Summer has arrived... What to do now?
I did a little research and found the ship sailing into Port Oswego the other night was the Pride of Baltimore II. My father was a great lover of ships, I think he would have been fascinated. At one time I think he dreamed of running off to sea, but then again he was also prone to being seasick. Either way he never tired of drawing schooners, whittling them out of wood, or reading stories of the sea. Mom, on the other hand, was and likely still is, afraid of the water. She claims to "swim like a rock." In spite of this, she once saved up enough money to take Dad on a cruise to the Virgin Islands as an anniversary present.
I am not really a Skywatch Friday participant, but found myself taking sky pictures this evening. After dropping Ben off at camp tonight, we stopped by Fort Ontario in Oswego, and were blessed with a unique sight. A tall ship was just returning to port and the sun was dropping low in the sky. After posting about "Tinkerbell" this morning, I couldn't help but think of Captain Hook and Never, Never Land tonight.
Sunset in the comapny of the Oswego lighthouse was magnificent. Although the Fort was closed for the evening, we did enjoy a walk around the perimeter. It was a beautiful night.
Em and Ivy were playing in the living room. Ivy arrived this morning with a rather nice sized container full of dolls. I listened as they played together. "She's Peed-Her-Pants Girl," one of them said. Curious as to what they were playing, I glanced their direction. I do like to make sure they play "nice games," but am careful where to jump in and redirect their play. This time my concern was unwarranted. It was just Tinkerbell, "Peter Pan's Girl."
2. I ordered a windmill cookie mold and a sunflower cookie stamp too. I want to try making some fancy cookies. I'm looking forward to their arrival.
8. We need to find some wonderful places to take a summer hike. The Finger Lakes region is full of great places like Taughannock Falls.
Wednesday's can be a little hectic. Today I added to the activity by agreeing to take Ben to a class in the next town... at lunchtime... with four children in tow. Rather than going all the way home and then running back out less than an hour later, I decided to take the little ones to McDonald's for lunch. Hey, why not? I used to be a pro at managing multitudes of munchkins.
It went rather well. I ordered 3 kid-sized orange Hi-C's and a #10 meal, size large. I split the 10 piece chicken nuggets between the kids (okay, I ate two), we shared the fries, and I got to keep the diet coke for myself. Emma did not think she should eat the chicken (She's a little funny that way..) but I told her it was her lunch and she was going to eat them. There were only three and she ate them without complaint. Lucas did not eat his very well. He liked the drink best, especially because it had a straw.
I returned to retrieve Ben on time but had to sit in the parking lot and wait for him to come out. We waited and waited; 20 minutes worth! Emma thought we should drive off and leave him there. I changed diapers on the front seat of my van. One was stinky and the other just wet. We waited some more. I began to feel terribly uncomfortable and had a hard time sitting still... Diet coke does not stay in the system long and I knew I would never make it home safe and dry, so I hauled everyone out of the vehicle and into the building where Ben was just ready to come out. "Hold these," I said, handed him the babies, and the girls and I headed off to find a restroom.
We have been enjoying stories by Cynthia Rylant. She writes about Little Whistle, a guinea pig who lives in a cage at the back of a toy store. When the shades go down at night, he wakes up and climbs out of his cage for an adventure. There are three Little Whistle books and I was hoping to find the third at the library in Ontario. Mission successful.
Though I know I can leave returned books at any participating library location, I decided to take the Williamson books back to the Williamson Library instead of leaving them in Ontario. The girls enjoy both libraries and were more than happy to visit two in one day. At Williamson a new book caught my eye. Something about the pictures...
Words elude me tonight... I am thankful today for a wedding anniversary to distract me from the ache that otherwise most certainly would have set in. I am thankful for my dear husband and the twenty-nine years we have spent together, there is no question about that, but a first Father's Day without a father cannot help but be a little bit emotional. This year James and I are both without our fathers.
As I brought up the subject, my dad glossed over whatever embarrassment he must have felt at the time. Instead he focused on the reaction of the town clerk. "You're Martha's father?" she asked him.
The school year is winding down and my days of tending flowers will be fewer. I am hoping to play catch up with my housework once again. Perhaps I shall sort though the mountains of papers that have collected on my counter tops. Maybe I will hold a yard sale and rid myself of surplus possessions. It is quite possible that I shall take a trip to the beach or meet a friend for coffee. Maybe I'll even find a good book to read. I think I might even miss those potted plants and look forward to their return.
The plan is to eat strawberry shortcake this evening. (Nathan's is having a birthday.) In order that there are strawberries to be had, the strawberries had to be gotten. We "getted" them this morning. Thanks to a bit of help from Ben and Hannah, I have between eight and ten quarts sitting on my kitchen counter.
A quick run to the local grocery store. Now, I have never used parchment paper. It seemed a wonderful way to bake cookies. No greasing of the baking sheet and easy cleanup. The first sheet worked like a charm. Twenty perfect circles were on the table cooling when the timer went off for the second sheet. I opened the oven, grabbed the edge of the cookie sheet, and started to remove it from the oven...
The slippery paper had slid right off the sheet, turned upside down, and dumped my precious cookies into the bottom of the oven where they were quickly turning to charcoal. My Darling came to the rescue and helped me scoop the blackened remains from the floor of the "cookie furnace."I learned a quick lesson about parchment paper and flat baking sheets.
I enjoy our orchard walks very much. Last night we walked with Nate, but James and I typically walk alone. It is a chance to think and share together, to talk as we walk, build on our relationship, and sort thoughts. It's also a chance for a small amount of much needed exercise.
I took my camera along on an orchard walk with James and Nathan tonight. I missed the fox who was sitting at the end of a row of apple trees, he took off as soon as we turned the corner, but this little guy was going nowhere fast. He actually looked rather lethargic. We gave him a lift over by a small body of water and left him on the bank. I hope he perks up and finds himself a happy place to hunker down for the night.
It is Monday evening, our night at the nursing home. I often find myself tired by evening, almost wishing to stay home. The house would be quiet and empty for a couple of hours. How nice that would be... But, nicer still is to hold a worn hand, to kiss a wrinkled cheek, to hug a lonely soul. I said hello to Lois tonight and watched her face light up at the mention of her name. I try so hard to remember names; Eleanor, Marie, Carol... Those are my new names to remember.
Tonight it was full, two dozen residents and our little group of eight. We were blessed to have Mom come along tonight. John and Mary have been asking about her for quite some time. She got the nicest hug from John who is in his early nineties. I am humbled to know how very much my parents meant to the people they loved and ministered to for so very many years. How will we ever fill their shoes?
We went out to Priscilla and Jamie's house this afternoon and stayed for dinner. Sherman watched in fascination while Priscilla prepared some very yummy Bruschetta; little slices of bread with cheese and tomatoes which she toasted in the oven. I just may have to try this at home some day, just to impress myself.
Yesterday morning the air was full of a mother robin's chirps. She sat on the edge of the barn roof and barked out directions. I'm not sure who she was commanding, I did not see her babies, but she was busy shouting out all the same. I suppose it is quite possible those little ones were out on the barn roof if baby robins can hop up the branches of a lilac bush. Either way, when I looked into the nest, I found it empty. I did not hear any frantic squawking or find any lip-licking cats, so it is quite possible that mother robin was successful with her little brood. I can always hope so.
knew He was in control, I knew He loved me, and I knew I could trust Him to carry me through whatever was coming my way. He has been with me in an incredible way and taken me through changes that without Him might devastate me.
Throughout the fall months and into the beginning of winter we faced another challenge, one of words and rumors. It involved one of our children (and another teen at church), and led us to eventually conclude we needed to find another place of worship. Unfortunately, the issue could not be easily resolved. This is also painful, especially because one's church fellowship becomes very much like family. We spent several evenings there each week and the loss of fellowship left us reeling a bit. Again, God is good. He began to plant us in a new fellowship several months before we were uprooted from the other. Little did we know, but much He did.
Dave stopped by this morning and I asked if Grandma's hearing aide had been found. "Yes," he said, "I found it outside in the driveway." For a moment I feared it had been run over by a car, but he said it was safe. Seems Grandma took the recycling box out yesterday afternoon. She set it by the trash cans so Dave could take it to the street today. Somehow that little device must have been attached to her clothing and fell off when she went outside. Lucas has been exonerated! I am relieved.
Grandma took a little nap at the dining room table today. She removed her hearing aide for comfort's sake and when she woke up found it missing. She is fairly certain a small boy must have picked it up and walked off with it, but his mother is just as certain he did not. In any case, Grandma is missing one of her hearing aides.
I talked to a friend the other day. She asked if I was okay and I laughed. "I'm feeling selfish," I admitted. Her answer surprised me on one hand and didn't on another. "There's nothing wrong with that!" she said. I didn't argue with her, after all we all feel selfish sometimes, it's part of being human, but how I respond to that feeling says much about who I am.
Monday was Memorial Day. I had purchased a small American flag, which I hoped to place on my grandfather's grave in a nearby cemetery. This is not an annual tradition, in fact I don't know if there has ever been a flag placed there. Sadly, I did not find the time to go to the cemetery on Monday, but I did take a little bit of time this afternoon to drive out and look around for my grandpa's grave and military marker. It took a little while, but I finally found the spot and placed the flag.
It has been a busy week of tending "flowers". Lucas and Simon came to play on Wednesday and brought back memories of changing stinky diapers, listening to the baby cry, and having the phone ring all at the same time. The girls, ever demanding, were really very good and I was grateful they are old enough to eat lunch on the back porch by themselves. Hannah had gone to clean a house with Leta and I was on my own.
Our prayers have been answered and my uncle is out of the ICU. Rachel took Mom up to visit today and found him smiling and making jokes. It will still be some time before he is better, but we are all much relieved and grateful to have him back with us again. (James and I had stopped at the ICU on Monday evening while he was still on the ventilator and sedated. He tried so hard to wake up.) I am looking forward to seeing him again soon and giving him a big hug.
2. Choose one of the following options of accepting the Oh My Blog! award:
(b) Write about your most embarrassing moment.
(e) Take a picture of yourself first thing in the morning, before you do anything else (hair, make up, etc) and post it.
I got all excited that I received the coolest award ever and really tried to catch myself in a photo first thing this morning. (See 2e) I chased myself around the house, but by the time I caught up with myself I had already showered and put on my mascara... I'm not sure if this really counts or not.
My Uncle Chuck is doing better. The news this morning was that he was awake, breathing on his own, watching Fox News, and asking for his wife. I felt a smile creep across my face and relief flood my mind. I think he has finally turned a corner, though I know he faces a very long recovery process.
I glanced at the newspaper online yesterday morning before church and came across an article about two brothers who discovered each other in the same MASH unit during the Korean War.
The darker haired brother is the only man, other than my father, who I ever really called "Dad". I haven't seen him for almost thirty years now, but his daughter Ruth and I were best friends in school. I knew he had been to Vietnam but didn't know he had also been in the Korean War. (You can find the article, if you're interested, here.)| George Miles thought that he’d gone crazy. Based on his surroundings, it wasn’t a bad assumption. His company had been under heavy attack from North Korean forces, and his captain had ordered a retreat; the last thing he remembered was diving into a blast crater, then feeling a sudden impact as an artillery round exploded right next to him. Thrown into the air like a rag doll, he blacked out before he hit the ground. When he finally awoke, he tasted powder in his mouth and a few of his teeth were missing. Looking around, he saw dozens of other young men lying in beds all around him. Some were heavily bandaged and others were missing limbs. Inspecting himself, Miles found that all of his body parts seemed to be intact, and slowly, he began putting things together. He was in a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. He was alive. He was still a long way away from his home in Rochester, but he was alive. But just as everything was beginning to make sense again, Miles spotted a man that he hadn’t seen for three years walking through the door of the MASH unit and immediately thought that the blast that knocked his teeth out must have knocked something loose in his brain as well. “I turned and looked and said ‘That’s it. I’ve lost it. That looks like my brother coming through that door,’” said Miles. The Miles brothers George Miles was born in Wayne County in 1932 to Allan and Vera Miles and spent his childhood on a farm in Walworth as one of seven siblings. In his youth, his brother Richard, who is just 14 months younger than him, was one of his chief partners in crime; their crowning moment of mischief came when they stole bicycles and painted them, only to be chased around the house by their broom-wielding mother, who had just been informed by a police officer that her sons were thieves. But when George was 10 years old, his parents divorced, and he, Richard, and their five other siblings were all separated into a handful of area foster homes. “They took us to the welfare office, and we were all crying in the back of the station wagon as our mother and father waved goodbye to us,” said Miles. “It was hard.” George Miles landed in Hillside Children’s Home, and through his teenage years, he lost track of most of his siblings, some of whom were still moving back and forth between foster homes. As soon as he was old enough, he joined the National Guard and then the Army’s honor guards, spending time in Washington following an assassination attempt on President Harry Truman. He then volunteered to assist in the conflict in Korea — since it was only being called a “police action,” he thought it couldn’t be all that bad, he said — and at age 17 Miles was shipped overseas, assigned to a company in the 7th Cavalry Regiment of the 1st Cavalry Division: General George Custer’s old outfit which was famously decimated by Native Americans in 1876 in the Battle of Little Bighorn. “When I got there, I thought ‘Wow, this was a big mistake,’ because man, stuff was going off all over the place,” said Miles. Before he knew it, he was in an infantry unit on the front lines, and his company was pinned down by heavy fire from North Korean forces. Cut off from the rest of the regiment, his captain ordered a retreat, while a nearby company provided covering machine gun fire. As they were pulling out, Miles spotted a soldier wandering around in the open, dazed from a nearby explosion. He grabbed the soldier and started dragging him away from the front lines, when he heard someone yell “Incoming!” He threw the soldier into an artillery crater and dove in after him just before the shell hit. A week passed before he regained consciousness. Custer’s outfit Miles was still getting his bearings in the MASH when his brother Richard walked through the door. Richard was scheduled to receive treatment for combat fatigue when a corpsman remembered that another soldier named Miles, who was also from Rochester, was recovering from battle wounds in a nearby unit. The corpsman sent Richard down to George, and the brothers recognized each other immediately. When Richard reached the foot of the bed, they both started to cry. “We didn’t even know each other was in the service,” said Miles. His amazement grew when Richard told him about the company he’d been fighting with: a machine gun unit in the 7th Cavalry Regiment of the 1st Cavalry Division. “I looked at him and said ‘General Custer’s outfit? What company?’ He says ‘Dog Company.’ I said ‘Oh my god, you were giving us supporting fire and you never even knew I was out there,’” said Miles. The brothers spent another week catching up in the hospital, and when they got out, they were determined to transfer to a company where they could serve alongside one another. Their higher-ups were wary of assigning family members to the same unit — an attack on the unit could mean sending two telegrams to the same address — but the brothers were insistent, and they were both placed in a mortar company that would provide support to the infantry. The day after he was reassigned, mayhem broke loose on the front lines in a region later known as Bloody Ridge. The Miles brothers, safely positioned behind a hill that was overlooking the battle, fired mortar shell after mortar shell over the hill and into the fray, relying only on their forward observer to direct their shots. Their mortar tube got so hot that they had to stop firing and wait for it to cool down. “I said to Dick, ‘What in the hell is going on up there?’” said Miles. Then, Miles spotted a wounded soldier being helped over the hill by a medic. He realized that the man was a member of his old infantry company and ran over to greet him. “I said ‘Where’s the captain? Where’s the first sergeant?’” said Miles. “And he says ‘Take a good look. I’m the only one left.’” With the enemy having overrun the front line, forcing infantry members to fight hand-to-hand, a commander had made the decision to wipe out the entire area. Miles had been unknowingly firing mortars down on the company he’d left just one day earlier. He started weeping right there on the battlefield, and when he got back to his post, he told his brother: “I’m never going to forget this.” ‘A miracle’ The Miles brothers fought together in Korea for the remainder of their service and came home in 1952. Now 78 years old, Miles lives in Ontario, Wayne County, and still visits his 76-year old brother, who is a patient at the Jewish Home of Rochester in Brighton. A stroke has made speech difficult for Richard Miles, but tears still well up in his eyes when he talks about being in Korea with his brother, and to this day, friends, family and fellow veterans can’t help but be amazed by their story. Fred Bacher, a Korean War veteran who attends church with George Miles, said that it’s the most outstanding private war story he’s ever heard. “It kind of reminds me of the search for Private Ryan,” said Bacher, 80, of Webster, in reference to the 1998 Oscar-winning film. “But George wasn’t searching. It just came about; it was happenstance.” If the Miles brothers hadn’t met in the MASH, George Miles wouldn’t have been transferred off the front lines and would likely have suffered the same fate as his old company, a fact that hasn’t gone unnoticed on his son. “It’s really a miracle that that happened,” said George Miles Jr., 54, of Parma. “I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for that situation.” His experiences have played no small role in his family members’ lives, either; George Miles Jr. was a U.S. Marine, and Miles’s grandson Matthew serves in the Army. Earlier this month, Miles held a military gathering at Living Word Assembly of God Church in Ontario as a tribute to his fallen company. During the service, which he’s hosted for the past 30 years, he spoke to the congregation and was joined by members of each branch of the military. He asked those in the audience who have served to stand up and identify themselves, and led the congregation in giving them a round of applause. And if asked in private, he’ll tell his story of miracle and tragedy. Some veterans are reluctant to discuss their service, but Miles said that he made peace with his experiences long ago. “I don’t know how many years I can keep doing it,” said Miles, “but I’ll do it every year for as long as I can.” |
Bethany sent me this verse the other day. When my own dad was sick I prayed for grace, with my uncle I have prayed for mercy. It has been a rough week. First was the diagnosis of pneumonia, which was thought to have been caught early but quickly became life threatening. ICU and sedation have been the words of the week. As the pneumonia itself was brought under control a new complication arose, bleeding lungs. Every day we have hoped and prayed for good news. Today Uncle Chuck is in a Rochester hospital, his lungs are not bleeding quite as much, and when they begin to wean him off the sedating medications, he tries to get up. Aunt Mary knew this would happen. He obviously has things to do but is still very sick and so he remains medicated. They say you can't keep a good man down.
The swing set arrived yesterday. James pulled the box open last night and today we decided to make use of the slide. It was a nice day and the girls were excited. We propped the slide on the picnic table and the girls thought it was great. Lucas was here and he found it fun too. Soon they will have not only a slide but swings too. How much fun is that?
This photo made me smile last night. I didn't recall having taken it, but I'm glad I did. We are all praying continually, hoping for good news, and looking forward to our 4th of July picnic in the park. It's going to be a big one this year.
Kylie informed me she did not like sandwiches. I ate hers... No, she did not like applesauce either... I looked back in the little brown bag I had packed. Did she want a granola bar? It was chewy with chocolate chips... Yes, she liked that. How about some Sunkist Fruit Snacks? She tried them and decided they were not to her liking. I was running out of options, but did have a package of Rainbow Goldfish Crackers. All little people like goldfish crackers, don't they?
Children were running around, parents were chatting, and I was pouring more apple juice into cups for Bella and Em. Kylie said something about cat food, but I didn't totally hear what it was. Pretty soon she was handing me the little napkin with the goldfish on it. "It's cat food," she said. I assured her it was not cat food, but she wasn't convinced. "It tastes like cat food," she said... What do you want to bet her cat eats Friskies Seafood Sensations?
In September of 2007, we had a birthday/going away party for our son, Jim. He was moving away to Minnesota. We had, at that time, a little dog named Ellie, a very friendly little shih tzu. Uncle Chuck found a friend in her. "I'll give you fifty dollars for this dog," he said. We smiled and said she wasn't for sale. Pretty soon he looked at me and said, "I'll give you forty-five dollars for this dog."
Cottonwood fuzz is flying through the air and collecting up in the grass up near the grocery store in town. I am thankful to have no cottonwood trees very close to my house. Though it looks cool floating on the breeze, it causes me grief and I roll up my windows when I see it coming.
My morning started out with doing laundry and keeping track of small children. It was a gorgeous day to be outside. We spent the morning in the yard and even ate our lunch on the back porch. That was when I got the phone call...
