Two Christmas stories, one short, one long, this is the long

When I reflect back on the many Christmas seasons I have been able to enjoy I am able to go all the way back in my memory to the time I was 5. It was a very difficult time for our family but being the tender age of 5 I was very much shielded and innocent in knowing the plight our family was in. At this time Dad was strongly affected by alcohol, we had recently moved back to Mancos from the Denver area and Dad was no longer in the military. It was Christmas time and the family was in a dire financial situation. Mom got us all organized and up to the town Christmas celebration where free bags of goodies were going to be given out to all attending children. I can't remember how the rest of the holiday played out, but I do know it became a time period Mom has said was the worst in her life.
As we got up to the area where all the activity was to take place there was a big buzz about Santa making a visit, which of course got me very excited, I was a 5 year old after all!! When the little bags of candy had been distributed Mom went and asked for a few extra bags and then told us all we were headed back home.
Headed back home? What was she thinking? Santa was supposed to be arriving shortly and she wanted to go back home? I pitched a fit and let her know that I was staying until Santa arrived. Little did I know that any of the gifts that Santa was going to be giving out were gifts that had already been purchased and put into Santa's sack by parents or other family members.
The only reason Mom had taken us there in the first place was to get some of those free bags of goodies because she knew that would be the only Christmas we would enjoy that year. We already had those goodies and she was all for getting away. I persisted in dragging my feet and killing time and I won out before Mom did, because Santa made his entrance before Mom could make her exit. Once every one else saw Santa, Mom was outvoted and all us Dean kids stood around waiting for Santa to hand out our presents....presents which didn't exist.
As the pile of presents finally dwindled down to nothing I and my siblings were the only ones left and I'm sure we had crushed looks on our faces. Mom must have been even more saddened at the scene than we were. I can remember her saying, "Now can we go home?" in an exasperated tone and we started to make our way towards the exit.
For my part I was so very confused. I knew I wasn't a perfect kid, but to not get anything at all from Santa???...Well, it just didn't seem right.
I saw Grandma Matlock coming towards us and she had a few words with Mom that I didn't hear.
Santa yelled out something to the effect..."Wait!!! Are the Dean children here? Santa must have left somethings out of his bag"
Our spirits perked up immediately and we did a quick turn around to ran back to Santa. He had several things in his hand that were not wrapped and called us by name handing each of us a different item. A pair of socks. A T-shirt. A pair of underwear....Hardly gifts that would excite a child, but still an offering that let us know we were not completely forgotten.
When I think of Grandma Matlock I always remember her, knowing she was the one who stepped in and did that last second shopping to save the Christmas trip to the town celebration....Merry Christmas

Two Christmas stories, one long, one short, this is the short

All three of our daughters took piano lessons and performed in different recitals through the years. Many recitals are especially arranged at Christmas time and the music adds to the holiday season. One particular year Brooke had a partner and she learned a lovely version of "What Child Is This", a Christmas song I truly do enjoy.
Wanting to encourage and expand her piano experience I arranged to have her play the song again as part of our church's Christmas program and talked Brooke into letting me be her partner for the performance. At the appointed time Brooke and I got up to the piano and started the number in a very positive and moving way. We were doing a wonderful job in adding a beautiful touch to the Christmas program, but then I went into wander mode. For what ever reason I looked away from the music for a brief second and when I looked back to the pages I lost track of where I was at....my playing stopped. I had to confess to Brooke I was lost and asked..."Where are we?"
Brooke gave me a sharp glare and replied, "You're dead meat!!"
She then pointed out the spot we should be at and we finished off the number without any other distractions still adding a nice touch to the Christmas program.
I still get a chuckle every time I reflect on that moment when I got that threat from my daughter during the holiday season....Merry Christmas

One more Christmas thought...my song

The time leading up to that last Christmas that Dennis was alive, was an emotional time for me. Doctors had said they didn't think he would even survive to see the holidays and in my mind I wanted to believe he would prove them wrong and make a complete recovery by returning to his previous normal lifestyle.
Still, the truth was, deep inside I was quite sure it was going to be his last Christmas so I wanted to do something special. I sat down and wrote the following poem for him and set it to music. At a later time I sang it for Roberta and when she heard it, she cried openly and said it was such a wonderful tribute. Now that Roberta has passed on as well I think of both her and Dennis each Christmas season and consider this to be their song.
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Once again its Christmas time
I can see you in my mind
Sitting by our Christmas tree
Pointing out your gift to me

I count those days as the best I ever knew...
Spending early Christmas days with you....

Now the years have passed us by
You have children, I have mine
When they ask about our home
Once again my thoughts they roam

I count those days as the best I ever knew...
Spending early Christmas days with you....

Oh yes, its Christmas time
And I still see you.......in my mind.....
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This Christmas season be sure and appreciate your loved ones. Let them know you care. We never know when it will be the last holiday we can spend with them....Merry Christmas to you all...my love to you as well

I had a mammogram....

One morning about 5 years ago I awoke to find a humongous blister on top of my right foot just at the beginning of my little toe. At first I had no worries about the ugly thing other than a curious wonder as to where it came from. I have enjoyed athletics all my life and have had many blisters before, but never one this big and never one on the top of my foot.Two days later the blister, if anything, had grown bigger, but of new concern to me was the fact I now had a pain in that little toe nearest the blister. Now that I was feeling some intense pain I decided it was time to go visit the doctor for an assessment as to whether I had something more seriousthan a blister.
Upon presenting my pained foot to the doc along with the growing blister, his initial assessment was that this was a ganglion cyst and asked if I had received a blow to my foot in the last several days, which I had not. This concerned the doctor a bit as it would have given him the cause for the sudden appearance of the big water sack that now resided on the top of my foot. To get a better idea of what he was looking at the doctor ordered me over to mammography to get a soft tissue x-ray of what he hoped was a ganglion cyst.I put my sock on over the foot and walked the several hundred feet over to mammography with the doctors orders in my hand. Immediately upon entering the recieving area I could see I was the only man in sight and most every eye was looking at me as I was very much out of place. Now it has always been my dream to find myself as the only man in a room full of lovely, vibrant women, but now that the dream was a reality I felt oh so uncomfortable. In my brain I imagined every woman there thought I must be a pervert looking for the backside view of an open hospital gown or a peek into an xray room if a door was open in the hopes of seeing some cleavage. When I produced the request for a mammography to the receptionist with the instruction to take a shot of my foot I could see she was stifling a snicker, but she proceeded to have me fill out paper work and took me to the proper room.The radiologist (a woman again) came in and asked me to take off my sock so she could have a look. Upon producing my foot with the humongous blister her comment was..."Well, I've seen some small boobs before, but that is definitely the smallest"
I wasn't sure if she was talking about the blister or the fact I was at the hospital for a minor ailment, but when she said..."The first one I've seen without a nipple" I knew she was talking about the blister.
They had to bring in a stool for me to stand on in order to get my foot high enough up into the equipment to get a shot of my foot. I now have a new appreciation for what that machine does to you ladies. I had to hold my foot up in the proper place as if I were practicing some karate stance.
Upon returning to the doc with my mammogram shots I was given the good news that indeed it was a ganglion cyst and it would probably go away as quick as it came...which it did.
Just as he was getting ready to pull the xray off the screen though, the doc did a double take..."You have a broken toe!!!" he exclaimed..."I can tell by the way you walk though, it doesn't bother you. When did you break your toe?"
I replied that it was waaaaaayyyyy back in high school to which he replied..."Well, it didn't heal back together as one bone...you now have two bones in your foot that only healed over on the ends..."
I got far more than I bargained for that day...the ganglion cyst is gone but my foot is still broken....it could only happen to me...

My day as bishop ( case of mistaken identity)

When my aunt died a few years back I was asked by her daughter (my cousin of course) to conduct and preside over her funeral, which I was honored to do. The funeral was in another state so I showed up to be of help to the family and get ready for the event.As I got to the funeral home and started meeting different family members I was a bit confused as to why several loved ones were coming up to me and jokingly saying, "Hello there, how is it going bishop"? It seems my cousin Dani, for what ever reason, thought I was a bishop in my local area and had that printed on the program. I am a church going person, but the biggest leadership role I have had is leading the choir, so most of those who knew me were getting a good laugh at my day of being a bishop.Still, I am glad to say I handled the honor of being the conductor of my aunts funeral and enjoying the tribute to her life.May I offer one last blessing to you all as a one time bishop.....

Happy Birthday Angela

Angela is our youngest daughter and was our Christmas present twenty seven years ago. I remember the hospital having little, baby sized Santa caps that were put on all the little bundles of joy that were born that day and Angela looked very angelic as she made her entrance into our lives. There was one particular day the girls were half heatedly trying to get me to tell them which of the three was my favorite daughter. (I'm not sure if they'll remember the moment) I assigned each into a category and said each was my favorite. For Angela I said, "You are my favorite youngest daughter" to which Angela replied while rolling her eyes, "Dad, I am your ONLY youngest daughter".
Angela's birthday is coming up this week. I'd like to remind her again that she is my favorite youngest daughter and tell you some of the things that makes her so special to me.
Ang desires so strongly to be a good mother to Arianna, and she is. If there is one thing the world needs badly today it is more good mothers. Ang is considerate and looks for ways to help others in their lives and bless them. She is concerned for her sisters. I can't tell you how many times in conversation with Angela she has said she was so concerned for them and the trials and situations they were going through. She has often said she wished there was something more she could do than she had already done, when the truth is she had done more for her sisters than I had done as a father. I love that about Ang. Angela is a worrier and at times that drives me nuts. The truth is, that while I am doing almost nothing assuming and hoping things will work out fine, Ang is busy doing things to make sure they indeed, do turn out fine.
When we finally realized Angela would be our last child I made a concerted effort to be a better father to all my daughters, so to Angela this day I want to say thanks for being my daughter and bringing so much happines and joy into my life....Happy birthday to you

Last years Christmas lesson

About this time last year a certain gentleman came up to me at the store with a surprising request. In general words he made the assumption I could tell a finacially struggling family from a well to do family simply by what it was they were buying for their daily food needs. The crux of the conversation was that he wanted to "upgrade" a family's Christmas and he was hoping I could find a family he could be a Good Samaritan to.
As I went about for a week observing families while they shopped I kept in mind the guidelines this gentleman was looking for and I grilled several potential customers as they became possible candidates.
I was talking with a customer named Cory, trying to see if his family just might be the one chosen for the Christmas benefactor.
"Cory, I see you are shopping by yourself again. Where is Barbara?" I asked as he came through my line.
"She isn't feeling well and hasn't been out of the house for nearly two weeks" he replied.
"Oh, why not" I inquired as I was looking for more information.
"You didn't know? Her liver is failing fast, she is very jaundiced and we are hoping she can get a transplant" Cory replied.
"Yikes!! I didn't know. How is she doing and how long has she been ill?"
"She has been very weak for several months"
I felt maybe I had the chosen family in mind now and I asked several other questions as to how the family was doing generally and let Cory know my thoughts were for their best progress.
The next time I met with the would be Christmas benefactor I told him of Cory and Barbara, their two children and the family condition.
"Perfect" he said. "This sounds like a family my family would like to help in the hopes we can "upgrade" their Christmas. If you wouldn't mind, would you ask them if we could make arrangements to help with their Christmas"?
He had given me a new charge and the next time Cory was in the store I asked him if I could speak to him for several minutes in private. Cory looked a bit puzzled, but still said sure, and up to the office we went.
I told Cory of the Christmas benefactor's request of me to help him find a family and that I hoped Cory and Barbara and their family could be benefitted by his gererosity.
Cory was quiet for ten or fifteen seconds and I could see he was pondering over the offer I had presented to him. His answer was quite different from what I had expected and I must confess it brought a tear to my eye.
"Rick" he said. "Christmas is Barbara's favorite holiday and we are quite certain this is going to be the last one she will have. We have pulled out money from her retirement fund knowing she will not live long enough to earn the payout. With that money we have gotten the kids a couple of things they want but with the rest, Barbara wanted to give it as a special Christmas to some other family that was in need. You can tell your benefactor we appreciate his offer, but we are planning on "upgrading" someone else's Christmas as well. Just the thought of doing this has brightened Barbara's attitude immensely and she is really looking forward to being a giver this Christmas..."
We both stood there looking at each other in an awkward way. Cory knowing he had confessed something their family had hoped to do in secret and me feeling much inadaquate in knowing they were being true examples of the meaning of Christmas...."It is better to give than to receive..."
I shook Cory's hand and wished him well as we headed back out of the office. I told him to give Barbara my best regards.
When I saw Cory in the store again the next time after Christmas I asked him how his holiday had gone.
"Best Christmas ever"!! he beamed.
Even though I knew of the problems they were facing in their family, I envied his joy of the season.

I told you so!!!!

Do you remember the moment you found out Santa isn't Santa? (Don't let your young ones read this....Ha!)
It must have been the Christmas Eve before I turned 8. Dennis must have decided it was time for me to abandon my childhood notion of the jolly old elf and told me outright, "There is no Santa!!"
"What??? No Santa??? Who brings all the gifts then" I asked?
Dennis replied quickly and to the point, "Mom and Dad".
I must have had a dumbfounded look on my face so Dennis just said, "Stay awake tonight in your bed, you'll see"
That night I had mixed emotions as the evening lengthened on and Mom and Dad were trying to calm us down and herd us off to bed.
Dennis and I had bunk beds. I slept on top because it was near impossible with his disease for Dennis to climb the few stairs up to the top bunk.
As we layed in bed that night Dennis kept whispering up to me to make sure I was staying awake. Staying awake wasn't a hard task as the great ponderance kept running through my brain..."Mom and Dad are Santa Claus? No reindeer?"...just a multitude of questions swirling through my
head.
As we both layed there for a bit pretending to be asleep, I soon heard some footsteps shuffling our way in the dark.
"Ricky.....Ricky, you want some hot chocolate", it was Dad whispering to me very quietly in an effort to ascertain if I were asleep or not. When I didn't respond or budge he must have assumed it was safe for him to go onto his next task, which was getting into the closet right next to our bed. He clicked on a flashlight and as I slightly opened my eyes, I could see he was pulling gifts out which were destined to soon be placed under the tree.
As Dad quietly sneaked out of the room I could hear Dennis shuffling through his blankets in the bunk under me. "I told you so!!!" he muttered. When I didn't say anything he simply said, "I know you're still awake. I can hear you crying."

My father died in early December. He lived an event filled life for 86 years so no one felt he had been taken too soon, well, except for Mom who had been his wife and sweetheart for 60 years.
As I look back on the day of the funeral I have several things to laugh at along with the life time of memories and lessons Dad shared with me. Dad was a military man up until the time I was five years old, so promptness was always something drilled into our heads..."If you are not fifteen minutes early you are late" was a common phrase uttered from his mouth. It so happened the day of the funeral Vic, Ron and myself had been asked by Mom if we would dress his body right before the funeral, which we were glad to do. The funeral home had said they would give us a call when his body was brought from the funeral home in Farmington to the funeral home in Kirtland where the dressing of his body would take place and from that funeral home they would bring Dad over to the church house where the funeral would take place.
Dad's body was put in a hearst in Farmington, but on the way to Kirtland that hearst broke down and a replacement hearst was dispatched to make the transfer. It was a slow transfer. By the time Dad's body arrived and we were called, few precious moments were left to get his body dressed so we could start the funeral. This was not something any of the three of us brothers were well practiced at, so it took us a lengthened time to get Dad ready. The final result of all this was that saying that you have all heard a hundred times before...."he'll be late for his own funeral"... well, he was almost late. Going by his own words he was not fifteen minutes early, so by Dad's standards he was indeed late for his own funeral.
After a long life, Dad mellowed in his attitude about different situations and I know he would have gotten a good chuckle at the irony of it all.
We remember Dad fondly at the start of each December.

As I was going through some of my Father's papers in an effort to help Mom get their estate in order I ran across this poem I had written to him in an earlier time...
You cheered me on in basketballand in everything I've done
you've been proud to be my father,I've been proud to be your son
but when this life is over and the next life has begun
on our first day back in heavenI will take you one on one....

Dad loved basketball and though I had written him several poems, this is the only one I found he had kept. I suppose he is up practicing now so we can keep this committment on the b-ball court.

Grand kids can get you arrested!!!!!!

I got a call from my youngest daughter who was laughing and wanted to pass on a conversation she had just had with our 3 year old granddaughter.It seems our granddaughter was giggling at something and when an inquiry was made as to what was so funny she said..."I am thinking of the time Grandpa was sucking on me...
"Well, needless to say this caused an instant picture of horror in the minds of my daughter and son-in-law so they started the interrogation. "Which grandpa was sucking on you?" they asked.
"The crazy one" was her reply. (Usually she calls me the silly one, but I got upgraded for this tattle tell story)
So now I was the suspect."How was he sucking on you?" was the next question.
Her answer brought confusion to my daughter."You know Mom. You were there. Don't you remember?"
This made my son-in-law's eyebrows raise even further as the this dastardly deed now involved my daughter.Upon further questioning it seems my granddaughter was remembering the time I was vacuuming up the stairs with the long hose from our central vac system. In a teasing gesture, each time she got close by me I would push the hose her way in an attempt to "suck" her up through that little hose and off the stairs along with the dirt particles. This would make her howl with terror at first, but then laugh with glee when she had gotten away to safety.The way she had remembered it and passed it on to her parents had my own daughter ready to have me arrested.I'm glad they did more questioning before calling the police......

A Christmas gift giving idea

As Dennis progressed with his Muscular Dystrophy he became physically weaker and slower. We were a family that always loved sports and tried to play every chance we could get. Dennis had gotten to the point where no one wanted him on their team, as he would be a liability no matter what position he played ,so he and I started our own form of two man baseball. Rather than hit the ball with a bat I would throw the ball straight up into the air as high as I could. This would give Dennis time to take a few steps to get himself under the ball as it fell to the ground. If he caught it, I was out. If he dropped it I got a single. From first base I'd do the same thing again, throw the ball straight up in the air as high as I could. If Dennis caught it, I would be out. If he dropped it I then moved to second base and on it went like this until he had caught the ball 3 times making 3 outs or I would advance around the bases until I scored a run. We could play this way for quite some time. Every now and then Dennis would fall down for no reason, which was just a fact of life with the progression of Muscular Dystrophy and the Duchene Strain that Dennis had. It slowly robs the strength of every muscle in your body from your neck to your ankles. On one particular high lob that I had made, Dennis situated himself under the ball waiting to make the catch as the ball descended. Just as the ball was approaching his glove, Dennis' arms lost all strength and his arms fell to his side which allowed the ball to smash into his nose causing him to tumble down onto the ground in a bloody heap. Dennis never was one to cry, but easily let his frustrations get to him. He threw the glove away in disgust that his body wouldn't do what he wanted it to do. He took off his shoe and pulled the sock off his foot which he used as a hankie to help stop the bleeding. If it hadn't been such a sad situation it might have been hilarious...a boy with a bloody nose using a sock as a first aid remedy. Well, the truth was, we had encountered many similar situations before because of his disease and I was used to having these mini-disasters, so I couldn't help myself...I started laughing. Dennis' first reaction was anger. He couldn't get up to pound on me, so he took the bloody sock and threw it in my direction as best he could trying to hit me, but didn't come too very close to me. The blood continued to trickle down his lip so I took off my shoe and offered him my own sock to help him out. This made him laugh in return. After the blood had stopped we got Dennis to his feet and we went into the house, laughing at our newest experience and both of us only wearing one shoe.
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If you enjoyed this story might I recommend my book as a gift to give for Christmas. The book details Dennis' life and has several stories just like the above on that are both touching but sweet. The books sell for $10 and I can easily send you a signed copy that you can have in a week. Drop any request to me...cmydimple@yahoo.com

Chapter one of my next book

It had all the markings of being a great week. The day before was filled with much laughter and reminiscing as many family members had met together at our house to share in the happiness of Joel’s homecoming from his two year mission in Baltimore, Maryland. Joel was our nephew, but had become more like the son we never had. He had made us proud of the change in attitude he had under gone since moving into our home to join the family six years earlier. The fact that it was his birthday was a mere coincidence, still it added a bit more luster to the day.
I think many of the visitors used Jayden as an added excuse to come by the house and stay a bit longer visiting and cooing at the newest arrival to the family. Jayden was barely six months old and getting cuter everyday as she grew and showed each us of something new every day. It was one of the reasons I’d get up each morning just to see her smile at me. She would wave her hands wildly and kick her legs in an animated effort to give me her best hello and let us know she had things she wanted to do.
Our oldest daughter Amy, and her husband were living in the downstairs area of our house as he made his way through college and offered us the blessing to be able to see and care for our dear grandchildren everyday. Conner was the older of the two grandchildren and was full of wonder and energy being the two year old toddler that he was. Jayden became our first grand daughter the previous November and we were enjoying the laughter and excitement that had been missing in our house for several years as we watched with amazement, the joy these two newest buds on our family tree were bringing to us.
It was Monday and I had just been awakened by my wife Dot as she was making her preparations to head out to start another work week. My attention was given to the chirping of a flock of birds that had taken up roost in the cherry tree situated in the backyard and probably about eye level with our upstairs bedroom window. I got up and peered out to see if I could count how many birds were making such a continuous conversation amongst themselves. I was surprised to find I couldn’t see a single bird, but knew they were out there just the same. I don’t have the best hearing, but it was evident that morning that my ears were better than my eyes. I’d soon be getting a message that my ears couldn’t believe and that would make my eyes tear up as well.
I have never been one to stay in bed when there is so much else to enjoy with the start of each new day. I turned my attention away from the birds and made my way down stairs to start my normal routine of the day. I went straight down the stairs and out the front door to retrieve my newspaper to catch up on the happenings of the weekend.
Everyone in our family had their own individual routine for starting the day. Dot had to be to work by 6:30 so she would stay in bed as long as she could and then do a rush, rush routine to get dressed, made up and out the door. She always prided herself in being able to get ready for the day within 20 minutes of getting out of bed. Sometimes I’d make toast for her, but most times she’d prefer to have a cup of hot chocolate and be on her way.
After our goodbyes and “have a great day” wish, I would settle into getting through the paper and doing my crossword puzzles. The headlines always hinted at what disasters and misfortunes were rampant through out the world and other people’s neighborhood and I always tried to not think of the fact that bad things could easily happen to me or my family.
I could hear Jayden rustling and crying a bit as I was finishing up my last blocks of the crossword puzzle and I waited momentarily to see if Amy would be attending to her soon. It is one of the perks of being a grandpa, I didn’t have the immediate responsibility of looking after a fussing child, but if anyone else was too slow to give attention then I could choose the be the first one on the scene to start the day for this precious baby of ours. We considered Jayden to be ours as well because we shared in the daily acts of bathing, diaper changing, feeding and all those required demands that a new one brings.
I was just getting ready to head downstairs and be the hero who started Jayden’s day, but Amy came out her bedroom door and headed towards Jayden’s nursery
“Jayden has been so fussy all night. I took her out for a drive during the night to help get her to sleep” Amy said. “I hope we didn’t keep you awake during the night.”
“No. I didn’t hear a thing at all last night and I doubt your mother did either. At least she didn’t mention anything before taking off.”
Amy looked tired already and the day had barely begun. She turned and whisked herself into the nursery to take care of Jayden.
Drat, I’d have to wait for another opportunity to be the hero.
With my crossword puzzle out of the way and my cereal gone it was time for me to make my way up to the shower and keep to my schedule that would lead up to my leaving the house to head off to another day at work. As I was getting into the shower I could hear Jayden crying again and knew she was fussy from having had another bout with her chronic bronchitis. She had several attacks during her short six months of life and the albuterol treatments were making her feel not quite her usual, happy self. Again, I waited that extra five seconds that we grandparents get before seeing if I could be of help with a fidgeting child……..hmmm not needed again. Maybe Jayden had finally fallen asleep. I got in and out of the shower, got dressed, took a few moments to write down some to do items, put away a few things and headed out the door.
I drove away from the house and arrived to work in a timely manner. All the joys and activities of the previous day were still fresh in my mind and the thoughts of all the love and blessings I was currently enjoying brought a broad grin to my face. What a lucky man I was. What a lucky man indeed.
I hadn’t been to work for even thirty minutes when Janet sent a page over the intercom for me as I was in the check stand.
“Rick, you have a phone call on 501”
Knowing that phone calls were not a proper thing to answer while in the check stand, I responded with, “I’m in the check stand, could you take a message please Janet?”
It wasn’t two minutes later that Dennis, my store director came and took my place in the check stand saying this was a phone call I needed to take.
I walked over to the nearest phone and picked it up.
“Hello this is Rick”
The voice on the other end was immediately recognizable to me as my neighbor, but she introduced herself just the same.
“Rick, this is Lavaun. Little Jayden has passed away and the paramedics are taking her to the hospital. You’re supposed to go meet Amy there”
Just like that Jayden was gone…..
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Now I could use the help of any who remember that day and the week that followed. Please drop me a note and share your thoughts of that day. What you did...did you come to the house? Make a phone call?
The rest of the story details that week and will end at the gravesite where we had that final ceremony. I'll be looking for your response...Thanks

On the lighter side

November brings several birthdays to family members so this will start a highlight of something about each...enjoy.

I remember November 25th, 1956. It was just one of those much unexpected mornings from my youth!! I got up in my usual manner and headed right for the kitchen. I was in my normal sleeping attire, my kiddie briefs and nothing else. I could smell the welcomed aroma of breakfast being cooked and was anxious to get my day started. You know how many things a nearly 5 year old has arranged for his busy day.I hadn't gotten ten feet into the room when I froze in my footsteps...who was that stranger at the kitchen stove? No way was this Mom! Far too tall and wearing a dress. Mom never wore a dress for breakfast. She turned and I recognized her instantly as my Aunt Marguerite, the one aunt I was smitten with. She always looked so exotic. She was a beautician by trade and always made herself look as if she were headed out to an important social event. Just the type of woman I would be taken with.
What an awkward moment for me. There I was nearly naked and quite unprepared for this encounter. I was getting ready to make my sneaky retreat back into my bedroom when she turned and our eyes made that undeniable contact. My mind went blank. I was transfixed by her gaze. I felt weak at my knees. What hold did this woman have over me? I could tell by her body language she was not offended by my near nude state. After all, for a five year old, I did have quite the adonis body. She had a sweet smile, her arms were open...we continued in our transfixed gaze. It was the perfect moment for me to express my true desire. Tell her what a beauty I thought she was, but I found myself speechless still. Being the older, experienced woman she was, Marguerite was the first to speak, "Well good morning Ricky, come give Aunt Marguerite a hug." she said.
Still, I was frozen there on the kitchen floor stunned at this situation I found myself in. I must say something, so I gathered my thoughts around me and sounded out those three words that still ring in my ears today...
"Where's my mommy?"
Marguerite still had that sweet smile even though my question was so lacking in romance. "She is at the hospital. You have a new baby brother and I am here to get you started on your day. Here, I've got breakfast waiting for you."
She pointed to the chair at the table, turned, got a plate of pancakes and set them at the spot on the table where I'd be closest to her. My mind was still racing. What should I say now? Something sophisticated, enticing..."I've got to pee."
I've got to pee? What kind of line is that? Way to go Ricky, you are Mister Suave and Debonair. I turned and went to the bathroom. I didn't want Marguerite to know I was a liar on top of my other inconsiderate acts. I sat there on the toilet trying to regather my thoughts. Organizing the words that would turn the tide in my favor with Aunt Marguerite. I was searching through her words she had uttered to me, looking for a hint she was as smitten with me as I was with her when those words she had said suddenly hit me like a brick...I HAVE A NEW BABY BROTHER!!!
I hurriedly got dressed and raced out to the kitchen table. Novemeber 25th ended up being a very exciting day................. Ron's birthday will be on the 25th, wish him well.

Remembering Umberto

It was this time of year 3 years ago I got a phone call from my oldest brother Vic. He is a nurse and at the time he was working in a local hospice program. It seems he had a patient that was up from Argentina and Vic needed someone to translate Spanish for him and Umberto so Vic called me.
I arrived at Umberto's apartment several minutes before Vic. I introduced myself and made inquiries as to what Umberto did (furniture construction), where he was from (a small town in Argentina), why he was here in America (he came for work opportunities to send money home), his family (he was married and had a 5 year old daughter he hadn't seen in 4 years).
When Vic arrived he got right down to business after shaking hands and making sure Umberto and I had met.
"Umberto, you have cancer" Vic said.
I was suddenly shocked but relayed the message to Umberto. He didn't looked surprised or shocked and took the message without a change in emotion. He replied he had felt very poorly for quite some time and knew something was wrong with him.
As we made further conversation we learned Umberto had come into the country illegally and as he had gotten sick, he stayed away from the doctors thinking that might be a situation where he was reported and deported back to Argentina. Because he had not gotten earlier medical treatment he was now in the late stages of cancer and Vic had to tell Umberto the conclusion was he had maybe 6 weeks or so to live.
This was a conversation that was very hard for me to pass on, as it made me very emotional and was a conversation I had never had to make in Spanish before.
Vic continued to ask Umberto what medications he was taking, who he had seen, how weak he was feeling now. Vic also passed on to Umberto what plans were being arranged for Umberto for the near future.
I was told to ask Umberto this next question...
"Do you want to die in Argentina with your family around you?"
It was a blunt enough question but it was the hardest question I have ever asked in my life.
Umberto said he did indeed want to get back to Argentina but he did not have any money to make the trip.
Vic replied back that over the weekend he would see what the hospice program and local people could do to help him. In the meantime he was to take the medicine Vic had brought along to ease the pain and other maladies Umberto was feeling. He was told we would be back on Monday after the weekend was over with results of help inquiries made in Umberto's behalf.
My thoughts and questions the whole weekend were of Umberto and his situation. Why couldn't he find work in Argentina? Why hadn't he gone to a doctor? Why this? Why that?...Just a myriad of questions to situations that each of us have as everyday blessings here in this great land of the United States.
On Monday Vic made arrangements with me to go talk with Umberto again. He said he had good news. We told Umberto all the funds had been raised to get him back to Argentina and he would be flying out in less than a week!
I was stunned and touched. Local people who didn't know Umberto at all had donated money for him. The airline had been called. Arrangements were being made. I was amazed at the goodness of people in my area willing to help a stanger in a difficult situation. At a time when illegal aliens were being pointed out, persecuted and shunned, unknown people were opening their hearts to a fellow brother and helping in his time of great need. As I passed on the news to Umberto I couldn't help but cry. He was not emotional but responded with a simple thank you.
Vic also had to tell Umberto because of his failing condition, there was a possibility he might die on the airplane during his flight back to Argentina so there were medical and legal things that had to be taken care of before he left. We told Umberto we would be back again with all the necessary arrangements before the week was over.
Several days later I met with Umberto for the last time. He was given an injection to thin his blood so he could withstand the air pressure change the airplane flight would bring. He was given a small mountain of medications to hold him through until he could see a doctor in Argentina. He signed several pages, one of which authorized the airline to contact his family should he die on the flight home to Argentina so they could come retrieve his body.....
I only met with Umberto 3 times but the entire situation has affected me greatly the past several years. How blessed I am to be able to see and enjoy my family everyday. How wonderful it is to live in a land where I have constant employment opportunities. What a great thing it is to be able to feel freedom from worry of wondering if some agency will become aware of my situation and send me away from my area when I want to stay....we all have so many things to be thankful for.
I remember Umberto during the Thanksgiving season. He did make it safely down into Argentina and was reunited with his family. He lived his last several days with family but also left a lasting impression on me. I hope his story can do the same for you.

Veterans Day...looking past Halloween

First, I apologize if this entry seems so long ,and secondly it seems self promoting, but I'd like to share a personal experience I had last Memorial Day weekend.I work for Albertson's (a national grocery chain) and it is a tradition at my store to allow veterans to set up a table at each entrance to sell their poppy buddies to raise funds for the VFW on patriotic holidays.The gentleman who manned one of the the tables is a frequent customer of our store and reminds me much of my own father in his appearance and demeanor. As I had several opportunities during the day to stop by his table and see how he was doing, we made small chit chat. I told him my father served in World War II and in the Korean conflict. I told him we could never get him to talk much of his battle experiences, but he would always warm up when we asked of his poker experiences with war buddies or different social interactions with them. "I know exactly his reasons why too" was the reply. As the day wound down and it was time to fold up the tables this veteran went to get some food and personal items and then he came through my line to make payment. I totaled up his purchase and he pulled out his food stamp card a little embarrassed and entered the needed numbers to process the transaction. His purchase took his available funds down to zero and there was still a balance left which I informed him of. I could see immediately he was both embarrassed and troubled. He looked over the items to see which ones he should put back and told me he didn't have any other money for payment. I knew immediately it was close to the end of the month and his assistance funds were gone. This was Friday which left 4 more days in the month. It was also evident he had purchased the bare minimum needed to get him through the day...not the month. I reached into my pocket and said "Here, let me pay the difference for you. "No no, I can't have you doing that" came his reply."That's okay" I replied. "I do this once in awhile for my favorite customers." I was hoping he would let that suffice, but I could still see the hesitation in his face. The pride of a soldier who had been through much worse than this without any help."You can pay me back your next time in if you feel you must" I offered to him in the hopes of easing his angst of the moment."Okay, we'll do that" he said and I could see a little slumping of his shoulders at being less than a man in having to let someone else pay for his groceries. I told him he reminded me much of my own father, a veteran who had passed away last December, as I bagged up his groceries. He offered his condolences and I assured him our biggest concern was with my mother now that Dad had passed on. He flashed a sad smile and informed me his wife had died recently too, for which I offered my condolences. He also assured me his wife was in a better place as she had suffered greatly. For some reason I couldn't help myself. I pulled out my small wad of cash and offered him a $10 bill. He looked at me much confused and almost insulted. He could see I had chosen a $10 when I had some $20's available. I had quickly put him in my Dad's shoes. Twenty would be more than he would take. Five was less than he needed, there were 4 more days left in the month. It might just be enough.He looked around quickly perhaps as if wondering if this was a gag. Perhaps wondering who would see, I'm not sure. Then I said something to him I'm sure he already had heard."Peter Jennings said yours is the greatest generation that has ever lived. I owe you more than this. With that being said this noble man took the $10 and a tear started falling down his face which made me suddenly uncomfortable. I held out my hand for him to shake. He looked at me again with a questioning look on his face and I felt something more needed to be said."Thank you for being my father for the day" I said. Why I said those words I have no idea, but he took my hand in a strong grip and we both stood a little taller."God bless you boy" was about all he could choke out of his mouth. It sounded so strange to me as I am a gray haired man in my 50's."He has blessed me much, this is my way of trying to pay him back" was my reply.We both smiled at each other broadly, he turned and walked out of the store with an upright gait of a man who maybe was just a little more hopeful of the generation he had risked his life to preserve freedom for.This good man came back in again this last week to make arrangements to set up a table again for Veteran's Day poppy buddy selling.Please remember our beloved veterans as this special day arrives next month. I know through the passing of my father there are fewer and fewer of these great men at the end of each day.....