Easter is not the same this year, so what?

There was no donning an Easter bonnet today as it has drizzled one of those April rains, showers for May flowers...nevertheless,  happy Easter day and joyous season to all blog friends and followers; today we greet the day "He is Risen!"  I have been more absent than I like  from this blog as busyness consumes my time while I continue with double chore duties, some full time nursing duties and itch to get outside to begin the annual challenge to arthritis in my hands.  After a  very long winter abundant  pruning, raking. cleaning  of the lawns, flowerbeds as well as a sleepy rose garden will begin to whimper for attention. 

 Jerry's back surgery  Wednesday (April 16)  was a splendid success; the surgery which began at 12:25 PM  took less than an hour, by 3:00PM he was up walking so we were confident that we would be back home by  4:00PM.  Ah ha not so fast there,  when he was unable to "pee", the surgeon had warned about this, a common complication for men of older years, during surgery the bladder catheter caused his prostrate to protest angrily, to swell and prevent urination necessitating reinsertion of a tube catheter and bag which threw a wrinkle into the smooth mix, delayed our departure for home and is a minor annoyance until Tuesday when it will be removed.  His miraculous back surgery to  push the spinal jell back between the discs was a cake walk, he has a  one inch incision which was glued back together so no stitches, staples, and so far so very good.  Minor swelling and very slight bruising where the  muscle  was  prodded to push back the gel.  Just as we heard, Dr Watts, the newest Mayo neurosurgeon is a rock star and well deserving all his acclamation.  A genuine pro.   We are thankful.  Nevertheless some restriction of activities as all is not normal, not yet, but it will be soon.  Thus I am  busy attending to everything and the patient.  Although I disdain people who use Facebook as a blog and write their experiences ad nauseum, I admit to using it heavily, especially because it is so easy to post directly from my smartphone or tablet and update all at a moment. Certainly I do not post the length I do here (unlike those annoying ones) but Facebook is a  good way to get the word out toot sweet to many simultaneously.  

Shrine Fountain courtyard

I have previously mentioned that I am likely to return to Catholicism and have had a few recent experiences validating that choice.  On April 10 I joined some local Catholic women friends on a Lenten pilgrimage to the La Crosse Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  It was a beautiful day and after we climbed the mile hill to the shrine, sopping all along the way first at the Votive Chapel and all the saint statuary, attended mass, then walked back down to eat lunch at the cafeteria.  More information  about this local shrine, is online at this link    http://www.guadalupeshrine.org/   Once again I felt that deep sense of peace, blessing  and reassurance that  I only find at the Catholic churches and masses.  When this happens I recall my grandmother's admonition to me when as a child at mass in Latin or Polish neither of which I could understand I would fidget, "Patty be still and let the beauty be in your soul."  What made no sense then is perfectly clear to me now. Here are but a few photos.  

Shrine  Unborn memorial

Votive chapel at the shrine, first stop on the hill

I felt that same sense last night when I attended the Easter vigil mass at the local Catholic church last evening.  Father Havel's homily seemed destined for my ears as he wove a tale of his deer hunting experience into the Easter mystery and concluded many things happen in our lives that we cannot understand.  Try as we might our human reasoning fails us. But Easter reassures us all in God's good time, all will be revealed.  

We are doing Easter very differently this year, I purchased the ready to warm and serve meal from our local Festival grocery and am now happy I did so, pleased to have all the trimmings ready without extensive effort on my part.  This is a new experience for us; Before I would disdain this thinking "ICan  can fix that easily" today I am glad to have it available.  For only $29.99 we have 1.5 pounds of sliced,home cooked old fashion bone-in  ham with sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, wheat rolls and fruit salad.  There is more than enough for us and I picked up a fresh bakery apple pie onto which I drizzled caramel for desert, although Jerry sampled it last night, as he said, "to be sure it's OK for Easter."  Yes less fuss.  Long ago gone are the Easter days in California when we hosted huge events.  We are downsized and with good fortune soon will be on the move again.  

Meantime Peter Cottontail guards remaining Easter goodies array here.  Yesterday there were Jelly bellies and pastel creams with assorted candy corn, all too accessible walking by..Happy Easter again.

Springtime and hopscotch trivia

Just a week ago some white patches now all gone

Alleluia, spring has arrived,  although our ground remains  hard. impenetrable while wet where thawing begins despite some  nights taking it back to freezing temperatures.  Our long winter of discontent  has vanished taking with it our complaints and the last patches of snirt, those dirty icy blots.  The warmth of the sunshine even accompanied by cool or cold air beckons us outdoors.  Nothing like  fresh air, blue skies and  sunshine to renew  ourselves and shake the winter away.  Sunday, I went on my first 2014 long outdoor walk, sans jacket, only my long sleeved shirt. 

  I had posted photos onto  Facebook of a local home where the owner adorns the barren branches of her shrubs with plastic Easter eggs. I admire her ambition which produces a  pleasant colorful sight in contrast to the unbudded brown branches of her shrubs.  And  then farther along the street stop to admire our wide open streets, little traffic in this small midwestern town this day, other folks are out walking their dogs and one young boy dribbles his basketball on his way to shoot hoops at the elementary school lot. 

Elm Street   La Crescent

The city is  in the process of removing many of the old ash trees around town, replacing with different varieties  to  avoid tragic infestations from the emerald ash borers, larvae of which may have frozen out over our severe winter.  Perhaps that was one good thing about a long hard freeze.  It worries us, we may have to remove two or three of our  stately older ash trees on our property.  We will have an arborist check them again soon, two years ago they were good and  so far we have avoided the bug  but experts tell us there is no escape.  Such a shame to lose those stately antique trees but we like other locals do not want to experience the misfortunes of this epidemic.  

Old nest high up in the tree

I noticed a left over nest clinging  high atop one of the trees along Elm Street and marvel that it had the tenacity to stay put all winter long, a testament to the bird or hawk that constructed it.  Soon green  leaves will adorn the limbs and shade the walkways below.


I spotted my first 2014  hopscotch along the way and could not resist jumping it.  There was no sign of the children who drew it, I assume girls because we were the ones to delight in this in my day.  Posted to Facebook it elicited comments of not having seen these since our own childhoods and how children today especially in California are most unlikely to know what hopscotch is.  I  became curious about it's origins now.  It was a taken for granted activity growing up in Pennsylvania where we chalked up our alleyway. although I do not remember having colored chalks such as are available today.

Hopscotch in La Crescent

  It is reassuring to live in a town  where children still play hopscotch and outside games.  This design looked a bit different than what I recalled drawing out as a child and I learned it is the "modern design"  figures, my style would be "vintage."  I read that an ancient  type of hopscotch may have been played in Roman times but the first recorded English speaking references to it are the late 17th century England called scotch-hop or scotch-hoppers.  It was described in Wikipedia as a game where young boys hopped over "scotches in the ground" which I think might mean scratches if it were on dirt.  This has tweaked my interest in  learning more about this old game which we often hopped along to rhymes.  

One last tidbit,yesterday we saw the neurosurgeon who scheduled Jerry's back surgery for April 16, a hemi- laminectomy and microdisectomy  which is minor in the grand scheme of surgeries and  expected to be a breeze, performed under anesthesia but at the outpatient surgical center.  The surgeon said Jerry is a prime candidate, physically fit or he was until this set back, healthy and not overweight and not a smoker.  So we anticipate positive outcome from this surgery which will involve a minor  one inch incision on his back which will be glued, no disc replacement, no metal rods, no muscle cutting and his full recovery should be swift, a month or less.  This is the best news in months and he is really anxious to hit the road in our motor home. The surgeon is a youthful new doctor coming  down form Mayo in Rochester, MN who explained everything so thoroughly that I had no questions at the end of the consultation.  Relief is imminent  for him now which he welcomes, has been a long siege these past  months.     

Sepia Saturday 222 High views

Almost stumped for theme following this week until I stumbled across these hot air balloon photos from 1980 February in the then emptier hills around Newcastle, northern California where we lived.   I never took a balloon ride, but Jerry did.  He worked with a man who married a balloonist and one Saturday morning very early off they went. Balloons launch  in the early hours the advantage of air and wind currents.  The air is more stable very early and winds are generally most favorable the first hours after sunrise and the last hours before sunset. Since asphalt, trees, mesas, and all things on earth absorb the suns heat differently vertical winds develop (thermals) as the day progresses. Because the only control a pilot has in a balloon is changing altitude, a pilot usually won’t fly in the middle of the day when that control is lost. Hot air balloon pilots usually prefer winds of less than 10 miles per hour.


The big open spaces and soaring heights despite views from that open air container  would stir up my phobia that kicks in when atop ladders or such open spaces, the wee early hours to launch and the noise from the hot air held little appeal to me.  Today I kind of wish I had been braver, but doubt I would ever go seeking this adventure.  Here are a few of the black and white photos I took, very amateurish back in February 1980 as  they approached from the sky over Folsom lake and landed  on hillside only three miles from our home. Back then there were hillsides, little of the development that would contribute to our leaving California in retirement.    I was taking a photography class at the time and had black and white film, not very good close ups, but I did develop these myself.  

Here they come, Folsom Lake in the distance

Closer as landing approaches

Newcastle hillside

Just about down

They said almost a perfect landing,

I was perfectly content to stay on terra firma....flying in a plane is fine, we are surrounded by something but these wide open spaces from above  in that basket did not tempt me.  For another thrill  with view of danger, check out this link to hot air balloon tightrope walking, shudder.  
http://www.theatlantic.com/video/archive/2014/02/tight-rope-walking-between-two-hot-air-balloons/283688/

This is my Sepia post to see what others are sharing go to the site.  
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2014/04/sepia-saturday-222-5th-april-2014.html

Droid years

Bummer it looks like I will soon be trotting off to the local Verizon store to replace my Galaxy III Samsung aka Sammy smart phone.  While I was not looking she has aged and  today I researched to find she will be three in June. A mere tot in human years but a crone in technology years.   How time slips away while we are doing other things.  My Gal  is not holding her charge.  I  generally plug her in every couple days and thought I forgot to do so last night because she  was drained this morning.  But through today  I have had problems keeping her on and her battery is quickly  draining.  I've followed the Verizon trouble shooting techniques including soft reset and  recharge.  

While I puzzled, Jerry ever the realist asked, "well how old is that phone?"  I almost responded "only a year old and a few months," it seems like only yesterday I was learning her and mastering swiping.  Today it's so easy to me as a result I often reply with swypos not reading carefully what I've swiped.  Gal has become so familiar with me that she automatically fills in phrases.  Yet, it has happened, unbelievable how Gal is getting up there in her Droid years and is slowly slowing down. I think I noticed some bllips a week or so ago when I went to check on my Facebook page, but I ignored it.  It's like a health symptom, not to be ignored nor explained away, because it has progressed.   Technology is wonderful  especially at its newest and  while it works and Gal does get the workout, functioning for email, Facebook and camera.  Still it seems like only yesterday I was fussing with her and getting acquainted having picked her to replace my beloved Blackberry.  Now Gal III will either need a new battery but more likely will be replaced.  


Old age comes sooner all the time and  is neither friend nor kind acquaintance to technology, once aging begins there is no stallling the inevitable, no way to help her limp along, no facelift, no botox, no joint replacement surgery.  Toss and replace when dementia shows its first signs as with Gal Sammy.  Nothing is repaired or tuned up, instead to the scrap heap as a replacement will be the answer.  Fortunately I have been through this frequently enough to  anticipate and expect, not be afraid and I will dive right into the new techie challenge pool. Perhaps it will not be so deep this time.  Gal Sammy has become my friend and I will miss her but will not mourn. There will be another version, smarter and faster although Gal Sammy has been a whip and I have more features on her than I use.  I see Verizon, our carrier of choice which has served us well all over the country and in Alaska on our travels, offers an S4 and a mini SIII.  The S4 looks so much like Gal that it a switch may be the easiest techie transition. 

Still if I could fix her I would. I come from a long line of fixers and live with a very handy man who can repair most anything.   But droid years are unkind and so we shall see what's my next new techie toy. 

Yesterday's photos today's St Anthony

Back yard ice pond near hillside

Up the hill side toward the front, our  house to the left,
neighbor on thr right.  Glacial remains

Late yesterday after a visit with a friend I wandered out back and along the side of the Morrison Glaciers to take some photos of the declining snow with my tablet.  It was a sunny crisp day.  With the previous over abundance of snow the  recent melts are welcome sights despite some frigid  temps the green grass is emerging.  Every year there is a small pond that  accumulates in this  spot before the downhill bank, but this year with the ground frozen down a few feet, the  yard drain is blocked with ice, slowly it has begun to drizzle out but the pond has been much bigger.  Earlier in the day I watched one of our rascally pine squirrels race across the back, they always move at   warp speed, quite the comical sights.  On his race down the hill he leaped and landed into this ice pond.  I could almost hear him as he ascended immediately about  seven feet into the air and sailed down the hill mid air shaking, "WTH was that."  Wish I'd had the camera  or phone with me, one of those funny sights provided free by nature right here in our back yard which is filled with patches of snirt and what I have dubbed the Morrison glaciers.  Those of you unfamiliar with winter may wonder about "snirt", aka dirty snow.    

The other side of the back yard off the shop where
the motor home lives.  Much more snow and less melt,
shadier there.

Side front of house where the hosta sticks linger
One wonders how they survived burial in the white all winter

I continued along inhaling the brisk colder air  happy to be outside once again without snow parka and boots.  Toward the front where there had been huge 7 foot hills of piled snow from shoveling and snow blowing we have significant melt down and a clear driveway once again.. 

The hostas which I did not trim back are triumphantly poking their sticks upright.  And one last patch of snirt is off to the right of the back garage door, in the yard.   I think that patch has a personality all its own, a ghostly remains,  as though clinging on for what little time it has left here.  By tomorrow if the melt has continued it will likely have vanished.

But later today it was still there, this I know

Snirt creature,  fading 

because  I  when I reached for the tablet today I  was missing my stylus which I prefer to use. Well where could it be?  I looked all around on the carpet and then began to think, oh it's in the house somewhere because I  showed Jerry the pictures when I came in and I  used it.  So I thought, so I was sure. I searched my jacket pockets, I looked all along the kitchen counter, the upstairs desk.  No stylus.  What to do but evoke mny loyal patron St. Anthony who always finds what I have misplaced, I have called on Tony all my life.  I mentioned to Jerry that I was missing the stylus but that it had to be here somewhere, I'd used it to show him the photos.  He suggested I retrace my steps outside. Nonsense, I had it with me.  But finally I  pulled on my jacket and shoes and walked out the back, past this same snirt creature and headed toward the middle of the driveway.  

Side of house driveway from motor home shop to the street

And what did I see as I walked along toward the driveway slowly retracing my steps from yesterday>  The stylus!  Thank you St. Anthony!  But, how in the world could it be?  I was so sure I had it with me when I went in yesterday;  I was positive I had used it.  Another lesson in maybe I should not always be so vehemently sure about what I have done because there it was, it had spent the night out in the cold but none the worse.  All Jerry said when I returned with the stylus in my hand, "wasn't that a good thing you listened to me.."  I prefer to thank Tony and  the snirt creature which must have wanted to see me yet another day.   

Great Books and memory

  I am enrolled in another online course through Hillsdale College, Great Books.  Hillsdale is a small (student body of about 1400) independent, co-educational, residential liberal arts college in southern Michigan founded in 1844 and does not accept  any governmental funds.  It is an institution we have long supported and one that is included in our estate legacy.  It has been too long ago that I last read and studied these.  Quite intense and thought provoking,  started with Homer's  Iliad and The Odyssey.  Similar to the History and Constitutional courses I have taken at Hillsdale this one on literature beginning with the classic ancients is occupying much of my previously free time to read, listen to the lectures, ponder, review the discussions, etc with a new session each week.  I am enjoying this depth immensely. 

My bucket list for retirement included to pursue and reengage in educational courses in history and literature of which I have always been fond.  While in my professional career days there was little time for such.   The course in the Holocaust that I took at the University of Wisconsin, La Crosse in the fall was  another  stimulating activity.  Thanks to the ease of online study I can partake in much more.  It  invokes my discipline to keep up weekly.  

Today I am  pondering on what will happen to our culture as we no longer teach, learn nor appreciate history and literature.  There seems to be a subversion of the basics, and a resultant ability to discern.  In the lecture on The Odyssey, Professor Whalen spoke of  Mnemosyne, Greek goddess of memory, the mother of the  nine Muses and how memory is a gift that distinguishes us from other animals.  Memory facilitates reasoning, and may be a basic foundation of civilization.   Mnemosyne is unknown to many of the so called educated in the current generations, I am sure a mention of her would evoke a blank stare from our adult grandchildren and their parents, perhaps along with the blankness a grimace of  "this means nothing to me....I live in California."    

What happens when a culture, a people, an individual no longer has memory?  Consider dementia and the dreaded Alzheimer's,  how once memory is gone only barrenness remains.  Robbed of memory the individual deteriorates.  I equate that to what is happening today as deliberate indoctrination replaces education, an ability to reason to discern begins to vanish.   Reasoning the high light of humanness  dims.  Humanities are disdained, few appreciate history and ever fewer have any awareness of the importance of ancient literature, of classics and  the need to acquire wisdom to make judgments.  So much is instant, online, finger strokes, Facebook where I too spend time is the substitute of many for personal interaction,  discussions.  So our western culture is  beginning to fall apart to lose value, today  sects of immigrants and others are  urged to retain their own languages, their own cultures, not to assimilate, not to adopt ours.  Could anything be more dreadful? 

This of course is a welcome diversion for me as we are in a holding pattern while Jerry has physical therapy sessions and continues with medications to be determined if he will heal and avoid back surgery on the nerve that is pinched by two vertebrae in his spine.  This means I do his chores and mine as well as continuing  my physical fitness agenda a the Y.  Spring is emerging here as well,  There were two robins in our back yard and the other day I saw a flock of geese flying north in formation.  We still have plenty of  snirt, dirty snow, to melt but green grass in visible once again in our lawns.  

Polish proverbs Nie moj cyrh

Today on Facebook, Carlie, a close friend shared an old Polish saying  but in English.  It took me back years, when was the last time I heard it, perhaps  2010.  It was something my granpap Teofil and later,his son, Uncle Carl, said all the time.  Something I had forgotten and something  I felt was a great reminder. "Not my circus, not my monkeys"    Granpap said that all the time when someone would  try to bemoan something that was going on which he felt was  not his business and he would not be bothered.  It wasn't that he was uncaring or unsympathetic but he knew that some folks just whine all the time and if you let them they will soon snare you into moaning along with them.  He had overcome many obstacles in his life and he would not accept someone else's burdening him.  His philosophy was deal with it or shut up.  This at times annoyed my grandma Rose who would say, "Pap you can't just ignore that." and he'd reply, "hah!  Sure I, can watch..."  And off he would go on his way about his business usually whistling or humming.  He had another saying like "don't tie your monkey to me" which meant get lost with that. 

I really had not considered this being a Polish proverb, just something they said and  passed on from father to son. Polish for  circus is  "cyrk" or  "sorkus" and  often  refers to a mess or a strange situation, something chaotic.  In Poland monkeys, "malpy" are associated with chaos, trouble, and down right nuisance.  So if the monkeys are running around loose or escaping from the circus, well you get the picture.  Monkeys are "problems" in Poland, and circuses are where "problems" come from. If it's not your monkey, and it's not even from your circus, then it's not your problem.  It is a basically simple philosophy and stops some people from spreading further gossip as well, no one will listen and there they stay with mouth agape.  

How frequently I think that today the monkeys are really running the zoos. Now that I have been reminded of this wisdom I  will adopt it more fully, not that I  get easily distracted by such nuisance.  The delete button works well on email and on Facebook I hide the ever whiners.  I don't read their  agonies.  Call it cold hearted, I call it release from what others would use to drag you along or ignoring the lamentations. I used to tell people that if I wanted to hear such gnashing and whining I could read Lamentations in the Bible.  Those unfamiliar with the Bible  were clueless to what I meant.   In my career as a state bureaucrat I developed a skill for being physically present but mentally off elsewhere, to shield and amuse myself when I was  captive in ever too long meetings or hearings and some tiresome soul was pontificating.  Here years later, I still invoke that skill  by semi-listening to what someone may be saying when usually it is not my monkey and surely not my circus.  There is ample happening in my life with friends who have cancer, are handling real illnesses, losses, and financial issues; with  Jerry facing back surgery and so it goes.  All else, nope not my monkey.  

Give it up for Lent, the four letter word

Baba Rose

I was raised Polish Roman Catholic and my grandma (Baba) Rose was a stickler about Lent and all it's traditions of deprivation and denial proclaiming it a very old practice.  Yes, Lent as a 40 day season began sometime in the  4th century, legalized by the church at the Council of Nicea in 313 AD, that's ancient.  As a toddler I could not comprehend why in the world I had  to do without whatever I wanted at the moment and it was a shock to hear that four letter word, "lent."   As I recall, I was between three and four when I was told the first time  that I couldn't have what I wanted  for Lent,  a long time.  It was likely something sweet to eat. Baba Rose said, "Patty, it's Lent and  we give up something we like to sacrifice, no more until Easter." 

What?  That must have been the first time something was denied me because my grandparents  made it their business to ensure that  whatever I wanted I had. I did not make sense of the time span, "until Easter" but I went about my business with a frown and  then forgot all about it until the next time I was denied. Still I did not dwell on these things and yet the lesson continued.  "Someday you will be glad you did without...."  

Granpap Teofil

It wasn't just me, either; granpap Teofil had to give up too; I remember asking him to conspire with me,  to buy something at the store when Baba wasn't looking, candy maybe.  But he laughed and just shook his head while saying, "oh no not while it's Lent, those are the rules." Granpap never had much to say about church or rules, so I well knew this was Baba's doing but for him to comply it must have been important without any way out.  

Me about 4 years old

Nevertheless, I absorbed my disappointment but again  not let it sink in  because  I  recall hearing  what I called the "not for Lent" words repeatedly. To me, Lent was not good, something to be avoided; in my child's mind Lent became a four letter word, don't say it.   Baba assured me that I would learn all about this when I went to Catechism and I would always be glad after the giving up.   Later as a child  I would offer to give up something I didn't care all that much about but that would not do while Rose or the nuns inquired about my Lenten sacrifice, "it has to be something you like." 

Although I  left the Catholic religion which today beckons me for the spiritual comfort, a Lenten tradition of deprivation became my annual ritual.  I used to be a chocoholic, there was not a place I did not stash chocolate, it went where I did; my co-workers could always find a supply in my office. While I am unsure of the exact year, sometime in  the early 1990's  I decided to make the ultimate Lenten sacrifice and give up chocolate; Roberta, who was most devout and my closest friend questioned me about the severity of my choice, would I be able to do that.,really?   It certainly was one of the most difficult deprivations I ever experienced but a miracle emerged just like Easter, I lost my extreme fondness for chocolate; not something I was looking for but something I  have now recognized as a blessing. I have never again been consumed by chocolate.  Today I enjoy some  dark chocolate now and then but I can take it or leave it.  It's not something that I crave or need and I am amazed thinking back to how I had to eat chocolate at least once a day then.  Lent the four letter word rewarded me at the end of it all, just as promised by my grandma so long ago.  

Today it is really difficult for me to think of giving up something I would miss eating; I am not a

Me today leaner and healthier

sweet eater and really not much for snacking a lot either.  If I do it is usually an apple, some pretzels, something healthy.  .My recent  weight loss and healthy  eating lifestyle leave nothing I can identify to offer as a sacrifice.  Well I suppose I could offer my almost  daily glass of wine but even Jesus had wine with meals and I attribute a glass of wine to healthy practices.  My doctor agrees.  Besides I do not drink every day and Lenten sacrifice is to make us mindful so the occasional will not do..   

So what to give up  for Lent in 2014?   Something that will be a daily reminder in denial.  I have determined it is another four letter word, one I've been  saying out loud in response to annoyance, rubbish, or other non likable things that happen.  No, it's not that "f" word although I admit to evoking it in absolute frustration, for especially bad news like death, cancers, etc.  I was unaware that I used this other word so frequently until Jerry mentioned something one day and then I attempted to disguise it using the Polish for it. Bad habits start with such unawareness.   This  word is not pleasant and not nice and not something I recall saying much in the past,  it starts with "s" may be preceded with another 4 letters, "bull."     So for Lent, the cuss jar appears.  When ever I say that word it's $1 to the jar; further, each time I think it it's 50 cents.  If I am dutiful and persevere, this bad habit will be gone in 40 days when the joy of Easter returns.  The money will go to the Salvation Army, one of my favorite charities and one that I support financially all the time.   

What are you giving up for Lent or do you?  

Sepia Saturday 217 Rocks for climbing British Columbia

Unable to find any telescopes amongst  our photo collection I opted for rocks or as follows a mountain of rock.  In July 1985 we drove our camper north from California to British Columbia, Canada and spent a few days at the then two year old Klahanie Recreational Campground, Squamish British Columbia, just across from the breath taking Shannon Falls and very near the Statawamus Chief. It is 45 minutes between Whistler and Vancouver, in a  recreation area that touts breathtaking beauty.  A prime location to campers from all over the world.it has  38 acres of forest and is along the Sea to Sky Corridor.   

 British Columbia is one of Jerry's favorite places in the world having spent time there when he was in the Air Force and so we often drove north to vacation; in fact at one time we considered migrating to British Columbia.  He more than me but we (me more than he) decided to remain in northern California.   The brochure, saved from that trip shows its picturesque majesty.   Digging out these photos gave us a chance to reminisce about that trip for just the two of us and the days we spent there that  week there on our way to Prince George.   I  Googled and  learned that  Klahanie is still operating, today, year round.  In fact today it is a prime base camp for those venturesome folks who wish to climb  the Chief, North America's largest granite monolith on any of its  more than 300 trails.  

Shannon Falls, BC  from our site

Our photos are fading so  I spent  time scanning these.  First from across the road right outside our campsite, this is the Shannon Falls, cascading down the granite peaks.  Looks just like the photo on the brochure and just like it does today almost 30 years later...granite does not easily change and so for many  years before and many more to come it will be just this way in its majesty.  It was warm in July, I know that because I was set for a  hike wearing shorts in this next photo.  There  behind me are the falls and the picturesque Klahanie store and lodge, popular day stop  for picnics then and now with several autos in the lot in front of the falls.  In those days, preditgital cameras and all we did not take so many photos.  I can find none of our short hike, we were not on a mountaineering adventure, just out for a short climb.  

Pat at Klahanie Campground
 Shannon Falls in the background 

This is The Chief  that granite monolith which we did not climb
It is just around from Shannon Falls.
 The three peaks comprise what is called the masiff.
I understand  that Howe Sound is a magnificent view from atop. 

Jerry knew then as now how to relax after a hike.
 Back in the shade at the site
Cold brew alongside

So there is one of our granite adventures to match up with the rocks in the prompt this week.  
To see what others share this week go here to the Sepia http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2014/02/sepia-saturday-217-1-march-2014.html

Being an inspiration

"You inspired me...."   "I got in...I'm so glad you are here today,  wanted to tell you..." were the words I heard yesterday standing in the hallway at the Y waiting for the first Zumba class to clear out of the  Fitness studio for our turn.  It was a greeting from a  gal I had been talking to about the YMCA Diabetes Prevention program and my success.   At first I  look stymied and then she said, "the diabetes prevention.."  which clicked.  I was so pleased that she had decided to check it out and that I can be a part of getting her back to a healthy lifestyle.  She is younger than  me, likely only in her 50's and  has now made a commitment to avoid the diabetes that runs in her family too. I will encourage her all I can but have cautioned her, it is work and no one does this for you only you.  She just asked that she be able to talk with me about it and of course I agreed.  But she will get support from her  facilitator and hopefully her fellow classmates and if she is as serious as she appears she will draw on herself.. 

I have become a walking advocate for this program with my own success of losing  30 pounds since September, moving back to the healthy weight of my 20's and 30's. I never dreamed I would be so successful.  I struggled too and couldn't fathom why that weight hung to me, I finally hd almost decided it was going to be the way it was until the doctor gave me that alert that my fasting blood glucose levels were rising.  I vowed to do all I could to avoid further escalation or getting across tht line to diabetes.  Although my program goal was losing 15  pounds that I surpassed and doubled it amazed my doctor and me. It was slow some weeks only half a pound but it came off.  For the first time in I don't know how many years I did not gain weight over the holidays in November and Christmas and  through it all I was not anti social.  

I've written  before on this blog about the Y's national link to the Diabetes Prevention program, a national effort, which  starts with an hour at a weekly meeting for 16 weeks where  some aspect of nutrition and or  physical activity is discussed along with the dreaded weigh in and review of the past week's food diaries (logs.) After 16 weeks (19 for my group due to holidays and the facilitator being away one week) for the rest of this year long program,  which includes a YMCA membership one attends a maintenance class once a month led by another facilitator who is usually a certified  nutritionist/dietitian. 

While I have met others who have not been as successful, it does not take long hearing  their woes to understand why they struggle. I have a genuine sympathy for those who cannot persevere for whatever reasons and for those who really ask for help but  I have little tolerance for whiners, when they complain that it's not working I ask them if they log their food,  and invariable they say, "no I don't like to do that."  Don't like it, then to me they are saying they prefer fat and diabetes; it's their choice.  Life is all about our choices despite how it's framed or who's blamed.  Along with my lack of tolerance for whining is even less for those who kid themselves and want pity.  Most complainers want magic, the quick fix, the stroke of a wand. Don't we all?  No such magic wand exists for health maintenance and certainly not for weight loss. Long ago a friend and I talked about how much harder we work now to try to stay fit;     don't ever recall it being this much work.  

Sure as there are any number of diets that work in the short term, the nefarious yo yo dieting, which affects the body far worse than just staying overweight is often the result.  It has to be a way of eating that one can follow for life.  Think of it, will you exist from now on eating only cabbage soup or no carbs or no whatever as suggested by certain diets of the month? Weight Watchers is a healthy choice and works for many people so long as they stay with it.  Any weight loss program from which one cannot  wait to get back to the foods  they left behind for a lower number on the scale are sure to create rebound to packing back the pounds and then some.  It must be a lifestyle change.  I have met many who regained all the weight they lost and it is not a mystery why that happens.  

5 pounds of fat compared to muscle..gross

I am  keeping off the weight, doing what I did to lose that fat of  which we were reminded with a visual a 5 lb blob of yellowish matter resembling 5 pounds of fat at yesterday's Maintenance meeting.  Yuck the blob was passed around; as I held the gross looking plastic rubbery clump I was so glad to say, "I  lost 6 of these!"  Medical research shows that one pound of fat has approximately one to two miles of blood vessels so each extra pound strains the heart pumping that much more. Each pound of fat on your body has roughly 7 miles of capillaries (smallest blood vessels) that deliver nutrients to the tissue.  For every ten pounds of fat gained, your heart has to pump blood through an additional 70 miles of blood vessels! Consequently, it is not difficult to see why obesity and heart disease go hand in hand. The more I learned the more I became vehemently committed to ensuring my health.

Read more at http://www.omg-facts.com/Science/For-every-pound-of-fat-you-gain-your-bod/28212#iJUZuh5Yj19qHW4A.99

This program  is a lifestyle change,  not a diet and is based on a few simple keys:

• daily food tracking, writing it down for me in lieu of electronic gadgets which abound.  One participant said she did not want to do homework and record; she did not lose much weight.  Her rebelliousness hurt no one but herself.  Every participant has an individually calculated personal daily fat gram allowance based on age, weight, medical data, etc.  Mine limited me to 33 fat grams a day and   the facilitator often admonshed me to consume all each day to avoid yo yo rebounds.  Now  keeping it at or  below 33 grams a day is my goal because above that I have determined that i my weight would begin to increase.  Along with that calories are recorded but not the I would begin to add weight.  I have also  learned that high fat foods = high calorie foods. 

• the program recommends  30 minutes a day or 150 minutes a week of physical activity for me it is from one to one and half hours physical activity each day even in this tundra arctic where we have  been confined all winter.  My physical activity occurs now mostly exclusively at the Y unless I am shoveling the blasted snow while Jerry's back heals. I have always been active  so this was  a no brainer for me.  But I sure do miss outdoor walks in this so too cold winter.  

• weighing every day faithfully and recording  it on the food log. That's paying attention to what the old  enemy, never my friend, the scale  has to say.  I weigh in every morning now. This is a big change for me; I would avoid the scale in every way possible before, kidding myself that I could tell when my weight  edged up by my clothes.  I no longer shudder when I go to the doctor's and they weigh me in first thing. 

The  Y program director asked me to share my story which I readily obliged by writing a  three page article which she loved and sent on to the national headquarters.  The next thing I knew I became a rock star of  the Y Diabetes Prevention Program; my story is to be featured in their national publication.  I will soon post what I wrote here on this blog describing my entry to the program with all the skepticism I could bring... I  was also asked to work on a team for this year's YMCA annual campaign which will feature our prevention program.  One thing keeps leading to another and last week I was interviewed for television here in the LaCrosse area, WKBT-TV  to publicize the campaign.  I am not shy nor tongue tied and have had extensive experience in  public speaking in my career and in organizations everything  from live  news interviews, cameras to legislative testimony in Sacramento and in Washington, DC, so it was old times for me.  Actually I am more of a natural born ham.  I knew the Y loved personal stories but didn't think mine was  any big deal, however I am learning that it is indeed.  

At my ripe age of 69 years to regain my lifestyle healthier than before, through this program has been a blessing and if I can share this to help others including the YMCA I am more than willing. My fasting blood glucose which was showing red warning flags is now low normal and my cholesterol  decreased 17 percent.  My doctor is so pleased and proud that he gave me the flyer about this program; he said he wished he could have me talk with so many patients who just  cannot get on the wagon to improving their health.  .  

I will not say it's easy but it's achievable.  And when one values health one will commit to doing whatever it takes.   I thought I was a  fairly healthy eater, I do not eat fast foods nor overindulge in red meats nor sweets.  In fact I prefer sour or salty crunchy to sweets.  But my weakness is cheese, oh I love cheese, melted, hard, grated, there is not a cheese I do not like and cheese is so good because it's heavy in fat.  A grilled cheese sandwich has always been my very favorite lunch.  And so where do I land in retirement but right across the river, Cheese-head Wisconsin country...heaven for me.  It was here I discovered cheese curds, another delicacy for me.  I love them raw or even better  coated and deep fried, melty.  Almost daily  my quick lunch had been cheese and an apple or other fruit and perhaps some triscuit crackers  or a fast quesadilla. Healthy right?  Wrong! One ounce of cheese has between 8 to 10 or more grams of fat.  I ate a hunk of cheese way more than an ounce, more like  5 ounces and through the day it was also a favored snack for me.  You do not have to be a math genius to calculate that  I could easily exceed my daily fat gram allowance on cheese.  So now I know, yikes I  learned something about nutrition.  I never thought of this before despite my constant pursuit of  education in nutritional eating. I have counted calories and carbohydrates, never before fat grams.  Now I can eat cheese but never again the way I used to; one ounce of cheese which is about a  one inch square is an allowance for a snack, carefully monitored and recorded.  I found the culprit and it was me!  Besides cheese, ice cream and frozen custard were almost daily evening treats and well, now you have the keys to my success.  Awareness and admitting, that I was doing this to me.  The same with nuts that had been a  favorite snack. Nuts are healthy and so a handful now and then when passing by the counter didn't hurt, so I thought.  And wrong again.  Nuts may be nutritious but  they are full of fat.  Now my favorite snack is pretzels which provide  the crunch and salt and  no to  very little fat.  And my glass of wine has no fat either.   

But back to the program and my spokesperson role.  Besides the interview the film crew followed me around though  the gym on my workouts on the elliptical and the  recumbent bike after the interview.  At least I had my hair combed and was not as "just got out of bed looking" as I routinely am when I go to the Y.  Why dress up and clean up to sweat it all off?  We appear with a brush through the hair grooming and begin our workouts.. But on interview day  I was looking a bit better still, not aware that I'd get the full paparazzi treatment which had folks in the busy sweaty gym pondering, "who's she?"  I did admonish the camera man that  it was not necessary to get  butt shots from behind me as he laughed he wanted every angle.  I  refused to don my swim suit for  them and allow the film to show the water logged me as well. Just when I thought we were done, they asked if I would return to the lobby and  entry to the Y  so they could film me walking in and talking...another natural talent for me, talking to as I told the reporter, I can talk to anybody about anything and or to anybody about nothing, which way do we go!"  They later told Nate that they had not had so much fun on an interview  for a long time and proclaimed me, " an awesome natural."  Aww, watch out now I'm puffing up!

 But the kicker was yesterday at Zumba class--Monday morning with my hair combed and reverting to my "just out of bed au naturel look" as we rehearsed a new Zumba routine, Nate, the Y's marketing director,  appeared with  the same film crew, pointed me out and there they were as was I, film at 11.  What could I do but keep on dancing!  The instructor told the class, "we have a celebrity in our midst, blame Ms P M." I have been explaining to the ladies ever since.  Now we have our viewing celebration party coming up soon as it shows on TV and the news which will be sometime in March.  I have a lot of explaining to do all the time now just like today at Yoga, "hey did you bring the film crew along?"  Glad to say, no it's just us.  But it's a;; abput working it and it's all good for the Y and for ourselves.     

For more information talk to the YMCA near you to learn about this excellent program based on extensive national research through the National Institutes for Health.  . It's healthy for you.   http://www.ymca.net/diabetes-prevention/
  

Sepia Saturday 216 Suits and hats and men's fashions 1923

Adelbert Behrndt and Sophia
Roth Behrndt  1923

Today's prompt of men in suits led me back in our albums to 1923 in Hokah, Minnesota where  Jerry's great grandparents Adelbert and Sophia Behrndt were celebrating their 50th anniversary surrounded by family.  That year on March 3 Time magazine made its debut, a vaccine was developed for whooping cough (pertussis), and Calvin Coolidge became US President upon the death of President Warren Harding who fell ill in Alaska.  On May 28, the US Attorney General opined that it is legal for women to wear trousers anywhere which fascinated me because I remember when pant suits became alright for women to wear back when we were still wearing only dresses and skirts, in the late 1960's.  But in this rural area of Minnesota, Hokah a name from the Dakota Indian,  Hutkan, was growing.  It was settled in 1851, became a railway village in 1871, was incorporated as a town in 1923. Still, news of current events would be secondary to the Behrndt celebration.  The families kept busy as  farmers, carpenters, lumbermen and banking and went about  their day to day lives. And Adelbert would don what was surely his only suit for the anniversary party or picnic at the home, a long time hard working farmer did not dress up.   But for this day everyone was dressed in their Sunday best, just like the  brothers in law gathered in the next photo.  

Brothers in law at Behrndt's 50th Left to right
Burl Kellogg, Charlie Behrndt (Jerry's grandpa), Phillip Frey  and
Otto Ziemann

I call attention to Otto on the far right, notice his straight upright stance; he appears at that same alert uprightness in every photo we have of him while others do not appear as formal.  Burl is a leaner in most of his photos and Charlie is merely tolerant of the posing. Forward quickly to 1930 and a photo  which has always amused us, Lottie (Jerry's grand aunt and Charlie's sister) appears to be holding her husband,  Otto,  upright as though he were a puppet and she had full control of the strings.  Jerry's grandma Esther, Charlie's wife, to the  right appears amused turning aside and talking to someone else with suit and hat.  It was the way things were, suit and hat were worn for gatherings.  I think we are much more at ease and comfortable today in jeans, and casual attire.   

1930 Lottie and Otto Zieman
Esther (Jerry's grandmother) to right

I found this last  information on men's fashions while  researching  1923

This is  my response to the men in suits and hats from our family photos. Check out what others have to show for the week at the link here.
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2014/02/sepia-saturday-216-22-february-2014.html

Recipe reverie, blogger acts out

Yesterday's all day snow coating more with continuous whiteness added another  four inches to what has been steadily accumulating this winter.  It  must have affected this blogspot where  I thought I posted this and  yet today I see it had been reverted to a draft...daft why? Blame it on the winter weather.   So here another attempt to publish, winter is getting the best of us and the cyber waves.  

All the descriptive adjectives--pretty, sparkling, fluffy have been exhausted this winter, enough already.  I feel like we are living in a shake 'em up snow globe, no sooner does it settle than Mama Nature sends another blast our way.   I am tired of white and annoyed when it sidelines my plans as it did, confining me to home and hearth.  I did not venture out to drive in the winds with limited visibility nor was I tempted as there were reports of the potential to slide along the roads if the plows had not already been through.. 

 It was a day to stay home and a good day to cook. It has been quite some time since I stuffed and roasted a chicken because for the two of us, it's preferable to stick with chicken parts, breasts or thighs and occasional drumsticks although wings are a great snack.  However the market had these chickens on sale, very cheap and with my purchase of two bottles of wine I got $2 off any poultry, bringing the cost to $1.  So I picked up a whole chicken Friday intending to do something with it over the weekend.  Those intentions did not materialize but Monday's snow day  was an opportune time to stuff and roast this bird.  Jerry is not a fan of what he refers to as "sea gull" although he grudgingly eats the day's menu; I am a big fan of chicken, amd roasting filled the house with wonderful scents.  

My bargain chicken stuffed and ready to roast

As I prepared  thestuffing with lots of sage, big bread hunks, broth, butter, sauteed onions and celery I thought about my maternal grandmother Rose, my Polish Baba, with whom I spent a lot of time and stayed most weekends.    I have written about her  many times on this blog. Roast chicken was one of her special favorite Sunday afternoon meals, with all the fixings after we went to morning mass.  She had none of the kitchen conveniences like deep freezers nor microwaves and she did insist on fresh chickens; she did not want those from the  grocery market that would have been sitting for "you don't know how long."  No,  Rose insisted chickens must they be just bled, fresh; , to her that was the only way to ensure a tasty chicken, kill , drain and cook.  They lived in town so while she did not raise her own chickens, she did walk to the local  butcher for a fresh just killed bird on Saturdays.  It was Sarniac's, the  Polish butcher shop where  my grandpap hung out, helped make Polish sausage and played cards and they knew to have a fresh chicken ready for Rose. Sometimes it would still have it's feet attached but she would tell them to leave the feet, which she would remove at home, herself. 

Baba, my grandma Rose about mid 1940"s

Once she brought it home, the ordeal of cleaning it meticulously began, I cannot remember how many times she rinsed and rinsed that chicken and then soaked it in a brine though it seems that hours and hours were involved. I once remarked in childlike wonder that it was clean already to which she said, "oh no Patty, we don't want any dirt or feathers.  Chickens are dirty and you don't want to eat anything like that."  Finally by late Saturday afternoon, she had her fresh chicken ready for  Sunday roasting.  Her oven had no timer so that bird did not get into the oven to begin until after we returned from church and then she would carefully watch and baste it from time to time.  I wish I had a picture of those feasts, they were a meal which she served with pride and a smile.  So today stuffing and roasting a cheap chicken brought the reverie of childhood.  And I thought of how I will not buy  frozen chicken parts in mass bags, and certainly not  those that are processed in Asia.  My chicken choice is fresh, locally Amish grown and processed....I am Rose's grand daughter after all.  It's my legacy, You don't want a chicken that's been sitting around for you don't know how long."  Recipes can stir up our memories..