were all praying for Ron and his whole family.

Two days later Amy sent a text, “He has gone home.”

I couldn’t speak, but I showed John the screen. Ron was at peace, no longer struggling for every breath of air. He died at home, exactly where he wanted to be at the end, surrounded by his family. Amy texted, “It was so beautiful and peaceful. We were singing and praying with all of us at his side.”

Highest accolades go to Amy. She didn’t complain about caring for Ron. When we moved here a year ago, she was free to come and go. Gradually her errands were shorter, and she no longer went to church. She was tethered, not by a tube, but by love. Ron urged her to go out, knowing outside contact was good for her. Several times she did and was recalled quickly when Ron had an emergency. Amy fulfilled her marriage vows beautifully on a daily basis. She lives her faith, and I stand in awe of her.

Is there a funny side to death? No, but there are amusing things that happen. John saw the comings and goings in the street as he sat at his computer. I refrained from looking too often, because that smacked of peering around the curtains. I didn’t want a self-label of nosy neighbor. A car from the funeral parlor parked in the drive. At that time, John asked about our dinner plans.

I said, “If you were a subtle person, I’d think you were trying to get me away from the front window.”

He looked at me quizzically. I said, “Because you know I’d be itching to take a picture. I usually take photos of big events.”

I wouldn’t blame him if he rolled his eyes. For the record, I took no pictures. It brought back a telephone conversation I had with the executor of my dad’s estate. Margaret said, “Garner picked up your dad from the hospital.”

I thought, how nice of him to pick Dad up and take him home. Of course I was dead wrong. I suddenly realized Garner was the name of the funeral home. Duh!!! Dad was no longer alive, and he was not going back to his home. Talk about the speed of stupid! It’s slower than you think.

As John and I ate on the back porch, I saw the big black vehicle drive up the street.

My heart said, “Goodbye, Ron. I loved knowing you, and I will miss you. I’ll be here if Amy needs me. See you soon.”

Surprises in the Neighborhood

I responded to the call of the creek, as I usually do, and almost couldn’t get there. The parking lot of the fire station was a mess as it was being prepared for paving. It seems odd that they would work one day before the Labor Day weekend and just walk away from the job. They must be confident that nothing will move in their absence.

The creek was low but flowing freely and sounding bass notes. Not so the tiny streams near our house! I couldn’t even see, much less hear, anything from the first one. Coming back when there was more light, I saw a trickle that made no sound. The larger of the two was only marginally better. Where would one protest this lackluster performance?

We came back from running errands and were surprised to see a new structure near the corner of our entrance road. Whipping my head around, I saw those neighbors sitting on the new porch only a few feet from the front porch of their house. John O told me they hired a crew from Tennessee to erect it. We saw none of the action, so it was like magic to find a new building appear while we were shopping at the supermarket. It is a two story shed! We had seen something like it at Lowe’s and thought it could be made into a tiny house. Do you suppose they might use it as a guest cottage? We’ll have to wait and see.

Neighbor Ron is not doing well. We were surprised when the doorbell rang and hoped it wasn’t anything to do with him. It wasn’t. A delivery man handed over a gorgeous vase of picture perfect roses. Stunning! We’ve had many surprises, and the day is only half gone.