260627 I hope I never experience anything like what I did in the early days of this month.

This post is true and as best as I can remember.

I’m lucky to be alive today. I was near death for 9 days earlier this month.

My recent hospital time was brutal. I was near death when I got to the emergency area. I don’t know why they call it an emergency entrance, because it’s anything but that. It should be called hospital check in because they take your name and tell you to take a seat. They don’t ask what your problem is. The area is huge with perhaps 80+ seats to suffer in until your name is called to begin your journey into seeing a doctor. I got to the first level of check-in and passed out from lack of blood. That got me to the actual emergency area where there were doctors and nurses.

The doctors were hanging bags of “O-” blood and emptying it into my arm. They were panicked because I was losing blood faster than they could push new blood into my arm.

I was in a bed and I was filling up bedpans as fast as nurses could change them. At the same time I was drinking “go juice” by the gallon so the doctors could look down through my throat and up my colon. By the time they were figuring out what to do I had drunk 5 gallons of that “go Juice.”

I never got more than or even up to 2 hours of sleep at any one time. They were constantly poking my fingers to check blood sugar I think it was. That ran about once every hour.

All night long after I could finally get up and out of bed, I was up, dragging along the rolling tree of monitors into the bathroom. The “go juice” was doing its job, but they couldn’t do anything until my stool was as clear as water from a tap.

On the 8th day of tests and whatever, they took me to a room with very bright lights overhead. They were running scans and observing them. They found my artery from my heart that runs down through the lower extremities had opened and my blood was pumping into my guts. The doctors running the scans somehow put what they call clamps in the defective area and so far the clamps are okay. I can see a very small scar where the clamps were placed, but I have no idea of what they look like.

On the 9th day I was released and came home. Since then it’s been a roller coaster. Some days I was feeling fine and walked a lot, but lately I only got to the dumpster and my mailbox. That’s all I can do. I get along fine in my apartment.

One last thing, during the hospital days with people waking me up every hour or two, I have brought that home with me. I rarely sleep more than 2 or sometimes 1 hour without waking up. On a rare occasion I slept for a few hours when I was not feeling good.

There’s an old saying, “life is hell and then you die.” Some people have changed it to “life’s a bitch and then you die.”

I keep thinking I’m going to be 81 in another month and I’m still here and standing. I’m trying to figure out if God is keeping me alive for some purpose; then again He may just be punishing me for my many sins. I can go either way on that.

Brother Bill

260626 A few pictures

This picture is my living room with it's gaudy rug. I love it, but it may not be what most people would like.

This is my desk. Above it is a painting Joyce created for my birthday back in 1974. Above that is Joyce's high school graduation photograph.

3 cheers for the red, white and blue!

This picture is Grandma Mickey's radio. Her home radio quit working so I went to Radio Shack and bought her this radio way back in the ninteen nineties. It still works well!

The flowers are Queen Ann's Lace, one of the few flowers I remember its name.

These are corn stalks, but they don't produce any corn to eat. They are over 6 feet tall.

This is a flight crew picture taken on Guam in 1965. I am in the back row second from left.

This is a larger picture of Joyce from her high school graduation.
She is and was the only woman I ever wanted to love.

260625 The Final Voyage

This story is an old one I wrote decades ago, but I shortened it and hopefully made it a better story.

The Final Voyage

The farm was all I ever knew, except for a hitch in the navy and two failed attempts at a business of my own. When I got too old to pull my weight on the farm, the kids decided I needed to go into an old folk’s home nearby. They needed space for a hired hand that could do more work than I could. I lost my room in the house and a young man from down the road took over my room and my chores.

I tried the retirement home for a month, but could not stand being cooped up with all those old people just sitting there waiting to die. By gosh I had a few more things to do before I lay down for the last time. One night as the last visitors were leaving and the nurse’s aides were busy putting all the old people to bed, I joined ranks with the visitors and walked right out the door. The girl in the office was busy filling out the daily reports so she never looked up.

The night air was cool and refreshing as I walked back toward the farm. Lucky for me, I was smart enough to keep the spare key to my old truck in my pocket when they put me in the home. I was building up a sweat as I climbed the last hill up to the farm, despite the cool night air. It was after midnight when I arrived and the lights were out in the house. The kids, grandkids and hired hand were all asleep. Seeing the old house again made a tad of water run from my eyes. The little old truck was parked out by the barn and was none the worse for the time I was away. The kids had a newer, bigger truck so it had probably not been used since I left. I slipped the gear shift into neutral and began to slowly push the truck out to the road. I could not risk starting it and driving by the house. The little truck was very lightweight and was fairly easy to push out to the road, once there; I pointed her down the hill and coasted to the bottom before firing the old girl up. Lights on and I was headed west out of the county.

My lighter sparked and I took a full puff off my first cigarette since being locked up; I mean being put into the home. The glove box had several packs inside as I was the only one who smoked and the kids did not want me smoking around the grand kid. The thought process kicked up a notch and I began to imagine tomorrow morning’s scenario. The nurse’s aides would find my bed empty. They would do a search of the home and grounds and when they were absolutely sure I was missing, they would try to figure out what to say when they notified the kids. Once the kids were aware, they would look around the farm to see if I was there. When they found the truck missing, they would begin to wonder if I had retrieved it or if someone had stolen it. That would not take too long before they would realize no one would steal a beat up 30 year old truck. They would then call the sheriff and ask him what he could do. They would explain that I was old and perhaps not able to take care of myself, trying to get the sheriff involved and of course the truck might still be considered stolen. That being the case, I was heading out west on the old highways, thinking the interstate would be the place any patrol car would be looking. I was in no hurry, no time schedule, just heading west and looking to enjoy the scenery on the back roads of Missouri and Kansas.

The old truck started bucking and losing power just shy of Wichita, Kansas. The morning sun had not looked so good to me in a long time. I pulled the old truck to the side of the road when the engine completely died. There I was with just a few dollars in my pocket and nowhere particular to go. Another smoke and a few moments to think brought me a few ideas to mull over. Morning commuters began passing by, so I stuck my thumb out and caught a ride into Wichita. My benefactor said his name was Charlie and he worked at a truck stop over on the interstate at the edge of town. We pulled into the Petro stop and Charlie offered to get me breakfast in the kitchen. His girlfriend worked there so it was free to Charlie and me. We ate some delicious eggs, bacon and biscuits. His girlfriend Nancy was the morning chef and that girl could cook a wonderful breakfast. I thanked them for their kindness and said I was going out on the lot to hitch a ride. Charlie asked what I was going to do about my truck. I reached into my pocket and tossed him the key. Out on the lot I went from truck to truck asking for a lift. The third driver asked where I was going. I replied “West.” He said he was headed into Denver and I said that would be great. Ron was his name and Ron was a victim of too many big meals in truck stops, but he was a nice guy. We rolled along listening to country music and the occasional breaker over his old CB radio. Interstate 70 through Kansas seems to go on forever without change, but Ron was a funny guy, so time passed with enjoyment as Ron spoke about his wife, his girlfriend.

The next morning Ron was up early and ready to go. He was anxious to see his girlfriend in Denver. I would have liked a few cups of coffee, but Ron popped a top on a beer for breakfast and said, “Let’s go!” He grabbed six more on the way out the door and he fired up the big diesel in his truck. I climbed aboard and Ron wound up the truck heading down the Interstate. Ron’s excitement grew with each slug of beer and the speed of the truck kept climbing the closer we got to Denver. We were 20 miles shy of Denver when the flashing red and blue lights appeared behind us. Ron pulled over to the side of the highway and soon thereafter this tall, lean ex-Marine looking state trooper motioned Ron out of the truck. It was a dead giveaway when he tripped climbing down the side of the semi and knocked the trooper to the ground with him. The trooper barked out, “I am arresting you on suspicion of driving under the influence.” Ron was handcuffed in the back seat of the patrol car and I was given the option of calling someone to come and get me or ride downtown with them to headquarters. Since I did not have a cell phone or anyone to call I took the ride, thinking I could hitch a ride out of Denver.

I caught another ride with a trucker headed to San Francisco. John was a churchy type, making the run a long one. I listened for as long as I could before starting to question just how illogical the biblical stories were that he related to me. An hour later, he pulled over on the side of the road at the edge of Reno Nevada. John reached over, opened the door, shoved me out and actually showed me the single digit salute as he yelled, “go to hell you demonic bastard!” Maybe John didn’t read the parts of the book that speak of love thy neighbor.

I walked over to a casino and started looking for buses returning west from the casino and found one headed back to Sacramento. The passengers started lining up to board so I got in line with them. An old lady ahead of me stopped to bend the driver’s ear and some stoner behind me passed by and boarded with me following close behind him. The bus driver was busy trying to be polite so we wandered right on by and sat in the back of the bus. The stoner said his name was Daryl and proceeded to tell me stories that even I could not believe. Daryl (at least in his mind) thought he was the Charlie Harper character on the Two and a Half Men TV show. I thought I even remembered one or two episodes. We were nearing Sacramento when I saw a Roseville sign on I-80; Daryl said he needed to light up a fat boy and then proceeded to do so. Soon after, smoke rolled out and another old woman walked up to speak with the driver. The driver pulled into a truck stop and then came walking to the back of the bus. His intention was to remove Daryl from the bus and when he did so, he realized I was not supposed to be there so he removed me along with Daryl. There I was again, on foot with dwindling resources. What was I to do?

Stuck somewhere near Roseville, I weighed my options and tried to formulate a plan. Soon I was on a mission to catch a ride down to San Diego where my old buddy Kelvin lived. San Diego held a lot of fine memories from as far back as my navy days and I was beginning to think I needed to be around someone who was still sane and sober, but I had to get there first. Those old cowboys driving over the road can be taxing on an old man’s nerves despite how much fun they were.

I was at the coffee counter at a truck stop when the man ahead of me was paying for his coffee and he mentioned to the clerk (whom he seemed to know) that he was heading down to Mexico to deliver a package. I asked him if I could hitch a ride as far as San Diego and he said, “Sure old dude, a little company would be fine.” We walked outside and there I was looking at a late sixties Shelby Cobra. “Nice car,” I said. “It’s not mine,” he replied, “I’m just delivering it to a customer.” Now had I known how rare the car was and how valuable it was I would have been even more impressed than I was, but I was just thinking about how lucky I was to have a ride in something other than a tractor dragging a big old trailer. We rolled out onto I-80 and were soon whistling down the freeway, heading south. We seemed to be passing a lot of cars, but I couldn’t see the speedometer, so I had no idea of what our speed actually was. We breezed through Sacramento and caught the 5 south toward Los Angeles. My driver, Hal, seemed cool and collected, so when he suggested I reach into the cooler and grab us a beer, I thought what the hell it was an open freeway and I wasn’t driving, he was. The beer was Budweiser, not my brand, not my choice, but it was free and I always did have a difficult time refusing a free beer.

We had a few beers along the way, making a pit stop an imperative. We pulled off the highway at a rest stop about 3 miles from Buttonwillow California. We were out of beer and Hal tried to purchase a little something else from two bikers who were also resting there. I was standing by the car, keys in hand and I don’t know what happened there, but fists flew and Hal was running for the car. I jumped in and fired that thing up. Hal jumped in and I popped the clutch, smoking the tires all the way down the onramp. That Cobra was busting 120 mph long before those bikers could make their way back to their bikes. I pulled off at the next ramp so Hal could get behind the wheel. Hal opened it up and within an hour we were starting to hit traffic just north of L.A. before Hal let off the gas and pulled off the freeway to fill the gas tank.

We picked up a 12-pack and some ice at the quick stop and headed on into L.A. Hal got up to cruising and we popped the tops off two fresh beers. We stopped and started a few times crossing the crowded L.A. freeway and we were just south when a highway patrol car started tailing us. Hal got real quiet as he started studying the traffic. The patrol car flipped on his lights and Hal pushed the foot feed to the floor. “What the hell!” I yelled as the Cobra roared to life again. “What are you doing Hal?” “The car is hot,” he said. “I know it's fast, but why try to outrun a highway patrol?” I asked. “It’s stolen,” Hal replied. “Oh shit, why didn’t you tell me that in Roseville?” “Why would I take that chance?” He answered. “I told you it wasn’t mine,” he said. “Yeah,” I said, “But I never thought you meant it was stolen.” “I didn’t lie to you,” Hal responded, “Did you think I would offer you that kind of information?” We were having our little conversation as Hal wove through traffic at well over a hundred miles per hour. I decided to shut up and not distract him while I tried to figure out what I was going to say when the patrol finally stopped us. I had planned to have Hal drop me off at San Clemente so I could hitch a ride over to Murrieta to visit with my buddy Kelvin, but Hal was in no mood to stop. He finally blew a tire near Escondido, sending us into a ditch.

I woke up in an Escondido California hospital, battered and bruised. I pressed the call button and a nurse showed up a minute or so later, with a policeman right behind her. She asked me what my name was while the cop stood by with a pen and notebook at the ready. I didn’t have any identification when I left the old folks home, so they didn’t know who I was. I told them my name was Bill Weber, (hoping there was no missing person data out there) and said I was homeless, just hitching a ride when all this started up near Roseville. She asked if I knew anyone in the local area. I gave them Kelvin’s name and said he lived in Murrieta. She and the cop left the room.

They ran a full body scan on me to make sure there were no internal injuries. I was rolled back to my room and the cop and the nurse came in shortly after that. The nurse who had contacted Kelvin said she said I could be released in 24 hours. The cop said that Hal had been a stand up guy and admitted that I was just a hitchhiker he had picked up to keep him company. That was a big surprise to me, but Hal did seem like an ok guy.

Kelvin arrived that evening. We had not seen each other in 18 years. He brought a bottle of tequila with him. I rang for the night nurse and she brought us a cup of ice water. She left, Kelvin poured out the water and we sipped tequila and shot the bull until visiting hours were over.

Hello, my name is Kelvin; I found these story notes written on a tablet Bill had with him. The nurse said his heart had stopped in the middle of the night and the staff could not revive him. I typed his notes and am sending them to his contacts and posting the story. His body will be sent back to the farm for burial, where he will rest in peace.

Brother Bill

260625 Ghosts of the Future

This post is not something I have dreamt up to frighten you. It is what I experienced many years ago when visiting an old WW2 hero.

Think about this piece of reality.

Ghosts of the Future

I was in St. Louis years ago, and while there, went to the old folks home. It is an experience. If you have never been in one, you have quite an eye opener ahead of you. The sight of all of these once vibrant people now in states of physical and mental breakdown is chilling!

You may remember the scene in the movie or the book ‘A Christmas Carol’ where the ghost of Christmas future visits Mr.Scrooge. In it he is terrified by the prospect of what he sees and asks, “is this the things that will be or is it just the things that may be?” When I was there at the home, I, like Mr.Scrooge, am asking, “are these the things that will be or is it just the things that may be?”

I suppose that if I am lucky, I will be walking out to pull a weed, or better, returning with a freshly picked flower for my love when I fall over dead as a stone. In my current state, I’m hoping for the end, whenever it may be, to come swiftly and without a lot of pain. As I sit here I dread the thought of just hanging on in a purgatory of endless years with a decaying body and a mind that suffers from Dementia.

The scene at the home is, to me, remotely similar to an artists’ rendition of Dante’s Inferno, with the suffering souls thrashing about. The home and staff are just fine, no complaints there at all. The suffering is in the minds of the residents.

We are born helpless, we are cared for and we grow. On the other end of the line all that we have accomplished and grown into, slowly diminishes and we return to the helpless state and eventually to the state of non-being on this plane. That is the plan and there are no changing seats.

This below is what I saw in the home.
One of the ladies there still carries her purse as though she is going somewhere and eventually sits down and has this blank look on her face like she just doesn’t know what is going on at all. Another stands from her wheelchair and sets off an automatic alarm that brings the staff to reseat her. From the look on her face, she never figures out what is happening. Another woman just sits there in a dream-like state singing a little song and moving her arms about as though she was providing a perch for butterflies or a bird to land on. One resident barked orders non-stop. He went on and on for an hour and a half. He was in his mind still in world war two commanding a group of soldiers.

Not being a trained professional, but rather an observer, I think all of the activities reflect what was locked in their past, but now is being re-lived in a state of semi-delirious living. There are many retired Nuns there. They are the calmest of all. I’m guessing the deep and abiding faith through the years is still working today. They are impeccably dressed in their robes and habits.

There is another wing of the facility where the residents are in a lock-up situation. I assume this prevents those with a penchant for wandering away from completing their goal. For all I know they may have violent tendencies that preclude them from sharing the facility with the other residents. The staff are under paid and over worked but all seem kind and caring in every situation. The home is really a good place. The problem is the requirements for being a resident are a loss of physical and/or mental function. The scary part is we are all headed in that direction. In some respects we all have the beginnings of mental problems. We all do abnormal things.

So before you get depressed, think for a moment. What we are today is the determining factor in what you will be tomorrow. At some point, when the conscious thought processes disappear, what we have left are the deep sub-conscious thoughts we have held and nurtured for some or most of our lifetime.

So plan your trip today. Think nice thoughts and enjoy yourself. Calm down and give yourself a memory of a friend or love to carry you through the scary times ahead. And when you get there don’t worry, I’ll have already been there and I’ll leave a light on for you.

260623 Rooster

Learning to be a farmer.

Tending a farm while working in town was a lot of work.

‘That Darn Rooster.’ We moved to the country.
Thought we’d rise at 8, to get some good work in.
He started to crow at 6, that darn Rooster.

We planted some flowers.
I thought the loosened dirt was nice to put bulbs in.
He thought it was a playground, that darn Rooster.

We weeded the garden.
I thought a nice fenced yard would keep him in.
He flew out of the top, that darn Rooster.

We tended the flowers.
Thought a Rooster coup would keep him in.
He was hiding by time to roost that darn Rooster.

We discovered a monster.
The hens were kept for the reason they were brought in.
He tore out their neck feathers and ran their legs thin, that darn Rooster.

We had to do something.
He sullenly stared, as we walked by the pen.
He launched his attack after we passed that darn Rooster.

We wondered how to confine him.
A nice soup pot would do, she said with a grin.
He turned out to be quite tasty to me, that darn Rooster.

Brother Bill

260622 The road less traveled

I never want to be on that road again.

Sometimes you're lucky, sometimes you're not. This was an unlucky event.

I knew it was a mistake as soon as I did it. As I turned and started down the narrow road my stomach tightened and the pain in my head told me my blood pressure was increasing. I didn’t want to go this way but I was betting this road would merge onto the main highway before I ran out of gas. I should have gassed up earlier. My fears were soon realized when I heard the bang and then felt the wheel shuddering as the tire went flat.

That’s just what I need, a flat tire. Well I’d best get this thing changed and be on my way before the sun goes down. Where’s that trunk key? What else can go wrong?

I grabbed my giant screwdriver and popped the trunk. Oh no! The spare was missing. The sweat rolls down my back. My crusty vocal chords can’t even growl an obscenity. Quivering, my legs won’t push this old heap to the side of the road. What am I going to do now? What else can happen today?

I wondered how much more patience I had. The tension in my shoulders shot pains all the way down my arms. I was not going to make it back to the highway before dark. I wondered how late that gas station was open. I wondered how often this road was traveled.

My ears twitched. I strained to hear. The breeze was whistling past my ears making it hard to isolate that sound. Now it’s gone. There it is again. No it’s nothing but the wind. No it was definitely off to the left in the wood. The leaves crunched, twigs snapped. I strained to peer into the wood. The sun was too low and the wood was darkening. The noise was easy to hear now, but I could not see the generator. First a scrape, then a snort, and he popped out of the woods. He was a fully-grown bull! He sniffed the air, pawed the ground and stomped his foot. In a second he started to charge. Damn I wish I had worn that blue shirt instead of the red one!

I stepped up on the bumper, to crawl into the trunk. Bad idea, continuing up on the fender I scrambled for the roof. Just as I got up there he hit the side of the car. It rocked and I fell on the top. Arms flailing I grasped for anything to hold onto. Slam! He hit again. The car buckled and I feared the side might cave and send me into his path on his next assault.

As he reeled back in preparation for the next attack, I leapt to the ground and ran for an aging oak that had a low hanging branch. Scrambling up the branch my skin peeled off like I was operating a colander. Blood streamed down my arm. I barely felt it. All I could think of was getting up that tree to safety, hoping even that bull couldn’t shake its roots. Had he not turned away for a second, he would have overtaken me and made me into a human bone pile. Now he just snuffed and pawed the ground and stared up at me.

After 15 minutes he lost interest and wandered off in the direction in which he came, or did he? I can’t see anything now, and the wind has died down. I twist to put a good ear in his direction. I don’t hear a thing, but wonder if he is out there, waiting in absolute silence for me to drop down out of the tree and then finish his work. I can’t even see the side of the car he rearranged for me.

Slap, damn mosquito. Well if the bull wasn’t enough, the mosquitoes may be up to the task of finishing me off. My odor must have been broadcast on the night and the hungry little beggars are dining on me as if I was on the menu at a fancy restaurant. I’ve got to get back into that car. Sliding down the tree trunk, I skinned my arms again, ringing the dinner bell. As my foot hit the ground, a twig snapped loud enough to set my heart to racing. I listened for the big bull to charge, but nothing.

Running for the car I tripped over an old barbed wire from a long untended fence, sending me head over heels through the leaves and brush. Now the leaves raked me and the dirt and rocks stuck to my skin. I froze, wondering if there might be a snake in the darkness. Well of course I wouldn’t be able to hear one anyway. Slap! The mosquitoes found me again. I walked slower now for the car. If the bull was out there he would surely be on a dead run for me and I would hear him. I opened the good door and crawled in to rest. Slap, slap, slap, the mosquitoes just gnawed at me. Hopefully I could get them one by one until they were exterminated so I might catch a few winks. Slowly exhaustion swept over me and I drifted into a fitful sleep.

Rap, rap, rap, my eyes opened and the light stung them forcing them shut again. “Are you all right sir?” He asked? “Please turn that light off.” “Officer Collins sir, are you all right?” “Yes” “Please step out of the car and move around to the back sir.” Well this is just great, where was he when I needed him 5 hours ago? “What happened to your vehicle sir?” “I had a blowout.” “A blowout caused your door to cave in?” “No, a bull caused that.” “May I see your drivers license?” Reaching, I realized the pocket was torn off and my wallet was gone. Well that’s just great! “Officer, I don't seem to have my wallet anymore.” “Face the car and put your hands on the fender sir.” “But I” “Turn around and face the fender, I won’t say it again sir.”

Placing my hands on the fender I wondered just what was next. He took my right arm and pulled back my wrist. I felt the cool metal of the handcuff. He pulled my left wrist back and completed cuffing me.

“A convenience store was robbed about 12 miles back on 65 highway tonight, and because you don’t have any identification, I’m taking you to the county jail until we can verify who you are and have the clerk eyeball you. If you are not the man we’re looking for, you will be free to go.”

I hope the holding cell has a washbasin and air conditioning. The dirt and sweat just caking on my skin makes me uncomfortable. I hope the clerk can tell I’m not the one. “Duck your head sir, and climb on in. Watch your feet.” Slam, the door shut. I can hardly wait to see what happens in the county jail and possibly the courthouse.

And the hits just keep rolling on.

Brother Bill

260621 Things Change

Today has been very tiring for me. I managed to do what I wanted, but I found it exhausted me.

BAM, BAM, BAM went to my front door! What the hell is going on here?

I looked through the peep hole on my door and there were two monster sized Police officers ready to do some damage to my door.

I opened the door and the bigger one asked if I was Bradlee Cooper? I replied I was not, but I did get his mail and send it back to the post office. I don’t think the cops were buying my tale. The strange young man who lives in the apartment in front of me came down the hallway and told the police he had just seen Cooper walking across the complex.

Off they went looking for Cooper. I wonder if the young man from next door hadn’t showed up when he did, would I have been escorted to the local jailhouse? I would have been able to call Annie or Rhett, but they may have been down on their property and out of range to hear the call.

Things Change

When I was a kid, I was always playing Army. I played with toy soldiers, played with toy rifles; I blew up toy soldiers or toy tanks with firecrackers. I had a friend, Jim and we both had surplus helmets, ammo belts, backpacks. We would practice wrestling and what we thought were judo moves.

One time we were in transit from his house to mine and when we were passing a local church, we broke into an impromptu judo exercise on the church lawn. Upon completion, I said to Jim, “You know Jim, whichever service gets us, Army or Marines, will be pretty lucky.” We were all of 10 or 11 at that point. Jim never did enter service.

Jim had a very bad habit, he stole my girlfriends. The last one I heard of was a real stinker. He married her, divorced her, had nothing but trouble over her. Isn’t it grand when someone who dismays others finally gets his own come upends?

I started working in a gas station that also repaired car brakes when I was 16 and stayed there after finishing high school. I was repairing a flat tire one afternoon when a Navy chief walked into the garage. He asked me if I liked what I was doing. I said it was ok. He asked if I wanted to be a mechanic. I said I was buying tools and might be a mechanic at some point. He said that was ok, but he asked if I wanted to spend my life all greasy and dirty. He told me he could get me into aviation electronics and I would have a nice clean job. I told him I would think about it, but I got busy with life and soon forgot about it.

I met Joyce just before graduation in 1963. We courted through the early summer and I was in love. Joyce was going away to college in the fall and I thought I might join the military and get away from town and all the places that would remind me of her and make me miserable. I was ready to sign up in early July, but my parents refused to sign for me to enter service at 17. So, I had to wait until I was 18 and could do so on my own.

Had they signed for me at 17, I would have enlisted and then been released from naval service the day before I was 21. I don’t know what would have come to pass and I never will. I just know my life would have been very different than what it was.

I went to speak with the recruiters a few days after my birthday at the end of July; the Marines offered to make me a man. I thought nature would do that so I declined entering the Corps. (Best decision I ever made!).

The Air Force recruiter was out that day, and that could have, would have made my life very different.

I bumped into that same navy Chief at the courthouse. We talked; I took a test and he said he could get me into an aviation rating as I qualified for any and all the Navy had. He said I could go to aviation electronics school, so I signed up to join and leave for boot camp on September 4, 1963, just days before Joyce went away to college.

A funny thing happened, working on airplanes on a flight deck turned out to be a dirty business. Remember the navy chief said I’d have clean hands? There’s oil, grease, dirt and dust everywhere on planes and flight decks. My job wasn’t as dirty as the engine mechanics or airframe mechanics; but it wasn’t the “nice clean job” the chief promised.

Life has not always turned out the way I planned it, but looking back; it’s all been good. Sometimes it takes a while to look back and see it, but it’s all good.

Brother Bill

260620 New thoughts and Old thoughts.

Second good day in a row. A young girl working at Aldi's likes to talk with me. Why, I do not know, but it's nice.

New and Old thoughts today.

I’ve had another good day today.
I hope another one is on its way.
Ranger the dog saw me today.
He seems to love me in every way.
His owners can’t control him when he sees me.

He comes up beside me and lifts his head.
I pet his neck and ears and the top of his head.

Then off on my walk in the late afternoon,
Knowing that the sun will be setting soon.

I’ll sit or lay and watch my TV
hoping to find a program that I want to see.

I might be up half the night,
Long ago I gave up the fight

If or when I fall asleep makes no matter to me.
I know I’ll make things even out eventually.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am who I am today,
Because of decisions I made yesterday.

Not for my Mother, not father, nor friends,
but upon my own thoughts, that my future depends.

All the education in the world today,
wouldn’t change me, in the slightest way.

And if there was nothing for me,
The same internal person, I’d be.

Worldly possessions are not my friend,
Longing for them may bring an untimely end.

I’ve seen the poor.
I’ve seen the rich.
I’m happy enough in my own little niche.

There’s a perfect plan laid out for me,
That determines the type of person to be.

If I follow that inner voice I’ll see,
Just how that plan is laid out for me.

If I ignore it and go astray,
Discomfort and pain is the price I’ll pay.

Brother Bill

260619 The Wave

I’ve had a good day.

The Wave

I managed to get out and walk two times today, one was a half mile, the other was just over a quarter mile.

On my second walk, I was only 20 steps from my door when I met the neighbors who live on the opposite side of the building. They have this dog that loves me for some reason and when the dog sees me they can barely restrain him. The dog got in a few licks and I was none the worse for time.

I got to hang up my outdoor sensor so now I know the outside temperature and can dress accordingly on my walks.

After my walk, I came in and laid down on my bed. A few minutes later, this enormous wave of happiness washed over me. I’ve never had that happen before. The wave is still lingering over me.

Things don’t always go the way we want.

I have seen the look on people’s faces when they realize they just lost their job.

I have seen men buckle under when they get to the point in a letter when they realize it is a ‘Dear John’ letter.

I remember the looks on people’s faces in the waiting room outside the intensive care ward in the hospital.

I remember one Christmas, my Father had 5 of his 6 children there, yet the look on his face told me this super-man was having a very fragile moment, thinking of how he wanted that last child there.

I remember an afternoon in California when Joyce and I walked into a video store and right into an armed robbery. I remember thinking how precarious our situation was at that moment. The store manager was a young pregnant woman, and she was so nervous, she wet her pants right before everyone. Right at that moment I thought, “gee, I wish I had stopped at a rest-room before going in there, just in case the police showed up and we were in a hostage situation for several hours”.

Things don’t always go the way we want them to. My intent is to remind you not to get angry with a spouse, yell at a child, say something nasty to a co-worker, or get exasperated with a parent, or be mean to a friend and think you will make it up later. Later may not be given to you.

May you find peace and happiness in your life.

Brother Bill

260618 Expendable

I do not like the word expendable and yet I heard it from someone I loved.

Expendable

The first part of this is what Joyce’s mother said to me in the previous century and my thoughts about it.

She told me she was expendable. After three days, three months, three years it didn’t matter. If she were gone, her family would all soon forget her. How can she say that, I wondered? How can that be? Is she not a Mother, and a Grandmother also?

As she said that I looked into her eyes, looking to see if she really meant what she had just said. I hoped for a sign that she was just seeking a comforting bit of assurance that she was indeed a worthy person. There was no clue for me there. Her eyes were for the moment cold and distant. They seemed to go right past me and into another place beyond where I could reach. I didn't know what to say.

I do not like the word expendable and yet I heard it from someone I loved. No child should be without a Grandmother’s kindness and love.

This second part is about me.

I know that a grandmother's love is important because my grandmother never held me, never spoke to me, nor did she speak to any other person.

One kind person makes a difference in our lives, just as one evil person does. One kind soul can save another. The whole world suffers when one loving person leaves; no one misses a wicked soul.

Some opportunities are not regained. I suppose the best thing I can do is let those around me know that they make a difference in my life. I never met a person that did not have some effect on me.

And if you are reading this, you are a part of my life, thank you.

Brother Bill

260618 The Clock

A big thank you goes out to Guido Moneta!

The Clock

Guido is credited with making the first mechanical clock.

Before you start thinking okay Brother Bill, who gives a crap about the guy who invented the first mechanical clock?

Think about the clock for a minute, if you’re a little groggy, take two minutes.

We live and die by the clock. You look at your phone and it tells you the time. It also tells you, you’re late for church, late for work, time to check the oven and see how supper is progressing.
Old Guido gave us the time for everything in our life. We live by Guido’s legacy. Guido’s clock tells us what to do and when to do it ever since the year 1280. I don’t remember if I ever met Guido.

Think about our internal clock. For me it started back in 1945, when I was born. For the first 5 years I was free. I did what I wanted, when I wanted to do it. Then along came a thing called school. I had to be there when they said to be there. They were scary women always dressed in black clothes for my first year. The next year was no better. The scary women dressed in black were there again. This went on for 8 years.
I finally got out and away from them. I was on my way to a free life of four years in high school.
Oh, no, this time it was scary men always dressed in black. I went from one prison where the women in black could only wrap my wrist with a ruler or clack me in the head with a book.
Now these scary men in black could punch you in the gut, and they did!!!
So I enlisted in the navy; the navy was even worse with clocks. You had to be where they told you to be or they punished you. In the navy they even changed what you should call hours. For instance, 1pm isn’t 1pm, it’s 1300; 4pm is 1600. Thanks to Guido, I had to learn a whole new set of what to call time.

Now here I am on a different clock. (you can’t escape the clock.) Now my clock is on a different path. It’s no longer a rise and shine, hurry to work clock. My clock is a countdown clock. I can’t blame Guido for this one. This clock comes from God Himself. He has the clock that will determine the day, the hour, the minute when my heart stops and I’m no longer under the control of our earthly clock. From what I hear, there is no time there. There, hopefully in “The Good Place,” not to other place where I was told it’s very, very warm there.
For the moment, the Lord in heaven has me here for a purpose. Early this month, the Lord could have taken me away any minute of any day there. I was very close several times. That said, evidently my purpose in this realm is not complete as yet.
This post will be number 2,772, on my way to 3,000. Wouldn’t it be a hoot if when I hit the button to send out post number 3,000, I drop my head on top of my computer and die?

260615 Hong Kong and The Proposal

The picture below is me on my first day in the United States Navy.

Hong Kong was a very interesting place to visit.

On my first visit to Hong Kong it was probably the most unusual and marvelous place to see. The British were in control of Hong Kong on a 100 year lease, which ended some years ago and now it is run by the Chinese. Now would not be a time to go there.

My memory has a few things still stored, but the time line is not 100% correct, so I’ll only cover events.

One, I remember going to the British seaman’s club to have a meal. It looked okay, but after two bites I pushed my breakfast away and left for somewhere else to eat. I don’t know how those guys survived.

Two, me and two other sailors went into town on liberty. We were walking and I suggested we go over to Kowloon to see what’s happening there. Kowloon was out of bounds for sailors, but we wanted to see why. We were walking down a street and some youngsters were playing soccer. All three of us had played in school yards back home so we thought we'd show those kids how soccer was done. Well in no time at all those kids taught us a lesson on the game. We bowed good naturedly and left. The kids were overjoyed at beating us.

Three, I was told that one could have a tailored suit made in 24 hours. The tailor shops had girls outside to lure sailors into the shop. Every shop had free beer to get a sailor into their shop. I went by several, got my free beer and never had a suit made.

Four, I liked roaming streets after dark. There were old men everywhere on the sidewalks, playing chess or checkers or cards. The cards intrigued me. They were playing pinochle. Those old men dealt a hand, played maybe four rounds and tossed in the cards. It only took those few hands and knew who would win the game.

Five, Shore Patrol in Hong Kong. This was the best Shore Patrol anywhere in the world. I was assigned to go with two British Marines. Those two men were built like King Kong! Their uniforms were tailored to fit like a dream. One of them noticed my Zippo Cigarette lighter and wanted to trade. I said okay and the trade was made and I got the short end of the stick.
At the near end we came across a US Sailor who was out of his mind on some unknown drug. We helped another shore patrol group get the sailor to the shore patrol brig (brig is a navy term for the jail) at the edge of the harbor. There were seven of us and we could barely keep this sailor under control.
Later we had to get the sailor back to the ship. It was a sweat-breaking job to get the sailor onto the ferry that carried liberty hounds to and from the ship. He was still as wild as he could be. Once we got him aboard ship and down to the brig on the ship and got him into a cell we were relieved. I saw that sailor in the breakfast line a few days later. There were four other brig rats in line with him. It’s amazing what a few days in the Marine controlled brig. I know I would never want to end up in their brig.

The Proposal

In a garden park, he could no longer wait, He asked her forever to be his mate.

In a garden so lovely one fine evening.
Down on one knee he offered a ring.

Would she agree to this one thing?
Would she give his heart, forever reason to sing?

His courtship for her, he pledged, never to end.
And lest we forget, he'd still be her friend.

Sweets and flowers he'd continue to send.
Their loving alliance never needed to mend.

They'll have a wedding, put away the lace.
She'll cure the sick, put a smile on their face.

He'll work to make the world a better place.
They'll live in a manner of style and grace.

Brother Bill

260614 Life is but a dream.

Things are looking better.

I remember this picture above. It was taken 59 years ago. Where did my life go?

I managed to walk .15 of a mile today. That isn’t very much distance, but it's double or more what I could do 2 days ago.

This hospital stay has been far more than when I cracked my hip. This time I was close to death more than once.
This time there was far more hospital care than before.

I was happy to be going home, but I was not ready for what I was going to experience. My trips from my bedroom to the kitchen left me breathing heavily.
My sleep cycle was not normal; it was like the hospital, cat naps for minutes before being woken up for vitals or injections. Never having more than a half hour of sleep at a time.

That was my home experience. I’m starting to crawl out of that mess. I’m feeling better and I hope my advances will be continuous until I reach whatever health level I’ll have to live with.

‘What If’ What if tomorrow morning found you dead?
What would have been the last thought in your head?

What if I gave you the power to change?
What on the earth would you re-arrange?

What if there was only one question on the test?
What would bring you happiness?

What if the Lord spoke to you today?
What do you think he might say?

What if your lover asked her/his eye color today?
What do you think you would say?

If you know all the answers then your life has been great.
If you don’t know the answers it’s still not too late.

I’ve thought them over but I’m not done.
I’ve got all the answers but one.

Brother Bill

260613 Love?

Such a simple word to define such an important thing.

Love.

What is love?

The dictionary defines it as"an intense affection for another person".
If that's so, then I”ve had love.
I felt it when I made my morning coffee.
I felt it when I drove to work.
I felt it at the low point of my day.
I felt it when we were together.
I felt it when I was away.
Love is as radiant as the sun.
Love is deep as the ocean.
Love is as mysterious as the stars.
Happiness in life is finding love.
A life without love is not a life at all.

Brother Bill

260612 Roller Coaster

I hope you enjoy today's offering.

I would assume all of us have rode a roller coaster at one time or another.

This is my third day out of the hospital and I feel like I’m holding on to that roller coaster; one minute I'm on the upward cycle, feeling well holding onto my situation and then everything stops for just a second before all hell breaks loose! Suddenly I’m in freefall. Everything hurts, aches, and I’m headed for the bathroom. Next, there’s coughing, trying to relieve my arms and stomach. I hope and pray that as I get through the night, I’ll be back on the upward swing and have some relief, a few good hours and a relaxing day.

I still haven’t been out of my apartment. I’m longing for a walk outside. I know I can walk. I don’t know how far. I don’t want to be farther away than I can walk back without pain.

This poem came to me in a few moments; and though I’m not normally a contemporary religious person. It’s a thank you to the Giver of life and love. Though I do not understand the Giver, or his people, I feel his presence in my life at times.

Thank you for work to do
Thank you for a living too

Thank you for my safety in Thee
Thank you for my family

Thank you for a Mother and Father at hand
Thank you for being born in this land

Thank you for protecting me during the war
Thank you for protecting me in travels far

Thank you for safe landings on all my flights
Thank you for safe trips home at night

Thank you for forgiving me when I did wrong
Thank you for shielding me all along

Thank you for guiding me in my business career
Thank you for helping me overcome my fear

Thank you for easing me from many a tight spot
Thank you for forgiving me when I sinned a lot

Thank you for all the people I’ve known
Thank you for each of them helping me as I’ve grown

Thank you for the teachers who taught me in youth
Thank you for teachers who continue teaching me truth

Thank you for grief when down and out
Thank you for elation when up and about

Thank you for challenges that rack my brain
Thank you for the knowledge you allow me to gain

Brother Bill

260611 Change in the wind

No two days are alike anymore.

My Life Changing Situation.

I’ve had two very different days since I came home. One was painful and difficult, while today has been pretty good.

My life changing involves no smoking, no beer and moderate coffee and lots of water. For me, smoking, drinking and barrels of coffee were a part of my existence. Before I got my water intake from the water in coffee. Now I have two large mugs of icy water by my side and so far I’m drinking all of it.

My diet consists of leafy greens, avocadoes, bananas, fruits, nuts and seeds. At least meats are not changing, due to the need for protein.

I can and do eat peanut butter. It has lots of protein and helps to lower cholesterol.

As the years take away our youthful face,
Where do we go from here?
Our bodies force us to go slow, and take things at a more relaxed pace.
Where do we go from here?
Dreams and schemes have fallen apart,
and left without a trace.
Youth and energy have faded away, to another time and place.
Where do we go from here?

If you have an answer to this, let me know.

Brother Bill

260611 No Place Like Home

There's an old saw, "be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home."

During the navy years, every time I came home it was to a different place.
That had become a routine with many jobs in many places.
Once we moved to Republic we thought this was where we would stay and spend the rest of our lives. I’m still in Republic, but living in three different apartments as of tonight.
In any home, once away for a length of time, the old saw rings true, “there’s no place like home.” It doesn’t matter if it’s Japan, Singapore, Philippines, Hong Kong, Kowloon, San Diego, Brunswick Georgia, Pearl Harbor, or on a 9 month cruise on an aircraft carrier, there’s no place like home.

Sailor, Brother, Father, Uncle, Grandpa, Bill

260709 The Death March

The Death March

Around noon on June 2nd, I had to go to have a sit down on my toilet. It seemed a bit runny. I grabbed some tissue to wipe. They showed my backside stool was crimson.

I called my son in law and said I needed to get to the hospital. He and my daughter came over, picked me up and off we went.

I checked into the emergency desk. They took my name and said they would call me when they could. I again went to the bathroom, had a movement and it was watery red. I went back to sit and wait.

Finally they called out for me. I got up and went to another check-in. From the first moment getting into the car my daughter was by my side. We sat down in the check-in area. There were 2 others in there with us. The young girl was taking names and blood draws. When she got to me, my head dropped down and my lights went black. I was not breathing, I was technically dead. What happened in the next half hour or more, I do not know.

When I woke up I was in the emergency suite. Doctors and nurses were in panic mode. My heart was running full throttle, pumping to keep me alive. I was losing blood faster than the doctors could pump into me. I was in and out of consciousness. My veins are hard to find and hard to hit with the needle because the veins roll over when a needle hits them.

The next few days, someone was poking and prodding me 24 hours a day. I couldn’t get any sleep, because they came in one after another and each new one had to verify who I was, Name, date of birth.

They discovered my artery on my right side had opened somehow and my heart was pumping my blood directly into my colon. They put what they called a clamp over the damaged area. How they rejoined the artery, I do not know.

After a few days and when I was mentally back to order, there was plenty of time to flirt with the young nurses. I couldn’t get out of bed without a nurse or an assistant to help me. During the internment, I had to drink 5 gallons of this clear liquid so they could see where the problems were.

This morning, I was discharged and came home. The worst thing now is my diet has to change. I have to rely on greens with lots of fiber, not my favorite thing, but I’m going along with it. I have to eat lots of nuts and seeds. Even worse, no more beer! Smoking will still be a thing of my past. One more thing, I have to cut back or eliminate coffee. What do I have left in my life?

There is a lot more that went on, but I can't remember all of what happened. I will say that the hospital has the best care-givers I could find anywhere. Brother Bill

200606 Miserable and suffering.

Hospital!!!

I have been in the hospital for 6 days now. I only have a few minutes, but I’ll catch up after I get home.

260702 The Joys of June

Sometimes the heart knows best; sometimes it does not.

‘The Joys of June’ The flowers are tall this time of year and swaying in the breeze.
Their colors are bold and bright and waving as you please. The wind gusts blow them over, till they almost touch the ground.
The butterflies dance and flutter, and try to hang around. The winds high above move scattered clouds on by.
Down below it blows the treetops dry.

The flowers bounce and sway, driven by the breeze.
It sometimes seems as though they’re trying hard to please.

The flowers are there all fresh and clean Red and yellow and white open on top of leaves of green.

There are pinks and purples and orange flowers too.
Nestled among them are others bathed in blue.

The butterflies flit about, land, then they do their dance.
I sit here watching, spellbound, as though I’m in a trance.

If you ask me why I love it so, and sing this happy tune,
It’s because the flowers are at their best when we share the joys of June.

I wish you the joys of June.

Brother Bill