Thanksgiving Day is just around the corner, but every day is a thanks-giving day for me. I won't attempt to list all my "thankfuls", but here are the five top ones:
Loving parents who provided a good example and who believed in both moral codes and discipline.
A kind, affectionate and industrious husband, whose wise planning provided me with the comforts I now enjoy.
The privilege of having been able to be a "mother" to my niece, Pat, during her pre-teen and teen years.
The miracle of a pregnancy after 17 barren years, and the daughter, who, were I given a magic wand, I wouldn't changed in any way.
The warmth of my church family.

I have to accept the fact that I may be slipping mentally. I had totally overlooked a warning on feline Fraulein's insulin, and had failed to pass the information on to Fraulein, who can't read without her glasses (or with). There it was, placed by the pharmacist, so I shouldn't have missed it, "DO NOT DRINK alcoholic beverages when taking this medication." I will be more vigilant in the future…at least I hope I will.

I have mentioned before that my father was a raconteur (not to be confused with a racketeer). He wrote a newspaper column over the years. I recently came across a box of those old clippings. Eureka! I don't have to worry when there's no current news. He has come to the rescue...no small feat when you consider he would be 138 years old had he not made his transition 59 years ago. Thanks, Dad!

"A Sagebrush Prayer", by Upton E. Partridge
    "The incident I am about to relate happened in Carson City in 1904 or 1905. Nevada, unlike many states, did not employ regular chaplains in its state institutions, but had the local pastors take turns in officiating. Thus, in the Legislature, the Methodist and Presbyterian pastors would officiate one week -- one in the Senate and the other in the Assembly. Then, the next week the Catholic priest and Episcopal rector would have the positions. The following week it would again be the Methodist and Presbyterian pastors, only they would change houses, so that each man served in the same house only one week in four.
    "These Nevada lawmakers did not care a great deal about prayers, but like a great many other similar institutions, they must have prayer as a matter of good form and so every morning their session was opened with a petition to Divine Providence for guidance in their deliberations. But while this petition was being uttered by the chaplain, the legislators leaned back in their seats, placed their feet on the desk tops and proceeded to read the morning paper.
    "About that time, the Methodist church sent a new pastor named Thomas McGrath, and you will probably guess from the name, he was an Irishman. McGrath soon discovered their disregard for his prayers and so the next morning he waited until all feet were in place in the desktops and all newspapers open. Then he prayed as follows:
'Oh, Lord, turn these men right end up. Put as much brains in their heads as they seem to have in their feet. Help them to make some laws that will provide for the irrigation of our vast deserts with pure water as thoroughly as they now irrigate their throats with bad whiskey. Amen!' Needless to say, at least part of his prayer was answered before he was finished. Every man was right end up and at attention."

Robert had been back to Montana for a week's visit and he brought me a book entitled, "Speaking ILL of The Dead -- Jerks in Montana History." Among the "jerks", a chapter covers Ku Klux Klan activity in Montana in the 20's. The authors say the Klan was partial to the Methodist church, to the Masonic Lodge and to Republicans. That shed light on an event from my past which I'd mentioned in 2nd Wind several years ago. When we lived in Ely, NV (1921-1926), my dad, a minister, instigated building a church in neighboring McGill. He actually did a large part of the carpenter work himself. Raising funds was also involved. One Sunday night, he was holding services in the new, but incomplete, church. Just at the end of the sermon, the back door opened and in came a column, two by two, of white-robed, hooded figures. They silently marched down the aisle as the congregation collectively gasped. I can imagine what my dad was feeling. I know, as a little girl, I was impressed! One figure stepped forward to hand Dad a leather pouch. Then they turned and marched silently out. Yes, it was the Klan. The purse (which I still have) contained 50 silver dollars...a big sum then. My dad (with no Klan affiliation) was a Methodist, a Mason and a Republican.

Diana lives in a complex that has a housekeeper. The lady carries a pair of fat foam rubber knee pads to wear when the scrubbing requires more elbow grease than a mop. One day, carrying her knee pads in one hand, she met one of the little old ladies, who glanced down at the foam rubber pads with a puzzled look, then back at the housekeeper's modest bosom, and asked, seriously, "Do you really think they'll fit in that bra?"

Thelma spent quite a few years as a nurses' aide and often shares a memory from those days. One patient was in a Stryker frame, the device used to enable a patient to be turned without bending his body. It is necessary to turn the patient to lessen the possibility of either bedsores or pneumonia. He is sandwiched between two frames and then rotated from his back to being suspended upside down, a scary procedure until the patient learns, from experience, that he is secure. One, somewhat dipsy, nurse properly secured the patient, but overlooked a small detail before flipping him over. He was parked on a well-used bedpan. Envision the mess!!!

Hang on to that picture while I remind you that some day you will be faced with the fact old plumbing, whether household or human, leaks. (Maybe "faced" wasn't the best way to word that.) So far, I've escaped the indignity of wearing Depends for social occasions. During times of medical crises, though, I have made their acquaintance. And, at some future time, you may note a rustle in my bustle. What seemed unthinkable at middle age, is no big deal now. In fact, I see Depends as a blessing. Many years before this "disposable" age, I had the 24 hour bed care of my incontinent mother-in-law. The laundry load was formidable, but I did have a washer and dryer. When I was eight, one of my Civil War veteran uncles, Almond, and his wife, Mamie, came to visit. Aunt Mamie had no control of her personal garbage disposal. How did she manage on the train trip from L.A. to eastern Nevada? There wasn't even plastic in which to wrap an offensive object. My mother must have had a washer at that time, but I can't remember one or where it would have been had we had one. For sure, she had no dryer, except the desert wind. I don't remember there being any need of an airwick around Aunt Mamie, and I salute her for carrying on with her life in spite of a daunting problem. Uncle Al was one of my "Kissin'" uncles, but I learned good dodging techniques.

This month's "re-run" appropriately follows last month's tale of Pat and Irv's first birthing experience: "Pat and Irv belonged to a couple's club. One evening, the conversation turned to offspring. Pat was asked how things were going with her new son, David. She replied that because he ate so slowly she was missing a lot of sleep. The young husband of the newest couple was obviously shy, but his pride (and expertise) as a recent father overcame that as he eagerly volunteered, 'We had the same problem until we learned to take a red hot needle and make the holes in the nipple larger. We wrecked more nipples that way.' His advice was given solemn consideration, but we've often wondered if his wife told him later what everyone else present already knew. All of Pat's babies were breast fed."

I have realized why old people tend to be forgetful. Our brains are on overload because our bodies no longer run on automatic. We're back to stick shift. If you can go down a flight of stairs without thinking about it, you're still young. If you can go up that flight of stairs without puffing, you'll be young longer.

I'll end with a quote from Jay Leno: "With hurricanes, tornados, floods and severe storms tearing up the country from one end to the other, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance."

            Love,    Darlys

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    Pedro was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn't find a parking place. Looking up toward heaven, he said "Lord, take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of my life and give up tequila." Miraculously, a parking place appeared. Pedro looked up again and said "Never mind. I found one."

    From Texas, where drinking is a sport, comes this true story: Recently, a routine police patrol parked outside a local neighborhood bar. Late in the evening, the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes with the officer quietly observing. After what seemed an eternity and trying his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his own car, which he fell into. He was there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off.
    Finally, he started the car, switched the wipers on and off (it was a dry night), flicked the hazard flasher on and off, tooted the horn, and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little, and then remained stationary for a few more minutes as more patrons left in their vehicles. At last he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive slowly down the street. The police officer, having patiently waited all this time, now started up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over and carried out a Breathalyzer test. To his amazement, the Breathalyzer indicated no evidence of the man having consumed alcohol at all! Dumbfounded, the officer said, "I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the police station. This Breathalyzer equipment must be broken." "I doubt it," said the man, "Tonight, I'm the designated decoy."

    Having just moved into his new office, a pompous, new colonel was sitting at his desk when an airman knocked on the door. Conscious of his new position, the colonel quickly picked up the phone, told the airman to enter, then said into the phone, "Yes, General, I'll be seeing him this afternoon and I'll pass along your message. In the meantime, thank you for your good wishes, sir." Feeling as though he had sufficiently impressed the young enlisted man, he asked, "What do you want?" "Nothing important, sir," the airman replied, "I'm just here to hook up your telephone."

2005 2nd Wind Issue Index