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I Know I’m Irish and a Writer
I awoke this morning at 0550, which is in the usual time frame of when I arise daily. On this day I knew I must be Irish. As I glanced out the window, clouds and rain were present once again. The 53 degree temperature outside had made the house cool, especially when one is in drawers and a Tee shirt.
The view this morning out the window.
I would go to the living room and get a fire going in the fireplace. Thanks to modern technology I had only to click a button on the starter gadget to get the propane to fire and bring instant warmth were you to stand in front of the flames. Twenty eight yers ago I would have been stoking a fire in the old Nashua cast iron stove in Connecticut.
In a month’s time we have had twenty-two days of measurable precipitation and our mean temperature’s have been 58f for a high and 48f for a low. One morning we awoke to a frost covered lawn and 35f. Oh yes, it’s Ireland, just 3,239 miles east of Galway is all. Please, let me experience some sun. Oh to sit outside in the garden and have a pint.
I consider myself a writer. I’ve been blogging since 2008. I started on Google, http://thefidd.blogspot.com/ was my moniker for the first seven years. Lots of stuff posted about family, friends, travel and such back then. It’s all retrievable should you care to take a look. Learn who El Jefe is and where he spends his time in this shrinking world of today.
I’ve branched out a bit since moving here to WordPress last year. I guess, thanks to the weather and the feeling of my living in Ireland that would make me feel like an Irish writer. Nothing to the tune from the likes of Beckett, Yeats, Joyce or Ian MacPherson from this hand, although I wish. I do add words to paper, ok, it’s the Mac, but that makes me a writer, right?
I’ve been to Europe on several occasions, Germany and Ireland to be specific. I’ve gotten to Ireland twice, most recently, not as an “Accidental Tourist.” “The Accidental Tourist” was an American film featured in Baltimore, MD, my home state and adapted from the novel of the same name written by Anne Tyler. The film came out in 1988, my first year to blog, thus the significance. Means nothing of course.
Our most recent trip to Ireland by my me and the wife was this past December. We traveled with a dear friend by the name of O’Leary who’s mother hosted us for a week. No touristy stuff, we were village people. The town was Kilkenny, we had mist and rain, cold and blustery and it felt like Maryland in May. The house we stayed in was warm, had a fireplace, a wonderful hostess and five pounds gained of great food. Marios is a great place for Fish and Chips if you’re ever in Kilkenny. Yep, I’m Irish and a writer and I eat like one and enjoy a pint now and then .
While in Kilkenny we shopped one day at a pottery, “Nicholas Mosse” is the name. Bennett’s Bridge is where Nicholas Mosse calls home. It sits along the river Nore, just down the road a piece from the town. It seems our host’s wife Lexi has a love for this pottery and has numerous pieces about their home. It being the Christmas season, why not get some shopping in says our host.
Me wife, standing in the rain. I just noticed, she was spending her euros also. Notice the bag.
Since I’m not much into pottery, or shopping for that matter, I would find an alternative means of occupying my time. Located on the second floor of the pottery was a quaint little Cafe. Some coffee, a sweet roll and a table by the window would serve me well. I’d read the local paper and gather material for the next blog. While the shoppers shopped, the writer researched. In Ireland on a rainy blustery day I might add a few words to a future best seller. Oh the dreams that exist. The coffee was fantastic and so was the view by the way. I’m really in Ireland and I’m writing.
The Rooster reading the local tabloid.
Yes, in one respect as far as I’m concerned, and the Weather God has made it such, I’m an Irish writer, even on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Ireland has her Cliffs of Moher. Maryland has her Calvert Cliffs.
Ian MacPherson has a new book out. The only one living of the lot I mentioned.
You can get it here. > 
The dedication inside the cover reads like this.
For Maggi
my one wish –
that we die together
at the age of 96
making love
with all our children
at the bedside
That’s the dedication. Isn’t it truly, truly beautiful?
And they say great poetry is dead!
THE BOOK OF BLAISE
‘He is a standup comedian with an acerbic wit, leaving you breathless with laughter at the sheer absurdity of life, and his life in particular. To say that his act is based on things going wrong is like saying that Genghis Khan was a warmonger. It gives you the idea, but does not indicate the sheer scale of the enterprise. And The Book of Blaise is the Everest of absurdity.’
FOR THE JOY OF READING
‘Kick Myles Na GCopaleen into the next century and you’d get something like Ian Macpherson – the same eye for absurdity, the same ear for wordplay’
David Robinson: Emeritus Literary Editor – The Scotsman
‘The Book of Blaise is the unapologetically personal account of one man’s struggle with the superiority of women, specifically his wife Blaise. It’s the funniest book I’ve read since… his last one.’
NORTHWORDS NOW
Thanks once again for stopping by. The temperature, just to let you know is 58 degrees F., or should it be F’n degrees? 
Get Milk
Yesterday was an exciting day for me, I was to attend my first Cardiac Rehabilitation class. On Monday I had the mandatory Stress Test to evaluate my ability to physically perform in Rehab. Somehow I passed the test, God knows I did not study. I’m guessing the 4,000 – 7500 steps I’ve been taking these past two months aided me a bit in that regard. I’ll get to that 10,000 step level before long. Keep putting one foot in front of the other Rooster.
I’m on my own for a few weeks. My wife has headed up to Connecticut to be a companion to my sister. My sister is having some health issues at the moment and my wife is out doing her Corporal Works of Mercy. It is a calling with this woman I married, she is amazing. It’s not her first walk around this block. My wife is a retired nurse as was this sister and another sister I have in Virginia is a nurse also. I also have have a daughter who is a nurse to add to the flock. If you are ever ill and are surrounded by women in this vocation, you shall get no pity. Just ask this writer. Oh, and just to mention, my mother in-law was a nurse also, God rest her sole.
Prior to leaving the house I wrote myself a note, “Remember Milk” it said. I usually place these reminders in front of the Speedometer of my car. A wise Lawyer once said in a Criminal Justice class I attended many years ago, “If it’s not written down, it didn’t happen.” At my age, in this time of my life, if it’s not written down it’s not going to happen.
Now my wife who is several months younger than I, she writes little to nothing down, remembers groceries and such to include several weeks of stock in the larder. She will not need a shopping list to feed 37 at Thanksgiving. Her only memory loss, the placement of speed cameras on the roads she travels daily to get to the store. These edifices never move, they are stationary on cement pads. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Send $40 to the appropriate municipality. I’ve recently learned that there are several other ladies who have the same lapse in memory in our town. You are not alone my dear, I love you just the same. Write the check Rooster.
Upon my successful completion and survival of my first Cardiac Rehab session I gingerly walked to my car, got behind the steering wheel, and there was the note. “GET MILK” it said. I checked the wallet and had a twenty, no problem right? I mean whats a half gallon of milk cost, a twenty will surely cover it.
I pull into the local grocery store, in this case it was Giant, yes the same Giant with the easy scan self checkout machines. Dare I go this route again? I parked way far back from the entrance, the better to get more steps in you see. You also get a pull through spot that way, easy drive out. I keep track of my steps with my new Fit Bit Blaze watch.
I make the walk, entered the store, and started towards the far back right, bread by the way is at the far left rear. They get us to pass a plethora of items this way. I passed through the Wine and Beer aisle and noticed Starborough, Sauvignon Blanc Marlborough 2015 on sale for $10.99. This usually sells for $15.99. Two bottles in the cart, what a bargain.
I got to the rear of the store and the Dairy section, find my 1/2 gallon of milk, $3.49. Into the cart it goes. Why I didn’t just grab one of the hand carry basket I don’t know. Pushing the cart up the aisle past the juices, Simply Lemonade jumped right out to me. You see I enjoy an Arnold Palmer on those warm days, Ice Tea and Lemonade is how I make it. The sun is bound to appear sometime and things will warm up. Into the basket, $2.50, thank you very much.
A light bulb went off and I remembered I had planned on having a left over Chicken and Apple Brat for lunch. A salad would go good with that I thought. Cut a diagonal to the far left rear of the store, more steps on my Fit Bit Blaze watch I’m thinking. In route to the Deli I pass the Grocery aisles, A sign jumps out at me, Quinoa 2 for $5.00. Not something my wife would purchase but I enjoy it. A can of Black and a can of Red Kidney beans said “take me” also, .79 cents. “Another bargain” says I. Glad I have the push cart now.
I paused as I passed the Coffee and Tea aisle. Did the wife get Tea last week I wondered? Into the cart goes Irish Breakfast and English Black Breakfast tea. The cost, $3.29 and $3.39.
I’m guessing the ten cents difference is due to the upgraded Pound Sterling compared to the Euro. The poor Irish, belittled again.
Just as I was exiting the aisle a box of Folger’s, Gourmet Columbian, Keurig single cup 12 pack jumped into my cart. My lady likes the milder beans you see. While the wife’s away, the grocer I’ll pay. I love my bold coffee. This stop only cost me $7.49. Ah, but I’ll have a smile on my face tomorrow morning.
From this pause in route I would finally continue to the Deli and purchase my Salad. I would choose a fresh Broccoli Crunch, the young lady was spooning the newly made item into it’s stainless steel bowl as I arrived. It doesn’t get any fresher than that. I asked for half pound and she nailed it, .50 lb, on the money. “How often does that happen” I say to myself. The cost, $2.30 for a half pound.
I would leave the Deli and finally head to the check out. As I approached the the check out, the lines were all full. I wandered to the left and the cursed Self Check Out. Over in the Produce area I faintly spied apples. I knew I was out, we only buy four at a time and I had consumed my four since I’d been left a single man last week. You guessed it, to Produce and four more apples. Fuji apples they were, $1.78 lb @ 1.99 / lb. Ka-Ching, $3.54 for the apples.
There just happens to be an old song by Shania Twain called “Ka-Ching” and it followed another song of her’s called “Gotcha Good.” Well Giant’s grocery store got me good, to the tune of $54.56, $1.98 of that was state tax by the way. All this for a 1/2 gallon of milk @ $3.49, Ka-Ching.
Hello Self Check out. Pay the bill and push the cart to the back of the parking lot, 2,362 steps, thanks Milk. I’m a bit healthier because of this experience.
Thanks for the look see.
Semper Fi
Grow a Pair: The Lost Art of Pushing Yourself and Overcoming Your Shark
by Jordan Jones May 16, 2016
Forward by the Rooster
Once again I share with you a most recent post from ITS Tactical. Most of us have a fear of something, mine at the moment is Bacon and what it could do to my newly By-Passed arteries. I’ve kind of passed those physically challenging encounters that you youngsters out there, meet head on in today’s world. Are there demons out there you could push yourself to conquer? Do you know what they are, would you take the plunge?
Jordan Jones is the newest member of the ITS Crew, Jordan Jones is a Contributor on ITS. During his time in the Marine Corps, Jordan deployed overseas for 3 years and has experience as a member of FAST, PSD and FMTU teams. These days, he spends his time roaming around the ITS warehouse, packing and shipping customer orders. Jordan enjoys working out, shooting, bushcraft and Kali. He likes staying active and visiting with friends, family and his lovely lady.
If the title of the post rubs you the wrong way in this new politically correct world, get over it!
Grow a Pair
Cowboying up, opening a can of man, you get the idea. Call it what you will, but there’s a lesson to be learned in enduring the uncomfortable and pushing past your perceived barriers. A few weeks ago, I found myself as the last man standing in a beginner’s Scuba Diving class. It made me think that pushing yourself past your limits is fast becoming a lost art.
A Totally Natural Fear of Sharks
First a little backstory. I, like many people with common sense and an innate need to stay alive, am afraid of sharks. From their cold lifeless eyes, to their evil tooth-filled grin, they give the impression that they’re happy to be a soulless killing machine. To put it plainly, they give me a solid case of the “heeby jeebies.” Most of us have a “shark” in our lives, but the important thing is not to run away and instead, learn to overcome these obstacles and push past them.
This brought me into the realm of Scuba Diving. Being in the modern Marine Corps, I didn’t see a lot of water; quite the opposite in fact. So the idea of staying underwater longer that it takes to egress (while holding my lucky horseshoe and thinking of petting kittens and rainbows) out of a downed helicopter was a new experience for me.
When considering the idea of learning to dive, I devoured any information I could on the matter. In addition, I spent time in the pool familiarizing myself with challenges I could face in such an environment. Before my first day of Scuba class, I learned to clear my mask underwater, how to swim with fins and also how to conserve energy/oxygen. I wanted to prepare for the class before actually attending.
The SCUBA Class
My class started a few weeks ago with myself and six other adult men, in a local Scuba training center. As of now, I’m the last one in the class. Not because I’m some genetically-engineered frogman, but more because of my innate feeling to push past fears and mental blocks that we all need to drive us. It doesn’t matter whether it results in failure or success, it’s the effort that counts. If you want to succeed in something, you have to grow a pair and do it. If you never push yourself, you’ll never progress as a person.
The first three students washed out in the classroom before we’d even hit the water. They couldn’t be bothered to watch some videos at home in their free time. Our fourth member quit because he couldn’t get underwater without completely losing his mind. The final two would find themselves overcome by the deep, dark depths of 14 feet. After “surviving the hell of the depths,” aka sitting at the bottom of the pool practicing buddy breathing, the fifth student didn’t show up to the next class. It was now myself and one other student left.
At the next class, myself and the last remaining student arrived at the pool and huddled around our very patient instructor. We had to wait for a group of 6 year old girls practicing synchronized swimming to finish. After an intense round of instruction at the hands of their assumed Girl Scout leader, we gathered our gear and hit the water.
As we began our decent into the murky abyss of the community pool, we hit a snag. The other student was wearing a recently purchased wetsuit which wasn’t weighted down properly to make the descent. He’d attained the much sought after “neutral buoyancy” at a depth of 1 foot below the surface and was waving his arms and legs in an impressive display of interpretive dance.
Our instructor casually rose to the surface and proceeded to add ten pounds or so (none of this metric crap) to the BC of the student (which I later learned was because of the wet suit and the panicked breaths the student was taking) and sank him to the bottom. After practicing finding and clearing our regulators, we moved onto mask clearings.
We filled the masks partially and I, in my awesome thought process, decided to lift my mask and allow water in from the bottom. This allowed water to shoot straight up my nose causing some less than fortunate side effects. After pinching my nose and swallowing the super-hydrating pool water, I cleared my mask and gave the okay sign to our instructor.
The focus was then shifted to my final companion, student number six. To his credit, he lifted from the top of his mask and allowed water to partially fill it. At that point, his eyes grew large and he motioned to the surface in a manner that likened him to Bill Paxton’s character in Aliens. “Game Over, Man. Game Over!” He then performed what I later learned from Bryan to be known as the undesirable “Pegasus Missile” maneuver, after hearing a story he told about a BUD/s instructor’s safety brief at the pool.
This maneuver involves over inflating your BC from depth in an emergency and shooting to the surface with dangerous speed before breaching like a blue whale, before plopping back onto the surface and bobbing in the water. After executing this maneuver, the student simply got out, packed his things and quickly departed before anyone could even make sure he was all right.
I started this hobby because I wanted to face my fear and swim with sharks. You just have to put in the effort. Whatever your “shark” is, don’t let those evil, cold-eyed sons of bitches get you to fail. Too many people these days hit a wall and decide that it’s too much and they can’t take it. Work past your fears, grow a pair and keep going.
Thanks to Jordan Jones, a fellow Marine, for his writing skill and his service to this wonderful country of ours. Thank you once again to Bryan Black for allowing me to share this with you. Check out ITS Tactical,
Click here to learn about all the benefits and Join!
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The Rooster thanks you once again for coming by to take a look-see. Have a great day.
Semper Fi
Turtle Crossing
Forward
Bear Tales photo.
Since I’m on a road trip, actually today is our last day, I’m using the thoughts and life’s experiences of my amazing granddaughter in Oklahoma to fill a few lines of my blog today.
Sam doesn’t get to post a lot, wife, mother of three under four, full-time U.S.A.F. Officer and Youth Religion teacher in her church seems to keep her busy.
If you’re ever for lack of something to read, give Sam a look-see at her blog: https://adayinmylife.org/
New post on A Day in my life
Save a Turtle
by c12samb
I’ve been thinking about the content of this post a lot the past few weeks and my brain has finally connected it all together.
Z is currently out-of-town and I miss his help most in the mornings. Between taking a shower, nursing D, feeding the girls, dressing everyone, feeding myself, loading everyone and everything and getting out the door on time…it’s a struggle every morning. This past week was no exception. As I pulled out of the development I realized I had not closed the garage door. I pull into the nearest driveway and turn around. As I turn back into our development I notice a turtle. Did I stop and help him to cross the road? Of course not! I was running late. As I approach the house, of course, the garage door is down; I had closed it.
I loop back through the development and upon reaching the development entrance, a SUV is stopped and a woman is helping the turtle to cross the road. This is when the post came together for me.
We all have done this. We’ve either helped or been too busy to help. What we fail to realize when we choose not to help is that the turtle does not know he needs our help. This is true for people in life. There are so many times that we stay in our bubble; too busy to help, too busy to ask how someone is doing, too busy to pick up the phone.
We need to stop being too busy and too consumed with things that don’t matter. I was already running behind. How long would it have taken me to stop, move the turtle and continue on my way? 30-90 seconds? How long does it take to walk around the office and say “Hey, how was your weekend”.
Below is a great TED talk that fits with this perfectly. My commander showed it to my squadron during a Commander’s Call and I love it.
TED talk on how to make stress your friend
People don’t know they need help until help is offered. These past few weeks I have received help I didn’t know I needed. I realized I didn’t have it as “together” as I thought I did. We all need to be taken care of and we all need to take care of.
Thanks Sam, and thanks to my readers for coming by.
Where was this road-trip you took Rooster? The wife and I ventured north to our former home of Connecticut and spent a few nights getting free room and board at our son’s in Tolland, CT. We got to visit my sister who’s been a bit under the weather of late. We went to my Brother’s Tag-Sale. I picked up a S & W knife, a Giraffe Bank, needs some TLC, and an oil camping lamp. All items to be given away. Remember my post “Elder Abuse.”
We attended a Sheep , Wool and Fiber Fest at the Tolland, CT TAC grounds. Our two Connecticut granddaughters have had adopted Alpacas in the past. We saw granddaughter Jill play in a HS softball game, Tolland vs. E.O. Smith. Had food from our favorite past Eatery, Vernon Pizza and caught up with what we’ve missed since our last visit in December.
The trip up was something new, as the trip back is also. I’ll make that a blog for another day. Talk to you all again soon.
Growing up Methodist
Audubon, NJ United Methodist Church
I grew up during those youthful years until, I’m guessing age fourteen, a Methodist. At one point I even sang in the choir, I still look back and chuckle at this.
My biological parents separated when I was two and divorced by the time I was about five. Both my parents lived in the same town and I was shared back and forth for a number of years prior to age eight or nine when my father moved from South Jersey (Exit 3 of the Turnpike area) to Connecticut. Everybody in Jersey lives off an exit of one highway or another. At one time I lived off Exit 4 of the Garden State Parkway. One of the best years of my youth was spent in Wildwood Crest, more stories for an other day. My mother and I would live for a number of years after the separation with my great grandparents in a second floor apartment.
Living next door was the man my mother would ultimately marry when I turned ten years old. That man lived with his mother and father and they were Methodist. Oh were they Methodist. Ultimately my newly wed mother would have two daughters and they were raised Methodist also. One sister sang and directed their choir for a time.
Every Sunday until age fourteen it would be, get on the church bus and go off to Sunday School. Sometimes, especially when I was in the choir, I would do church also and there was always a coffee and, after the service. No playing football on Sunday, no card playing ever and a whole bunch of rules I thought, “Really?” Did I mention no Alcohol or smoking either.
I can remember getting 35 cents for the collection when the dish was passed. I also remember getting off the bus on occasion in my teens, going in one door of the multi purpose room and out the other and playing hooky more than once. My mother has passed away so I’ll not be damned for telling that story. My self and a neighbor friend would go to a local corner store, buy a soda and candy and head to a local vacant lot where the Catholics were always playing a football game. They mostly went to church on Saturday evening. It was difficult explaining the grass stains at times. I’m sure I’ll atone for these transgressions at a later date.
I would rebel around age fourteen or fifteen, start going to a Lutheran church, my paternal side of the family’s house of worship and ultimately become a Catholic when I married my wife over fifty years ago. I went through that educational process while I was in the Marine Corps. I remain a Catholic to this day.
Today in our little village on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, the Methodists prevail. Our Methodist Women’s group are always cooking up a storm, feeding this group or that, having Teas and just plain bringing comfort food to the people of the village. God bless those Methodists.
Allen Asbury Methodist Church
My wife and I recently took a trip to Connecticut to visit our son and his family and my step-sister and her husband. We spent 20 years as next door neighbors to my step-sister. We lived in a tight-knit community on a Cul De Sac and had a great batch of neighbors.
We got to see one of those neighbors while at my sisters. Her name is Judy, a life long Methodist and her husband Stan is a retired Methodist minister. I asked he if she had ever heard Garrison Keillor’s Public Radio piece on Methodist’s. She said no she hadn’t so I located it on the internet and read it to all in attendance.
I feel it is a classic and would like to share it with you now.
We make fun of Methodists for their blandness, their excessive calm, their fear of giving offense, their lack of speed, and also for their secret fondness for macaroni and cheese.
But nobody sings like them. If you were to ask an audience in New York City, a relatively Methodist-less place, to sing along on the chorus of “Michael Row the Boat Ashore,” they will look daggers at you as if you had asked them to strip to their underwear. But if you do this among Methodists, they’d smile and row that boat ashore and up on the beach! And down the road!
Many Methodists are bred from childhood to sing in four-part harmony, a talent that comes from sitting on the lap of someone singing alto or tenor or bass and hearing the harmonic intervals by putting your little head against that person’s rib cage.
It’s natural for Methodists to sing in harmony. We are too modest to be soloists, too worldly to sing in unison. When you’re singing in the key of C and you slide into the A7th and D7th chords, all two hundred of you, it’s an emotionally fulfilling moment. By our joining in harmony, we somehow promise that we will not forsake each other.
I do believe this: People, these Methodists, who love to sing in four-part harmony are the sort of people you can call up when you’re in deep distress.
*If you’re dying, they will comfort you.
*If you are lonely, they’ll talk to you.
*And if you are hungry, they’ll give you tuna salad.
*Methodists believe in prayer, but would practically die if asked to pray out loud.
*Methodists like to sing, except when confronted with a new hymn or a hymn with more than four stanzas.
*Methodists believe their pastors will visit them in the hospital, even if they don’t notify them that they are there.
*Methodists usually follow the official liturgy and will feel it is their away of suffering for their sins.
*Methodists believe in miracles and even expect miracles, especially during their stewardship visitation programs or when passing the plate.
*Methodists think that the Bible forbids them from crossing the aisle while passing the peace.
*Methodists drink coffee as if it were the Third Sacrament.
*Methodists feel guilty for not staying to clean up after their own wedding reception in the Fellowship Hall.
*Methodists are willing to pay up to one dollar for a meal at the church.
*Methodists still serve Jell-O in the proper liturgical color of the season and think that peas in a tuna casserole adds too much color.
*Methodists believe that it is OK to poke fun at themselves and never take themselves too seriously.
And finally,
+ You know you are a Methodist when: it’s 100 degrees, with 90% humidity, and you still have coffee after the service.
+ You hear something funny during the sermon and smile as loudly as you can.
+ Donuts are a line item in the church budget, just like coffee.
+ When you watch a Star Wars movie and they say, “May the Force be with you,” and you respond, “and also with you.”
+ And lastly, it takes ten minutes to say good-bye!
Lake Wobegon is a fictional town in the U.S. state of Minnesota, said to have been the boyhood home of Garrison Keillor, who reports the News from Lake Wobegon on the radio show A Prairie Home Companion. Its location is believed to be north of St. Cloud and is claimed to be the town of Holdingford.
Thanks for stopping by.
Who’s doing what?
So here it is, 26 April and the currents of air are converging on Oklahoma City, OK. That’s like smack dab in the middle of the US of A. So what does that mean you ask. It means unstable air, thunder storms and possible Tornados. Warm moist air from the Gulf of Mexico travels north and Cold dry air drops down from Canada and the Rockies. Think Ali vs. Frazer, Mayweather vs. Pacquiao. “Let the Rumble begin.”
This concerns me because my granddaughter (Sam) and her three children are in OKC at this very moment. She and her husband are soon the be Captains in the Air Force and are stationed at Tinker, AFB. My granddaughter’s husband is deployed to Alaska right now for a few weeks. He did make room in their storm shelter prior to leaving. They have a very secure safe room. These rooms are common place in the center of the country.
The kid’s safe room is similar to this and located in their garage.
Just last week, Pappy, think Eljefe or Jeff the Embassy guy, was out there bonding with the grandkids and changing diapers, think three just one a few months over three. Mid week “G” would fly out for four days and help Pappy with the Huggies. They had a great visit, I’m sure they spoiled the kids in the short time there, it’s what grandparents do.
Pappy is in Canberra, Australia at the moment. I put him on the shuttle to BWI yesterday afternoon. For those who don’t know Jeff works for the Department of State doing what it is he does for them. From one trip to the next, you never know where he may be. Some gigs are good, some are the “Arm Pits” of the world. Except for the jet lag, this is one of the better stops.
US Embassy, Canberra
I’m including some pics of my OKC great grandkids. A picture of my faithful companion Maggie under her favorite tree on walk up the road. Also I’m including the Weather warning for OKC. Be safe kids, “Hunker Down” as Jim Cantore of the Weather Channel says. You’re Air Force strong Sam, you’ll be fine.
On another front, our daughter Sarah who peddles Sea Food about the country if in Maine today and sent us the below photo. Ah yes, spring in New England, don’t miss it a bit.
The girls.
“G” and the boy.
“Maggie”
That’s “G,” second from the left selling Population Health on local TV this evening. Delmarva Proud.
Did you vote today Maryland? 
A Share from my Great Nephew
Forward
So I have this Great Nephew, Marshall Palmer, who is related through marriage. Marshall is a walker for cancer. He lost his dad to this scourge of our Earth five years ago. At the same time I lost a friend of twenty three years. Chris Palmer was Marshall’s dad and my friend.
Relay for Life has been a fundraising venue on the Eastern Shore for years. Chris Palmer with his and extended family marched for many years to help raise funds for Cancer research. Today Marshall continues that history through new efforts from afar. Marshall now lives in suburban Chicago with an even bigger extended family. A new step-father, siblings and all the extensions associated with them.
So my thought is this. I have close to 300 friends on Facebook, a bunch on Twitter and God knows how many visitors to The Rooster Blog. Perhaps we could get a donation or two out of some of you. If everyone gave a BUCK to Teamraiserworkshop, how cool would that be?
We are all touched in some way, family, friends, associates and neighbors who have or had cancer. If you can help Marshall out with a donation, please go to the site below.
The Rooster thanks you.
The Reason I Walk by Marshall Palmer
Marshall and his dad.
It’s been almost 5 year since my Dad died. Sometimes it seems like so long ago, and sometimes it feels like it was last month. It’s weird. For those of you who don’t know me and know my story, cancer took my dad from me. Throughout his life, my dad battled three kinds of cancer, non-hodgkins lymphoma, micro-eperdermoid carcinoma (cancer of the salivary gland), and finally melanoma. During his final battle with cancer, my dad spent his years in clinical trials before his melanoma became too serious that nothing could slow it down anymore. Although he is not with us anymore there are parts of my dad that he has left behind to create his Legacy of Fighters. Throughout my entire life we have always been fundraising to find a cure for cancer. Whether it was participating in Relay for Life, our annual Valentines fundraiser Romance for a Cure, or our Cancer Makes me Crabby fundraiser, we were determined to beat the beast, and still are to this day.
While we were doing our part to find a cure, my dad was doing his own. Not only did he participate in fundraising, over the years, my dad spent his life trying to help doctors find a cure for cancer. When his Melanoma had spread to his lungs and in all other organs, he participated in a clinical trial. After a month, he came out of that trial with no more melanoma in his lungs, they had found a cure. Although it did not cure the rest of his melanoma, that trial had found a cure for Lung Cancer patients such as Football Coach Jeff Renihan of Graceville, Florida. One day my mom got a letter saying that this man had been fighting lung cancer and when he heard of the trial my dad was in, he knew he needed to be a part of it. After a lot of pushing and begging they got him in the trial and after that day, Coach Renihan was cancer free.
I have realized that the superheroes in the movies that stop a meteor from crashing into the earth or the ones that stop an alien invasion aren’t the ones that truly matter – its the ones that give their lives to finding a cure and helping those who are battling cancer. Although my dad is not here anymore, his legacy lives on and we will not stop until cancer is no more! This year to give back, I am fundraising for the Wellness House, along with my new siblings, to help those battling cancer. Their mom, MJ, who also battled cancer, was not only a participant at the Wellness House but also a strong supporter. The Wellness House gives support to those battling cancer, along with their families. As I walk in memory of my Dad this year, please join me in making the lives of survivors better, and continuing to search for cures. Cancer just can’t win this battle. As my family always said Beat the Beast, it’s who we are, it’s what we do.
http://events.wellnesshouse.org/site/TR/Events/TeamRaiserWorkshop?px=1005145&pg=personal&fr_id=1040
Elder Abuse
My wife has gone crazy today. She is “D” Nesting. That is tearing apart the kitchen, gathering items, many with historical significance, and putting them in boxes. These boxes I am told will later be transported to the local homeless shelter. If they’re homeless, where will they put them I ask?
As I’m putting this together, I’m glancing at the TV, The Golf Channel with the Masters on is in front of me over the fireplace. I glance outside and it’s snowing. April 9, 2016 on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, just 26 miles north of the Virginia line and it’s snowing? Really all you Global Warming Scientists? This Curmudgeon is just not convinced. Not to mention that damn Ground Hog out in Punxsutawney, Pa who lied to us. I must remind myself to watch Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day again soon.
Our Oklahoma Rooster as the snow falls.
Getting back to the “D” Nesting. When this woman is on a penchant to do something, it’s clear the deck, storm approaching. I sit in my easy chair at the far reaches of our great room. Since our home is a cottage of sorts the room’s really not that great. It’s just the greatest distance from the bucket of cleaning solution and the crazy woman and her ladder.
I’ve raised concerns over a cup that dates back to the 60’s. It’s been up here since 2004, it’s going. I’ve started texting my children to save me and my nostalgic things.
(Me) “She (your mother) is on a rampage. Cleaning cabinets, throwing out glass ware with historical value. She is CRAZY, save me.”
(Daughter #2) “Oh Dear.”
(Me) “Someone please call Adult Protective Services. If ever there was a God, rescue this poor brokenhearted man from this insane woman.” There must be a law against this somewhere.
(Daughter #2”) “Poor Poppy!!! She should exhaust herself soon.”
(Son) “Could she be expecting?”
(Wife) Laughs out loud when I tell her that one, she’s 72 you know.
(Daughter #1) To my son says, “ Be careful, she’s got a large box labeled to CT, and I think Dad is going in it.”
I’m thinking, “Accept the fate that stirs if front of you, for this too shall pass.”
Since my recent heart surgery, I’m captured here with this woman who I’ve shared my life with for the past 50 years. I guess if I want lunch and my other basic needs met, I’ll just grin and accept the loss of some old remembrances. It’s the same thing for the cloths closet. “Not worn in the past year, out it goes.” What will we have left to leave to our children? Will we share a 51st anniversary?
Have a great day, thanks for stopping by.
My First Road Trip
Three weeks post op today my friends.
Yesterday I had a follow-up with the CV Surgeon who performed my Cardiac Bypass. Both he and one of the P.A.s as well as a nurse checked my wounds. I look and feel like what it might be like to have survived a knife fight. I’m not sure if I won or lost. Were I the winner, I would hate to see the loser were this a knife fight.
I got congratulated by the nurse for doing a fine job eliminating my tape residue which has stuck all over my mid section. While in the hospital numerous drains, monitor wires and lung tubes were beneath these bandages. Not to mention the slice running the entire length of my ribs. Through daily use of Alcohol, nail polish remover, Kerosene, and numerous other potions that would remove the sticky gooey tape, I had done a yeoman’s job apparently. They were impressed.
The surgeon stated he was happy with my progress and was giving me my walking papers, so to speak. Any further follow up would be monitored by my Cardiologist. In addition to saying thank you to the surgeon I got one giant piece of good news. You see, it was this man who had the power to let me drive once again, a privilege I lost three weeks ago. Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I’m free at last. Damn, I forgot to ask if I got an extended warranty with this cutting. If I get another sixteen years I’ll be quite happy.
I left that appointment feeling like a new person, one hurdle on the road to recovery completed. Next would be the Cardiology consult later this week. Early next month I will begin Cardiovascular & Pulmonary Rehabilitation and Prevention. That’s a physical fitness and education program run by the hospital for those who have one type of cardiac event or other. It would not be a new experience for me.
This will be my fourth trip through the program. I had Bypass surgery sixteen years ago, a Stent and pace maker implanted which all got me back into this wonderful program. Once again it is time for the pain and suffering to begin. I’m looking forward to getting started. After that program it will be going back to the MAC Center and my old workout routines. I was doing Stretch/ROM & Flexibility, and chair yoga. I’m sure it will be like starting anew.
So, this morning I would take my first trip alone behind the wheel of my Ford Escape. A 2000 model with 239,000 miles I might add. Yes, I like to get my monies worth. My trusty Pick up truck, a 1992 Chevrolet Silverado 1500 with 143,000 miles is still running and very serviceable for our needs. Vehicle number three at my disposal is a 2012 Subaru Forester with 84,000 miles. A great car in the mountains with the paddle shift feature, I might add. No mountains today on the Eastern Shore, thus the Escape.
Our dog, Maggie, a standard Poodle would need a ride to the groomers for a Spa session today and I would drive her. Here I am 73 years old and feeling like a kid getting behind the wheel once again. My wife would first take Maggie on her mile and a half walk to the local yacht club for her morning exercise and business elimination run.
It’s 0730, I pick up Maggie from the little woman and we are off on our thirty minute drive to the spa, well, almost. You see we here on Maryland’s Eastern Shore were greeted with a bit of snow this morning and the temperature was 33 F. Really Mr. Meteorologist, I’m scraping snow off the windshield and warming the car prior to departing. Average high for April 5, 60F. Global warming???
I remembered all the basics of driving, seat belt on, in park, foot on brake, turn key, engine starts. Maggie in the rear sitting expectantly for her first ride with her old traveling companion, Most everywhere I go she goes, we’re a pair.
The first few miles through rural country is uneventful. I approach a major north south route on which I must enter to connect to the Bypass, (sounds familiar). Once I’ve crossed to the center medium I start looking to the right to enter the high speed lane of a two lane highway. As I’m twisting in the seat to observe safe passage, the seatbelt restrains me and irritates my chest. Oh yes, they had to spread those 24 ribs once again didn’t they?
Each intersection further into the trip would bring about the same discomfort. My right Scapula, that’s the bone that connects the Humorous (Not), with the Clavicle has hurt like hell at times since the surgery. My neck a victim of two extensive surgeries was beginning to cause issues also. Just sitting in the drivers upright position was causing discomfort. Perhaps asking for this privilege was a bit premature. Tough it out Rooster, don’t be a wimp.
I would drop off Maggie with her stylist and make the return trip home in considerable more pain than when I left. I was also quite tuckered out. It was time for a couple of Tylenol, no drugs have entered this system since my discharge. I never took anything for pain this morning, a mistake.
What I have learned from this bit of freedom is that I’m not ready to drive to Connecticut just yet. All things slow and in due time. Now I await the call to pick up Maggie.
“Honey, would you mind picking up Maggie?” I’ll stay home and let Simon in, (Cat).
Have a great day all and thanks for stopping by.
It’s Sunday 3 April, 2016
For the past two weeks I’ve been trying to get something put together for the Blog. I’m not sure what’s going on exactly with the thought process, nothing seems to come together. Perhaps the drugs the Anesthesiologist used during my surgery scrambled things a bit.
I’ve mentioned our friend’s the O’Leary’s in posts gone by. Big news out of their household, their oldest daughter has become engaged. I got a text today that all the relatives will be coming over from Ireland and England for the event. No date as yet, but you can guarantee it will be a party. Our two daughters were married within four months of each other some years ago. Two great parties there let me tell you. Just have to get the date and the plans can start for the O’Leary party.
I spent part of the morning catching up with a few of my fellow bloggers I follow. bigerik.net, critical dispatches.com, amehrling.com, bunkaryudo.wordpress.com, criticaldispatches.com, figjamandlimecordial.com and several others. It’s always good to catch up on my reading, especially with the hope that some creative juices might be stimulated.
My friend at criticaldispatches.com recently purchased a new camera and went off about town trying it out. Several photo’s of his stood out. He’s the provider of the message board quotes at the tube in London from time to time.
The first that caught my eye was this picture taken at a Barber Shop. Must speak with a few of my Brit friends and get a feel how they view our political process.
The second was https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuller’s_Brewery
Thanks for the fodder for this posting my friend.
Anne Mehrling ,down in Ashville, NC posted that she made her #200 post. You have me by a few Anne. Between my former Blogspot site and this one on WordPress this will be post #196Congratulations Anne. Anne’s husband John and I have equal appreciation for radio news. New friendships obtained through the written word in the BlogWorld.
Our oldest daughter and her husband came by this morning to “check on the elderly.” That’s what she calls her texts, calls and drop bys. Seeing as how the wife was making home made bread to go along with the Ham & Split Pee soup, they will be back for dinner.
Our youngest daughter will be attending the Supplemental Nutrition Assistant Program (SNAP), also. I can smell the bread cooking and it’s inviting aroma wafting into the living room as I write.
The finished product.
In less that two hours the Uconn woman basketball team will be taking on Oregon State out in Indianapolis in their quest for another national title, #11 if they do it. We are true Blue Uconn fans and shall be watching while having soup and bread.
Las night was Casino night at the Yacht Club, a yearly fund raising event for our Volunteer Fire Company took place. The wife and I usually run a Black Jack table for the event, this year we took the night off. I’m just not into a night of card dealing yet and midnight is not a time I’m awake the past few weeks. I’ll be back at the table next year though. It was my first missed event since they started some years ago.
My rehab from surgery is progressing nicely. I’m doing my exercises at home as directed and all is looking good. I just need to build up the energy level a bit. I have a follow-up with the surgeon this week and shall learn just how this new warranty will work. I’m pretty sure I got the extended warranty.
Finally I’d like to include another Blog I follow jacklimpert.com. This post was about
The Shooting of a President: March 30, 1981
Years after this event I would find myself employed by Jim and Sarah Brady as a driver and Aide for a number of years. Mr. Brady was forever jovial and made all of our trips entertaining. These were proud moments in my past that I will always cherish.
I’ve deposited 2,000 plus words to this Blog, thanks to all my friends who contributed and stirred my senses. Have a great week one and all and thanks for stopping by.
As The Rooster Crows 