COMMUNICATIONS

I love my Blackberry. Sometimes, I wonder how I ever got along without it. Besides the convenience of making and receiving phone calls no matter where I am, it helps me get from one place to another with its GPS program, it stores hundreds of friends’ and relatives’ phone numbers, it provides me with a calendar to help me keep up with all my appointments, and it provides me with a notepad to store the information I am constantly forgetting. And let’s not forget the picture-taking feature.

Recently, after sending a text message to my hairdresser, telling him I needed a trim, he messaged me back asking who I was. I’m not really very good at  texting, so I don’t do it very often. And since I don’t text very often, I’m a little ignorant about how. Okay, VERY ignorant about how.

So, after I got that straightened out, I began contemplating the whole communications industry, particularly telephone communications.

The first phone I remember my family having was when we moved from White Settlement to Ridglea West – our first home that wasn’t a rental. Our phone number then was SU-4547. That was the way phone numbers were identified, by “exchange.” We were in the SUnset exchange. Other exchanges in Fort Worth at the time were EDison (downtown), TErminal, AXminister, ATlas, WAlnut (southside).

Smaller towns often had only one exchange. When making a call, you only had to dial the last four digits of the number. This was the way at was at my grandparents’ in Nacogdoches, and at my aunt’s in Lufkin.

In those days, few people had what were referred to as “private lines.” Only the wealthy or businesses had those. Everyone else had a “party” line. There usually were about four “parties” that shared the line. Each household had a different phone number, of course, but your phone would ring every time a call came to a member of your “party.” Each party had a different ring. Yours may be two long rings (2 longs), or maybe two longs and a short, etc. You had to learn which ring was yours.

Making a call was even trickier. Upon picking up the receiver, you might hear a portion of a conversation between one of your party and their caller. These could go on forever. And often, you found out more about people than you really wanted to know. (“They said that his gallstone was as big as a golf ball! Can you imagine that, Marge?”) It could be maddening. You never knew when you could make a phone call and you never knew when someone was listening in on your conversation (unless you heard the little “click” when they picked up their receiver).


Finally, we were “upgraded” so that if the phone rang in our house, the call was for us. We were still on a party line, but we didn’t have to count the rings.


Our final upgrade was to a private line. At that time, our phone number changed to the new exchange, PErshing. An extra number was added to our number as well. So, our number became PE8-4547. Of course, with all the changes being made, it still wasn’t a perfect world. Due to the change, our number was just one digit off from that of the local Singer Sewing Machine company. We were forever getting calls from women wanting to know if their machine was ready to be picked up or if their buttonholes were done, or if the alterations to their dress were complete. Once, Mom got so frustrated that she answered, “Yes, you can come pick them up right away.” Imagine the surprise both to the Singer folks and to this lady! I thought it was hilarious.


When we moved to Benbrook in 1960, we moved into the CIrcle exchange. We were then CI9-1709. We also got a much more modern phone. And we had multiple phones! We had one in the kitchen, one in my room, and one in Mom & Dad’s room! And they all were beige, instead of black! Actually, mine was an avocado green.


Later, in high school, I became the envy of my friends when I got a Princess phone and my own phone number! And you know, for the life of me, I don’t remember that number?


While attending the University of Texas at Austin in the early ‘70s, I worked in the “T-Unit” at Sears. Back then, Sears had a catalog shopping service. The T-Unit made routine calls to regular catalog customers, telling them about the most recent sales offers. We had card files on our customers, showing family members and their sizes, as well as their most recent purchases. We would call our customer with lines like, “Hello, Mrs. Janek? This is Carolyn at Sears catalog. How are you doing tonight? I wanted to let you know that we have those percale sheets you like so well on special right now. Could I send you out a couple sets?” These “suggestion” sales got you a spiff bonus. If the customer called us and we sold them something other than what they originally called about, that was another spiff.


One night, I came across a card that showed the phone number as T8. Huh? My supervisor explained that this customer lived in Pflugerville, then just a small farming town just a little north of Austin, and Pflugerville had its own telephone exchange and “switchboard.” In order to call this customer, I had to call the long-distance operator (there was no such thing as “Direct Distance Dialing” or area codes – that came much later) and ask for Pflugerville.


That’s when things got interesting:


“Long Distance Operator, how may I assist you?”


“I’d like to place a call to Pflugerville, please.”


“One moment please.”

“Pflugerville, this is Helen.”

 

“Uh, Helen, I’d like number T8 please.”

“Oh, honey, they’re not home right now. They went over to Houston to visit her sister. They’ll be back next Tuesday, though, if you want to call back then.”

“Uh, thanks, uh Helen. Thanks.”

That’s one giant leap from that Pflugerville switchboard to my Blackberry!

THE MIDDLE CHILD, SEEN THROUGH THE EYES OF AN ONLY CHILD

Frank J Barnes, 63, a loving husband and father, passed away Saturday, Aug. 14, 2010, at his home. Funeral: 7 pm Wednesday in Biggers Funeral Chapel. Committal: 10 am Saturday in Greenwood Memorial Park. Visitation: The family will receive friends 5 to 7 pm Wednesday at Biggers Funeral Home. Memorials: Memorial gifts may be made to Susan G Komen Breast Cancer Foundation of Tarrant County, Box 101328, Fort Worth, TX 76185-1328. Mr Barnes, a lifelong area resident, served in the US Army, including service in Vietnam. He was an avid Texas Longhorn fan and worked for 34 years at General Dynamics, now Lockheed-Martin, where he presently was serving in the tooling department. Survivors: His wife, Debbie Barnes of Fort Worth; daughter, April Beck and husband, Justin, of Fort Worth; sons, Eric Barnes of River Oaks and Mark Barnes of Azle; stepson, Ryan Whittington and wife, Sally, of Thackerville OK; sisters, Brenda Eason and husband, Tommy, of Crowley, Sandra Prater and husband, Tommy, of River Oaks and Lucille Painter of Mill Springs, NC; brother, Woody Barnes and wife, Joanne, of Benbrook; three grandchildren; and a number of nieces and nephews.
Published in Star-Telegram on August 16, 2010

(Frank had mowed his yard on Saturday morning, planning to get it done before it started getting really hot. When he finished, he told his wife he didn't feel good and was going to go take a shower to cool off. She left to go to the store, and when she came home, found him lying on their bed. She really didn't think much of it, but after a while thought it odd and went to check on him. It was then that she realized he was dead. His death was ruled as a heart attack.)

*************************************************************************************

Frank was my first cousin, his mother and my mother were sisters. He was from July to February older than me, so during most of our childhood, we were very close.

During the early years, Frank was the middle child. We all called him Jake. His middle name was Jerome, thus the nickname. Anyway, it seems he could never measure up to his older brother Woody, and his sister Sandra, being the baby, was always blaming him for everything that went wrong. My recollections of Frank are of him constantly being criticized, yelled at and reprimanded.

I remember one incident in particular when we were all at my grandparents' in Nacogdoches. For some reason we had a bunch of firecrackers. Jake, Sandra and I were in the bed for Grandpa's pick-up, which was parked out in front of the house. Somehow, the whole package of firecrackers was lit and they started going off in the bed of that truck. We all rolled out of the back of the truck like we had caught fire ourselves! We started laughing, except for Sandra. It had scared her, she ran in the house crying and told her mother that Jake had lit those firecrackers on purpose. Aunt Alice called Jake in, gave him a whipping, even though I corroborated his story. I got a whipping too for lying! Go figure!

I can just hear his mother, as he entered the gates of heaven, “Franklin! What were you thinking, mowing in that heat?” But, since it is heaven, I have to think that what he heard her say way, “Son! I’m so glad you made it Home!” I also think that perhaps since he didn’t receive the adulation and attention that his siblings received when he was growing up, this was God’s way of him getting the undivided attention of both his parents.

I was a little disappointed in the obituary above because it didn't mention that he was preceded in death by his parents, who they were or where he was born.

I also was a little disappointed at his memorial service because the focus seemed to have been on his current wife (he had been married four times) and his step-daughter (who was referred to as his daughter), but nothing about his biological son or his adopted son. (Frank's second wife, Betty, had a son, Mark, whom Frank adopted as his own. Frank and his biological son, Eric, by his third wife, Cathy, had had a rather strained relationship until recently when they had begun bonding and more or less "finding" each other. Eric has a daughter, Frank's grand-daughter, whom he adored. She adored him as well. Little was said about her either; she was merely mentioned in the survivor's list.)

THE BATTLE RAGES ON

My ordeal with leukemia was far from over. There was still chemotherapy and frequent visits to the doctor. Some time in June, Dr Singh became a US citizen and became Dr Gill (it’s a long story).

After one chemo treatment, I wasn’t “bouncing back” as quickly as he wanted, so I went back into the hospital. So, I ended up spending 4th of July in the hospital. Pat and her girls, Jennie and Lauren, came up and decorated my room for 4th of July. It was so cool! I was the envy of the oncology ward! (In 2004, I spent quite a few major holidays in Harris HEB: my birthday in February, Mother’s Day, Fourth of July.

Michael

But there was also a very sad event. I really didn’t feel bad, so much of the time the nurses pretty much left me to my own devices, unless I needed them. One evening, when Tony came to visit, he told me he had seen Michael (Navarrate’s) truck downstairs. Michael and his wife, Gabby (Gabriela) owned Miguelito’s Mexican Restaurant in Hurst and Michael had been diagnosed with AML in December, with me following in February. He also had occupied Room 212 before me. So he and I and another lady, Andrea Lorden, were “chemo buddies.” (Andrea had been diagnosed with AML in November, 2003.) Anyway, I really didn’t think too much of it until the next morning I was aware of a lot of activity in the hallways and the nurses moving a lot of beds around. When Tammy came in to take my vitals later that morning, I said something to the effect that they had been quite busy earlier. She told me that they had a patient in ICU that they had to move to Oncology and that “we’re probably going to lose them.” She looked upset and I just asked if it was a young person or an older person and she said “young.” I asked if it was male or female, and she said, “Male. . . . You know him.” I remembered what Tony had said about Michael the night before and I said, “Not Michael?!?!?” She just nodded affirmative and I could see the tears in her eyes. (Everybody loved Michael.) He had had a stroke and was on life support. That was Friday morning. Saturday evening they took him off life support and Sunday morning he died. I knew instantly when he died – I heard the commotion and crying. I had gone down Friday after Tammy told me and asked Gabby if I could come in and pray with them. I didn’t know her well, but she recognized me and said yes so I prayed with her and their 15-year-old daughter, Nicole. They had five children ages 5 to 15. Michael was only 42.

Blood Clots

Then, in October, I went back in the hospital again, this time with a blood clot in my right arm. Dr Gill put me on a blood thinner, Coumadin, and the nurses put a sign over my bed not to stick me in my right arm. It was a cute little sign with an angel. This time, I missed getting to see Max Lucado when he spoke at our church. But when I was telling one of the PCTs (Hortencia) about him speaking there, she managed to trade with another PCT and so she got to go see him.

I was in for two weeks this time and when I got out I would have had time to go to the Bluebonnet Camp the hospital sponsors for cancer patients and survivors. But after being away from Tony for two weeks, I just wanted to go home.

“Hair”

“Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there, (hair!)
Shoulder length, longer (hair!)
Here baby, there mama, Everywhere daddy daddy
Chorus:
Hair! (hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair)
Flow it, Show it;
Long as God can grow it, My Hair!”

So go the lyrics to the title song from the Broadway musical of the 60’s, Hair.

I actually lost my hair twice to chemotherapy: once while in the hospital, and again after I got out. It think it was my 2nd or 3rd round of chemo. I had always had really thick hair. When I lost it the first time, I told Tony that I guess when it grew back, we’d find out what color it really was.

When it finally grew back, it came in even thicker than before. And naturally curly. Not kinky curly, just a lot of body and enough curl to make it so very easy to manage and style. I loved it! I had always wanted naturally curly hair. Everyone I had ever known with naturally curly hair tried to tell me I wouldn’t like it. Oh, how wrong they were!

But it was very salt & peppery, so I had it colored, then highlighted. Then cut. I guess with all the chemicals, it lost its curl. Eventually, I had to have it perm’d. Bummer.

“Thank God I Had Cancer”

Soon after I returned to work, Linda and Sally gave me a book titled “Thank God I Had Cancer,” written by R. King Neal.* (He was our United Way representative at Bates.) When I saw the title, I thought to myself, “Oh my gosh! I know exactly where he’s coming from!” Then, after reading about him on the back of the book and just a few lines from the first chapter, I thought, “Oh my gosh! I could have written this book! It’s about ME!” So much about having cancer was a blessing. It brought me closer to God than I ever thought possible. I always thought I had a great relationship with God. I prayed daily. I went to church. I read my Bible regularly. I studied Scripture. I read various non-fiction books written by Christian authors about dealing with different issues and using God to help deal with them. I went to women’s Bible study groups. But until I had cancer, I had never had such an intimate relationship with my Lord and Savior. I learned how caring total strangers can be. I received over 50 get-well cards, many from people I don’t even know but go to my church. I received e-mails from total strangers, Prayer Warriors, from all over the United States who were praying for me. They knew someone who knew someone who knew me…

And, oh my gosh, Bates! What did they not do for me? Darla (Smitherman) put together a basket for my family with snacks, candy bars, playing cards, word puzzle books, crossword puzzle books, sodas, magazines - all sorts of things to occupy their time while they sat with me. Sally (Bustamante) sent Erik (Larsen) to my house every morning to pick up my parents and take them to the hospital. Then he came by every evening around 4, picked them up and took them back home. Debbie (Sullivan) brought me a laptop computer that Doug (Fretz) had set up so I could access the Internet from the hospital. That way, I could keep in touch with family and friends. Linda (Timmons) brought me a combination TV-VCR so Tony could bring me videos from home to watch when I got bored with the hospital’s TV. Debbie came to see me several times, as did Linda. Donna Medford came by one day and brought me the prettiest robe. I got e-mails from many of my Bates family while I was there.

Shortly after returning to work, we had our quarterly awards luncheon at Bates. Coincidentally, I was one of the award recipients, having just celebrated my 5th year at Bates. For each award recipient, Sally sends a questionnaire prior to the luncheon to get biographical information like marital status, spouse’s name, number of children, favorite pastimes, and who you would most like to have dinner with. When she called my name, before reading my “bio,” she talked about my long absence because of the leukemia, and said I was “truly an inspiration to us all.” I got such a standing ovation from my “family,” it was almost embarrassing. It seemed to last forever. Mark (Sanders) was smiling from ear to ear as I walked up to receive my award (a $250 gift certificate to Circuit City, with which I bought a digital camera).

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*I have since lost this book, which makes me very sad, since it was such an inspirational book and had meant so much to me.

THE BLESSINGS of CANCER

Room 212

The Bruises

A couple of weeks into the New Year, I decided to make a concentrated effort to take better care of my body. This was going to mean massive weight loss. But I knew that wouldn’t be enough. So I also joined Curves in order to get exercise thrown in the mix. After a few sessions, I noticed bruising on my arms & legs. Being the klutz I’ve always been, I didn’t think anything about it at the time. But as days passed, I noticed more bruises, even though I was making a concentrated effort to not do anything that might cause bruising. Then I started getting bruises in unusual places, like my abdomen, inside my thighs, etc. Tony kept telling me I needed to go to the doctor to see what was causing the bruises. He joked that people might start to think he was beating me.

The Blood Blisters

On the evening of Friday, February 13 I could feel something in my mouth like ulcers, but not. When I looked in the mirror, they were small blood blisters. This, we knew, was not normal. Tony was almost in a panic and wanted to take me to emergency. Instead, I called my cousin Shawn Patton, who was a nurse. He assured us it was not an emergency issue, but advised me to see my primary care physician right away. I knew she (Dr. Melissa Benavides) had office hours on Saturdays, for “emergency” type illnesses. So my plan was to go in the next morning. So Saturday, February 14, we awoke to the most beautiful blanket of snow you’ve ever seen. About 3-4” worth. Since the blood blisters were gone, I decided my condition wasn’t serious enough to risk life and limb on icy roads, so I decided to wait until Monday. I called her office on Monday but she couldn’t see me until Tuesday. So on Tuesday she had blood drawn for testing. She told me she would be out of the office on Wednesday but would call me on Thursday. On Wednesday at 12:20 pm one of her associates called me at work & said the results of the blood work were in and I had a serious blood disorder. He said all indications pointed to acute leukemia. My head started spinning, my brain shut down. I could hear him speaking and I was struggling to focus on what he was telling me. He said I needed to leave work immediately to go see a hematology oncologist named Dr Singh*. He gave me the address and told me they were expecting me. Well, my supervisor was at lunch, everyone who would be available for relieving the front desk was at lunch, it would be another 40 minutes until anyone would be back to relieve me. It looked like my only alternative was to put the phones on night ring. Then I remembered Lisa Standridge was the late sales service person that day & had worked the front desk for many years before (she had been Hardy’s favorite). I was hysterical, I called Lisa crying & told her I needed her up front right now. She came immediately, followed by Dixie Polster. I told them I had to leave because the doctors thought I had leukemia. In the mean time Dr Singh’s office called to tell me he was not at the address I had been given, but at another address. Then Dr Singh called & told me not to panic (too late), that it was treatable. Dixie drove me to the doctor’s office since I was in no shape to drive myself. I called Tony on the way, and he met me there.

The Doctor’s Office

At Dr Singh’s office I was given a bone marrow biopsy (which was quite uncomfortable). The initial plan was for me to lay there a while until the bleeding stopped, go home to pack for a long hospital stay, then go check into the hospital (Harris HEB). They were already expecting me and had assigned me to room 203. While lying on the exam table, Dr Singh was able to validate the initial diagnosis: acute myeloid leukemia (AML). Normal WBC (white blood cells) is about 4,000 to 10,000 per micro liter. Test results showed that I had 16. Additionally, because my platelet count was so low, I had no clotting factor, so I was basically bleeding on the table the whole time. Just laying there in a pool of blood. It wasn’t until the nurse (Sonya) helped me sit up that we discovered it. I took off my pants, panty hose and blouse, rinsed them all out in cold water in the sink in the doctor’s office. Then Sonya and I towel-dried them with hundreds of paper towels. That in itself was quite comical. Anyway, that left out going home to pack. Tony had not come in our car: he was in the midst of car clean-up on a couple of Credit Union cars and wasn’t even in his car that day. So he had come up the doctor’s office in a car that belonged to the Credit Union. So now we were faced with the problem of getting to the hospital without getting blood all over this car that didn’t belong to us. Well, my husband is very ingenious: he removed the floor mats from the floor, flipped them upside down so that the rubber bottoms were facing up, and I sat on them (Sonya had gotten me a blanket from the infusion room to wrap around my mid-section so I could walk out of the clinic and also to protect the car from any future hemorrhaging. So with all that in place, Tony took me straight to the hospital.

The Hospital

After getting me settled in a room, he went home with my list of what to bring back & who to call. He of course called my supervisor at Bates, Stephanie Smith. He also called our church and our Bible class teacher, Johnny Wilbanks.

Of course, I had to notify my parents. They had made a quick turn-around trip to Fort Worth that day for the funeral of Daddy’s good friend Buster Fortenberry. They had no cell phone but needed to be told. I called my cousin Shawn Patton, told him the situation, and asked him & Dee (his girlfriend at the time - they lived about 10 minutes from Mom & Dad) to go over to Mom & Dad’s when they got back from Fort Worth and tell them. I knew they were better equipped to explain the condition and take care of any health problems that might arise as a result of the news, since they were both nurses.

The first night, Letty Peters and Lety Hita came over. Johnny Wilbanks came over & prayed with us. It meant so very much to me. Then later Kelly Felps came by to pray with me. Between Johnny Wilbanks and Kelly Felps, both elders at our church, they got me on prayer lists on 4 continents! At some point, I think the first night, my cousin, Kent, came to see me. I’m still not sure how he found out, but he was there.**

The Pain

I don’t remember much after that other than being in a lot of pain. I remember the pain being so bad that I was screaming & begging to just let me die. I’m not sure I remember when my parents came, but I do remember being in so much pain that once when I was crying I could see my Daddy sitting in a chair sobbing. All I remember was that my legs hurt and nothing seemed to help. I remember having to drink 2 bottles of a white milky substance and was then taken downstairs for some tests. The elevator ride made me extremely nauseous and I threw up the whole mess, including breakfast as soon as we got downstairs. For the next few days, all I remember was throwing up a lot, having leg or back pain and being taken downstairs a lot for tests. Once, I remember being told this one test would take about 3 hours. I had already been waiting about 30 minutes before they started, then it seemed to last forever. I asked how much longer and they told me there was still about 1 hour to go. I became hysterical and told them no, just let me die. I told them to tell my husband I loved him, tell my daughter I loved her and was proud of her and tell my parents I loved them, but I couldn’t endure that any longer. They stopped the procedure and took me back to my room.

At some point Dr Singh moved me to room 212, because it had a Heppa filter. And since my white cell count was so low, I could not risk any kind of infection. I wasn’t allowed live plants or cut flowers, no raw vegetables, no raw fruit (everything had to be cooked to death!), and visitors were asked to wear surgical masks and either had to wear surgical gloves also or wash their hands upon entering my room.

Bates Container

I was still in a lot of pain most of the time and frequently being given morphine. My parents were there all day every day, thanks to the generosity of Bates. Erik Larsen, their van driver/courier, would come by our house each morning to pick them up and bring them to the hospital. Then each evening he came up the hospital to take them home. Tony would come by every night after work. I slept most of the time but we prayed together every day. I wasn’t allowed visitors except family, so Mom put a notebook next to the door of my room for visitors to sign. A couple of elders from the church came by and signed the book, Dwayne Jenks & Johnny Wilbanks came in and would always pray with me.

Pat Fernandes came by every day on her lunch hour. Since I wasn’t supposed to have any visitors except family, I told the nurses she was my sister. Pat’s boss, Ron Welch, told her she could have as much time during the day as she needed to help Tony take care of me. She would come and sit with me, talk to me, and tell me the latest Bates doins. She always told me she loved me. On the days that my legs would ache terribly from the chemo, she would rub my legs, arms, whatever hurt. She would put lotion on my arms and legs, since the chemo would dry out my skin so much. Once, she even shaved my legs for me. On days she couldn’t come at lunch, she would call to apologize for not coming, but would show up that evening.

The pain and discomfort was so intense. Dr Singh had orders for me to receive morphine as needed. I needed it a lot. One of my night nurses, Janie, was so cute. She would come into my room when she thought I might want to go to sleep and ask if I was ready for my “cocktail.” My “cocktail” consisted of morphine (for paid management), Ativan (to help me relax) and Ambien (a sleeping agent). Quite often, after one of Janie’s “cocktails,” I would have visits from the Care Bears or My Little Pony and Rainbow Bright.

Mouth Sores

As a result of the massive amounts of chemo-therapy I was receiving, I developed mouth sores. They were unbelievably painful. Every time I swallowed, it felt as if my tongue was being lacerated by little razor blades along the insides of my lower teeth. It hurt to eat, to talk, even to swallow spit. I finally “rebelled” and refused to eat. When told I had to eat to keep up my strength, I told them they were going to have to feed me through an IV, which they did. The nurses would grind up my pills in Jell-O for me to swallow them. Even that was painful.

Lullaby and Goodnight

Tony brought my “boom-box” up and several CDs from the Praise Team from Richland Hills Church of Christ. I cannot begin to express the comfort I got from those CDs. That Praise Team sang me to sleep every night. Even now, almost two years later (it’s now 2006), hearing some of those songs brings tears to my eyes. “Embrace the Cross,” “What Sin?” “Redeemer,” “I Can Only Imagine,” “The Lord is My Strength,” “I Stand in Awe,” “Where There Is Faith,” and especially “How Deep the Father’s Love.”

The Nurses

The nurses and PCT’s (Patient Care Technicians) on that floor were wonderful. They often came in to check on me and were always so kind. About a week after I got there, Dr. Singh told me he would be doing another bone marrow biopsy. Since my first one had been rather scary, I had concerns about this one. My nurse that day, Sharon, asked if I wanted her to call my husband to come be with me. I told her no, since we didn't know exactly what time the procedure was to be done. I then asked if she was going to be there, and she told me yes, that she would be assisting Dr. Singh. A little while later, she came back in my room and told me that another nurse, Tracy, would be assisting Dr. Singh, and that she, Sharon, would be there as my friend. Before the procedure, she and Tracy came in and prayed with me, then during the procedure, Sharon sat up by my head, held my hand, and just talked to me, keeping me calm. What a blessing she was!

The Anointed Room

One day, Dagoberto Martinez, one of the ministers from our church, came by to pray with me. While he was there, one of the young women from Dietary came in to get my meal tray. Realizing we were in prayer, she quickly apologized for the intrusion and left. When she returned a few minutes later, she commented about how much prayer went on in that room, referring to the two previous occupants and then myself. We discussed the importance of prayer and the power of prayer. That night I awoke, as I often did since sleeping didn’t come that easily, and I kept thinking over and over “John 2:12, John 2:12, John 2:12.” I reached for my Bible and looked at John 2:12, but nothing there seem particularly relevant, so I turned to Mark 2:12. There it was. It sent chills down my spine and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Mark Chapter 2 is the story of the paralytic in Capernaum who was lowered on a mat through a hole in the roof so that he might be healed by Jesus. When Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” Teachers of the law that were there were confused by this statement. Jesus asked them, “Which is easier: to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’? But so that you will know that the Son of Man has the authority, . . . “ He said to the paralytic, “ . . .get up, take your mat and go home.” Mark 2:12 says: “He got up, took his mat, and walked out in full view of them all. This amazed everyone and they praised God . . .” Is that not the most amazing thing?

Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

-- Psalm 73:23-26

My Church

Our minister, Rick Atchley, came to see me one Wednesday. I had heard him say on more than one occasion he was not good with people, one on one. He even made the statement, “If you’re in the hospital, don’t expect a visit from me.” So imagine my surprise when I looked up that day to see him come in my room! Dagoberto had told him of his visit to me and how strong my faith was. I showed Rick my stack of cards and told him how excited I was to have received so many cards for people I didn’t even know. I shared with him about how, just before he came in, I had looked at myself in the mirror and, noticing how pale and wan I was, how my hair was falling out, looking thin and wiry, I had thought to myself, “Gosh, I look terrible.” Than, at about the same instant, I remember thinking, “But God thinks I’m beautiful.”

That night, and the Wednesday night summit, Rick shared with the congregation his visit with me. About how he had gone to see me to give me encouragement, but I had given him encouragement instead. He told them of my excitement about receiving so many cards. A few weeks later, Duane Jenks brought me the “unabridged” tape of that service.

One very important lesson I learned during my infirmity was God’s grace. He is so awesome! Now, understand, a lot of drugs were involved here, lots of pain management drugs. But two incidents stand out most in my mind. One night, when I was in so very much pain and it was too soon for another morphine injection, I prayed more fervently than I ever had. I told God that whatever He had planned for me, I was ready for. If it was His will that I die, than He could take me. All I wanted in return (don’t we all try to make “deals” with God?) was for Him to comfort my family and take care of them. It was after that that I started feeling better. It’s all about submission. Total submission

The Visitor

Another incident that happened shortly after that occurred during a night of particularly restless sleep. I awoke with my left hand up against the rail of my bed, palm partially open. It felt as if someone was holding my hand. I awoke thinking, “Is Tony crazy? What is he doing here this late? He has to get up early to go to work tomorrow.” But when I looked, no one was there. But I’m sure Someone was holding my hand. There were other times I felt Someone brushing my forehead with His Hand, caressing my cheek, straightening my covers, fluffing my pillow. I immediately guessed Who it was: my Savior was there with me throughout the whole ordeal.

Losing My Hair

It was so weird. When I had been diagnosed with breast cancer in 2000, I was so terrified of losing my hair. But since all I had to have was radiation therapy, no chemotherapy, that didn’t happen (except where the highest concentration of radiation occurred, under my left arm – oh darn the luck!). But when I lost my hair to the chemotherapy for the leukemia, it didn’t bother me at all. Except for the mess it made in the bed. When I finally got home, I had my next-door neighbor, Robin Gardner (who was a hairdresser) shave my head.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Yes, I did get to go home, after almost 30 continuous days in the hospital – February 18 to March 15. I was still very weak when I came home. I remember it so vividly. Mom & Dad were still here but weren’t at the hospital when Dr Singh released me. So they had no idea I was coming home until I walked in the door. My plan had been to just walk in and say, “I’m home.” But, when I started to say the words, I got so choked up that I could hardly get the words out. But they knew what I had said. I was so glad to be home. There were times at the hospital when I didn’t think I would ever get out alive. As a matter of fact, there was one time when Dr. Singh told my family that I was sicker than I should be, and he wasn't sure I would make it.

By the time I went home, my platelet count was up to a whopping 251,000/micro liter. Normal range is 140,000 to 450,000. So, I still had a long way to go.

Mom and Dad had to go back to Kingsland soon after I came home. They had doctor appointments they had to make also. I was, as I said, still extremely weak. As a matter of fact, after they left, I was too weak to fix myself anything to eat. And nothing tasted good anyway. My taste buds were so screwed up from the chemo. Everything tasted salty. I was thirsty, but water tasted like it came right out of the ocean. I tried flavored water, but it wasn’t great. As a matter of fact, the one thing I was able to hit on that tasted okay was cantaloupe. It was something you ate with a little salt, so that was good. Of course, I didn’t put salt on it because to me, it tasted salty already. But good grief! I got so sick of cantaloupe! I had it 5 or 6 times a day! I’m amazed I can eat it even now.

But with time, I finally got to where I could eat something else. Actually, it turned out I had a condition called Thrush, which was treatable with antibiotics.

The Wig

After a couple of weeks, I was actually able to get out some. My boss, Debbie Sullivan, came after me one day and took me wig shopping. We started at the American Cancer Society, where I had been told I could get a free wig. I found one that was sort of cute. Very mod for me. Then we went to another wig place in Bedford and I found the perfect wig for me there. It was synthetic, but looked like real hair. I loved the style and the color. So I bought it. Tony liked it a lot. He had never liked me with short hair, but he really liked this “do.”

First Date

So then, Tony took me on our first “date” after getting home. We went to a Randy Travis concert at our church. It was wonderful. I got pretty tired of sitting for that long, and during a brief intermission (actually, it was while one of our ministers was preaching to the gathering), I had to get up and walk around the atrium.

The last song Randy Travis sang was “Forever and Ever, Amen.” When he got to the part about hair turning gray, Tony leaned over to me and sang along, “and if it all fell out, I’d love you anyway.” Well, I just started bawling! I don’t mean loud wailing or anything, just the shoulder-shaking stuff.

A Setback

As time went by, I kept getting stronger. I had regular weekly visits to the doctor that soon stretched into every other week. I was winning!

Then on May 7, I had a severe setback. For several months before the leukemia diagnosis, I often would have severe chest pain during or after meals. I just thought it was certain foods not setting right and it was what you lived with as you got older. Since I had never really had heartburn, I didn’t think that was it, but just that reflux stuff people were always talking about. Well, on May 7, the pain was unbearable. Tony tried everything to give me relief. He finally called the doctor. Dr Singh was out of town, but his associate, Dr Turner, responded. He told Tony a couple of things to try, sent out some prescriptions, but nothing worked. I was in excruciating pain. Of course, by then I knew what it was. I had seen my Daddy in the same kind of pain right before he had his gall bladder surgery. Dr Turner had told Tony that if none of his suggestions worked, they should consider taking me to the hospital. So Tony asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go to the hospital. Of course, I knew that in doing so, I was sealing my fate: Natalie was to graduate from TCU on Saturday, May 8 at 2pm, and if I went to the hospital on Friday night, I was going to miss it. Anyway, Tony and Daddy took me to emergency at Harris HEB about 11pm. They immediately gave me an IV drip of Demerol, so the paid subsided after a while. (But that stupid nurse put the IV in my left wrist, right on the wrist bone! No one will EVER do that to me again!) They ran several tests, including an ultrasound. It was then that they discovered a gallstone the size of a golf ball. The gall bladder was going to have to come out. After nearly 3 hours, I told Tony and Daddy to go home. There was nothing else they could do for me. The hospital would eventually put me in a room, but we had no idea how long that would be, the Demerol was working it’s magic and I soon would be asleep anyway. Besides, Tony, Natalie and I were supposed to have gone to a reception for graduates and their families at 10am at TCU, and Tony needed to go. Of course, Natalie had no idea any of this had taken place.

So, they left, I went to sleep and later they came to get me and take me to a room on 2nd Floor Oncology.

Natalie’s Graduation, My Surgery

After getting about 2 hours of sleep, Tony went and picked up his sister, Leslie, and her significant other, David, at the hotel where they were staying and then they went and got Natalie and went to the reception. Natalie came up to the hospital around 11:30 to model her cap and gown for me. While she was there, my surgeon (Dr Pollard) came in with the news about my gall bladder. He told me it had to come out NOW, and that he had one gall bladder surgery scheduled for noon and he would get mine right after that, probably about 1pm. I told Natalie she was not to tell anyone about the surgery, because I wanted Tony and Mom and Dad to go to her graduation and not worry about me. But, as luck would have it, before Dr Pollard left, Mom, Dad, Leslie, Dave and Tony came in so they heard just enough to know what was going on. But, I insisted they go to graduation. There was nothing they could do at the hospital – I would go to surgery, then I’d go to recovery, then I come back to my room and sleep. I had had enough experience with the Oncology nurses to know I would be well taken care of.

So they all left, and about 20 minutes later, they came to take me to surgery. So, while my only child was receiving her diploma from college (Magna Cum Laude, at that), I was dead to the world in surgery having my gall bladder removed. It was a good thing, too. It turned out, the gall bladder was gangrenous and if it would have burst (which it was dangerously close to doing), in my weakened condition (brought on by the leukemia and chemo therapy), the poison that would have been released probably would have killed me. So, I dodged yet another bullet.

The sad part about it was that I had made Dr Singh plan my whole treatment regimen around this magical May 8 date so that I could go to Natalie’s graduation and I still didn’t get to go!

But, three weeks later, I was pronounced fit enough to take a trip. we had promised Natalie a trip to New York for her graduation present. I had already booked the flight before the gall bladder fiasco, so it was pretty much a done deal.

So, on the morning of May 31, Memorial Day, we left DFW for the Big Apple!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Once Dr. Singh became a citizen of the US, he was able to 'resurrect' his true name, Sandeep Gill.

** It turns out that after we called Natalie to tell her, she got on the Internet and notified everyone she had e-mail addresses for, and word spread from there.

MY RANTS

1. Gulf Oil Spill
There have been numerous countries with ships anchored at the outer edge of the spill, awaiting permission to assist in the clean up, but our brain-trust in the White House has refused to allow them to help out.

Meanwhile, Governor Bobby Jindal of Louisiana is banging his head against the wall, begging POTUS for help, begging POTUS to lift some of the bans that have been imposed in the clean up process, but POTUS either doesn’t care, doesn’t understand, or is just plain stupid (my vote) and won’t allow them to burn off the oil, use dispersing chemicals, or build berms (“It will endanger the environment.” What the hell do they think the oil is going to do to the environment?). If I were Jindal, I’d just do what needed to be done and tell The Anointed One and the EPA to kiss my ass.

The Anointed One has maintained that his administration has been on top of the oil spill since day one. Add poor memory to his deficiencies. On days one through three, he was on the golf course. He claims, however, that he and his people were meeting in the Oval Office to resolve the disaster. The problem with that is the oil is in the Gulf of Mexico, not the Oval Office, you dumbass.

Fishermen and shrimpers have volunteered to help distribute booms to slow down the flow of the oil toward land. But the Coast Guard insists on checking each boat to make sure there are the right number of life preservers and that they all meet Coast Guard standards. Are you kidding me? These guys make a living on the water. Does the CG actually think they don’t know how to protect themselves?

Then there is the Jones Act. This is a maritime law that was enacted in 1920. Its purpose was to protect the US Merchant Marine industry by requiring that all goods transported by water to US ports be carried in US flag ships, constructed in the US, owned by US citizens, and crewed by US citizens and US permanent residents. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff temporarily waived the US Shipping Act from September 1 to September 19 for foreign vessels carrying oil and natural gas. This act needs to be waived again, but the moron in the White House either doesn’t know he can waive the act, doesn’t know about the act, doesn’t care about cleaning up the Gulf, or is just plain stupid (gets my vote again).

Stupid is as stupid does, right Forest? Well, now Stupid has summoned BP executives to the White House, ostensibly to tell them how to run their business (guffaw, guffaw!). I’m probably the only person who sees the stupidity in this meeting. When this first happened, BP took ownership of the situation, vowing to be responsible for capping the leak, cleaning up the oil, paying for clean up on the affected land, and reparations to people who make a living in and on the Gulf (fishermen, shrimpers, tourism, etc.). So yesterday, Obama decides to flex his ‘muscle’ and TELLS BP that they must accept responsibility, cap the leak, clean up the oil, pay for clean up of the affected land and pay reparations to people who make a living in and on the Gulf (fishermen, shrimpers, tourism, etc.). Duh! Thing is, six weeks ago when this happened, Obama was busy golfing, shooting hoops in the White House for photo ops, going to fund-raisers for other Democrats, and various other mindless activities, completely ignoring what was happening in the Gulf (although later he claimed that he and his peeps were on top of things “from day one.” Guffaw, guffaw!) And he wants BP to put up $20 billion in escrow for these pay-outs, but wants an independent “pay-czar” to be responsible for the actual payout of the funds – otherwise, another czar. What a joke. I’m sure the executives of BP went back to their hotel rooms laughing their asses off at the moron we have for a President. What an idiot! Who picks out this guy’s socks in the mornings?

And now this moron wants to impose a moratorium on off-shore drilling. This is the most incredibly stupid idea yet. This fool must take industrial-strength stupid pills and have them delivered in 55-gallon drums. A moratorium on off-shore drilling would cripple the economy of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Texas, especially Louisiana and Texas. There would be hundreds of thousands of people out of work in those states. I can’t help but wonder if POTUS expects BP to pay for the loss of income to all these hundreds of thousands of people that POTUS puts out of work because of this insanity?

I’m thinking his plan is to rethink his moratorium in a couple months, then brag on the number of jobs he ‘saved.’

2. BP
Boycott of BP stations benefits no one. BP doesn’t own that many stations. Most are owned by individuals. Boycotting only hurts our own economy.

There is doubt about the responsibility of BP, but I believe they are doing the best they can in a very difficult situation. First of all, no one has ever dealt with anything of this magnitude. Drilling at those depths is not that common. Additionally, BP is drilling at those depths because our government, after pressure from the EPA, mandated drilling that far out.

There were complaints that BP was taking too long to pay out reparations to people who suffered losses, either business or personal, as a result of the spill. Perhaps BP saw what happened in the aftermath of Katrina – all the false claims, etc – and decided to be a little more prudent in the distribution of funds.

3. Extension of unemployment benefits.
POTUS has, in his infinite wisdom, extended unemployment benefits through the end of the year (for the second year in a row), thus extending unemployment benefits indefinitely. In his convoluted thinking, this will “stimulate the economy.” Now, let’s think about that: by extending these benefits, he virtually removes any incentive for people to look for a job; after getting their benefits, these people will go down to Wal-Mart, purchase produce from Mexico, toys from China, electronics from Japan, and clothing from Malaysia and Sri Lanka. Wal-Mart will not hire any additional employees, but will, instead, purchase more merchandise from Mexico, China, Japan, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, etc., thus stimulating THEIR economy. So, how does this help us???

4. Barack Obama, aka The Anointed One, aka “Barry,” aka The Messiah, aka King Barack Hussein Obama, aka The Savior, and on and on ad nauseam
This jackass is single-handedly going to bring down the US to the point it will be a few-thousand steps below a third-world country.
• He has apologized to virtually every enemy we have, apologizing for our arrogance. (Really, how “arrogant” of us to bail out every country on the globe when they’ve had famine, tsunamis, droughts, pestilence, wars, etc.! We’ve got a lot of damned nerve!) He bows to the leader of Communist China (not the traditional nod to acknowledge the office of the dictator, but a full fledged 90o-angle-looking-at-my-shoes bow; he made a similar bow to Queen Elizabeth and his stupid wife, Michelle, hugged the Queen! Who in hell is in charge of protocol? These morons from Bum-f—k Illinois haven’t the foggiest idea about foreign protocol and proper etiquette.
• He has repeatedly told the world that we are not a Christian nation. (He’s made it abundantly clear that he is not a Christian. For one thing, he attended a church in Chicago for 20 years, whose pastor was a bigger racist than the highest grand poo-bah of the Ku Klux Klan; this maggot constantly espoused “God Damn America!”, beseeching God to damn America. For another, he’s never selected a church since he’s been in office. During George W. Bush’s administrations, he could be seen leaving church every Sunday that he was in DC. Obama can be seen either on a golf course, coming out of some fast-food joint, some donut shop, or at some breakfast which is being held to raise money for some Democrat running for office.)
• He’s been on the campaign trail for 12 years. I guess he might as well do that since that’s all he knows how to do.
• This moron has never held a job in his life, has never had to make a payroll, has never flipped burgers, has never so much as operated a lemonade stand, yet he has the audacity to believe he can run this nation. What hubris!
• Supposedly he went to Harvard and was editor of the Harvard Law Review. Has anyone seen a copy of the law review he edited that bears his name as editor? Has anyone seen his transcript from Harvard? Does anyone know where he got to money to go to Harvard? Has anyone seen his birth certificate that proves he was born in Hawaii rather than Jakarta, Indonesia? No, no, no, no, and no. (“As president of the Harvard Law Review and a law professor in Chicago, Senator Barack Obama refined his legal thinking, but left a scant paper trail. His name doesn't appear on any legal scholarship.”-- www.politico.com Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Sounds a little suspicious doesn’t it?)
• One wonders how this idiot even got into Harvard. During his campaign, he didn’t even know how many states there were (he alluded to visiting all 57 states); as mentioned earlier, he has no clue about foreign protocol and/or etiquette as it pertains to foreign dignitaries; as evidenced by his constant use of teleprompters for virtually every single speech he gives, his communication skills are pathetic – without the teleprompters, his speeches are punctuated with “uh, er, um, and, ah,” and when he doesn’t know what to say or how to answer, he changes the subject. He’s an expert in that little “side-step” dance popularized in the musical, “Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.”
• Tennessee was nearly wiped out with flooding this spring, shutting down Nashville. The Ryman Auditorium was flooded, the Gaylord Hotel was evacuated due to flooding and will be closed until December, yet there wasn’t even a blip on Obama’s radar about it. He never once mentioned the fact that there was devastation in Tennessee. To my knowledge, he never sent FEMA to see what needed to be done. But, the good folks of Tennessee (they are the Volunteer State after all), took care of their own. Country music performers and NASCAR drivers lent a hand and raised several hundred-thousand dollars to help those who lost everything. Neighbor helped neighbor in the clean up and there was virtually no looting! And no one lined up at some sports arena waiting for the federal government to come save them either.

5. Racism
In today’s world, if you disagree with POTUS, you’re a racist. Doesn’t matter what he says or does, if you disagree, you’re a racist. Actually, if you disagree with ANY black person, you’re racist.

In my mind, the most racist people around are people like Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, Bob Ray Sanders – basically black people who have an agenda – that agenda being BLACK POWER – total control of everything – getting rid of “Whitey.”

Yet a current rant from a Black Panther, standing outside of a voting place with baton/baseball bat in hand, of all things, is ignored by the drive-by media. And charges of violation of polling place were dismissed. Dismissed, mind you, even though it is illegal to stand within a set number of feet from a polling place. These guys were clearly inside that perimeter, and even yelled that they hated all White people, they wanted to kill Whitey, kill the crackers, kill cracker babies, and this is OK? Excuse me? If I were to stand on a street corner, forget about outside a predominately Black polling place, yelling I hated Niggers and wanted to kill all Nigger babies, they wouldn’t have time to arrest me – I’d be dead inside of 20 seconds. If I were lucky enough to be arrested, I’d be locked away forever – they wouldn’t even release me when I died! Give me a frigging break!

6. Border security - Illegal immigrants – Arizona
Arizona’s Governor Jan Brewer signed into a law a bill making it against Arizona law for anyone to cross into Arizona illegally. That is, anyone immigrating from, say Mexico, had to go through legal channels. The liberals are going nuts. They seem to have visions of roadblocks and cops walking the streets demanding “papers.” Apparently, they think this is all law enforcement officers in Arizona have to do. It also more than apparent that these liberals have never been to Arizona, where better than 90% of law enforcement officers are Hispanic. It’s not like the Klan or the Skinheads are running law enforcement in Arizona. Additionally, Obama and his regime are concerned that the Constitutional rights of citizens are being violated. Okay, since when did Obama become concerned about the Constitutional rights of anyone, and since when are non-citizens covered by our Constitution? The “lame-stream” media (Sarah Palin’s term) decries that the law will make it “illegal for illegal immigrants to be in this country.” Huh?

The failure of most people to research issues such as this results in a reliance on hear-say, which often is alarmist at best. They end up with visions of Wausau (Poland), with blond-haired, blue-eyed Gestapo rounding up every brown-skinned resident, lining them up and demanding to see their papers. It’s been my observation that law enforcement officers in Arizona aren’t exactly the Aryan Brotherhood. Most of them are “brown-skinned” also.

“This is not an assimilation, it’s an invasion.” – Jim Price, Sr, AZ resident and Mexican-American.
Obama and his administration has sent a message that they care more about political correctness and racial profiling than they do about securing our borders and protecting us.

7. “Just Not Me/Here” – aka NIMBY (“Not In My Back Yard”)
Everybody today wants cleaner energy, dependence from foreign oil. Many want to eliminate the use of oil all together. Just as long as any of this doesn’t have any affect on them directly.

Clean Energy Scenario #1:
“There is a gargantuan pocket of natural gas in this area. We’ll pay you $15k per acre for the right to drill beneath your property, from a distance of course, and then pay you 15% of all proceeds from the gas extracted.”

“Where do I sign!?”

Two years later, after reading numerous complaints from other neighborhoods about the noise the trucks make, the traffic, the drilling noise (which lasts about 2 weeks), our homeowner is having second thoughts. He’s already accepted the $15k per acre and spent it, but when the letter comes inviting him to a public hearing because they’re going to start drilling within the next 30 days…………….

“We’re not going to stand for this! You have no right to drill in our back yards!" (Really? What about that lease you signed and the money you were paid? Are you going to give it back?) " Go do your drilling somewhere else!”

Clean Energy Scenario #2:
Homeowner decides to save money and the environment by installing solar panels on his roof. The technology allows him to heat water and generate electricity through the use of these panels. He installs them on the West side of his house, away from view from the front of the house.

Neighbors directly behind him and on either side of him complain to the homeowner’s association that said panels are “unsightly.” Homeowner, thus, is forced to remove panels. Yet, these same complainants’ will complain to their neighbors, each other, co-workers, anyone who will listen, about the high cost of electricity and the need to find a cleaner, greener, less expensive energy source.

Clean Energy Scenario #3:
This is probably the most ridiculous of all. T. Boone Pickens and many other entrepreneurs have build giant windmill farms all over the country, using wind power to generate electricity. Now, PETA has decided that these must come down because they are dangerous to birds – there is a danger that birds will fly into them. Well, here’s the thing: “back in the day,” before many farms had electricity, they used windmills to generate the power to pump water up from the ground to the surface so that crops could be watered, livestock could be watered, and families could cook, bathe, and generally survive. There has never been a case of a bird flying into one of those windmills. Basically, birds aren’t as stupid as PETA.

Other environmentalists argue that these windmill farms will alter the flight path of many migrating birds. So? How is that a problem? No, seriously?

8. Sarah Palin
Sarah Palin was attacked on Facebook for a law she signed during her administration as Governor of Alaska; a law enacted by the Alaska State Legislature, that basically established a “bounty” on wolves, supposedly offering a $150 bounty on the leg of a wolf. I remember when this happened, way before I had ever heard of Sarah Palin. At the time, I could not have told you who the Governor of Alaska was, and certainly didn’t know the Governor was a woman. The facts of the matter are that the wolf population in parts of Alaska at the time was so prolific that they were starving. These wolves were decimating the caribou and moose population, which created a hardship on the native Inuits and other Alaskans who depended on the moose and caribou for food. The Legislature, then, decided it was in the best interest of the citizens of Alaska to ‘thin’ the wolf population. They did pretty much the same thing in Minnesota at about the same time, except it was deer. No one seems to think that was a problem. Oh wait! I remember now - the Governor of Minnesota at the time was Jesse Ventura, a liberal Democrat!

I like Sarah Palin, but I’m just not sure I want her for my President. She accomplished a great deal of positive things for Alaska as their governor. She even created such a deficit that, not only did Alaskans not have a state income tax, these people got money back at the end of the year for money Alaska made on its natural resources.

Some of the large oil companies, like Exxon and Texaco, had leases with intent to drill on land in Alaska. She gave them a deadline: drill or release the leases. They countered that they would just take their business elsewhere (that is, leave Alaska). She responded, “Need help finding your way out?”

9. Kagan
This woman will be the worst thing that can happen to the Supreme Court. She has zero experience as a judge, not that that is absolutely necessary, but she hasn’t even tried a case all to way to a decision. She’s anti-marriage, she’s pro-abortion, anti-gun and a dike. Oh, and let’s not forget stupid. She’s incapable of answering a question. During questioning, she never answered a single question; she made irrelevant statements instead. She’s almost a Bill Clinton clone: “That depends on your definition of ‘is.’” Throw her back. Surely, there’s someone more qualified.

10. Barbara Boxer’s arrogance
During a Senate hearing on June 18, 2009, Barbara Boxer was addressed by a Brigadier General as "Ma'am", and she CORRECTED him, telling him she's "worked SO hard to earn the title, ‘Senator’, so please to use that when speaking to her.

Well, a pilot for Alaska Airlines agrees with her. He writes: “You were so ‘right on’ when you scolded the general on TV for using the term, "ma'am," instead of "Senator". After all, in the military, "ma'am" is a term of respect when addressing a female of superior rank or position. The general was totally wrong. You are not a person of superior rank or position. You are a member of one of the world's most corrupt organizations, the U.S. Senate, equaled only by the US House of Representatives.

Congress is a cesspool of liars, thieves, inside traders, traitors, drunks (one who killed a staffer, yet is still revered), criminals, and other low life swine who, as individuals (not all, but many), will do anything to enhance their lives, fortunes and power, all at the expense of the People of the United States and its Constitution, in order to be continually re-elected. Many democrats even want American troops killed by releasing photographs. How many of you could honestly say, "We pledge our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor"? One? Two? None?

Your reaction to the general shows several things. First is your abysmal ignorance of all things military. Your treatment of the general shows you to be an "elitist" of the worst kind. When the general entered the military (as most of us who served) he wrote the government a blank check, offering his life to protect your derriere, now safely and comfortably ensconced in a 20 thousand dollar leather chair, paid for by the general's taxes. You repaid him for this by showing your disdain toward him in front of millions. The shame is yours...not his!

Second is your puerile character, lack of sophistication, and arrogance, which borders on the hubristic. This display of brattish behavior shows you to be a virago, termagant, harridan, nag, scold or shrew, unfit for your position, regardless of the support of the unwashed, uneducated masses who have made California into the laughing stock of the nation.

What I am writing, are the same thoughts countless millions of Americans have toward Congress, but who lack the energy, ability or time to convey them. Regardless of their thoughts, most realize that politicians are pretty much the same, and will vote for the one who will bring home the most bacon, even if they do consider how corrupt that person is. Lord Acton (1834 - 1902) so aptly charged, "Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Unbeknownst to you and your colleagues, "Mr. Power" has had his way with all of you, and we are all the worse for it.

Finally Senator, I, too, have a title. It is "Right Wing Extremist Potential Terrorist Threat." It is not of my choosing, but was given to me by your Secretary of Homeland Security, Janet Napolitano. And you were offended by "ma'am"?”

Wonder what he really thinks?

HEAVEN'S KITCHEN

I had a dream the other night - about my Aunt Alice. In my dream, I had gone by her house one last time. I knocked, opened the door and went on in. The house was clean, carpets newly shampooed, walls freshly painted. Her old couch and chair were against the wall where they had been the last time I had gone by, when Sandra and Kim were cleaning out the house. Pat and Ruth were there, visiting with Kim and Sandra. Alice was in the kitchen, where she always was, doing what she usually did - cleaning. I went over to the sink and started washing dishes. I called out to Ruth to come help, so we could wash dishes together at Alice's house, one last time. But Ruth and Pat had gone up to the Church. So, I drove Alice up to the Church so she could visit with her friends at the Pantry, one last time. She was inside for just a short while. When she got back into the car, she said, "It's time to go Home." I didn't want her to go. I wasn't ready. But she was.

A few days later, as I contemplated that dream, I thought about Heaven. Alice is now with her two sisters, Rosa and Frances, and with her parents, Frank and Annie. I chuckled softly as I pictured the scene: It was a huge kitchen, not state-of-the art, but a rustic kitchen with a 4-burner gas stove, the sink from Grandma's house and a large kitchen table. Grandma and Aunt Freddie were making dumplings, Aunt Laney was making tamales, Rosa was shelling peas, Frances was making pies, and Alice was supervising. Grandpa was outside with his cows, making sure they had enough lush, green grass and just enjoying the pastoral scene.

We all have different expectations of Heaven. I'm inclined to believe that Heaven is a representation of what makes us happiest on Earth. For Alice and her sisters, they always seemed happiest in the kitchen, no doubt a characteristic handed down through the generations of women in the family. In the Bible, the role of women was mostly that of nurturers, nourishing the body and the soul. So it's fitting, somehow, that Alice, her sisters, mother and aunts were always providing nourishment for family and friends. In Alice's case, she provided nourishment of the spirit for an untold number of people, myself included.

I miss my Aunt Alice - she was my 'Deborah,' my Counselor. I miss my Aunt Rosa. She could always make me laugh because she laughed a lot and her laugh was infectious. I miss my Aunt Frances. She was the source of all the news from and about the family. If it happened to one of our relatives, no matter how distant, she knew about it. I miss all of them. More than words can say. But the thought that they are with each other makes it seem almost selfish of me that I wish I could have kept them here longer. But, it never would have been long enough.