I don’t remember attending Soaring Sounds in 2019 as Mother was slipping away, and the Soaring Sounds contest of 2020 was canceled due to Covid. For some reason, I don’t recall my reason for not attending last summer.
I saw my first drum & bugle corps contest in 1979 in Kokomo, Indiana with my band director and her college roommate. It was as much a game changer in my fourteen years as the moment I first heard John William’s powerful score to STAR WARS in the movie theatre a few years before. Last night, the excitement and thrill reappeared and I was a fourteen-year-old kid again.
Last night, compliments of Jim & Deb McCutcheon, I sat in the uppermost reaches of Centerville High School’s football stadium to watch DCI ensembles, Cincinnati Tradition, Spartans, Music City, Madison Scouts, The Cavaliers, Mandarins, and Blue Stars with an entertaining encore concert performance by Madison Scouts.
This Thursday morning, I am still riding the musical wave. How inspiring it is to see these thousands of young folks dedicate their spring and summer to such an incredible venue. I applaud them and am grateful for the performances they share.
It’s incredibly muggy and a bit uncomfortable sitting on the deck this Friday morning. The area is still quite damp from rain cells that passed through here on Thursday evening, the sky is heavy with dark grey clouds to the south and clear blue skies with white fluffy clouds to the north. The air is heavy with 96% humidity and the leaves and wind chimes hang motionless with no breeze to stir them into action.
Thursday was a mixture of work and utter laziness. I researched and napped, and it was on repeat the remainder of the day. At 5:30 PM, a senior student and I went to dinner and returned back to the study to discuss and prep life-planning with lots of spirited progress until 8:30 PM.
I worked until 11:00 PM from my study and turned in very shortly to read. My goal for the past several years is to wait out the arrival of August 5th at 1:05 AM to remember Mother’s 2019 passing.
And just as I wrote the above paragraph, the male and female cardinals, as though on cue, perched on the limb and clothesline post. The Quartet did not budge nor acknowledge their presence… yet, a fly has entertained Bailey for fifteen minutes!
In many ways, August 5th is just another day. Life for me that early Monday morning in 2019, did not end but rather, expanded and grew. Mother had given me all the life tools for fifty-five years. I always knew there’d be a day when our earthly paths would part but I was pretty damned certain the spark that she created inside me and my siblings would continue to grow and multiply.
Was Mother’s death an ending or a beginning? I see it as both. Her life ended. Our personal connectivity ended. But, the sparks within me got brighter and stronger, just like she silently predicted and planned. Her two surviving children would need those sparks of forward-thinking and strength as they each entered similarly separate journeys with multiple sclerosis.
My sister and I spent the last few earthly hours with Mother that Sunday evening and on into Monday, not knowing when the time would arrive. As the physical signs increased, our laughter and chatter did not. While the moment had been awaited for several weeks, my sister and I were still aware of Mother’s ability to hear. By filling “up to the end” with laughter and comedy, I am certain Mother was confident her two remaining children would be okay.
And, we have been.
One thing occurred to me as we watched the dear woman’s respirations slow to a staggering slow and irregular tempo: Dena, Destin, and I were the only ones to have heard Mother’s heartbeat… from the inside. Her heartbeat became each of ours.
I do and I don’t miss Mother. Her maternal, and often needed paternal training had me set for the day that would come. I have the sparks she imparted, encouraged, fanned, applauded, and insisted be shared with others.
And, I have her heartbeat that fills me with the determination to make every day a great day.
I was chatting with a friend and learned he had battled and conquered prostate cancer this past summer. We’ve known one another for years and I have always appreciated and been inspired by his drive and a positive mindset. Like myself, my friend has often fixed things on his end before heading directly to his physician. I know some will strongly disagree with this, however, my friend and I are both adults and we know ourselves.
As we discussed our health journeys, all I kept thinking to myself was “Physician, heal thy self.”
This morning in my Facebook memories, a quote I had posted by Bob Proctor appeared from 2010.
“The only limits in our life are those we impose on ourselves.”
I will hold onto, value, and live by this belief, always. All too often, we imprison ourselves with our own negative or self-abusing thoughts. Now and then, I slip and fall victim to a negative thought or two that bleeds into my core, but I quickly extinguish the negativity and move forward, filling the gap with powerful thoughts that supplement my inner perseverance.
I am sure my students sometimes tire of me stressing the use of positive thinking but they eventually learn how much it works and how much power they discover within themselves. Quite often, former students in college or career, contact me for a brush-up positivity course or to be rejuvenated. I never tire of those reconnects and cherish them.
Too often, we’re reassured and comfortable when we remain inside our individual boxes, or boxes share by others with thinking that is not positive-driven. For years, I had a small taped-up box that my sons or students would literally kick inside the house as a gesture of not only stepping outside their box but kicking that box out of their way so they would not be lured to return to it.
We must never limit ourselves by our own thinking or by limiting thoughts or ideas imposed by others. Too often, we allow others to rent space in our own minds. Never! Evict them!
Now, to strengthen my own plan for the day I am stating my daily morning affirmation, Make It A Great Day!
From an early age, there always seemed to be health issues that were often common but also semi-covers for underlying conditions.
Since being diagnosed with RRMS (Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis) in June 2020, I have been involved with a gigantic jigsaw puzzle of matching pieces together to make sense of and see the entire picture of the past 50+ years. I must say, that despite the physical issues involved, it has been a fantastic journey exploring the past.
When I was two and three years of age, I experienced enormously high fevers, and Mother, upon the doctor’s instructions, gave me alcohol and ice baths. She feared I might go into convulsions as my fevers would get as high as 105 and 106. Fortunately, she and I were both spared those horrors. Just before I turned four years old, Mother began noticing different symptoms. Anemia was one issue and for quite some time I was pale and drawn in appearance. But the fevers and some of those symptoms took a different turn.
From age two, I was plagued with strep throat and ear infections. One physician now believes I may have suffered from some autoimmune inner ear disease, or possibly from Meniere’s Disease which caused permanent deafness in my right ear. Had it not been for the stern advocacy of Mother and Dr. Walter Wirth, I was almost placed in special education for kindergarten at Washington Elementary School.
In August 1968, I was diagnosed with rheumatic fever which was quite rare in children under eight years of age. That September, I was sent to Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis for a meatotomy to be performed by Dr. William Wishard, MD, Jr., whose father founded the urology department. The day after a birthday party held in my honor by Ruth Lyons’ Christmas Fund, I was released back home to recover from pneumonia. Two months later, the Monday before Thanksgiving, my surgery was completed, and I returned home to a Tonka dump truck and car carrier! I still remember those two items being rolled out by my Uncle Ron.
My second-grade teacher commented to Mother that she noticed I seemed to have some balance issues. When discussed with a specialist, my balance issues were attributed to not having a full range of hearing.
Through my teen years and into college, I either didn’t have any serious issues or I compensated for anything that arose, which has often been my MO, modus operandi, throughout life.
At age twenty-two, I began noticing tremendous energy deficiencies and my doctor in Muncie, Indiana kept telling me I was burning the candle at both ends and needed to slow down. A few years before, Mother had remarried David Haas who was an engineer at BorgWarner in Muncie, and we frequented Butterfields at lunchtime. I mentioned my fatigue to Dad and he said I should seek another opinion. He discussed it with his secretary, Pat, and she recommended her doctor.
Dr. Robert Hunter was not dismissive of my symptoms and listened intently to what I described. A few weeks later, I received a call to come to see him. He sat on the edge of his desk and eagerly showed me several articles written by Dr. Charles Pelleginro describing something that was connected to Epstein-Barre but referred to as CFS, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Together, we arrived at a new health regimen after a lengthy series of tests, a lengthy but thorough process of elimination.
I learned that suspense novel author, Marilyn Sharp, the wife of Indiana Representative Phil Sharp, a native from my hometown of Elwood, Indiana who went to school with my parents, battled CFS. I contacted her and before long, I was attending events at which she spoke and championed those of us battling CFS. Thanks to Marilyn Sharp and Dr. Robert Hunter, I have glided through life without any major bedridden cycles.
I moved to Dayton, Ohio in August 1990 and shortly thereafter, began battling kidney infections, the result of urinary tract infections, commonly known as UTIs. Each of my doctors, clear up through 2010, diagnosed me with prostate infections. One nasty snip for a biopsy concluded there was no cancer, however, the prognosis was then termed, chronic prostatitis. I had entered the phase of life where I was in the “titis zone” with the prostate and sinuses.
There were times, between 1990 and 2020 when I struggled greatly with heavy fatigue but was often diagnosed with depression for which I was treated.
Around 2000, I began experiencing issues with my voice coming and going or dealing with hoarseness. My ENT concluded it was allergy related, especially from working on dusty stages while directing and performing. Now, we know that the RRMS is connected to dysphagia.
June 2020 opened the floodgates of new questions regarding previous health issues, and it felt as though different pieces of my health journey were being pieced together. The life-long health issues that seemed to have substantial reasons or explanations now appeared in a completely different light. Somehow, I began feeling normal inside because things were making sense.
It was the numbness and tingling in my feet and legs that led me to address the doctor with more concerns and that included continued balance and coordination problems, heat sensitivity, weakness and battling heavy fatigue, occasional double vision, occasional dizziness, pain, or shock or electrical waves running through my legs, stiff muscles despite daily walking or hiking, slight leg tremors and/or spasticity, crushing constriction around the chest or abdominal area (known as the “MS hug”), and minute bladder issues. A year ago, we added celiac disease as a potential item to the corporate list but researchers are still inconclusive or disagreeing with other researchers.
It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, when discussing our similar yet quite different symptoms with my sister, who has also been diagnosed with MS, that she mentioned the UTIs she was experiencing. Boom! Another item to the list. Until then, I had no idea bladder issues and UTIs were also connected to MS.
Multiple Sclerosis is not easy to detect or diagnose and the diagnoses I received for the various issues from childhood have always made sense. Was I misdiagnosed? I don’t think so. I have greatly trusted each healthcare provider and I had something that was difficult to diagnose.
Having RRMS is not something I would have placed on my list, but it has become a part of my journey and I can only keep going forward. Hopefully, by being open to sharing my experiences, someone else battling MS, or RRMS, might benefit or at least not feel so alone on their own journey.
This one meme struck me as hilarious only because I struggle with these damned math calculations.
When I was young, a pregnant woman was three months, five months, or seven months along. We never said “first trimester,” or when addressing a toddler’s age, “eighteen months.”
I don’t even know when this all changed, but, I first became acquainted with the term “trimester“ when I was directing a production of THE SOUND OF MUSIC.
The actress playing Maria von Trapp sent me an email stating that she would accept the role but she wanted me to know that she would just be finishing up her first trimester as the show opened in mid-November. Since she was a school music teacher, I responded that I would happily work around her schedule with any school related issues as she moved through the semester.
Both the actress and the show’s producers sent me emails asking “do you know what a trimester is?“
I boldly pronounced that I knew it was a third of a semester but it must be a new term in education as I had not heard it before.
I received a lot of hilarious guff or my modern stupidity.
Yesterday, while manning my post in the park’s atrium, I asked a guest the age of her baby.
“He’s thirty-two months,” she proudly smiled.
I returned the smile and inwardly groaned. When she and her family moved on, I checked the calculation: 32 months = 2.666.
Ah, yes! The “666” meant the child was in his “terrible twos.”
Near the northern boundaries of Madison County, Indiana, Boone Township is nestled up to the Grant County line. It is here that my ancestors pioneered and helped settle this little corner of Indiana.
Few, if any, family members still reside in this township but the family’s legacy continues and their memorials are scattered throughout the small Country cemetery named for the village of Forrestville, Indiana that has been dissolved and dismantled for long over a century.
The original, but altered pioneer homes of my ancestors, Vinson, Jones, Greenlee, Noble, and Ball all remain standing, swelling my heart with pride.
Sarah Musselman Greenlee, my 5th great-grandmother.
In Forrestville Cemetery rests the remains of six generations of my family, the earliest grave being that of Sarah Musselman Greenlee, my fifth great-grandmother, buried in 1873, age 98. Sarah Musselman was born in 1774 on her family’s farm along the Kanawha River in Kanawha County, West Virginia, which would have been Virginia prior to the Civil War. She married William Greenlee of Kanawha County, and their first child, William Jr. was born in 1816. In 1822, the young family set out for Madison County with other pioneers, Jones, Ball, and Vinson families to Madison County. I have no knowledge of their reason for moving.
Also, James and Jemimah Jolliffe set out for Indiana but made it as far as Butler County, Ohio where they remained and are buried. They are my paternal 4th great-grandparents.
I grew up in this cemetery as it was customary to visit family graves, often, and to tend to the graves with trimming and flowers. Fortunately, it appears that my great-aunt, Joyce Clary Riser, who lives in nearby Alexandria, is one of the last remaining family members to attend to these rituals.
The world around and beyond the deck is damp from the seemingly healthy amount of rain that moved through at some point through the night. A nice breeze moves through the wisteria-clad deck and the sky is a dull grey which will be a continuous playoff with clear skies during the day.
Tomorrow evening, I will spend with Debbie and Jim McCutcheon at Centerville High School Stadium to watch the drum and bugle corps competition, Soaring Sounds. I first attended Soaring Sounds in 1984 with some college marching band friends never imagining the area would be home within six years.
From a distance, I am mourning along with my community as they come to terms with the murder of one of our police officers who was shot during a traffic stop early Sunday morning. the young reporter for our hometown newspaper, The Elwood Call-Leader, is struggling with the weight of grief he is encountering widespread throughout the community. The reporter’s words reached through the distance and grabbed my heart.
At 12:45 PM, I will join Mama Kay and the other Post-Mass Dancers for Taco Tuesday lunch and then return home to teach until quite late. Then, it’s on to several days of plenty of research time with some attention to the yard added in. I have made so much headway with research with Charles Kettering, Edward Deeds, NCR, DELCO, and other personalities and events from the early 19th Century. Ironically, my other project’s timeline commences in August 1904.
It’s moving on 8:15 AM. I have completed my morning Zoom chat with two favorite sons in London, fed the pooches, had a second cup of coffee, eaten my raisin bran cereal, and now it is time to move on with my day, reminding each of us to make it a great day!
PHOTOS: Erma, though playing “tough girl” with not looking at first, finally gave in. And, of course, she came over for a regular visit.
Time at the park was delightful and there were folks from Canada, Australia, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Missouri (four sets), Rhode Island, South Carolina, Tennessee, and West Virginia. I love meeting all the folks from all over the country, and the world. Who would have thought folks from Australia or other parts of the world would be in Dayton, Ohio to visit Carillon Historical Park?
The day seemed off. Just in little ways, but just not on an even keel.
Last night I had a break between lessons and ordered Mcdonald’s from Grubhub. I had ordered two cheeseburgers, a chicken sandwich, and two pies. What arrived, and only arrived, was a large diet Coke in a very large paper sack! Ugh. Today, I ordered Captain D’s which was to arrive at 2:40 PM. Finally, at 4:07 PM, my food arrived, cold and even after warming it up, it just tasted unedible. I did contact Grubhub and they sent a $10 coupon to be deducted from future orders. I am not sure if I will order anything else through Grubhub. Two back-to-back experiences that were just not good.
Lessons are going remarkably well this summer. It is nice to be back in the swing of things with in-person lessons as the students absorb so much more.
My last lessons for the evening were on vacation or marching band camp so my teaching evening ended on an early note. I got my research notes typed up and entered them into the master plot and caught up on a bit more research. I feel as though I have had an accomplished day.
Now, as it reaches 10:30 PM, I am retiring to the bedroom to read up some more on the magic of electricity and electric starters and ignitions. Talk about some “fun” reading. LOL! I am such a dolt about science and the basics of engineering; however, I was once ignorant on flight and early airplanes!
Rain has moved into The Miami Valley and several more small cells are in line behind this current one. The air is cooler and the refreshing sweet smell of rain wafts through the house. How peaceful.
At 8:00 AM, this Sunday morning, a college friend sent me a text inquiring if I knew about the officer killed on duty who belonged to my hometown police department in Elwood. I began scrolling through Facebook and found several posts. It was one of those instances where the officer pulled over the suspect for a traffic violation.
This is a nightmare scenario for those families connected to law enforcement, or really, any of the first responder professions. I grew up with a police family from birth and even with my mother’s retirement more than a decade ago, I have always remained a part of my hometown’s police family, staying connected to Mother’s colleagues, most of whom were like bonus uncles, as well as their families.
My heart and thoughts concentrate on the many folks in Elwood, and beyond, who will be affected by this. I cannot imagine being an officer moving up to a vehicle for an ordinary traffic stop and never knowing what might occur. The colleagues and officers elsewhere must live with these potential horrors every day, and with every moment.
Please remember Police Officer Noah Shahnavaz’s family, friends, and colleagues of Elwood’s fallen police officer.
It’s a pleasant but a bit muggy 68 degrees and we’re only to climb another 12 degrees for the high of the day. It’s a bit overcast and expected to remain so most of the day.
Today is the 179th birthday of Robert Todd Lincoln, the eldest son of Abraham and Mary Lincoln. Young Bob Lincoln went on to do some pretty amazing things throughout his life while continuing to protect the legacy of his father. Some historians have mentioned Robert’s eccentricities but I do not see them as anything glaring unless one is attempting to compare father to son. Can you imagine what it must have been like to be the eldest child of the great Abraham Lincoln? I am sure it was both a blessing and a curse.
My hometown of Elwood, Indiana is still reeling from the fatal shooting of one of its young police officers during a traffic stop. The community has unified to provide for the officer’s family and send tons of love to the young man’s fellow officers. This will, I am certain, be a very long week.
I will begin my day in the park and return home to teach. Show choir camp and a college visit will rob me of two seniors but the remaining thirteen students will be in lessons.
There is really nothing more to report. With that, let’s all try to make it a great day!
Renew your resolve and declare to the universe that you are ready for change.
One of the hardest things in life is feeling stuck in a situation that we don’t like and want to change. We may have exhausted ourselves trying to figure out how to make a change, and we may even have given up. However, each day offers us an opportunity to renew our resolve and to declare to the universe that we are ready for change. We may even say out loud that we have tried and struggled and have not found a way, but that we are open to help, and that we intend to keep working to create change for ourselves. Making this declaration to the universe, and to ourselves, maybe just the remedy for the stagnation we are experiencing. And, it can be done today, right now.
It is difficult to understand, even with hindsight, how the choices we have made have added up to our current situation, but it is a good idea to examine the story we tell ourselves. If we tend to regard ourselves as having failed, this will block our ability to allow ourselves to succeed. We have the power to change the story we tell ourselves by acknowledging that in the past, we did our best, and we exhibited many positive qualities and had many fine moments on our path to the present moment. We can also recognize that we have learned from our experiences and that this will help us with our current choices.
When we do this kind of work on how we view our past self, we make it possible for the future to be based on a positive self-assessment. This inner shift may allow us to get out of the cycle we’ve been in that’s been keeping us stuck. Now we can declare our intentions to the universe, knowing that we have done the inner work necessary to allow our lives to change. Allow today to be the day-to-end cycles and enter into a new way of being.
It’s a bit after 9:15 PM and a very productive, fun day is drawing to a close. The western sky is shades of deep grey-blue with pink and orange mixes.
I spent four days at a very busy, Guest-filled park. I thought the Dayton Air Show would rob the park of a portion of Guests, but it didn’t seem to have that draw at all. We were quite busy. I got to work with the most incredible volunteer, Wendy. My gosh, is she ever marvelous with her spiel to the Guests and has the most attractive inviting embrace with our Guests. And, she sounded so sincere. I loved her and hope I can work with her, again.
At home, I ate some leftover soup and then took a nap before allowing myself two more hours of research and planning. I finished doing some research from Mama Kay’s backyard while waiting for her to return from Mass. At about 5:30 PM, we moved on to China Cottage where there were twelve in attendance. I was home by 7:30 PM and opted not to attend any more evening events. It had been a full day, and a fun day.
I’ve been on the deck for nearly two hours working with the research on Charles Kettering and Edward Deeds while listening to the last few hours of the John Quincy Adams biography by James Traub. It’s been a good listen and I’ve become more knowledgeable and impressed with President J. Q. Adams. I have arrived at the point where he is soon to suffer a stroke on the floor of the United States House of Representatives.
I have gotten to the point in the evening where I am ready to simply listen to THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW or something else while snuggling with the pooches.
It’s just after 1:00 PM and I am finally getting around to getting my day officially underway. Since I teach late into the evening, ending around 11:15 PM, I don’t feel guilty or like I have wasted my day. I Zoomed with my son and son-in-law in London, and my out-laws in Boston, taking my coffee on the deck at 7:00 AM with skies threatening rain at any time. At 8:00 AM, I returned to my bedroom and read for a while.
The expected rain dribbled onto my property, and I decided I did not want to reroute my working space once getting started. At Noon, I fixed lunch and tried to work from the deck but the humidity was building, making it uncomfortable and difficult to concentrate. I am back in my study for the remainder of the day.
It’s 2:15 PM and Indianapolis law enforcement agencies are concluding the news conference discussing the fatal shooting of Elwood Police Office Noah Shahnavaz, 24, of my hometown.
It’s difficult to write the phrase, “make it a great day,” but I do believe we must continue to do so.
And just like that, July has entered its last two days and summer days are now limited. For me, summer seems to end when I hear the marching band practices resume next door at the high school. While I love having the campus activity resume, especially marching band, I hate to see summer end.
It’s just barely 60 degrees at the moment and the promised high temperature is only 80. This will be great for working from the deck in the afternoon and evening. Yesterday afternoon and evening I got so much accomplished with research and planning that I even managed to squeeze in mowing the backyard, grabbing a bite of lunch at a favorite eatery, and making it to Big Lots for a few items. It was a full Friday.
Today I will spend some time at the park, head home, research a bit more since I am usually invigorated with history, and join Mama Kay and The After Mass Girls for supper. I have got a hankering to head downtown to the Celtic Festival but I am not sure if I want to pack that much into the day. My neighborhood on Rockhill Avenue is holding a neighborhood picnic and will have food trucks available. I am not certain which event to attend.
Today is the anniversary of President Johnson signing Medicaid into law. It was signed in Independence, Missouri so the first recipients, former president Harry Truman and his wife, Bess Truman, could be present. When President Truman left The White House there was no pension for former presidents. The presidents before him relied on their own wealth. Truman had never been financially wealthy so the Trumans had some tight times. When the presidential pension was introduced, there were only two living former presidents, Truman and Herbert Hoover, who was a millionaire. So as not to embarrass his colleague and friend, Hoover accepted his pension rather than bypass the country’s offer. I always thought that to be the kindest gesture.
Well, enough of that history and on to Dayton’s history after showering and dressing.
One of the solid rules in The Haasienda was in the bathroom where there was one drawer in the sink’s vanity to hold three rolls of toilet paper. The sign in the drawer, which still remains in place to this day after eighteen years, reads, “if you take one roll out please replace” with another roll from the hall closet.
My third son always seemed to forget or ignore this stricture.
Shortly after my fourth son, a Navajo Indian, arrived I was in my study when I heard the bathroom door close. At the moment, I didn’t know which of the two sons then living at home had entered the bathroom. Suddenly, I heard the desk chair on the second floor quickly scoot back. Within seconds, I heard footsteps running down the stairs. I knew it was Jose who had remembered to replenish the bathroom door but a tad bit late.
Jose rushed into the hallway and began grabbing rolls of toilet paper from the closet. He knocked on the bathroom door.
“Quintin, do you have TP in there?”
“Why would I have a teepee in here?”
“No! Not a teepee… TP! Toilet paper!”
Quintin commanded, “Why don’t you justcall it ‘toilet paper?’”
“Because here in Ohio we call it TP.”
“Well, back where I’m from teepee is something you live in!”
As an adoptive father, I had some incredibly funny moments. This is probably one of my favorites.
After the string of excessively hot and humid weather, I am enjoying this morning’s 69 degrees. While the humidity is near 90%, it doesn’t feel heavy at all. The morning is electrifying with energy all around but it doesn’t seem to be kicking in my own energy which is sagging greatly. We’ve no indication of rain until Tuesday but my sinuses are packed and achy.
I spent the afternoon at the park and then enjoyed about 45 minutes of a Carillon Historical Park annual members’ meeting which I found utterly fascinating. I arrived home by 7:15 PM and had a bowl of vegetable soup on the deck where I had set up for working the rest of the evening. I decided to move into my study and ended up stretched out on the floor with Erma close by. The nap wasn’t really refreshing because at 10 PM I woke and went directly to my bed where I slept soundly until 7 AM with only one nature break (that I recall) required.
There is nothing on my docket for this Friday and I don’t know if I am happy about it or not. I could spend the entire day researching and planning but I have an itch to do something beyond The Haasienda’s borders. We shall see what unfolds within the next hour or so.
It’s still a bit damp outside so I am working from my bedroom this morning before getting ready for the park and a park members’ meeting immediately after my shift.
This morning, there was a cartoon on Facebook that reminded me of two separate events involving alum. Alum, a white granular substance, has a range of topical uses, including as antiperspirant deodorant, and also features as an ingredient in certain products, such as styptic pencils, which help seal cuts from shaving. It is found in the spice area in the baking aisle.
I learned that if you put a teaspoon of alum in a sealed sandwich baggie and place it in your pants pocket, it will help prevent chafing, especially at the beach.
KING’S ISLAND (amusement park)
When my third son’s 8th-grade class went to King’s Island, I was a chaperone, and knowing it would be raining and hot, even for mid-May, I placed a baggie with alum in my shorts pocket. Naturally, at security, I was asked to go through a more extensive search which always seems to be my lot when in security. I emptied my pockets into the container and heard a beeping sound. Within seconds, the security station where I stood had a number of security guards immediately appear and began examining the contents of the baggie. Ugh!
I was pounded with questions before an officer reached inside to examine the white granular contents.
“It must be what he says it is because it doesn’t have the same texture,” said the security officer.
I placed the contents back in my pocket and moved on into the park with the other chaperones and students.
CAPE HATTERAS BEACH, THE OUTER BANKS
The sons and I always placed a baggie of alum in our swimming trunks at the beaches we visited. I always loved riding the waves on the boogie board and spent more time in the water than I ever did sitting on the beach reading, despite bringing a healthy library for reading material lest I get bored.
One afternoon while riding the waves, I noticed a nearby group of high school or college-age students standing in a circle examining something. I moved in their direction to see what piqued their interest.
In the middle of the circle was a baggie with a white substance, floating in the water. I found it odd that someone had tossed a baggie of cocaine in the water… I reached inside my pocket and discovered it was empty.
My sons and I heard one of the boys ask, “Anyone wanna try it out with me?”
We moved away from the group and enjoyed a good laugh.
THE ALUM CONTAINER
I had one incredibly gifted, talented, and witty student, John, who was with me when Bailey and Harrigan were still in the puppy stage. One day, just before his lesson, I hurried home from teaching next door and discovered The Sisters had played with a can of alum that had fallen off the side shelf next to the stove. The container had opened and there was a long line of white powder going through the middle of my study.
Before I could clean it up, John entered for his lesson and looked down at the white powdery line. He looked up with a crooked smile and asked, “Shouldn’t you use a table or something so you don’t get fuzz or dog hair up your nose?”
And with that, I encourage you to make it a great day! I am!
Today is the anniversary of Robert Todd Lincoln’s death.
Robert (1843-1926), the eldest son of Abraham and Mary Lincoln, died on July 26, 1926.
In terms of education, career pursuits, and his relationships with family members, Robert set himself apart. Graduating from Harvard University in 1864, he joined the staff of General Ulysses S. Grant near the end of the Civil War. Lincoln was present with Grant at Appomattox Court House when Grant accepted the surrender of Confederate general Robert E. Lee.
Throughout his life, Robert Lincoln was challenged by growing up in the shadow of his venerated father, while also forging his own path in the world. Robert achieved tremendous financial success as a corporate lawyer, eventually becoming president of the Pullman Company in 1897, one of the dominant railway companies of the era. He was likewise a political luminary in the Republican Party. Lincoln served as Secretary of War under Presidents James Garfield and Chester Arthur. Under President Benjamin Harrison, Lincoln was the Minister to the Court of St. James’s (Ambassador to the United Kingdom).
In the twilight of his life, Robert attended the dedication of the Lincoln Memorial on May 30, 1922.
I completely forgot to post a morning “Make It A Great Day” blog but I can assure you, I made it a great day.
I busied my morning in bed with my hospital bed table as my center of operation, completing odds and ends as the rain pelted the deck.
11:00 AM, Carol Chatfield arrived and off we went to First Watch for a delicious lunch and tons of heart-to-heart catching up.
Back at home by 2:00 PM, I continued with my to-do list, completing everything and a number of other items. I was saddened by the passing of actor Tony Dow of LEAVE IT TO BEAVER fame. He was a member of several Facebook groups to which I also belong and he was such a kind soul and encouraging spirit.
Before leaving The Haasienda via Bus 17 to downtown, I had a bowl of the fresh vegetable soup from which the veggies came from Nicole Melina’s garden. I was pretty proud of my accomplishment.
I arrived at The Neon movie theatre and settled in for the very heartwarming and cheerfully funny, MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON. Another winner in the line of great movies I’ve seen within a month. This summer has been filled with inspiring and delightful movies, THE DUKE, PHANTOM OF THE OPEN, MRS. HARRIS GOES TO PARIS, and now, MARCEL. Except for MARCEL, I’ve seen the previous three movies twice. I’ve not enjoyed the movies this much since the summer of 2018 when I saw RBG and WON’T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR? keeping in mind 2019 was devoted to visiting Mother and pandemic quarantining the last two summers.
The bus terminal is quiet but will soon be bustling as the large roundup arrives in about five minutes. The weather is delightfully breezy and comfortable.
As you can see from some of the photos, the sky above and around Dayton was dramatic and gorgeous.
My sinus pressure and headache alerted me there was rain in the area long before I saw the dark, heavy clouds to the south where some storms are currently passing through The Miami Valley. Cincinnati down to Lexington, Kentucky appears to be getting the worst of it.
Aside from the heavier than usual traffic on Shroyer Road, it’s an awfully quiet morning. Nature’s activities even seem to be sparse. But, the gentle breeze is so nice and there’s barely a hint of humidity despite there being over 80% of it. It’s quite nice.
Today, I will join Mama Kay and some of the After-Mass gals for Taco Tuesday before returning home to teach until late. Tomorrow, I get to spend some time with my friend, Carol Chatfield. Pre-pandemic, we saw one another regularly each week and I have missed those meetings, greatly, as our conversations covered an enormous breadth of topics.
Last week I received an email from Debbie McCutcheon inviting me to share one of their DCI Soaring Sound tickets for next week. I have missed attending Soaring Sounds since 2019 and this invitation recharged my batteries.
Yesterday, Nicole Melin, the mother of a recent former student of thirteen years, left a nice sack of green beans, zucchini, and tomatoes from her garden. Once I finish this blog post, I’ll prep the veggies for the slow cooker and a very late dinner. I am already looking forward to it.
Since beginning this blog at 7:50 AM, I’ve also attended to refilling my coffee cup, setting clothes in the dryer, and answering a few emails and texts. Now, it’s time to close so I can prep dinner and hit some research before Taco Tuesday commences.
Make it a great day!
PHOTOS: Chief was the only pooch invested in photos and I am shocked! He shies away from photos.
It’s July 25th and the countdown to age 58, engaging the start of my 59th year is exactly two months away.
The morning is damp, owing to yesterday’s brief soaking, and the air feels heavy with 95% humidity. The skies look as if they’ll unleash rain at any moment but my weather radar and other predictions indicate there to be no rain heading our way. We shall see. It’s only to reach 81 degrees today so that will be nice.
I thought I had the gut issues resolved but the situation is revisiting.
It’s a fairly quiet morning on the deck with the usual sounds of a few birds, traffic from the Shroyer side of the house, and dogs occasionally taking a break from reclining to visiting the fence as dogs and their walkers pass by.
Sunday, I took my two usual buses to the park to watch the old-time baseball team, The Clodbusters, take to the field but they had canceled the previous night without any posts from them or the park. I was a bit aggravated having made the trek there only to be saddled with a ninety-minute wait before the returning buses to The Haasienda. I sat inside the Deeds Barn and half watched the video, over and over, and enjoyed the air conditioning.
I returned home, fed the pooches, and by 4:30 PM I was on northbound Bus 17 to one of my regular haunts in North Dayton. After dinner, I walked to Walmart and grabbed a few items I had not needed, or forgotten with my week’s earlier delivery. Returning home, I worked for a bit and called it an early night by 10 PM.
Today I will teach until late in the evening, hopefully accomplishing much research and note-taking beforehand. Other than that, it’s a mild day of activity.
Snuggled toward the cash register portals upon entering The Heritage Center inside the Kettering Education portion of Carillon Historical Park is the original Deeds Barn, originally located at 319 Central Avenue in Dayton, Ohio.
It has been moved to the Kettering-Moraine’s outdoor park with several other historic buildings from the area, but was carefully lifted and moved to its current, and final location. Carillon Historical Park also has a replica barn on site in the park and across from The Wright Brothers National Museum.
How I ever missed the fact that there is a set of stairs that leads Guests up to peer inside the original barn‘s second floor is a huge mystery. How I missed the ramp above me while taking photos of Charles Kettering’s animatronic figure from below is an even greater mystery.
I was assisting one of the volunteers by turning on some exhibition case lights and she mentioned the upstairs viewing deck. Huh? I finished my light mission and bounded up the stairs! I don’t “bound” any more but I know I was moving rapidly.
Here are some of the photos from my new discovery.
A bit balmy at 69 degrees and a high of 90 degrees is expected. Since I will be inside all day, I do not mind but I feel for those who need to be out in the heat. Tomorrow is to be 91 degrees, and it won’t be until Monday that we finally begin seeing some relief as we move to the lower eighties and on down to the seventies later in the week.
Friday was productive but relaxing with tons of research, a quick trip to Big Lots on Miamisburg-Centerville Road, dinner at Subway, and MRS. HARRIS GOES TO PARIS with Laura. There were so many subtle things I missed with MRS. HARRIS, when I saw it two days before. I do not fault myself for potential inattentiveness as much as I do the movie, itself, which will touch on something but does not define or even suggest. An example was when Mrs. Harris finds a piece of expensive jewelry at night in the street and is seen going into this large structure with a large set of steps. I figured it was her apartment building, which, by this point in the movie, we had not seen the exterior of her apartment building. Next, we see her inside her apartment. Later, we see the apartment’s exterior, clearly not the building we saw her previously enter at night, which by this time, I’d already dismissed or forgotten. It is still a wonderful film and highly recommended. I was just missing some subtle items throughout the movie for both viewings.
My lunch is prepped and ready to be packed and it is time for me to shower, dress, and get ready to leave on Bus 17.
Whatever you’ve got on your docket, be sure to make it a great day!
Today is the birthdays of my great-aunt, Joyce Clary Riser, and my maternal great-grandmother, Thelma Daugherty Barmes.
The weather on the deck is breezy and while the humidity is fairly low, there’s still an ominous feeling about the impending 90 degrees approaching in the afternoon.
I am feeling antsy and wish to do something, but I have no idea what I want to do. It’s a “fifth week” with the studio and there are no lessons for today. I do not want to waste a free Sunday. There’s an old-time baseball game at Carillon Historical Park but, naturally, it will take place outdoors. I could go see a movie at Neon Movies. I am not in a photo-taking mood, either.
Saturday, I was at the park all day, well, most of the day. Around 10:30 AM, heavy rain gave the park a good drenching. The Guests were undaunted by the weather and were quite cheerful and came equipped to explore the park. The rain blew on and by my lunch time at 1:00 PM, it was so nice outside, and not at all a steam bath.
The atrium area where I work in the park began quickly filling up with items for a private event later that evening. My tall service desk was in the way so I discussed it with the park’s day manager on duty and left by 3:30 PM. There were more than thirty minutes before I was I needed to pick up my bus so I sat outside the printshop area to enjoy one of the baby eagles perched near the nest. The eaglet was screeching, or singing, loudly and amusingly.
I joined darling woman. Mama Kay, her cousin, Sue, along with Ann, and a new lady I’d not met, Mary, a darling lady who seems to want to be a part of the group for lunches and dinners. It was touching as we were chatting about two of the ladies being widows, Mary, who was seated next to me, softly said, “Today would have been my anniversary.” I inquired and learned she, too, was a widow.
I returned home and set up shop on the deck but heavy humidity roared about me within a few minutes and I retreated to my study which has an air conditioning unit. I was a bit tired and thought a thirty-minute nap at 8:00 PM would scrape off some of the fatigue. At midnight, I woke, rose, and moved to my bedroom. So much for getting any work completed.
As I continue to write, the urge to go exploring has increased. I have no idea what it shall be, but I will be on the move.
Make it a great day!
PHOTO: At night, Erma often moves her bed over to where Chief is sleeping. Chief seems oblivious or embarrassed to her and the others during these moments of affection, but Erma especially loves Chief.
“It’s kind of fun to do the impossible.” – Walt Disney
I’ve always loved this quote and although I don’t know if I’ve ever done the impossible, I have turned a lot of things around to them possible, and hopefully better than what I found them.
Walt Disney offered up some important, impactive quotes that often lift me. Mr. Disney is one of my great creative, inspiring, and encouraging heroes.
The morning is comfortable with 70-degree weather that intends to climb eighteen more degrees by afternoon. The breeze that now aids in completing the comfort is forecast to remain with us throughout the day. That’s fine by me.
I slept soundly and woke refreshed. Last night’s concert, getting to spend time with Felicia, and arriving home to research for several hours all combined to make it a smooth landing into bed.
As I look out over the backyard, I am glad I mowed, yesterday, allowing me a freer schedule today before going to see MRS. HARRIS GOES TO PARIS this evening with Laura. I am tinkering with the notion of heading to Big Lots for a few things but if I do not go, the world will continue.
I’ve returned to listening to the audiobook, JOHN QUINCY ADAMS by James Taub. I halted my travel through the book at chapter nine so I could dive into McCullough’s TRUMAN. I’ve twenty hours remaining with JOHN QUINCY ADAMS and I am already considering moving to another book. I’ll give it another hour, perhaps.
It’s just after 8:30 AM and I want to get moving. It’s Friday and the London boys try to keep with their “No Wifi Friday” so I didn’t get a 7:15 AM – 7:45 AM Zoom visit. I will grab my second cup of coffee and dig into the world of Edward Deeds just after Dayton Engineering Laboratories Company was up and running. What an adventure that was!
The Haasienda on Shroyer... 