More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …
Last wednesday was the first really chilly night. I woke up about midnight and partially closed the window. I also put on a pajama top.
Friday morning … 32⁰ at dawn.
Monday at dawn … 24⁰.
This morning … 30⁰.
Guess I’d better make sure the extra comforter goes to be cleaned so it will be ready if it gets much colder.
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I remember being concerned, and a bit ashamed, of my grandmother’s eyes because they were always leaking. Now mine have started doing the same thing. It’s a darn nuisance.
A friend told me a friend of hers was having that problem and the doctor told her it was age related dry eye and advised using eye drops.
I started last thursday.
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When I first went to work in the Mt Shasta Emergency Department (the hospital was Eskaton at that time which became Mercy and then a branch of a Sisters of Mercy Health Care West and is now Dignity Health Care) there were two Barbaras, two Arlenes, and two Wilma. Two RNs and four LVNs and we worked without an in-house doc. We were the complete staff. No wonder they hired me so quickly.
The two of us named Wilma are within a year in age. Soon we were Little Wilma and Big Wilma (because she was so much shorter than me).
We became close friends. We used to have a routine for our birthdays. She would take me to a Country Music show and I would take her to see a Shakespeare play. We’d always do dinner together and it was a broadening experience for both of us. Eventually she would occasionally use a Shakespeare quote in conversation. I had always liked Johnny Cash and learned to like Jackson Brown (but not Toby Keith!). She experienced sushi (but never became a fan) and I learned biscuits, country fried steak, and gravy was a great dinner or breakfast.
She lived on the other side of the Mountain in McCloud.
Then we both reached retirement age and drifted apart. She became a widow and I began staying close to George and eventually became a widow as well.
Last week I realized I hadn’t wished her Happy Birthday in years and her birthday was last wednesday, the 21st. I found a card, wrote a note, and sent it. Thursday she called.
She is going blind and has a severe hearing loss. I’m still plugging along. I will go over to visit soon.
I am so glad I sent that card.
~~~
The trees continue to change colour, but most of them are hanging onto their leaves. The oaks have done that three years in a row. Even the red maple, which is decorating the ground, remains quite full of leaves.
The catalpa and birches are still leaf-loaded. A breeze in the birches is a real trip as is sitting silently watching the catalpa leaves drift down … one at a time … with Beethoven’s 6th playing in the background. Sort of reminds me of one of the cuts in the original Fantasia.
~~~
Every year, around this time, I used to bake plum breakfast cakes. They were a favorite of George’s.
We have loads of pears and plums. But the habit of baking for freezing is no longer pertinent. Still, memory takes hold, … so I pureed pears for the moisture and chopped plums for the add-ins … it was an excellent (and nutritious) breakfast cake enjoyed by all.
The number of apples available is increasing so I guess apple crisp, apple pie, apple cake, apple salad, apple ??? will be next.
~~~
Well … it isn’t official yet, but the local fire company is kaput. There were two sleepers who were sort of the last straw. One of them turned out to have a congenital heart condition like those which killed those young, healthy high school and college age athletes. It is stress induced and showed up as fainting spells when on a fire call. That left the other at the firehouse by himself so he asked for a transfer to another fire company. Now there is essentially no one other than Mark to respond to calls. So the dissolution which began 35 years ago (as attested to by fire fighters who were around then) is nearly complete.
I read an article in the BBC News about Easter Island closing itself off COMPLETELY when the first COVID case showed up with tourists.
They went back to traditions from the past centered on respect and cooperation. They had become dependent on food imports from Chile and income from tourism. Now, just six months later, their newspaper is in their native language, they are growing their own food, preserving their past by teaching their children history and traditions, and creating a strong community wherein help is available when needed without a thought of “how much will it cost?”.
That is what this area (Hammond Ranch) had when George and I moved here and which is almost completely lacking now.
Every week it becomes easier to contemplate leaving.
Oh well …
~~~
The other morning I awoke from a dream which sort of featured a doc I used to work with in the Emergency Department. Don was young (of course most people are young to me), very nice-looking, had a great bedside manner, was a top notch diagnostician, had a loving wife, and knew how to handspin.
One day we were chatting during a lull in patients and the subject “What is one of your vivid memories of grade school?” came up. I’ll never forget his answer …
I remember one of the jocks in high school who, between dances at the prom, said in a loud voice intended to carry, “Which would you rather have, a million dollars or Donnie’s nose full of nickels?”
Words can last forever. So …
Whenever you have a choice what to be … be kind.
‘Til next week …