BURNOUT - THE OTHER SIDE OF PROGRESS

The last writing I did was a report on the small progress I have made since I lost Barbara.  I do believe I have had progress, but it is so difficult to continue pushing my way and extending that progress.  I still have a long ways to go.

I have come to realize that along side the progress I have made there is a polar opposite going on in my life.  Burnout.  I feel so tried most of the time.  Part of the inner fatigue that I feel is from trying to continue with the progress in those small areas as I described previously.  It takes a lot out of me to push myself to clean on the house, to do the laundry, to cook for myself and especially to make those phone calls.  There are many times when I just simply do not feel like doing those things and sometimes, to be honest, I do not do them but rather put them off for a day or so.

The biggest part of my life that is suffering burnout though is my job.  I find myself with no desire to get up and go to work every day.  To understand this, I guess you need to know how I approached my job before the summer of 2018 slapped me in the face.  I absolutely loved my job.  Each day I looked upon it as a new challenge to be faced and defeated.  I was always early arriving and worked hard throughout the day and accomplished a lot.  I pushed myself to work as fast and as accurately as possible, to meet deadlines.  I was good at it.  My job is not one of physical labor but rather mental labor.  I was thinking non-stop for 8 hours a day and then more after I got home and as I was readying and driving to work the next day.  I would have projects I was working on burned into my memory and be solving problems a lot of the time while in the car or when I was supposed to be watching a movie with Barbara.  Many times Barb would say something to me and I had no clue what she was talking about.  I was working in my mind.

On days when I would wake up to find a fresh layer of snow on the ground, I saw it as another challenged to be faced and brought down.  I got this from my dad.  When it snowed, we were more determined to make it to the office early then on any other day.  It was a feeling of accomplishment to defeat the roads and the snow and the traffic of others who did not seem to know how to drive in the snow.  Both me and dad always won those mornings in the snow.

Now I feel burned out though.  My motivation is all but completely gone.  Those things that I listed in my progress piece, you will notice I never say I got this.  I have overcome this.  No, it is a work in progress.  I have to will myself to get up and do some cleaning on the house.  I have to will myself to gather my clothes and go downstairs to wash them.  I have to will myself to make those phone calls.  When answering a phone, if the caller ID is not there or it is a name I don't recognize, I do not answer it.  I have to will myself to go to the store.  It seems like most of the time, I just sit in my chair, next to Barbara's chair and watch the time go by.

My job is where I can feel the burn out the most though.  Now my mind totally forgets about any project I am working on the minute I decide it is time to go home.  Going home time.  That use to mean about thirty or forty minutes later than when I should have left the office.  Now as soon as it hits 3:30, I am gone.  Long gone.  I don't give my job another thought until I am sitting in my chair the next day.  Work tires me out.  It use to be an adventure everyday at the office.  Come up with new ideas, design them, make them work.  Untangle an obscene number of lines into individual circuits so that they don't cross and everything works as it should.  I use to think of laying out those printed circuit boards as being like working a puzzle everyday and it was a challenge.  Now, I pull up the program that I use to create those boards and I feel tired almost immediately just by looking at all those lines.  I have a deadline though and so I push my way though it and do the best that I can.  It wears me out though.

My productivity at the office is definitely decreasing.  I am not as fast as I once was.  I go about my job, whether it be mechanical or electrical, with a very definite pace, a slow pace.  This last winter, for the first time I can ever remember, I awoke to seeing snow on the streets.  I stood there and looked at it.  The feeling of a challenge in the snow was gone.  I did not want to get out in it.  The snow had finally won.  I called the office and took a day of vacation.  Last winter each time it snowed over night, I stayed home.  I didn't seem to feel that my job was so important for me to drag myself out and fight those slippery streets.

If I were at the point where I hope to be in the near future, I would walk into the office and quit on the spot.  I am tired.  I have put forty years of my life into this company.  That is a lot of time. I have traveled for this company.  The company sent me to Chicago, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Dallas, Boston, Seattle, Denver, and over a two year period I was in San Fransisco every other week for a week at a time.  Two years in the Bay Area.  I enjoyed it then.  I don't think I would now though.  I am too tired to hit the road for the company any more.  I think that they can sense it in me.

Sometimes, I feel burned out on life.  Getting up everyday and going through the same routine over and over and over .... but I keep going.  Barbara left a note on her computer just in case her surgery did not go the way we wanted it to, which it did.  In the opening line of that note, she practically begs me to keep on going even though she knows I will be tempted not to.  She knew it would be hard but she also knew that it was important for me to keep pushing though life and she knew I could do it.  So here I am.  Pushing through life.  To be honest, I am not enjoying life as much as I use to.  Things are so different without her to bounce ideas off of, to make jokes with, to have a partner walking beside me.  I am alone.  Yes I have cousins and other family members around, it isn't the same though.  There is no way it could be the same.

 I have tried to figure out what has caused this burnout in me since Barbara passed.  I think that it has something to do with how my life has been the last several years.  I have spent my time being a caregiver, taking care of people.  I took care of my uncle.  I took care of my sister.  I took care of mom and dad, and finally I took care of Barbara.  My uncle died.  My sister died.  MY parents moved to Alabama where my father died.  and finally, the last person I took care of, Barbara, died.  I am not a caregiver to anyone now.  I feel like that had become my sense of purpose in life.  Now they are all gone and I find myself alone.Even though I know it isn't the case, the idea pops into my head that I failed at taking care of my uncle, sister and wife.  I know that isn't true but the thought does creep in once in awhile.  I did the absolute best that I could for all of them.  That is the best reasoning I can come up with for feeling so burned out and alone.

All I know for sure is that I am tired.  That I feel alone.  I feel this way because I lost Barbara, the one constant in my life for over 42 years.

Okay.  I know you all are getting tired of me writing about Barbara ALL the time so I am going to try to write more about my past and things that I experienced in life.  The things that most of my readers are here for.  Life is interesting and some of the things that happen to us, well, they can be pretty bizarre and funny.  So I am going to dig back into my brain and try to remember things.  Millions of memories are buried in there, it is just a matter of digging them out and sharing them.

Thank all of you for your patience with me over the last year or so.

MURDER MYSTERY IN MY YARD

THE FOLLOWING IS MORE A LESS A TRUE STORY.  NONE OF THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED BECAUSE THEY KNOW WHO THEY ARE.

The last thing I do before I go to bed at night is to take my constant and best companion, Dutch, out in the front yard with me so that he can take care of any unfinished business while I grab a smoke.  Ordinarily it is an uneventful time for the two of us.  Dutch weighs in at about sixty pounds and is strong enough that I have to be on alert when we go out.  If Dutch spies a stray cat or the occasional possum, he has a tendency to lunge toward the night stalker and I must be prepared.  One night a couple of years ago I was not being very vigilant when Dutch spotted one of those night creepers.  He lunged and pulled me over.  My right foot was planted firmly though and my leg snapped in half.  After Dutch realized what had happened he dragged me up to the front porch so I could seek aid.

On this night however I was being vigilant and at the ready for such a sudden pull so that when it did come, I was ready.  Dutch pulled forward and started barking.  I looked down the street to see what was catching his sharp eyes.  I saw nothing.  He continued to pull and bark and no matter how much I tried to calm him down he would not give it up continuing to pull and to bark until I finally saw what I thought he was after.

It was a very dark spot in the middle of the yard.  I squinted my eyes trying to make out what it was but could not figure it out.  I did notice it wasn't moving and seeing how Dutch was so set on the figure I thought I should try to see what it was.  I took Dutch back into the house where he went over to the window to observe what I was doing. As I approached the dark spot I started to notice it had shape and depth to it.  As I circled around I finally came to the proper conclusion.  It was a midnight black cat and it appeared to be dead.  I started looking around for any indication of how this victim had ended up in my front yard.  I did not find any clues but it was dark that night as clouds were hiding the moon and the light it usually reflects.  I decided I would wait until the morning and do an investigation then.

When I awoke the next morning, I found it to be gray, cold and cloudy with a slight chance of snow.  A perfect day to investigate the heinous crime that had left a victim in my front yard.  I donned my Eddie Bower sweatshirt jacket with a hoodie and headed out to the crime scene.  When I got to the unfortunate one I discovered that I had been right the night before.  It was a totally black cat laying on its side and it was indeed dead.  I made this observation by taking note that it had not moved since Dutch had discovered it the night before.  I pulled my Pentel .05mm mechanical pencil and my note pad out of my pocket and began taking notes.  The cat's head was facing the street and its four paws were pointing to the south.  I looked over the cats body as it lay there and I did not see any wounds or blood at all.  That was curious.  Perhaps I would find more clues on the underside of the cat.

I had seen a pesky raccoon on the roof of one of my neighbor's house a few days before and it crossed my mind that the cat could have died from a rabies infection.  I decided it would probably be best for me not to actually touch the cat so I went into my garage and retrieved one of my forensic tools that I keep for just such an occasion.

I brought my snow shovel out and walked calmly over to the cat.  I slip the blade of the shovel under the cat and lifted it up a bit until its body slid completely onto the blade.  I stepped on the handle of the instrument in order to lift the blade up out of the grass giving me a better look at the body that lie before me.  I took notes of my observations as I tried to find clues.  I estimated the cat to weigh approximately eight to ten pounds.  It was totally black with not one white spot showing.  This, I knew, would have to be taken into account while I looked for blood.  I studied the fur of the unfortunate soul and did not find any wet spots indicating that there was not any blood that I could detect.

As I continued to take notes on my little pad thinking that no detail was too small to be noted, I felt like I was being watched.  I squatted down pretending to take a closer look at the cat and started to slyly take glances around.  I look at my own house and, as expected, saw Dutch's eye peering over the bottom of the window watching every move I made.  I glanced over to Lori's house and saw a space in the blinds that revealed her two eye watching intently.  I glanced across the street and saw the big figure of Chuck standing in his kitchen in the back side of his house watching though his front window from there.  I quickly turned my head to the house on the south side and saw the front door close quickly but quietly.  Yes, the neighbors were watching the investigation with a lot of interest.  Maybe a little too much interest.  I did not have time just yet to worry about the neighbors, I needed to wrap up my observations.

I checked the cats face.  The eyes were closed, shut tight.  The mouth showed what I thought could be construed as a painful look, halfway open with its sharp little teeth barely visible.  I checked the front legs and paws of the cat and did not find any defensive wounds at all.  I must be missing something.  I started replaying episodes of Law and Order along with Blue Bloods trying to bring to mind anything I may be missing in the investigation.  I could not think of anything I was overlooking.

I stood up and looked over my notes, flipping through the fifteen or so pages that I had written down.  It didn't make sense.  I stood and looked over the cat one more time, checked my notes and then went to get the body bag for the cat.  I went to the garage and came out with a thirty gallon garbage sack that on this day would serve as the body bag.  I picked up the shovel and placed the cat into the bag, tying it off at the top to secure any evidence I may have missed in case I think of something later on in the investigation.  I carried the bag to the north side of the house and gently tossed it up against the house then stood studying my notes more.  I had come to what I thought was the answer to what had brought the cat to its untimely demise.  It was the raccoon.  I walked it through my head.  I figured that the raccoon had snuck up on the cat one day, or night, last week and had scratched it or placed a small bite on the cat.  The cat had probably thought it was a tick or flea bite and shook it off without thinking anything of it.  The rabies poison had settled into the cats bloodstream and started doing its damage.  Yes, I would have to find the raccoon and bring it to justice by calling Kansas City Animal Control to arrest it and take it away.

About that time my neighbor on the north side came walking out.  Charlene is a beautiful elderly lady who keeps a sharp eye on what is happening in the neighborhood.  She made her way towards me with her hands on her hips as always.

"What's up?" she asked seriously.

"Well Charlene, Dutch found a dead cat in the front yard last night." and I proceeded to share my notes with her from the investigation.  She stared at me as I relayed the facts of the case in amazement.  I assume that she didn't realize my abilities as an investigator and so she was indeed stunned.  She lifted her hand and started waving it at me as if to signal me to stop so she could say something.

"Have you talked to Chuck about this?" she asked in total amazement that I had not interviewed any potential witnesses as of yet.

"Well, no, not yet.  You are the first witness I have talked to.  You are a witness I presume?  Did you see anything last night?"  I was firm in my questioning to let her know she should not try to put anything over on me.

"Well, no I personally did not see anything, but Chuck said he did."

"And what did Chuck have to tell you about this?"

"Well," Charlene began giving me a rather strange look, "Chuck said that a car had come down the street just as the cat was crossing and it hit the cat.  Car didn't stop I guess.  He said that he walked over to the cat to see if he could help it, but the cat hissed at him, so he walked away."  Charlene was still looking at me in wonderment at my ability to investigate.  I had obviously asked the right question.

Charlene pointed at my pad of notes and pointed at it without taking her eyes off of me.

"So, do you have a suspect yet?" she asked with a hint of a smile.  That smile told me she knew I did have an idea of who was responsible for the crime.

"I figure it was the raccoon."

"The, umm, raccoon?" Charlene repeated.

"Yes, the raccoon.  I saw it top of Sally's house the other day so he is out and about.  I think he did a sneak attack on the cat and poisoned him with rabies"  I said while using my hands to point to Sally's roof and then to the spot where the body had been found.

Charlene sighed before putting her hand over her mouth. "Well, you could be right on that one.  I am guessing the hiss of the cat points it that way?"

"That's the way I see it."  I looked over at Chuck's place to see him just exiting his house.  "Thanks Charlene.  Think I'll have a little talk with Chuck now."

Charlene turned and went back to her house shaking her head as I started to cross the street to talk to Chuck.

Chuck is a big guy.  He stands about six foot two and weighs in at about 270 I would guess and he is a talker.  Chuck loves to talk and doesn't seem to hear what others may be saying to him.  I waved at him.

"Hey Chuck, you got a second to answer a couple of questions?"

Chuck stopped and looked at me.  "Depends.  You got an extra smoke?"

"Really Chuck?  You need a smoke to answer a question or two?"

"I remember things better if I have a smoke." Chuck stated matter of factly.

"Okay, okay," I reached in my pocket and pulled out a smoke for him " Here you go, now I got just a couple of...."

"You got a light?" Chuck was looking at me holding out the cigarette.

"Geez Chuck.  You haven't bought that lighter yet?"

Chuck stared down at me. "I said ... Do.... you ... have... a LIGHT?" He was emphasizing his words by stabbing the cigarette in the air towards my face.

I reached back in my pocket and pulled out my light and handed it to him.  He lit the smoke and took a couple of puffs staring off into the cold sky.  He slowly lowered his head and looked at me.

"Okay, now what is it you want to know?"

"Well, it's about a cat me and Dutch found in the front yard last night.  I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it."

Chuck smiled and started pacing back and forth a couple of steps at a time.

"Sure I can tell you all about that.  You see it was last night, before you and that mutt came out like you always do.  What is that about anyway? No matter. Okay the cat.  I was out last night taking in some air and seeing if it was snowing yet when I seen this cat you see.  Now, I have never seen this cat around here before.  You know Lori over there has a black cat but it has a lot of white on it too but this cat, well this cat was solid black.  Blackest cat I ever seen.  Well, this cat is in my front yard you know and I don't really care if it is in my yard, but something about that black cat spooked me so I took a step towards it to shoo it off and it stopped and look at me then started to run across the street.  Just then, just as this cat was heading in the street this car come racing down the street and BAM! hit the cat.  Car didn't stop, didn't even slow down.  I reckon he didn't know he had hit the cat.  Well, that cat, he is laying out in the middle of the street and I could see it was still moving you know so I go out to see if I can help it at all.  Well, as soon as I get within five feet of that thing it started hissing at me.  I don't need no hissing cat at me and besides, hey have you seen that raccoon hanging around here? well I have and I figure maybe that cat got the rabies from the raccoon and that is why it was hissing at me, so I told myself I don't want to mess with a rabies filled hissing cat so I walked back over here.  I stood out here and watched it for awhile and it started to pull itself, well it was more of a crawl I guess but it started crawling over towards your place.  Got into your front yard and stopped.  I figured it was dead at that point or would be shortly, so I went back in the house.  Nothing I could do for it, you know.  It was in pretty bad shape, so I went back in the house."

I gave up trying to take notes on Chuck's account as to what had happened because I couldn't keep up with him.

"That answer your question?" Chuck asked.

"Yes sir, I believe it does.  Thanks Chuck."

"No problem," Chuck said as he went and got in his car.

I stood there and thought about Chucks version.  It pretty well matched up with what Charlene had said but then again, Charlene had gotten her facts from Chuck so you would expect their stories to match.  Chuck had mentioned the raccoon though while Charlene didn't seem to know about any raccoon in the area.  If Chuck's version was right, then you couldn't really blame the raccoon for the death since a car was the actual cause of death.

About that time Susan and Cory, who are my neighbors to the south came out of their house getting ready to go to breakfast.  I decided it was worth a shot to see if they had any more information.

"HEY SUSAN, CORY, YOU GOT SEC?" I yelled over to them.

"Sure,". Susan said, "What can we do for you?"

They are a young couple who are extremely nice.  They haven't lived there but a couple of weeks so this crime was their indoctrination to the neighborhood.

"Well, I am looking into the case of this dead cat Dutch found in the yard last night."I explained.

Susan lowered her eyes, "Oh yes, that cat.  It was awful.  It was so very sad." and she reached out and held her husbands hand.  "A car hit it last night.  I was just getting home when it happened."

Susan looked over at Cory who nodded his head to urge her on.

Susan sighed.  "The car didn't even stop.  It just kept on going.  So, so very sad." and Susan sniffled a bit.

I softened my voice as I continued to ask her questions knowing how upset she was.

"What happened after the car drove off?"

"Well, that man over there," she said pointing towards Chuck's house, "He came out to try to help the poor thing but I guess the cat was in a lot of pain."  She stopped and thought for a second.  "I think it was in pain because it hissed at that man and he was just trying to help.  Then the poor thing crawled over into your yard and...."

Susan broke down and sobbed.  Cory put his arm around Susan's shoulders and whispered "and it died there, in your yard."

"Thanks.  I appreciate your help" I said as I watched Cory lead Susan to the car and gently help her in before shutting the door.

I sat on the front porch and looked over my notes.  I reran the witness interviews in my head.  It seemed that they all pretty much coincided.  I was convinced it was that filthy raccoon but in the end, I could not pin it on him.  Sure, the raccoon may have poisoned the cat, that was a definite possibility but it wasn't the rabies poison that killed the cat.  No it was a speeding out of control car.

I went in and typed up a report spelling out my conclusion on the murder in my front yard on my computer.  I proof read it correcting any mistakes I happened to find.  I sent the report to the printer and printed it out in nice bold type.  After placing the official report in a folder, I tucked it under my arm and walked out to my car.

About that time Charlene came striding out of her house.

"Where you headed?" she asked excitingly.  Charlene didn't drive so I thought she needed a ride somewhere.

I held up the report in my hand and said, "Taking this report I typed up on the murder to the police station.  They probably can use all the help they can get."

Charlene's eyes lit up and a small smile crossed her lips.  "I was hoping ... I mean thought you might be going up there.  Mind if I ride along?  I would love to see them express their appreciation to you."

"Sure, hop in. It will be nice to have some company going up there."

She got in the car quickly and fastened her seat belt. "Okay, let's go" she said with a touch of excitement in her voice.

So Charlene and myself headed to the station.  I had a feeling that the police would be very interested in this report and probably be very thankful to have such responsible citizens in the city trying to help them out.

THE SILENCE OF DEATH

When someone you love dies, silence follows immediately.  Whether it is a close friend that you love, a family member, or even a celebrity that you have enjoyed their talents, the silence follows.  I don't think we realize this at first, no matter how many times we may have experienced it, but after a time of reflection it sinks in.

We are lucky if we remember the last time with the deceased before the silence fell.  I can't remember the last things I heard either of my grandmothers say before they passed and I feel like I should.   People who are as important to my life, the influence they had on my life, I should be able to remember.  I want to remember.  I can still hear their voices in my head.  My grandmother Clark's slight little laugh and her "Oh My!!".  I will never hear that again.  I will never hear my Grandmother Hill's seemingly daily expression of "Oh, Oscar!" again.

I do remember some of my family and friends last conversation with me though, and I cherish those.

My sister Carol, on the day she and my sister Elaine left for Georgia, I remember Carol telling me "I'm going back home and we are going to beat this thing"  After I told her I loved her she said with a tilt of her head, "I love you too.  Thanks for your help.  Bye... see ya later"  I didn't see her later.  I didn't hear her voice again.  I won't ever hear her voice again.  Just silence.

I went to see my Uncle Melvin in the hospital a few weeks before he passed.  We had a talk that wasn't too long.  He was tired.  He took the time, maybe five minutes or so, to talk to me though as he held my hand.  I told him I loved him and he smiled and said "I love you too Bill."  Then I told him I was going to miss him and he kind of looked straight through me, to my soul and said very matter of factly "I am going to miss you too .... for a while".  Nothing was left to be said.  I couldn't muster up any more words, any that were there were caught in my throat.  I squeezed his hand and left the room.  A few weeks later I got a call from my mom.  The silence had fallen on my Uncle.

I was with the whole extended family at my Grandfather Hill's house the last time I saw him.  I spent a lot of time talking to him as I sat in my spot on the couch next to his chair.  There wasn't any political talk that night.  There wasn't any philosophizing that night.  There was just talk.  Talk about what a great family this was.  Talk and joking about things that were going on around us.  Bringing in other family members into the conversation. as everyone rotated in to talk to him and everyone did.  I don't mean to say I was with him the whole time, I wasn't but I took my turn in the rotation to spend time with him.  He always had time for anyone and everyone.  Eventually It came time for me to head home.  I took his hand and told him that I had to be heading out.  He looked me straight in the eye as was his custom (he always looked whoever he was talking to in the eye.. and he taught all of us to do the same) and he said "Okay Bill.  You take care.  Bye now." and I turned and left.  This time, the news of the silence falling arrived in the form of a knock on my door in the middle of the night.  It was my mom and dad to tell me he was gone.  I can't say I was stunned or anything.  I was kind of expecting this to happen before long.  Still it did catch me off guard a bit and I had to go to my room for a minute or so to be by myself before coming back to talk to mom.  I learned a lot of little quips from that man like "Now you're railroading" that I still use to this day and each time I say one of those things I picked from him, I can almost hear his voice echoing mine as the words come out.  As I sat next to my grandmother at the funeral home, I could not take my eyes off of the body in the casket.  I would never hear that wise old voice again.  The silence had fallen.

Then there was my Uncle Danial.  Since he had moved back to Kansas City from the Seattle area, we had become so very close.  We worked on his art together.  We discussed every art form there was, from writing to music to paining to sculpture even to the beauty of a well thrown pass in a football game was an art form to him.  He had AIDS and so there were a few health problems that came along with that.  With the help of family members we were able to keep on top of everything and he was able to remain active and sharp and continue to do the things he loved.  Then one day we found out he had cancer.  At first he was determined and the family pulled together again and made sure he made appointments, took medicine and spent time at the radiology treatment at KU-Med.  Then came the day that I went to take him to KU for his treatment and he said he wasn't going.  It was taking too much of a toll on him and his body.  He had decided he would rather spend his remaining days living life as best as he could instead of feeling the side effects of the treatment all the time.  He took fifty dollars out of his wallet and told me to go by three cartons of smokes.  No sense in quitting now he had said and so I did as I was told.  This was when I truly found out how much of an effect he had made on people during his lifetime.  Friends from Chicago and Seattle came to help out in taking care of him.  Friends from his high School  class helped out.  The family pulled together of course and we took care of him.  We took him to the Kansas City Men's Chorus Christmas concert, which had become a tradition for all of us.  We took him to a couple of plays, which he loved.  We spent nights ... I mean all nighters talking and reading.  As his health worsened, we got a hospital bed to put in his living room for him.  His last Christmas was filled with family and friends for a big tree trimming party.  His friends and neighbors, Rick and Dan, catered a dinner for the party that night.  What a joyous evening it was.  He slowly weakened and soon the pain became almost a constant for him.  A nurse from the hospice house began coming by once a week to check on him and to be sure he had medicine to ease the pain.  His mind began to lose track of things and soon it seemed like I was the only one he would be totally honest with about how he was feeling, even though mom and dad, my Aunt June and Uncle Jack, cousins Pete and Susie and my wife were always by his side.  I stopped by his house after work one afternoon and he was in a lot of pain.  The hospice nurse was there but he was having nothing to do with her.  She gave me the medicine that would ease his pain and I tried to give it to him.  He asked "What is this?"  I told him it was okay, this was going to help with the pain.  He looked at me and said "You're lying to me."  I smiled and said that I wasn't, this would help.  Then he said the last words from his mouth to me. "Yeah... well ..." and he took the medicine.  The next morning I got a call at the office saying I had to be there now.  I got to his house and he was doubled over in his bed.  His friend Brian was there, helpless.  My mom was there and the hospice nurse was there.  The nurse told my mom and myself that a decision had to be made.  Mom looked at me and I looked at my uncle.  We made the decision to take him to the hospice house where they could control the pain easier.  He lasted almost a week in hospice without ever falling asleep.  He was gasping for air and breathing hard the whole time.  One night, I guess it was around two in the morning, the hospice nurse on duty came out of his room and I asked her what had been on my mind all that day, that was if he knew I was even there.  She looked at me and smiled "Oh he knows.  He knows" and she went about her work.  The next morning I went to get something to eat in the lobby of the house.  I noticed a piano there.  Now you got to understand that I NEVER play the piano in front of anyone.  It raises my anxiety level to the extreme.  Dan had asked me many times over the years to play for him but I never did.  That morning though, I asked the nurse at the desk if I could play a song or two and she encouraged me to do so.  I played a couple of hymns then got up and went back to my uncle's room.  As I was sponging his lips with water I told him about the piano and that I had played a couple of songs for him.  His eyes widened a bit and though he could not talk I heard what his eyes said.  Those eyes said "Thank you".  He died the next night.  The silence had fallen again but in this case, his eyes had said those precious last words to me.  "Thank you".

Lastly, one of my best friends went silent.  I was not prepared for this.  Dennis and I had worked together for many years.  After he left the company, we kept in constant touch.  We went to races together.  We went out to eat a lot together.  He became an uncle to my son and a very good friend to my nephew.  He went to Thanksgiving with us to my sister's house in Alabama one year.  It seems like my whole adult life was spent with Dennis.  He eventually moved to Mississippi but we kept in constant communication almost on a daily basis.  Aside from my mom and dad, brother and sisters and my niece Kelly Lynn, his birthday was the only other one I could ever remember and that was because he shared his birthday with Elvis.  I would call him to tell him happy birthday and he would always reply, every year with "thank ya... thank ya very much..".  Last February, a few weeks after his birthday, I got an email from one of his friends down south.  He had left a list of people to contact just in case.  He had passed suddenly from heart failure.  The last thing he said to me was "okay... catch you later".  That was three days before the email arrived.  The silence had descended on my friend.  I will never hear "Thank ya... Thank ya very much.." from him again.

There is an upside to the silence of death though.  The upside comes with hearing new voices that with time replace the ones gone silent.  Mei, Joshua, Hayden, Conner,  Samantha and Jesse.  Emmet and Will, Andrew and Abbey and Mags and Heidi's Oscar. Jayden, Talia, and Kiki and even though I have never met her, I hear Georgia on Facebook all the time and she has a WONDERFUL giggle. New voices that are so fun to hear.

The other upside comes when the silence of death falls on me.  No longer will I hear those last words of those that I loved and miss them so much it hurts at times.  Then there is the upside for everyone else.  No longer will you have to put up with my sarcastic sayings, my dry sense of humor, or my passionate positions on political issues.  There will be no more wondering how I am doing with my mental issues. No longer will people stop when something is said and wonder "oh no, what is going to come out of Bill's mouth on this?"  The one thing that I hope for and I am very sincere in this, is that when the silence falls on me, my last words that are remembered are nice and pleasant, hopefully with a little of that dark sense of humor mixed in.  I don't know when that will be.  Dennis taught me that lesson.  We just never know.

I am going to try very hard, just in case, not to talk mean or treat anyone mean as I age.  I am going to try my best to leave everyone with at least a fond "good-bye".

GRANDSON OF OLD RED

Many many years ago, I recorded in words the legacy and the legend of Old Red.  I have since lost that writing before I began this blog, but the memory of this fantastic animal has never left my mind.  Old Red was a racer, a runner who went from the old tree in our front yard, leap to the rooftop of the house, run over the crest of the house down to the telephone wire and then race to the telephone pole and retrace the route back to the old tree in the front yard.  He was a well known for more than his speed though.  He was the caregiver of the squirrel community on Marsh Avenue.  He helped out the whole of the squirrel community and was a leader of the group. Old Red, and the tree he use to race from in my front yard have both been gone for quite a while now.

Last summer, as I was watching the various families of squirrels go about their business, I noticed a new squirrel sprinting around from tree to tree.  He was small compared to the other squirrels that went about their daily chores on the street but one thing caught my eye.  He was mostly gray like most squirrels in western Missouri, but his tail was what caught my eye.  It was red.  The whole of the tail was red and not just any shade of red but a red that I recalled from many years ago.  It was the same hue of red as Old Red's whole body had been.

I thought of that color of red and remembered Old Red as I watched this little guy scamper about all over the place.  He was a little reckless in crossing the street, seldom checking for cars that might be heading in his direction.  After a few days of watching him I decided to go and ask the question that was burning in my mind.

It was a nice quiet Saturday morning when he recklessly crossed the street to land in my front yard.  I stood up and started to walk towards him.  It didn't take him long to notice me and he stood proudly up erect on his hind legs, and while putting his front paws together gave me the deadliest stare he could muster.  He shook his tail a bit hoping to warn me off.

"Hey" I said cheerfully with a wave of my hand

"What?!?"  His voice was loud, stern, high pitched and squeaky.  "What do you want?  I am not bothering you, you know.  I got a right to be here or didn't you read the VERY VERY small print in the contract when you bought this so called house?"

"What small print?" I asked with a smile trying not to laugh at him directly.

"The small print that says that ANY wild life NOT being kept as a pet, such as dogs and so forth, have the right to roam anywhere on this land that they want to.  THAT small print!"

With this he dropped his front paws down and placed them on his hips, tilted his head and resumed his menacing stare at me with his tail still shaking.

"Nah, I don't bother with small print.  Can't see small print well enough to read it", I smiled at him at he let out a deep irritated sigh. "So, what's your name?", I asked.

He looked at me with a questioning expression trying to figure out if he wanted to waste time with me.  Finally he decided that being friends with the land owner could come in handy in the future. His voice dropped in pitched and became less of a squeak as he realized I meant no harm.

"Well, my name is Redtail" he said as he raised his arm and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder toward his backside. "That's my name anyway but they don't call me Redtail.  They call me Red runt"

His head drop a bit and his shoulders slumped a bit with this revelation.  He lifted his head slowly and looked past me into space as he thought about the nick name he had been laden with.

He sighed a bit and looking at me revealed something else.

"Of course I suppose it could be a little worse.  They called my dad 'Reddy Mix' because he had small splotches of red all over his body.  Almost looked like a rash.  Dad taught me how to deal with having a not so good nick name.  I deal with it."

"Your dad was Reddy Mix?" I asked with recognition.  "Wow, you had a great dad.  I use to watch him scamper around here all the time."  I watched for a reaction for Redtail and only got a shrug of the shoulders.

"Yeah, dad was okay.  He didn't do much, not like grandpa anyway.  Grandpa was a great squirrel, he was one of the great squirrel racers in history!" he exclaimed as his chest puffed up just a little.  "I never knew grandpa though.  He died in some sort of accident.  They never told me what happened."

"Your grandpa.  I knew him.  He was indeed a great one and a great racer.  I saw him race lots of times."  I said respectfully thinking back to that last day that his grandpa had raced.

"You knew my grandpa?"  Redtail's eyes widened and his posture straightened up in excitement.  "You knew Old Red?  You saw him race?  Please, oh please tell me a little about Old Red.  Please?"

I looked at young Redtail, looked at his eyes and the excitement in them and decided it was time he learned a little about Old Red.

I began slowly and thoughtfully.

"Your grandpa.  Well, they told you right, He spent most of his time racing other squirrels.  He was fast.  Very fast.  Probably the fastest squirrel on the block at the time."

I took a seat on my porch and lit a cigarette taking my time before continuing.  Redtail's eyes never left my face as I began to continue.

"Old Red, I like to think, was a friend of mine.  As close of a friend as a squirrel and human can be anyway.  I use to sit right here on a lot of Saturdays watching the races which your grandfather never missed as far as I can remember.  You see the old track use to be right here in my front yard.  There use to be a big tree out there in the yard and they would race towards the roof of the house, leap onto the house, run over to the back of the house and run on the line that goes out to that pole in the back.  Once they touched the pole they raced back across the line, over the house then leap back to the tree grabbing at limb to pull them selves up and race back to the main trunk.  Your grand dad was one of the best at that.  My tree was where Old Red ran his last race.  I was out here that day.  I saw that last race of his and he was faster than he had ever been.  You see, earlier in the day a younger squirrel, a newcomer to the races had broke your grandpa's record for running the course.  Your grandpa's last race was an attempt to get that record back and he almost did just that."

I stopped and paused, thinking back in my mind to that day.  Eventually I woke out of my daydream to find Redtail still staring at me, waiting for more information.

"Yes sir, he almost got that record back, but he...." and I found myself grow quiet as I the vision of what had occurred that day filled my head.

"But?" asked Redtail wanting to know why his grandfather had not broken the record.

I started out slowly and quietly, almost reverently,  "Well, Old Red made a mistake.  He took a risk to try to shave off a little more time for the record.  He was on the last leg of the course, coming down the roof heading for the tree.  He left the roof just a little bit early in his leap for the limbs on the tree.  I knew as soon as he left the roof that it was too soon to jump.  I think he knew it as well.  He stretched out as far as he could and grabbed and caught one of the smallest limbs out there.  He grabbed it with both hands and held on with everything he could.  The, uh... well the limb bent down with his weight.  Once it bent as far as it could, it snapped upwards, taking your grandpa with it.  He held on tight and I honestly felt that he had done it.  I knew the limb would snap back down again but I figured once that had happened, he would be off to the trunk of the tree.  But..." and here I choked up a bit but pushed on with the story, "the limb snapped back down hard.  Your grandpa couldn't hold on and he lost his grip.  He was thrown to the ground.  I sat here and looked at him.  He wasn't moving.  Soon the squirrel community came down to him to check him over.  The fall took your grandpa's life Redtail.   It... umm... it... well it broke his neck kid.  He didn't feel a thing.

I stopped and looked at Redtail.  He was slouched down a little and was wiping his eyes of the tears that had begun to flow.  He slowly looked back up at me and I read in his eyes that he wanted me to go on.

"You know, Redtail, Your grandpa was a very strong squirrel.  That limb had a hell of a snap to it to be able to throw your grandpa loose and to the ground.  The community took your grandpa away to his nest where they laid him down so other squirrels could come and pay respects.  Three days.  Three days he laid in that nest and the line of squirrels continued to come to see him and tell him goodbye.  Then after the three days they took him over to the brush by the lake and laid him down with all of the squirrels that had gone before him.  He was a very respected squirrel Redtail.  You should be proud that he was your grandpa."

Redtail and myself sat there quietly thinking about the story I had just told.  Eventually Redtail climb up on my knee and stared out into the yard where the tree had once stood.

I started talking quietly again to the small squirrel.  "That tree came down during a winter storm several years ago.  It was a sad day not only for me but for the squirrel community as well.  Thousands of races had been run on that tree.  Your grandpa ran well over a hundred races and held the record most of the time that he was racing.  When the tree came down, the record did not have his name attached to it though.  That is why they race at the new track over there," I said pointing next door to the big tree in that front yard.  "It is kind of a more dangerous track to run than the old track use to be."

Redtail looked at the new track and nodded his head.  Eventually his head returned to where the old tree had once stood.

"Can you read? I asked Redtail seriously.

"Of course not, not human writing anyway.  I'm just a little squirrel, remember?"

"Come walk with me.  I got something to show you." I said as I stood up and began walking into the yard where the tree use to be.  I looked down to be sure Redtail was following me into the grass.  We walked down to the water meter that lay in the yard next to where the old tree use to be.  When we got there Redtail looked at the big metal disk with human letters on it.

"What does it say? Is it about grandpa?" he asked inquisitively.

"Well let's see,"  I said and I squatted down to clear some grass off of the top of the old water meter.

I began to "read" the water meter for Redtail making up the words as I went along.

"Here once stood a great tree that was used as the main race path for generations of squirrels.  Many great squirrels ran this tree but there was one that stood above the rest.  It was on this site where the famous racer Old Red ran his first and last race.  He was the greatest of all the racers who ever ran here.  He will forever be remembered for his kindness, thoughtfulness, strength and courage.  May the name of Old Red never be forgotten."

I felt a small tug on the leg of my jeans and looked down to see Redtail hold onto me as he stared at the meter.  He then got down on all fours and walked onto the metal plate and ran his claws over the letters embossed upon it.

I decided to leave Redtail alone with his thoughts and walked back to the porch and sat, watching him contemplate what he had just learned.  After awhile I watched Redtail turn around and look at me before starting to slowly head back to me and the porch.

He arrived at the porch and climbed back up on my knee, laying his head down with his eyes staring out into the yard.

"Thank you" Redtail said.  "Thank you so very much"

We sat on the porch together until the sun set and it began to get dark around us.  He climbed off of my knee and looked at me with a new awareness of where he had come from.

"I'll see you around." he said as he turned and headed off into the night air to his nest.

I have seen him a lot since that day and when I do see him, he shakes his tail at me, smiles and gives me a little wave.  No doubt he will pass the tale of Old Red to his offspring and grandchildren and the name of Old Red will never be forgotten, at least not in the squirrel community.

DON'T TRUST ANYBODY ....

I have lived on this earth for fifty-six years and i finally learned a couple of lessons in life.  The biggest lesson I have learned is not to trust anybody, not even myself.  People are human and it seems to me, from my perspective anyway concerning myself, is that people have an agenda, a personal agenda and they will do whatever it takes to achieve it.  They will push me around, push me aside, walk all over me to get to where they want to be.  There have been people that I have wanted to trust, who I felt I could trust, but eventually it comes down to the same thing and that is that I had better stay out of their way as they progress in their own life.  They don't care about me, only themselves so it is that I had better step aside or get run over.

I am not going to specify any details of how this has come to light.  I began thinking it several years ago.  Each time I thought it or would express it, I was told that I was thinking wrong and I would go back to trusting and believing only to get run over and stomped on again and again.  I am not saying I am above this behavior, I am sure there have been times when I have done the same thing, but I don't think I have ever treated anyone the way that others have treated me over my lifetime.

Maybe I am just over sensitive.  That is definitely a distinct possibility.  I am the kind of person who doesn't say a lot because when I do, I always end up in trouble with people being angry with me.  It seems that I am suppose to follow everyone's script instead of my own.  Well, It doesn't feel like I am even allowed to have a script for my own life.  Just however other's lives effect my life is how it is suppose to be and whatever twist and turns my life takes while being pushed and shoved by others is suppose to be okay with me.  Just go with it no matter how much pain or anxiety it may cause me.

On second thought, there is a script to my life, it is just that everyone else has written mine for me.  There is a little Super 8 film of me when I was not quite two.  It is apparent that I had not been walking long, my balance wasn't that great.  As I was walking around on the sidewalk one cousin in particular would walk up to me and just give a little shove.  Down I would go.  I would get back up only to have the same thing happen once again.  The lesson I should have learned was to just stay on the ground.  I didn't learn it then and I seem to be having a tough time learning it now.  Just stay down, do what is expected of you, and don't even think about having a life of your own.  That is the message I seem to keep missing.

I am ready for life to be over.  There have been so many people I knew that died before they should have and each time I hurt with the pain of wanting to trade places with them.  They had much more to offer the world than I do.  But life doesn't work that way.  Life is not fair and the people around you make sure that life continues to not be fair.  Do not trust anyone.

There was a television show on that I use to watch all the time.  It was called "House" and was a comedy drama about a doctor and how he made it through life.  One of his main philosophies was that"Everybody lies".  That is oh so true.  I know that I have done my share of lying as has everyone.  But at time the lies can be so viscous, so hurtful that I wonder how anyone could go on telling lies as such.  A lot of times a lie will only be a half truth .... not really a LIE because it is the truth, just not all of the truth so that in reality, it is a lie because it leads someone to believe something that isn't true.  Those are probably the worse kind.

Right now I feel like there is no life for me.  My life consist of doing what others expect of me and what others expect of me does not include a lot of me in the equation.  I am not deserving of my own life, but my job is to make sure everyone else is able to live their life by using me, pushing me, walking all over me.  That is what life has become I think.

Anyway, the sad part is that I have learned to let people walk over me, push me aside and get upset when I don't do what is expected of me.  That's okay.  All I have to do is to ride it out until the ride is over.

ROGER

Oh yeah, Roger was a special guy.  I worked with Roger.  Worked with him, oh for about four years or so.  Roger was smart.  Well, Roger was as smart as Roger wanted to be.  He had a logical way of thinking but a lot of times, it seemed as though Roger would hide that logic when he was talking to me, or really to anyone.  It was there all right.  I know that the logic was there.  I had heard that logic slip out once in a while from Roger.  I think, looking back on it, that Roger thought that logic made things seem too serious.  I think Roger preferred to keep things light with a little bit of funny thrown in to keep things kind of smooth.

I never heard Roger argue with anyone or anything.  Now, that isn't to say he wasn't above complaining or something like that.  I heard Roger complain a lot of times to our boss about how things were being decided and how he thought that things should be done a different way.  Not necessarily a logical way, just a different way.  Roger could grab a hold of something that came down from the ivory towers and hold onto it for days, sometimes for weeks and while he was holding onto whatever it was that was bothering him he would complain.  Lot's of times he knew that his complaining was not wanted or needed and at times such as those, Roger would complain to himself.  He would complain like someone who was thinking something out to themselves but having to hear the words of the thought to process it.  That's what Roger would do.  He would talk, or rather complain, to himself out loud.  Not loud enough to really catch the ear of anyone who mattered, but just loud enough to catch my ear.  I swear it would get annoying at times when Roger would start complaining to himself.  I would much rather he complain out loud, to somebody, and get it out of his system.  When a man holds his thoughts inside to himself, they seem to stay there longer.  So it was with Roger.  This complaining to himself did nothing to ease his mind on a subject.  If anything it made him complain more.  Soon he would be complaining about his complaining, just like everyone else.  Eventually, again just like everyone else, Roger would tire of hearing himself complain and slowly his irritant would slip from his mind and his thinking.

Roger was not a big man.  He was about five feet and nine inches tall I suppose and skinny as a rail.  I bet he didn't weigh much more than a hundred and forty if that much.  His hair was kind of long but you would never really know it.  He must have gone through a tube of Brylcream a month greasing that hair down.  On the other hand, maybe he didn't use any grease on his hair.  I never really asked him about it but I suppose it could be that Roger just didn't wash his hair very often.  He seemed like a clean man though.  His clothes were always clean and I never noticed any odor drifting my was from him.  I have to give Roger the benefit of the doubt that he did wash his hair just on those facts.  He was clean otherwise, so why wouldn't he wash his hair even if it were just to go plaster grease on it once it was clean.  If he felt comfortable doing that then I suppose it is fine by me.

Roger, he was not much of a socializer.  Not even sure if that is a word, but he wasn't.  He didn't go out to lunch and seldom, if ever, ate lunch with anybody else.  He would sit off by himself slowly eating a sandwich he had made that morning and washing it down with coffee.  As he ate you could see him thinking.  He wouldn't read the newspaper.  Sometimes he would listen to a small radio he sometimes carried to get his news.  Most of the time though, while Roger was eating, he would sit still, looking out into someplace in space very intensely  I am not sure what he would be thinking from day to day, but I could tell he was mulling something over in that brain of his.  It was during lunch breaks that Roger really looked lonely while he was thinking.

I always thought Roger had to be a lonely person.  I guess that is what the definition of a loner is really.  He was not married and made no mention of anyone else in his life.  He never mentioned parents or siblings or lovers or even friends for that matter.  As far as I knew his life was on the job.  I have no idea where he played out the rest of his life when not at work.  He was someone who would appear at seven in the morning and disappear at three thirty that afternoon.  He was never late and never left early.  He was at the time clock with his card at precisely the same time twice every day.  He was consistent, I will say that for him.

But back to this business of being lonely.  He was lonely.  I think he was probably about fifteen years my senior although when you are young, older people seem to be a lot older then what they really are.  He could have only been ten years older than me.  I don't understand how somebody as smart as Roger was did not seem to have anyone anywhere in his life.  Is it possible for somebody to be that totally alone as Roger made himself out to be?  He didn't seem to have anything to spend his money on.  The car that carried him around town was old and rusty as well as noisy.  I think he had just the one car the whole time I knew him.  I suppose that car could be counted as a friend although he didn't talk about the car much either.  When Roger did talk about anything other than work, it was never about anyone he knew.  Every once in a while he would throw out a very short and fast opinion on politics but never followed through or expanded on it.  Sometimes when he would arrive at work, he would relate something that had happened on the road while he was coming to work.  Never knew what road it was, just that he was driving on a road and it was between where he made his home and where work was.

Roger did laugh.  He laughed quite a bit actually.  Most of the time he was laughing you wouldn't be able to hear it.  He would be listening to somebody else talking and then something humorous might be said and his lips would curl up into a small smile while his shoulders shook a time or two.   No noise would accompany this mind you and the laugh only last a matter of seconds, definitely not more than a minute.  Every once in a while though something would really get a hold of Rogers sense of humor and noise would escape from his lips while his shoulder's were shaking.  It was kind of a strange sound, in between a snore and a snort if you can imagine that.  Usually three of these sounds would be heard before Roger got control of himself and fell silent again.

Now, I don't want you to think that Roger never talked, because he did.  He just didn't talk very often.  He was interested in things and if he over heard you talking to someone about something that interested him, me might talk to you or ask you a question or two about the topic later.  Sometimes, if he was really interested in something, he might actually join a conversation already in progress among a group of people.  And then there were the times when he would be so interested or familiar with a subject that he might even reveal a little of himself, his private self, while talking in one of these conversations.  That was a rarity though. 

One day, Roger didn't show up at work.  It wasn't just a one day missing work kind of thing.  Roger didn't show up for work that one day, or everyday after that one day.  I am not sure where Roger had gone to or what Roger had decided to do.  I never saw him again.  There are lots of possibilities as to what happened to Roger.  I don't really know.  I didn't go around asking questions of anyone about knowing what happened to Roger.  He may have gone out and found another job.  Five years at one place, five years of getting to know  the same people everyday, may have been to much for a person like Roger.  As far as that goes, I suppose it is possible he may have left the state entirely.  Maybe he took off out west somewhere.  Loners do that a lot don't they?  I mean kind of like a nomad or something?  Just pick and go, always needing to be on the move, looking for something different?  I can see Roger being like that.  Just wake up one morning, look around the room where ever he is staying and just sigh and pack up and go.  I guess that is what I hope happened to Roger.  That is what I decided to believe.  Just packed up and went.  Gone without a trace.  Headed to Arizona or somewhere like that.

The alternative is too hard to even think about.  What if Roger died.  One night, his heart just quit.  It could happen I suppose.  Heart attacks happen all the time to people.  The thing about Roger is, well, that he was a loner.  You see?  Who would know he had died?  No family as far as we knew.  No close friends.  I am not even sure if he had a telephone.  The police would find him, eventually figure out who he was, and then, well I am not sure what they do with people who die and don't have anybody to tell.

What if he lingered before he died.  Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking that this was it.  All lone and dying.  They say that dying is the sure thing you have to do by yourself, but you don't have to be alone while doing it, at least I don't think that it would be a very pleasant feeling on which to die.  A loner, dying alone.

DEATH VISITS ANYONE, ANYWHERE, ANYTIME

Death is a fact of life.  Everyone of us will die sometime.  We don't know when.  We don't know how.  We don't know where.  It is out there in front of us though, a constant that we can not make go away.

Sometimes it is a quick, sudden unexpected death.  A slip of the steering will or a foot slipping off of a brake and suddenly Death visits.  A person could simply be walking down the street when a car drives buy with a gun hanging out of the window and discharges. Death makes another visit.

Death can be a long and drawn out affair.  Disease attacks a body and slowly eats away until there is nothing left for the body to continue to function.  It is painful to watch a person exit life this way and in the end, when we have had time to get our thoughts together, we realize that death visiting was a mercy visit.  It doesn't make it any easier to deal with, but at least we can look back and talk ourselves into believing that at least Death took the pain away from body that is left.

There are times when death visits suddenly and while one moment a person is sitting reading a paper, the next second, death has visited and shut the body down.  We talk ourselves into thinking at least death took them quickly without any pain although we don't really know if pain was present or not.

Then there are times when a person is so tortured inside, maybe body wise or sometimes mind wise, that a person invites death to visit them and do what needs to be done to get the visit they feel they need so badly.

I have seen and felt the pain left behind by all of these scenarios of a visit by death.  None of them are pleasant.  All of them are difficult to understand at the time and for many years after the event.  Nothing can be said to ease the shock and sadness that death leaves with the ones that he did not take.

I came to a time myself when I was asking death to visit me.  I still sometimes wonder when death will visit me and take me.  I know that it is not easy to understand, and even I have a difficult time understanding why my thoughts take me there.

I watched three of my Uncles and two Aunts go through a long process of facing death and trying to put off the inevitable visit that death would make.

Friends of mine have had loved ones visited by death suddenly, drawn out, and asking for a visit to themselves.  I can not comfort my friends.  I do not have the insight or the wisdom to bring words of encouragement to those whose loved ones have been visited by death.  I so wish I did possess that knowledge though.

I often wonder why and how death will visit me.  I have came to the brink of asking for a visit from death but was saved from making that invitation by special people.  Seldom do we have a choice in whether death will visit us or not.  Death makes a visit without anyone wanting a visit.  These are the visits that are difficult to understand.

About the best way to make sense of visits from death is by holding onto faith.  Faith that God will take care of those who have been visited by death.  Faith that God will take care of us when death makes a visit to us as individuals.  Faith that God will calm you and allow you to go ahead with life after death has visited a loved one without forgetting our loved ones or why they were loved ones.

Death need not be the end but the beginning of another part of existence.  Faith is the only weapon we have against death.  May all of us be able to hold onto that weapon of faith as we face visits of death to our loved ones as well as when death visits us.

I know that this isn't a very bright, funny, or interesting topic for a blog such as mine.  I felt like I needed to say something about it though.  Too often we don't think about visits from death.  In reality we should always be prepared with faith for a visit from death without being obsessed by the fact.  This isn't easy to do, I know.

I write this thinking about family members, friends, myself and the human race in general. 

Live life as well as you can because life can be changed or taken within a second in time.

WHC

GRANDPA AND SNOOPY

My grandpa collected dogs.  I don't mean to say he was an animal hoarder, he collected just one dog at a time.  They were strays that would wander onto his land and if there wasn't a dog already living with grandma and grandpa, then grandpa would take pity on the poor soul and feed him.  Grandpa didn't like to see any animal mistreated or go hungry and so when he could, he would take care of them and they would settle down and be at home on the property.

It was much the same way he treated kids that had rough home life's or the hobo's that would come by the old place on the trains down the hill.  Kids could be taken in at times until things settled down at home.  The hobo's were given a meal and then they went voluntarily on their way.  The dogs just took up residence outside.  Grandma would never let the dogs into the house.  That was her rule.  Grandpa could have as many dogs as he wanted to hang around but they stayed outside the house, and it was grandpa's chore to feed and water them.  That changed a little as they got older and I noticed grandma buying some dog food once in a while and feeding the dog.  but not often.

There are really only two dogs that I remember very well.  One dog was named Bowser by grandpa.  I was rather young when Bowser took to hanging around.  I didn't care too much for Bowser.  When I was young, dogs and myself did not get along very well.  I was terrified of them and although Bowser wouldn't have hurt me in anyway, I stayed as clear of him as I could.

The dog I remember best though was christened "Snoopy" by grandpa.  Snoop, as grandpa called him, was an ugly basset hound that made a lot of noise.  He would bark at anything that came anywhere near grandpa's land.  If a stranger came to the house and Snoopy was out front, the stranger did not get very close to the house.

Snoopy was a protector.  He protected the land and the kids who spent a lot of time there.  Once Snoopy got to know you, then you didn't have anything to worry about.  You were okay as far as Snoopy was concerned.

Snoopy use to follow grandpa around the yard as work was being done in the garden and in the flower beds.  Many times you would know grandpa was finished with a chore because you would hear him say, "Well, let's go Snoop" and the both of them would walk away from where the chore had been performed.

Even though it seemed that Snoopy was grandpa's favorite dog that he had taken in, there was not any special treatment from grandma.  Snoopy stayed outdoors, keeping watch from the back porch at night waiting for the sun to rise and for grandpa to come out early in the morning to give breakfast to the old hound.

Many times as grandpa and snoopy aged together, I would stop to see them and Snoopy would be lying at grandpa's feet while the old man sat in his chair on the front porch smoking a pipe or cigar and watching spiders spin their webs for the flies.  As I would walk up the steps of the porch, Snoopy would lift his head, look at me with those sad Basset Hound eyes and keep an eye on me until I sat and started talking to grandpa.

If I arrived and grandpa was not outside, Snoopy would stand on the porch at the top of the stairs, not exactly wagging his tail but not barking and howling either.  As I reached him I would hold out my hand so he could get a whiff and a lick and then follow me to the front door, where he would stop,  knowing he wouldn't be allowed any further.

After I met Barb and she started going over to grandma and grandpa's with me, snoop would check her out, but then figuring that I was there as well, Snoopy would let her pass.  I think Barb got pretty use to Snoopy but I am not sure that he ever got use to Barb.  He would let her by because she was with me, but then came the day Barb showed up alone.

I was in the kitchen with grandma watching her fix up the evening dinner and having a good talk with her.  Barb was going to be coming over after work to have dinner with my grandparents and myself.  Grandpa must have been upstairs napping or cleaning up from the day's work.  At first Grandma and I just heard Snoopy howling and barking.  It was his defensive howl and bark and I remember grandma asking what was up with that old dog.  I figured that some kids were in the street or some other stray dog that snoopy was warning off because this was his home and there wasn't room enough for more than one dog on the land.

Pretty soon, I thought I heard someone outside yelling and when I mentioned it, grandma said she heard it as well.  I went to the front door and look out over the front yard and down the sidewalk that led up to the house.  Snoopy was standing his ground firmly at the bottom of the stairs to the front porch and at the other end of the walkway stood Barb, frozen and afraid to move.  Snoopy had her stopped in her tracks and he was not going to let her trespass on his territory.

Barb called out to me to do something as she stood there never taking her eyes off of Snoopy who was still howling and barking at her.  I let a little smile escape from my lips which probably wasn't the right thing to do since Barb was scared stiff and waiting for me to do something.  I walked down and petted Snoopy and told him he was a good boy, which was good enough for him.  It let him know he had done his job well.  I then walked out to Barb and escorted her past Snoopy and onto the porch and into the house.  Snoopy stood there with a little soft growl still emitting from his throat as Barb walked past.  Snoopy would never really get use to Barb and I had to make sure from then on that she was safe from Snoopy.

Then came the night that I remember most.  I went over to visit grandma and grandpa.  It was late fall, early winter.  Snoopy had been gone for over two days and grandpa had been worried about him.  When I got to the house, I found my grandfather in the back room sitting in his favorite chair and there, in the house, lying on the floor next to him was Snoopy.  A very quiet, barely moving Snoopy with cuts and bites all over his body.  I had never seen a dog so tore up before.  Grandpa was trying to soothe Snoopy with soft kind words and very carefully placed pats on the old dog to let him know it was going to be alright.

Grandpa's love for Snoopy must have come through that night and opened grandma's eyes to how much that dog meant to grandpa.  He was actually in the house after all.  The first dog ever to legally get in the house with grandma's blessing.  Grandpa held on to Snoopy as long as he could but it became apparent that Snoopy's time on this earth were numbered.

As Snoopy slowly went down, grandpa seemed to be at his side the whole way.  You could see the love the old man had for the dog in his eyes.  You could hear the love from his voice as he comforted Snoopy.  You could almost feel those gentle pats from the old man's hands as he tried to give the old dog some human touch without causing anymore pain.

It wasn't long after Snoopy came home broken and beaten that he passed.  I don't remember seeing grandpa cry or anything but you could tell he was hurting and was missing Snoopy.  Snoopy had lived at the house with grandpa longer than any other dog.  He had been grandpa's buddy out in the yard or on the porch.

Grandpa let Snoopy go but I don't think it was easy for him.  It was another testament as to how loving and caring my grandfather was, not only to humans that jumped trains, but also to dogs that came to stay and become best friends.  Grandpa was a kind of loving man to all creatures, and in the non-human world of the creatures he came across, Snoopy was certainly a special one.

BABIES IN THE FRONT YARD

There was a time before one of our infamous ice storms here in Kansas City that I had a very large tree in my front yard.  It had been there since the house was built and had served many purposes.  When we moved in, Mr. Allard had a swing attached to one of the lower branches for his son Garrett to play on.  As proof that Garrett used the swing, there was a small patch of grass less ground underneath the where the swing sat.  I took the swing down when we moved in because we didn't have any kids and because I wanted to have a nice looking front yard.  Later when we did bring Brett home, I would hang a similar swing on the large tree in the back yard where it served the same purpose but was safer.

The tree had provided morning shade to the front of the house while the tree out back shaded that side of the house.  The house was shade covered year around and the shade kept the house from getting too hot in the summer.

The tree out front was also home to many families of different species.  There was the Robin family who were always alert and seemed nervous a lot of the time.  We didn't see much of them unless I had just mowed the yard.  Then they would come down and pick up some extra padding for their home or see if any worms were exposed by the shorter grass.

The Bluejay family was always out and about and kept busy.  I am not sure what they were being so busy about but they were always swooping here and there and making a terrible racket.  Between them and the Starling family it seemed at times to be an all out war.  The starlings usually won the battles simply because they out numbered the Bluejay family by about ten to one.  I would find a dead bluejay in the front yard once in a while and a fallen Starling even less.  One thing for sure though was that these two families did not get along.

The Cardinal family did not actually live in my tree but had a home in the tree next door to mine.   They did however visit their friends on down the street a lot and would use our tree as a resting point or simply to gather together before heading out to visit.  They were nice birds, beautiful birds.  They would call to their friends down the block with a nice simple whistle and after a second or two, you could hear the response from the other Cardinal family.  They did not seem to socialize much with the other birds in the neighborhood preferring to keep to themselves.

The largest family in the tree both in size and probably number was the Squirrel family.  They kept house in the upper most branches of the tree so that during the summer when leaves adorned all the branches it was invisible from the ground.  It seemed like the members of the family just came down from the heavens to the lower branches of the tree during the summer.  In winter though, with the tree stripped of it leaves, the nest was visible.  It was a huge house for the family and I often wondered how the smaller branches toward the top of the tree supported the structure. 

The tree served as a highway for the Squirrel family.  Not being able to fly in order to get somewhere they would either have to chance going down on the ground where dogs and other sorts of animals would chance them back into the tree.  They developed the system of branch hopping.  The tree next door had branches that inter twined with my tree and so they would go from tree to tree without having to come down to the ground.  It was assumed that this was how they taught their children to travel so they would not be put in peril by going down to the ground.

The front tree also had branches that hung close to the roof of the house.  This mad for easy access to many trees up and down the block.  They had discovered that they could jump on the roof, scurry over it and on the back side of the house they had access to the big tree in the back yard.  More important though was that the telephone wires came to the corner of the house and led out to a pole at the back of the yard.  This pole had wires that ran the length of the block and you could see them running up and down the wires to visit friend who lived in other trees far away.

Using this system the Squirrel children were seldom seen until one cool summer Saturday morning.  It was about ten in the morning when the mail arrived and I stepped out to retrieve it.  As I did I saw something very small move in the grass.  I took a couple of steps and the movement stopped.  I then saw three other little fuzzy animals staying fairly close to one another.  As I studied them I realized that it was the Squirrel children.  They had been allowed to come down from the nest and explore the ground.  My eyes scanned upward until I saw Mrs. Squirrel about twenty feet up keeping a close eye on the situation.  Slowly I moved back into the house keeping an eye on the strange event.

I called out to Barb to bring Brett out.  There was something they had to see.  As Barb and Brett arrived the baby squirrels became more active.  They were exploring everything without getting to far from the tree.  It seemed that if one of them moved a little too far out, a sharp chatter from mom would move them back towards the tree.  My family went out to watch the Squirrel family.  We stood a safe distance and watched the baby squirrels as they explored.  They were really cute and so fuzzy looking.  I kept an eye on the mother to be sure we weren't getting too close for her comfort.

About five minutes passed when my next door neighbor came out to start his Saturday work on his lawn.  He looked at us and asked what was going on.  After explaining that the baby squirrels were down on the ground he went into his house and got his wife and son, who was a little younger than our son, to take advantage of being able to see the babies.

Jim, the old man across the street was watching all of this going on from his garage.  He watched our little circle of humans standing in the middle of my front yard with curiosity.  It wasn't long before he and his wife Martha and their daughter, who is about my age came strolling across the street to see what was going on.

So there we were, nine human beings standing very still and being very quiet watching nature at it's best.  The baby squirrels continued to explore but their mother was starting to get nervous.  She began to chatter a little either to warn the children or to warn us.  Whoever she was warning it wasn't working.  We held our ground in our circle and her babies continued to explore without a care in the world.

The situation finally got the better of the mother squirrel.  She came down to the ground and looked around at all the humans.  There were far too many of us for her to be comfortable at all.  She picked up the closest baby to her and grabbed it by the neck with her teeth.  The baby curled up in a ball and the mother raced up the tree taking her child home where it was safe.  We watched as she moved quickly all the way up to the homestead and deposited her first child.  She then came racing down the tree and landing on the ground stopped to check the humans again to be sure we weren't making any moves.  The second child came into the grasp of her mouth and rolling itself into a ball like her sibling, was whisked off to the top of the tree and safety.  Too more times the mother squirrel performed this routine until all of the babies were safe at home.

When she was done she came back down the tree stopping about five feet from the ground.  She looked at the nine of us one more time then turning, ran back home to take care of the family and to be sure things went as they were suppose to.  I imagine she thought herself silly for taking such a risk with the kids by letting them on the ground, but at the same time I think she thought it had been a good experience for them.  They had been on the ground and faced danger and had survived.  Surely it would be a good lesson that could serve them well as they grew older and went off to establish homes of their own.

As for the nine of us who had watched with great interest in the show that was presented before us, we spent the next half hour or so talking about what had just happened. The protective nature of the mother squirrel.  The innocence of the babies not knowing that danger very well could come down upon them and cause them great harm.  The manner in which the mother carried the babies up the tree and the speed in which she did so.  It was fascinating and made our Saturday morning just a little bit special.

None of us had seen a show like that before.  We had not witnessed baby squirrels at all and enjoyed watching them explore and learn.  None of us have witnessed such a show since either.  It was a rare opportunity that was given us and something that we all still remember to this day.

UP ON THE ROOF

Every night I would come home and come face to face with one of the chores I dread doing around the house.  I would walk up towards the house and take a quick glance up at the gutter over the garage door.  There I would see leaves spilling out over the top.  The gutters were full and would need to be cleaned out before the next rain came.

I put it off as long as I could keeping an eye on the weather forecast every morning before I left for work.  Then one morning I heard the words coming from the television that i did not want to hear.  It would be warm on Friday and Saturday with high winds.  Sunday would turn cold and moving in on Sunday night would be rain that would stick around for a few days.  I knew deep in the pit of my stomach that the time had come to take care of the gutters.

I called Brett that afternoon and asked him if he was working Saturday.  I also had a back yard of leaves up to my ankles that needed mulching.  I knew that my hands would be limited in using the leaf blower on the gutters and then trying t run the lawn mower all in one day.  Ever since my wrist were victimized by carpel tunnel syndrome too much vibration on the wrist would make my hands useless.  So I asked Brett to come over and hold the ladder for me while I climbed up on the roof and got the gutters cleaned and then he would run the mower over the leaves and mulch them up.  He said that it was no problem and he would be there at nine on Saturday morning.

Saturday morning greeted me at nine-thirty.  Brett wasn't there yet but that was not a big surprise.  I had told him any time would be okay as long as we got it done before the Mizzou game started.  I decided to face my demons and go ahead and get the gutters done while I was waiting for him.  Now, if you have been reading this blog for awhile you know that I am terrified of heights.  The thing is that Brett isn't too wild about high places either so I had made the decision that since it was my house, I would do the high chores while he stayed grounded.  It seemed like the best thing to do since he was willing to help out.

I got dressed and put on my jacket and went to the garage.  I pulled my extension ladder out and took it to the back of the house.  I always climb on the roof from the back of the house because I look really silly getting up the ladder and stepping onto the roof because of my fear.  I look even sillier trying to get from the roof back onto the ladder to climb down.  I did not need the extra pressure of having Jim, my neighbor across the street, see me struggle to get up on the roof.

Jim is a very nice man and we have become pretty good friends over the years.  Jim is about fifteen years older than I am and when we were both younger he was always busying himself around his house keeping it up.  I would see him fearlessly on his roof leaning over to paint spots here and there during the summer and of course gutter cleaning presented no problem to him at all.  I always had the feeling that he knew I was trying to keep my house up but he did it so much better than I did.  I tried to keep up with him on the house work but never quite could until two summers ago.  The water company was replacing sewer lines and had dug up Jim's front yard.  For the first time in thirty years my yard finally looked better than his and I did not hesitate to walk over and tell him about it.  In the back of my head, Jim owed me one because of that.

After getting the ladder set up against the side of the house I went and got the leaf blower.  I have made it a habit to start the leaf blower and get it running while on the ground.  Using this method I would not be trying to start it cold from the roof where I envisioned myself pulling on the start rope so hard as to throw myself from the roof.  I would get it warmed up, turn it off and then climb up the ladder.  Once on the roof I would start the leaf blower rather easily because it had already been warmed up.  And so I began the ritual.

After starting the leaf blower and turning it back off I began to climb the ladder with the leaf blower in one hand and my shaking left hand holding onto the ladder.   My knees would shake with every step I took closer to the roof.  I finally arrived at the roof and after setting the leaf blower on it, pulled myself over the ladder onto the roof.

After getting on the roof I sat and took a couple of deep breaths looking around me to get use to the height.  Then came the moment.  The most deadly moment.  I got on my knees and pulled the rope on the leaf blower.  It started right on up much to my relief.

I slowly stood up and began walking down the edge of the roof blowing the leaves out of the gutter.  I stayed as far from the edge as the leaf blower would let me.  The weatherman had been right.  It was windy up there and that only made slightly more terrifying to walked along the edge.  After getting the back gutters done and having established my legs as being steady, I climbed over the peak of the house to the front gutters.  I saw Jim's garage door open and knew that he was in there watching me.  He always stayed in the shadows of his garage watching me as I worked.  One time I was out trimming with the the lawn trimmer when it had stopped.  I tried and tried to get it started again.  Suddenly Jim appeared from his garage and asked me if I had gas in it.  I had looked at the gas tank to see it was empty.  Jim had just smiled and faded back into his garage.  This is the kind of thing I did not want to happen while I was on the roof.

I eventually finished the front gutters and, pleased with myself, climbed over the peak of the house to head back to the ladder and get myself down off the roof.  As I crested the peak my eyes landed where the ladder should be.  It was not there.  Apparently the wind had taken it down and while I did not go to the edge of the roof to check on the ladder, I pretty much had a good idea of where it was.

I had been up there about half an hour blowing leaves and now I couldn't get down.  Brett had not arrived yet.  I called out to Barb a few times but received no answer.  The doors and windows were shut to keep the stiff cool wind out of the house.  I stood up and looked around.  I began to try to figure things out.  I looked over the top of the house and saw Jim's garage door open.  I thought about it for a bit.  I imagined yelling over to Jim's but couldn't bear the thought of the old man coming over to rescue me once again.  No, Jim was not the answer.

I sat on the roof and pondered my options.  I could try to jump from the roof and hope for the best that I wouldn't break an ankle or a foot.  The more I thought of that option the more I realized that it wasn't really an option.  I sat and continued to think.

After about ten minutes of sitting up there the girl next door cam out and played fetch with her dog.  She had not looked up in the sky and I was being fairly quiet and so she did not realize I was up there.  I watched her play with her dog and was just about to get the courage up to ask her for help when she went back inside.  It was for the best I suppose because if I had called to her, Jim would have heard and would have seen her walk over to my house to save me.  I took a deep breath and decided to sit it out hoping Brett would show up soon.

Finally after sitting on the roof about half an hour I saw his bald shaven head come walking around the corner of the house into the back yard.  My boy had arrived.  I watched him as he looked around the back yard and call out for me.  I slapped my leg and he looked up.  Then he looked at the ladder on the ground followed by looking up at me again.  He walked over to the ladder without say a word and soon I found myself handing him the leaf blower as he reached the roof on the ladder.  I did my silly move to get back on the ladder and began my descent.  It was not long before I found myself back on solid ground.

We talked about the mornings events as to how long I had been up there, as to how I was not going to ask Jim for help and so on.  Then I had to go into the house and explain to Barb where I had been for the last hour and tell her all the grisly details about being stuck on the roof and about how I wasn't going to ask Jim and all the other facts of the adventure.

It was time to go to the grocery store.  Barb said she would come with me since it was Thanksgiving shopping and there were a lot of items that I usually do not get.  While we were gone Brett mulched the leaves in both the front and back yard.

When I came home from the store I looked up at my nemesis once again.  No leaves spilling out over the top.  The gutters were clean before the rains and the the cold weather arrived.  The yard looked good with most of the leaves now gone and Brett and I sat in the warmth of the house to Watch Mizzou win another football game and become bowl eligible.

It is a good feeling to know that the chore of the leaves are done for another year.  Next year I will make sure that I have the ladder set up so that the wind does not blow it over again.  That is how life is.  No matter how old you get or how many times you do something, there is always something new to learn as you progress through life.  This year I learned that the wind can leave me stranded and alone with my thoughts on top of the house.

BACK TO WRITING

After taking a few days off for a long Labor Day weekend like millions of other Americans, it is time to get back to some writing on a regular basis.  It was a good summer and I found myself slacking off a bit on the writing part of my life.

I did take up a couple of other projects during the summer to help fill the non-writing time.  The biggest thing was that I finally overcame my fear of wireless and bought me this little laptop that I am working on now and set up a wireless in house network.  This has been such a revelation to me.  I should have done this years ago.  Now I can sit here and sit in my favorite chair and comfortable write and not kick my wife off of the desktop computer that she enjoys so very much.

I can hook this thing up to the large screen television and use that monster as a monitor or stream movies from Amazon.com to it.  The ease of use and set up as well as the common sense of setting it up has made it well worth while.

The other project I did came about as a result of getting the laptop.  I have decided that this laptop is going to be my stereo as well as my portable go anywhere computer.  I have been ripping all of my CD's onto to the hard drive here so that I can find any album very quickly instead of sifting through piles and piles of CD's.  I have come across some music I had forgotten I had and what a joy it is to listen to it once again.  The music always stays in alphabetical order by artist or album title.  No longer will I have lost music hiding somewhere in the house.  It will always be here at my fingertips.

As for the summer itself, it wasn't too bad.  The weather got hot for a few weeks but that is not unusual for Missouri.  The river flooded up in Iowa and Nebraska as well as northern Kansas and Missouri but again, not too unusual for the area.  What was unusual was the amount of flooding that took place and the massive damage it did to Iowa.  They have a real mess up there with roads being completely destroyed and it will take a lot of cleanup to get it back into working order.  The infrustructure took a hard it to our good neighbors to the north of us.

Then there was the double whammy tornado season.  One of my favorite cities, Tuscaloosa, Alabama was torn to shreds by a massive tornado.  My sister and her family live down there and thankfully all were spared.  I donated a little money that week at the grocery store to go help the victims in Tuscaloosa.

While the nation was still concentrating on getting Tuscaloosaq up and running an even bigger tornado swept through a small city called Joplin in southern Missouri.  Joplin was devastated as bad if not worse than Tuscaloosa was.  Again I made a small donation to help my fellow Missourians in their effort to get their lives put back together.

Still today both cities are working hard to get back to normal.  Both tornadoes affected me in a way.  I consider the people of Tuscaloosa to be members of my adopted city in my adopted state  Of course the Joplin tornado hit my fellow citizens in my home state that I love dearly.  A lot of people died and were injured in those two major storms but I can only be thankful to God that none of my loved ones were a part of that number.

Now I have dear friends and family in Texas and wild fires are sweeping across the state.  I can only hope that those people that I care so much about come out of the firestorms without being effected by them.

Another project that I took up to fill time was trying to learn how to play the guitar on my own.  I have been at it for about four weeks now and I feel I am coming along fairly well with it.  I am learning the chords and trying to memorize the fingering for them.  I am trying to learn how to switch from chord to chord quickly so that there are not any unwanted pauses in songs that I might be trying to play.  I dug out my Neil Diamond Songbook and my Neil Young songbook to try to learn some songs that I am more familiar with.

I play the piano and I ahve discovered that it is much more difficult to play the guitar.  I have a new respect for those who play this instrument that is so very rough on the fingers and the hands.  My fingers are starting to develop a thickness to the fingertips as I continue to make it a point to practice at an hour a day.  One of these days I will get it.

I made a trip to the emergency room on the July Fourth weekend after falling on some concrete stairs that lead to my basement here.  Incredibly I did not have one broken bone or major injury.  I have fully recovered from that shock to the system.

Lastly, My Aunt June passed away a few weeks ago.  She will be missed by more people than one can imagine.  She had been sick a long time and had battled hard but the time came when she couldn't fight any longer.  I admired and respected her and loved her.  She was a good aunt that I was certainly lucky to have.  She loved books and she loved music.  Two things that I understand only all too well.

Her family will have a huge hole in it that she use to fill and it will never be filled.  While she was here on this earth though, she made an impact on so many lives, mine included.  You'll be missed June for a longtime to come.

So the summer season is finally over and we enter into the fall season.  This month the United States will spend a solemn day in remembrance of a day ten years ago in which terrorist attacked the World Trade Center, The Pentagon, and a third target that was never reached thanks to the bravery of ordinary citizens of this great country.  I am not sure if I will write about that day or not.  It is a day I will never forget though.

Before we know it we will be sitting at Thanksgiving dinners around the country and start the countdown to Christmas.  The cold will arrive along with the snows making us long for the warm days of summer that we just crawled out from under.  Weather in Missouri is never stable and we always seem to long for the season that we are not in.

So I am back again dear readers.  More time will be spent indoors which means more consistent writing.  Thanks for hanging in there with me during the long summer of 2011.

Bill Clark