Everyday a new world

Yesterday Uncle Carl was totally delusional, from his hospital bed he is "under contract" and filling boxes, then stacking them, and occasionally chasing birds from the air and asking  how did they fly in?  He thought Jerry was a priest and I one of the salesmen. His cranial memories are replaying.  I can see the end and pray it is not a long good bye.  In past hospital admissions, he has been very confused out of his routine at the assisted living home but I see rapid acceleration of decline, of the dementia from Thursday evening where he was alert in the ER to yesterday when he refused to tell the nurse his name. They have not even had him up yet out of bed so I wonder how they can discharge him, but there is that Medicare pervasiveness on reimbursements and hospitals are only to deliver acute not custodial care.

 At the least he is comfortable. It would be a good thing if the organs would fail when the mind goes, this feeble existence is not him and he certainly did not ever consider he'd end up this way; despite his living will, the body keeps on. A predicament and another reason for Dr. Kevorkian's relief, but who could/would make that decision.

 I went to the committee meeting for our 50th high school reunion last night.  They are making good progress and now have a tentative date, location, menus, caterer; watching the group, I observed that Peggy is really organized and knows how to ask questions.  I hope they do better at finding most of us for this celebration over life's trials and triumphs.  Lack of cyber/computer knowledge will be disadvantageous; maybe I can help some.  It is difficult for me to understand the backwardness of people not using what is available, email, Facebook, etc. especially for our generation, but it seems to be about a 50/50 around here.  I am reminded that people only know what they know and parochialism can prevail if one's world is not expanded.   I somberly notice that of the committee of seven of my classmates (I made 8) 4 of them have major physical illnesses including  breast cancer, kidney stones, one is facing surgery Tuesday for an aortic aneurysm that was just detected, one has recovered from prostrate cancer.  Only two of us have been blessed with relative good health and so when we return home and it is time for my annual physical, who am I to complain about any twinges?  Some of our class of "62 are no longer with us. This 50th has to be a celebratory gathering of survivors.

We need to scoot over to uncle's home today and await the meter reader.  He has a gas meter inside in the basement and periodically the gas utility company needs access to read and ensure all is ok; this was not a problem when he lived there but with the home vacant, it is inconvenient and I do not want to invest the $10,000 estimated to put this meter outside.  Lowell, the nephew who lives here has met them there in the past but since we are in town, I can do this today.  I also have contacted Sandy, the estate sale lady to  determine whether or not we should hold a sale; many tools and items remain in the home.  We neither want to nor can take anymore although Jerry keeps picking up tools and I add a bowl or glass piece now and then.  A lifetime of careful accumulation will go cheaply to buyers; this is confirmation to downsize much as you can while living. The cost to hire her though may not be worth while if we net next to nothing.  We will see.  Potentially the neighbor wants to buy his home and if we can settle on a reasonable price that will be a significant relief to me; my little red flag is waving though that he may want the place for a cheaper price than I am willing to sell. He has advised me to take what I want and just leave the rest, easier said when I know there are some significant tools and I look longingly at an old porch swing, heavy wood that my grandma used back in the 1930's.  We have no place for it but it does tear at me to leave it behind.  That and Uncle's magnificent old porch glider, sofa size, aluminum frame, like new after all these year.    Much as I would like to get rid of the home, the local housing market is not good.  For all the traffic and people around this area, there is little movement in homes for sale; but I put this into Higher Hands as all else.   

Rain continues to pour here in western PA, where the ground is soaked.  Who would have thought I would need boots?  

PA Bob whites and updates

Male bobwhite

I left for the hospital and all things Uncle at 7:30 this drizzly morning and barely started along the drive of the RV park when a bobwhite flew alongside my window and then dive bombed the car!  You have to have lived in western PA to appreciate these crazy birds which are  similar to CA quail, yet oh so different with a western PA attitude.  I saw why the feathery challenge as ahead a small covey of baby bobwhites no bigger than 4 inches tall and barely visible against the gravel and  dirt road, were scurrying across the gravel drive, in righteous indignation at my intrusion of their early jaunt.  Of course I stopped to let them go by laughing at their antics as they looked over their collective shoulders at me while the escort settled into the field ruffling her wet feathers and almost prodding the younguns, "c'mon kids." I wonder if these are where we get the term gooney bird as they are hysterically funny. 

  Wikipedia says: "The clear whistle "bob-WHITE" or "bob-bob-WHITE" call of these birds is most recognizable. The syllables are slow and widely spaced, rising in pitch a full octave from beginning to end. Other calls include lisps, peeps and more rapidly whistled warning calls.Like most game birds, the northern bobwhite is shy and elusive. When threatened, it will freeze, relying on camouflage to stay undetected, but will flush into low flight if closely disturbed. These birds are generally solitary or found in pairs early in the year, but family groups are common,  in the late summer and winter roosts may have two dozen or more birds in a single covey."  Well here at Mt Top RV, these birds are not shy but aggressive ala western Penny's. Wish I could have had a camera on the side flight.

I have not yet had time to snap more photos of the glorious dogwoods which I mentioned previously in bloom.  But I did snap this one leaving Mt. Top the other day as Jerry drove, you can see the white dogwood in bloom in the woods. 

View of the woods from car window; white dogwood in bloom

It was on to the hospital  where I jogged quickly inside once I parked, delayed by 20 some minutes while a construction truck delivering a load of beams to the ongoing construction at the hospital turned  in the street; sitting there I worried that my intent to catch  the doctor on morning rounds would be foiled.  As I caught an elevator inside, I heard someone running and shouting"please wait."  It was an employee caught in the same traffic backup and I recalled the working world where promptness was encouraged.  Once on the elevator, the woman  commented, "Do you always walk that fast?  I saw you in the parking lot and you really got here fast."   I guess I do walk fast especially when on a mission as this morning.

Well Uncle's long time family doctor was on rounds and immediately changed the diagnosis and treatment for uncle.   He says the skin rash is neither shingles (we knew that) nor is it a recurrence of the scabies for which he was hospitalized in March.  He said there was no decision by a dermatologist and that he believes a steroid treatment is in order and this is severe psoriasis, complicated by Uncle Carl's hard scratching.  I had to laugh as did Dr Ferlin when Carl declared from his bed, "when I itch I scratch!"  Uncle Carl was alert and mostly in our world this AM unlike yesterday afternoon when he was so lethargic caring neither to eat nor be awake.  They had done an MRI and may have given him a light sedative which reacted strongly on his weakened system.  This morning he was up to eating all his breakfast and then some.  Diagnosis is not good and as I have suspected he is in decline, but at 93 as the Doctor emphasized "everything is wearing out." 
I have determined he will have hospice care when he returns to the personal care facility.  However, I cannot discuss this with Dr. Ferlan as the other doctor's reminded me he is very old school and does not believe in hospice, but treating until the end.  I encountered this in 2009 when my aunt was terminal; it was not until her release from the nursing home that we arranged hospice.  Uncle Carl is wearing out and down but he has surprised us before. Classically his dementia is worse in the evenings.  Friday he pulled out his IV's and took off his hospital gown because he was "discharging" himself  but ended up on the floor, I made a dash to the hospital to talk sense.  That did not work as he thought I was his dead sister, Jinx.  His cognition vacillates as do his vitals.  This morning his blood pressure was elevated so Dr. Ferlan administered lopressor; Thursday evening in the ER his blood pressure dropped very low.  This is all related to the congestive heart failure which will take him on sooner or later.  But at 93 all we can do is ensure his comfort and care.  Friday evening I took his advanced directive to the hospital as they admitted to not giving him the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) status.  All this information is in their files from his previous admissions in November and March, but lawsuit potential and federal law requires renewing the documentation each admission; I understand this as people do change their minds but Uncle Carl, as all of my family, is vehement about this having drawn up paperwork and updated it. I was astonished to learn yesterday that they still had not flagged him DNR.  I marched out to the nurses' station to remedy this once again and was informed that the doctor had to sign off to which I inquired, "well a doctor is in here daily and I provided this on Friday evening so what else must I do, see the doctor myself?"  The nurse assured me it would go on his top chart while I said that if an event occurred and they did not follow the directive they would not be enjoying my wrath.  So frustrating but I do have the advantage of knowledge and ability to work around and in medical systems and to take care of problems which could wear down a lesser informed individual.  .  

Left to right Carlie, Rich H, Me (standing), Dayna

We have had rain and more rain here, unusually heavy at times and more on the way the next days.  Last night several of us gathered for Chinese food and to catch up; one friend saying, "for food and fellowship" like they say at churches only we toast ourselves. Major news photo and event  the other day was a local drug bust and arrest including one of our classmates from Ken Hi '62; Rich Hemprich here was always the class clown, we are coaxing him into emceeing our 50th reunion next year; true to his reputation Rich mentioned, "I asked Ralph to join us but he's tied up."   He had emailed me the news article saying I likely wanted the photo of Ralph's 15 minutes of fame led out in handcuffs.  This scumbag  annoys all of us, kids who knew the best of times. None of us had any contact with him but as we  look toward our golden gathering next year it torques us; junkies, druggies and those who sell and deal are bottom feeders, and we are righteously insulted as he once was one of us.

Big news coverage here in the Pittsburgh area is our own Steeler's Hines Ward on Dancing with the Stars. Show time approaches and I will be watching and voting.  Each  edition of each newspaper has something to say about this, cheering on our own.  I am off line and ready for  feet up.  Hines has attracted watchers to the show from fans,  people who have never watched Dancing.  That's Steeler Nation.

Arrived PA homestate

So here we are at our only place to park the RV at home in PA, Mt. Top RV, Tarentum, off Bull Creek Road.  Our hosts Ed & Fran finally had to raise their price after all these years; it is now up to $25 per night with our Passport America discount, still way cheaper than a hotel.  Jerry asked Ed when would he add the cable TV at those prices and Ed just looked at him strangely as he deserved.  There is electricity and water hook up here but that is it.  In years past they hosted an annual bluegrass festival in July but decided that they could make more money just opening this as an RV spot, there being none other in the area here near Pittsburgh. their home is on this property, which Fran inherited from her family.  Sad to see her on oxygen now but she looks the same, regrets those years of smoking which led to this, and she is not outside visiting RV's as much as her oxygen hose doesn't reach and she saves the portable for outings. 

We have been parking here since 2008 when we had our first new Southwind.  Just like everyone who arrives here for the first time, down winding Bull Creek Rd and then up Sun Mt. Road of sorts, one wonders where you will end up.  It looks like driving back into Deliverance deep in the woods and hills;  these are real Pennsylvania woods not just a clump of trees as someone we know in MN  refers to her backyard clump of trees.  Right now the spots of natural dogwood trees are making the woods even more magnificent.  Pennsylvania is known for its hills and woods, PennsWoods, for the founder, Quaker William Penn pre colonial times.  
Every one who RV's here that we talk to says the same thing, "what did you think the first time you drove here?" Previous to finding this place, we had parked the old Southwind   which had no slides in Aunt Jinx driveway, but then we did not spend weeks there.  When we  upgraded there was no way we could fit.  Jerry cusses out the streets in these towns which are very narrow making RV driving not so compatible and down right undoable in town.  I remind him this is not new, these roads are from the colonial era, old settler trails where homes popped up and 1800"s at the latest.  Wide enough for horse and buggy maybe, not today's vehicles with cars parking alongside the  curbs.  This is a historic area from the country's early times.
Many young guys working construction have trailers and RV's here which is their home while they are working in the area.  When the job moves on so do they.  This shows industriousness and sense for those who want to work and not draw unemployment and complain about "can't find a job."  There is a young family in one trailer with 3 youngsters, about 5, 3, and 2 years old.  We watched the little bitty 5 year old, at least so we guess, driving round and round in a mini little Kawasaki ATM, giving her  younger sibs a ride in front of her.  I told Jerry, "No way would I let a little girl do that" to which he  laughed, "you wouldn't even ride such a thing."  Correcto!  But she, though itty bitty, teeny tiny,  is very cautious, wears a helmet and we watched her pull off the gravel into the field astutely when a vehicle was pulling in yesterday.  She made several loops around and around, quite cute. 
It's very quiet out here in the boonies and we slept well and long last night.  It is also very safe as Ed is always around mowing, fixing, tinkering and the local police drive up the hill and make the loop. I will post photos later.  This morning we are soon off to visit Uncle at the assisted living center and then over to his home to begin to clear out the trash for Thursday pick up. 
Yesterday  we covered a saner 333 miles from Decatur, IN; purchased 47.7 gallons diesel in Beaverdam OH for $194 and topped off again with 35 gallons for $150 at Sam's at Mills Mall before arriving here--that fill up at expensive PA prices will get us across the state to Gettysburg and beyond and south if all works well.  Road tolls have increased since last year; OH charged $3.25 for a short segment of Interstate 76 and then welcome to my home state of PA where we paid $17 on I 76.  I do agree with user fees for many activities so I cannot  complain too  loudly about the tolls.  Except I recall when the first PA turnpike toll road was set up, to pay for the road and then the toll would be done!  Hah1  A tax once set in place never goes away.   Still the toll  roads are in good shape so they are keeping them up; that is  except for the I 76 around Akron Ohio which gets worse and worse.  We must find an alternate route to that; Jerry has decided even I 80 toll road a bit farther north would be preferable to the washboard through Akron. 

Photos later.

On the Road, the sunny road and 50's memorabilia

Well we arrived in Decatur, IN at some very late midnight hour last night, or is that this morning?  A long drive  but with the madman at the wheel of his new diesel, intent on persevering, pushing onward toward the goal!  I did not realize Decatur in one day was  the ultimate goal, but it turns out he was looking to beat his  best time even venturing onto I 80 south east to Gary, IN an area we usually avoid. I dozed off on the couch about 10:00PM, enough for a day.  Something happens to Jerry behind the wheel of the coach and actually all previous motor homes, and truck  campers.  He loves to drive and he just keeps at it.  Many years back on a caravan to Calgary, Canada with friends we talked about how he and another man became boars behind the wheels, just driving on.  Not sure if we meant "bores" but we laughed and decided Road Hogs fit, years before Wild Hogs, the movie.  I have said many times that in another life he must have been either a long haul truck driver or pony express/stage coachman.  He absolutely loves driving.  Me, not so much, but I can keep myself entertained with my Blackberry and other gadgets.  Advantage to the coach travel  is my frequent potty calls do not have to rely on the driver pulling over. 

We went 558 miles yesterday over 14 hours, of which only 10 hours and 27 minutes were moving, one hour lost to time change as we transitioned  into the  Eastern zone, 45 minutes to refuel, 5 minutes at a rest stop,  23 minutes at Madison, WI Camping World where himself loves to shop, 1 hour and  20 minutes to dine!  The rest of the time he was behind the wheel, eyes ahead.  I cannot sit still that long, so it is a good thing to be able to get up and down and around!

About his shopping escapade; I waited inside the coach because I have seen enough of the insides of Camping Worlds to last me the rest of my years; I feel the same about Cabela's  and other stores of the like.  This trip Jerry was intent on procuring some special vent covers sold nowhere else to his specifications. He also picked up a belated  birthday present for himself, a new shower head for the coach shower.  I liked the old one just fine, but he did not.  However, after my morning shower today, the old one has been reinstalled as I complained loudly that I did  not appreciate standing in a shower with a hose turned onto me.  He had showered first and commented that it was "forceful", which must be the understatement of the month, so far.

Our coach has a tile floor in the bath and in the kitchen  and dining area, just fine with me, but himself wanted matching carpet runners for the tile, which he found on sale at Camping World.  Another $33, unnecessarily spent to me, but I have abdicated any hope of curtailing his expenditures on this coach.  When at home, I purchased an additional decorative pillow for its sofa, he thought that not needed.  The sofa is  creamy colored  leather and I like the  pillows adding color and felt one more was needed.

So yesterday's purchases  leave us $461 poorer of which  $268 was  for diesel fuel which was the first fill up since our  return trip from AZ when we filled up in Des Moines, IA.  Most often we dine at home, but we did  get out  to dine at an Iron Skillet in Remington, IN whilst deciding whether or not to press on to Decatur.  Why did we have that conversation?  He already knew what he was planning, but took a break to indulge in a steer burger while I feasted on shrimp alfredo with ziti pasta.  Here in the Midwest where food is too plentiful and the cooks are all excellent  makes it an experience! 

We stay free here in Decatur at the Fleetwood Factory RV ground, a perk for Fleetwood owners in the area.  It was nearly full last night when we pulled in but nearly deserted today.  Jerry wanted a factory kit to mount the front license plate but after waiting around for an hour, decided to forego that. 

Today we lunched at Arnold's a Decatur, IN landmark, a 50's burger joint.  My favorite there is the old time cherry coke which I do not even  try diet style, instead reveling in the only authentic  cherry cokes  today, made just as I enjoyed them in my adolescent years in PA. The burgers are some of the best in the country and they make their own potato chips.  Health food!   There is ever so much stuff and  genueine 50's collectabilia inside, that one really feels back to the  50's  especially while moving to the original rock n roll music played.  We will not be here next week, May 14th  when they hold their car hop auditions, yes they really do.  Not just anyone can be a skating car hop at Arnold's. Foiled again,  I never worked as a car hop yet always thought that would be fun as a teenager. I would be unlikely to pass the age requirement for the auditions; I wonder how they get around that but it is hearland, Decatur. Anyone who gets to this area should experience Arnold's. 

I am curious  and must learn where the waitresses buy their saddle oxford shoes that all are wearing.  Oh I loved those shoes. I recalled  being a teeny bopper with a new pair when the game was to purposely step on our toes to scuff up our new whites.  One boy tried to do so to my  new shoes, but I responded swiftly  by hitting him upside his head with a book I was carrying and knocked him to the floor.   Another boy witnessed this and said, " Patty, you killed him!"  "No I didn't but if he ever tries that again I will!"  I was telling Jerry this story today in Arnold's and he shook his head; he marvels that I have friends today after all these years in PA who are glad to see me when we are home, next stop.   I said that word got around and no one ever  tried to step on my whites again!  No shy retiring violet was this girl!  By the way that was the same boy I pushed into the waste basket in 8th grade then grabbed him by his hair and out came a handful.  One would have thought he'd have known better thanto mess with Patty Lou; Robert Baldridge was his name and I believe he is dead.  No I did not kill him! 

 On to visit friends this afternoon.

Front counter at Arnold's Decatur, IN

 

Sepia Saturday 73 The Other Half in Sepia (Click here to Sepia Site)

Jerry's natal day corresponds to our Sepia post day and so, I offer him today in Sepia times.  He was born May 7,'37, at 7:00AM, weighing 7 lbs., the 7th grandchild and the 7th  great grandchild to parents who were only married 7 months before his birth.  One might think 7 could be his lucky number or of some significance, but we have not yet realized any such luck  playing that number.   When a cousin's 5 year old  boy saw this photo he looked at Jerry and said, "You wore a dress?"  Well so he did as likely did many of that time, but little Blake thought that was so funny. He just pointed at Jerry and teased.    For several years, Jerry insisted this was not him but I did get confirmation from aunts and from his mother who validated indeed it is him.  He is still embarrassed today to be recorded forever in such garb, and says, "I don't remember and I'm glad, harrumph!"

There are ever so many photos of himself as an infant as it seems everyone had their photo taken with him.  His story though does wend twisted ways as his parents divorced, his dad enlisting in the Navy without mentioning he left behind a wife and  by  that time two babes.  However after  all these years around MIL I can well imagine waking up some morning as the tale goes and saying, " I am out of here."  Jerry's mother is a tale of someone who should never have had the responsibility of children; she had neither skill, education,  nor sense to make good decisions.  It is a tale told in novels ad nauseum, a woman several bricks short of a full load, but able to reproduce.

Jerry 1938 held by Dad,
 next to grandfather Morrison

This next photo is one of the few he has with his father. Notice the cigarettes that both Morrison's are using.   The Morrison family doted on Jerry as he was the 3rd with the name Gerald, but  his mother, true to her lifelong selfish nature managed to keep that relationship at a distance, denying him that lineage.  Recently cleaning out her things, we found a postcard that the father had sent to Jerry from Racine, WI in 1940 further proof that all those years when she said there had been no contact, she was not being truthful.  Jerry was astounded when he saw that last year.  What would you think when you suspected and now had proof that your mother lied to suit herself?  There was never any relationship with his father who became an alcoholic and was married and divorced again; dying a pauper. 
This alienation reminds me of the life of my Uncle John whose son was taken by the maternal grandparents when his wife died and John would see the boy no more; however John went on in life.  It is amazing  how one person can screw up so many lives.   After her husband left her, she moved back home and Jerry's maternal grandparents raised him; his grandpa Charley Behrndt was his role model, old farmer and hard worker that he was.  Sill Jerry adored Charley and the feeling was mutual.



Jerry about 4 years old on the farm



This  photo  about 1941 shows Jerry  barefooted, hard to see, but he swears he was, on a swing on the farm.  He says he walked around barefoot most of the summer until one day when he was about 6 he stepped on a nail.  Shoes were mandatory there after.  For a man who would not be caught barefoot today, he has  come a long way.   We both enjoy  this photo and have it displayed after we found it among his mother's belongings when we moved her to the skilled facility in September. The family  farm and the corn crib is in the background to the left.   

There are ever so many more photos I could include, but we are in the midst of loading up and taking off in the RV for PA and hopefully the Carolinas.  So I will close with  a then and now set. 

 When we were in Tucson, AZ in March and visited the Pima Air and Space Museum, Jerry found a plane he had flown on while in the Air Force.   He was so tickled to find old 554, saying the only thing better would have been triple nickel as they called old #555. .  While browsing photos to include in this post, I found one of his squadron beside the same plane when they were honored as top squadron  of the year at McClellan AFB,years before my time. 



 First the 1960 photo from the base news letter showing the 963rd    B4 crew at full attention. 

1960 McClellan AFB   Honored flight crew of the 963rd
Jerry standing far left  

Jerry at Pima Air and Space Museum, Tucson, AX
With old #554 same plane the crew flew on

This has been a Sepia Saturday post ...check out what others share this week by clicking on the title to this post and visitng the host Sepia international site. 

Time Sepia Saturday 72 (Click here to get to the Sepia Site)

Uncle Carl's sketch  about 1950

Above is a postcard sketch done by my Uncle Carl in about 1950 after he completed  a commercial art certificate program through the University.  Uncle Carl about whom I've written  several times on this blog is 93 and living in a care facility in PA, the last of my tribe, Mom's brother.  Today he no longer sketches nor draws though each time I go there I take along a set of colored pencils, regular pencils,  pens and a tablet hoping to re-awaken his interest in drawing.  He always takes them and then either gives them away or hides them in his room, saying that his days  of drawing are over but I don't give up; there is a stubbornness gene in the family that I have in spades.   

After he returned home from WWII he enrolled in commercial art courses using  his GI educational benefits.   He was a natural  artist, a gene that runs through  the Ostrowski family, but he was unable to make a living at it.  Instead he went to work for the local gas company as a repairman, lineman, meter reader, all activities that allowed him to be outdoors, and supplemented his income by painting commercial signs.  Often he would take a photo of something and then sketch or paint it. 

Cleaning out his home, I found this card and was astounded at the precise detail;  I don't know the purpose of this sketch, if this is something he sold or did this just to amuse himself.  When I asked him about this watch sketch he said, "Oh I did lots of those.."  Often when  painting a commercial sign he would first sketch it in miniature.  What concentrationhe had to reproduce  perfect detail; today time has taken that skill along with many of his physical abilities.       

We will soon be making our journey to visit him and check on things; he and his wife had no children so after his sister died in 2009, the responsibility came to me. I had to be the one to get him into the facility with help from his  doctor; he calls it, "the Club" and is amenable and content there.  Time has marched on, to the beat of a strange rhythm.  No one expected Uncle Carl to outlive all his siblings; he has outlived heart bypass surgery in his 60's, high blood pressure  and genetic high cholesterol.  He takes no medications other than when he gets pneumonia or an infection that necessitates antibiotics.  Still it is sad to see someone who was once so robust weakened,  with dementia and unable to live in his own  home.  

This is a photo he intended to sketch someday, but time got away from him; it was on the wall in his basement workshop.  He had noted, "my favorite girls"  on the back; the girls are his wife Marge who passed in 1997 and me. His sisters used to ask him, "what about me" which would geta  big laugh from Carl in reply.  After Marge told me he was planning to sketch this  each time I visited over the years I had to ask if he had sketched us yet; he'd reply, "Sometime you just have to wait."  Somewhere I have a better copy of this on which he had some tiny black spots, maybe from an ink pen or paint brush.  

1986 Left to Right Aunt Marge, Uncle Carl, Me
One of our  visits  to PA.

Last week the director of the facility where Carl resides called me, setting my hair on edge, as I braced myself for bad news answering the phone. I know he can go at any time.   No bad news instead they had a photo to email to me.  A young boy had been in the previous day visiting and he and Carl really hit it off. There are some kids like this little boy  that Carl just likes right away.   The boy showed him his electronic phone  game and the photo below says it all.  Carl became enthralled with it; he was always interested in electronics and cameras.  The look on this child's face is priceless, can't you see him thinking, "Oh why did I show him this and when is he  gonna give it back!" The facility director said he was sending this onto home office with a caption, "Never too old to learn."   

Uncle Carl with the boy's electronic

As always to enjoy others' posts  in the Sepia activity, click on the title to this post to go to the host site. Alan's timely photo surprised me who just knew we would be doing Royal Wedding theme, and not so.  I am relieved at the choice.   

Writers, feedback and readers

Last night I went to the meeting of a local group of women wanna be writers.  My intent is to connect with a writers group as I have been so advised by successful published writers and since these women are right here in my backyard and invited me, my curiosity got the better of me.  There are only five in the group, I made the sixth; they have been meeting for many years and are all familiar or more distinctly settled in with each other.  I was told last night's venue would be silent reading of each other's work and commenting.

I printed out two of my blog posts about my Uncle John Irwin, the recent Sepia Saturday camel and the older Red Dragon.  Since I prefer to not waste my color print cartridges, I stopped in at my local friendly office copy service in town, Charlie's, to get another copy to share.  They know me there as I have been a good customer over the last two  years, copying all the numerous estate papers and documents.  While copying, she commented, "Oh now what is this you are doing?"  When I explained, she asked if she could not have a copy too to read as she found the titles of interest.  So I agreed but with the caveat that she had to provide me some honest feed back.   If you are curious or merely wish to refresh yourself here are the links on this blog to  both  posts.

 http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/2011/04/sepia-saturday-week-70-camel-click-here.html
http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/2010/03/our-red-dragon.html

So was it mission accomplished or time wasted?  I am still pondering.  These  women are too familiar with each other and may not be able to share real perspective, if they have it at least not what I want.  I am not sure that any of them are established readers or well read which I believe is a prerequisite to writing.  One needs to understand language and words, else output is merely drivel or ranting.    It seems to me that aspiring writers must seek out readers and editors.  These women are intent on being kind to each other which, while an  admirable Midwestern trait may not be time well spent if one is seriously considering publication.  At least one, is a retired English teacher and concerns herself with editing for commas, punctuation and the like trivia.  Well when I blog, I don't pay such attention to those details, so my articles kept her busy.  Her comments really do resemble Mrs.Klinke who was one of my high school teachers, complete with the red pen check marks.  I wondered what grade she had given me.

One woman  is a self published writer, an earthy type who wonders why her recent trivia self published book has not yet achieved best seller status.  She would know if she realized who really cares about building their own brick or stone oven in their  yard to spend a day building a wood fire and baking 20 loaves of bread?  When I'd  heard her speaking at the library lecture when I met this group, I was bored and thinking, "well good for you, but I'll stick with my occasional use of my bread maker." 

The teacher and the earth mother discussed their attendance last week  at a writers' conference in Madison, WI and both expressed  disappointment.  They commented on the exorbitant  cost which seemed nominal to me at $200 for a couple days plus additional  fees for certain workshops.  They also commented on hearing that the writing world is full of rejections.  Most of all they dissed the  many workshops which emphasized the necessity to be technology savy and to have a web presence, a blog,  as well as be linked to social media.  None of them do this, one  uses a self correcting electric typewriter, one an ancient computer, the earth mother writes in a spiral notebook then types it on her PC.  I sat wondering where these women had been all their lives and knew the answer,. right here, out of touch.  I surmised  things might  go down hill from there for me.  In my introduction I told them about my blog and computer use.  They listened politely, one was amazed at my having a blog as she knew they were very difficult to set up.  How she knew this, I wonder, but I people can  retreat happily  to denial when they lack knowledge and familiarity.   Only one understood what I said about weekly contributions to Sepia Saturday.  The others could not comprehend writing with a prompt as Magpie posts.

 Earth mother was devastated and admitted to spending all the past  week  in tears because although she was one of the 25% selected to email her manuscript to an editor  after she "made her pitch" she received a rejection the very next  day, emailed with the mere comment, "not for me."  She inundated us with pages of her journal last night which  she proposes to publish as a travelogue of Ireland.  I was bored senseless reading it.  Besides we had been told to limit ourselves to 10 pages, but evidently she was an exception.  The others raved about her pages as I remained silent.  When she asked me why I had been silent, I had to be me and say that "it was not my cup of tea."  I was thinking that puts me in the same space as the editor who rejected her.  She could not understand any of my writings where I referenced Life as a Muse and left me with a ?"what is that?"  She spent quite sometime lamenting how she was going to give up writing which elicited sympathy  and encouragement from the group.  Her comments seemed to focus on movement.  I asked for clarity about who or what  should move.  And she merely waved her hand, "Aahh the writing must move."   I am thinking this group may be absolutely ineffective for feedback. 

One woman who has a published book Deborah, the Biblical prophetess is primarily now concerned with selling her book, I can appreciate that as she has  an investment in the copies. Her feedback to me on my articles was acclamations of niceties, but also  a bewildered, "but who is that riding on the camel?  And why doesn't he have any clothes on?"   Maybe this is a different take on the Irwin camel, but I was amazed.  Still no one ever talked about the camel rider, only the Irwin camel.  Is that worth my time? 

 One woman is working on a book about two sisters which is part mystery and part saga and shared her chapter "Red Lace Thong".  It was ok, unlikely something I'd purchase but not badly written neither  great language, it offered some suspense as to how these girls will settle their inheritance.  I was lost as to who was whom, and why she'd chosen that title for the chapter but she assured me that answer is coming in a few more pages which are not completed.  

The other woman is dabbling as well but forgot to bring  along her recent fixes to her story, which I found odd as the purpose of the group is to get feedback on writings, I  presumed.  Why would one go without the material? 

Overall they were intrigued with Uncle John and asked if I had more about him.  They kept trying to place him in MN despite my background about where and when.   They laughed on how he must have been a character and they could see my grandparent's consternation at him as a son in law. One suggested I write more about that.  One took issue with me returning the camel to the Irwins eventually.  Another said, "no she is right to do so, he never knew his grandson."  There followed a conversations among themselves, consensus being it is ok for me to do so.  I don and the 't recall asking for an opinion on that.   Earth mother had just returned from Ireland where he father lives and said John would have liked it there because at each home one is offered a glass of whiskey.  Yes, indeed that would have been right up John's alley or down his throat and I do believe he had Irish ancestry.  

The gist is they meet here at my local library, but I think if I want meaningful feedback I will need to seek another venue. When I came home and described the evening to Jerry, he smirked and said, "what can you expect, it's La Crescent and likely their monthly social gathering?"  Sometimes I leave these gatherings feeling like a snob or stranger in a strange land.  But I have lived a far different life professionally and socially than any of these women and cannot relate to much of what they do.  Where have these women been that they do not fathom the difficulty in writing and the massive rejections that await?   How can I expect useful feedback from women who do not read because they are busy writing?  Or any comprehension from women who barely use email, let alone blogs or social media?  How can women who know nothing beyond MN, WI or IA have any frame of reference?  That I would write about PA mystified them. That I came from CA was  something they could not fathom.   Still I suppose if one is confined to this or any small area and look nowhere beyond in the country or the world, this is what happens.  They are nice cordial  women who will likely continue to meet and amuse themselves this way.

Sepia Saturday Week 71 Easter (Click here to go to the Sepia host site)

1965 Steve with Easter bunny and candy

Thought I would skip this week of Easter but I have been rummaging old photos looking for some of a grand aunt on my father's side after a new Ancestry.com connection this week with cousins, previously unknown to me.  While on that search I found these photos of Easter past, long past.  Sometimes it helps to just remember Steve in his happiest times, as friends said, he was such a happy smiling kid, always.  Life would diminish that happiness, but these good memories of what we enjoyed bring a glow.    This first of his first Easter, one year old, dressed in a suit.  I can hear him from the Beyond now, "Mother!"  I don't remember that bunny which looks like it was wooden.  But I remember that Easter suit, which Mom sent money to buy.  Back in the olden days we always dressed to the nines for holidays, even toddlers.
I found few photos of Easter, many more of Christmas.

We and everyone we knew and many we met spent most Easters at the Kikers' farm in Newcastle. Sam and Helen Kiker were parents of my dear friend Ella and the extended family of all of us was huge.  Nearly 100 of us gathered there every year on Easter and other times; Helen would cook a huge ham and a turkey and we all brought many dishes and ice chest  filled with beverages  for the massive dinner.  It was a fun time and we all knew that; maybe we never thought back then that  those days would become memories.  This was the Newcastle farm we would eventually buy from Sam and Helen as they aged and were intent to selling off when we were intent to move from the suburb of Fair Oaks; none of their children were interested in buying and we were "adopted kids" as they called us, so they sold to us and we moved to the orchard/ranch/ acreage.



1971 Easter at Kikers Farm  Steve, Karen and kids

 This 1971 photo of just a few of the multitude of kids gathered at the farm,  posed for the Easter egg hunt that would be down the road in the pond field.  Steve is front  to the left holding his basket, next to him is Karen Malnick, (Ella and Phil's daughter.) She was younger but they lived down the street in Fair Oaks and she always looked to Steve as her big brother. Steve was easy going and would go along with entertaining the youngsters. I don't recall who the other children are except Leslie Kiker, the blonde on the ground on the right chewing on her basket handle. I didn't write the names, I suppose I thought I'd always know who they were and today  I do not.

Oh, all our dogs which we all brought to the farm had to be corralled so the kids could first search for eggs that the men hid and sprinkled  all over the  field, arranging easier egg areas for the youngest children to find and so on.  After the kids were done, the dogs were loosed and headed down to the field  always finding leavings.  You will notice all the cars in the huge drive and road.  Sam drove the kids to the pond  in the back of a cart hauled by the tractor.  Along the way they all sang, Sam's special song, "Alfalfa Hay" 
 
One last photo of an Easter many years later, 1990, and now many years ago.  It is one of my favorites with the glow of the sun shining through the trees looking down the hill off the back deck, Newcastle.

1990 Easter sun Newcastle, CA

As always click on the title to go to the Sepia site and see what others are sharing.  Alan's Big Bunny prompt at the host site is worth checking out...Happy Easter day