Gypsy Wanderers

In the blog about my Dad, I mentioned the man who lived in a house by the side of the road. Where we lived, the road in question was Missouri State Highway Number Eight. Actually we lived in three different homes by the side of that road, and each has its own story. The gypsy story came about when we lived in the first of those three houses.

There were several acres attached to the house, and a long grassy strip ran between the house and the road, probably extending three or four acres in length. The time period was the 1930s, and at that time, No. 8 was still a gravel road. Trucks and cars traveled the road, but there were also people going by in horse-drawn wagons. I do not recall, for certain, the vehicles the gypsies drove; but I believe they were older model light trucks.

It was not unusual for gypsies or hoboes [another blog later on?] to travel this road. However, their reputation was not the best. It was said they had a knack for picking up anything that was loose, if you weren’t looking. I don’t know if that was true, or blown out of proportion, as things sometimes are, because someone had a bad experience. It is not my intent to malign them, but merely to recount the incident, to give you an occasional glimpse of our lives at that time. The spokesperson for the group asked Dad for permission to camp overnight on that ideally long, grassy strip of land. What else would the man who lived by the side of the road do, but say yes? Although we were, by Dad’s example, taught kindness to others, we also were taught to keep some wariness of strangers, and look out for ourselves. I’m sure some of the neighbors thought Dad was crazy. He wasn’t; he was simply a good man.

Dad went out and talked to the people, while they worked, to get an idea of who his overnight guests were. They built a camp fire, cooked their supper, and invited us to come visit around the campfire, after they finished their meal. Dad sent word to the neighbors. The parents didn’t come up, but they allowed their children to visit. The youngest child was a girl about 10, my friend, a year or so older than I was. The ages of her brothers and sisters, ranged probably from the early to late teens.

As so often happened in those days when a group of people got together, the time around the camp fire was spent in story-telling and singing. One of the songs frequently sung when people got together was, “Froggie Went A Courtin’.” I only remember the chorus of that song. And “Where Have You Been, Biily Boy,” although I am not sure of the title of that song. That may be just the beginning line. Another favorite was “Red River Valley.”

We, perhaps, were a bit edgy with this new experience, but we were enjoying ourselves also. They encouraged us all to participate. One of the girls sang a song that had a line saying, “You can’t go to heaven taking a chew.” She got a bit nervous thinking she might have offended some of the men who were chewing tobacco, and was afraid to sing anymore.” If they noticed the implication, it was ignored, and I only recall having a good time listening to the stories, and the tales the gypsies told of their nomadic life.

Time Saved, Time Lost, Lesson Learned

Two weeks ago Monday I picked up several books from the library. Thinking ahead, I got a couple of more books than I thought I would read. It seems I outsmarted myself. My plan was to renew them online, saving myself a trip, and still have plenty of reading material until I was ready to take them back. They were due Monday of this week. Late afternoon, I went online, checked “All Books;” then checked "Renew all.” Up popped the message, “Can’t renew. Book has been requested.” That has never happened to me before in all the times I’ve renewed books here. When I did go to the library, I had several errands planned for that direction. I wasn’t ready to do that yet. I wanted to go to Dierberg’s, which is in the opposite direction, so I could replenish some of their deli foods. I didn’t feel like going anywhere yesterday, so put it off. Today, I thought I’d better get over there and drop off the books, so whoever was waiting for the one on request could have it.

I didn’t want to do all the errands I had planned today, but that would mean I would just have to make another trip that way soon. I decided I would go ahead and do all the errands in that direction anyway, and then on the way back, pass up my street, then on to Dierberg’s. When you don’t want to cook for just one person, it is nice to have some ready-cooked food on hand.

First I drove to the library. These were all right turns on the way out. Coming back, I made three left turns and two right turns to get back home. After I left the library, I stopped at the gas station to fill up my gas tank for the first time in just under a year, by me; and by anyone, for more than seven months. I had my son-in-law fill up the tank for me, when they were here at Christmas 08, so I could take advantage of the cheap gas price at that time. I didn’t think ithe price would stay that low very long. Today the gas was not cheap! Next I drove to City Hall to pick up “Blue Bags,” the city’s recycle bags for paper, plastics, cans, and bottles. Coming back, it was a straight shot down Mexico Road to Salt Lick to go to Dierberg’s, where I spent too much money. I left home just before 12 noon and got back home about 1:30 p.m. By that time I was ready for lunch, and then some.

When I turned in the books, I told the librarian, I had tried to renew that one book too, but couldn’t because it had been requested, so it was overdue a couple of days. After all that, as she checked in the book, she told me that it had been released from the request. Apparently another book had come in, or perhaps from another library. So, I wouldn’t have had to go in that direction after all today. I could have gone to Dierberg’s late morning, so the deli foods I wanted would be ready, and have done a more leisurely junket for all the other errands [no doubt more would have been added later] at another time. NEXT TIME, I’ll call and see if the book is still on request, so my conscience will rest easy, and I won't have to make an unnecessary trip.

Pennies to Dollars

We all know grocery costs have gone up considerably in the recent past. Prices have increased on many items. There are some things you can do to cut costs when you shop for food. One of these is the use of coupons. Do you use them? I do, sometimes. There are many coupons that come here, through the mail and in the local newspaper. Many of them are for items I know I won’t purchase, so are of no use to me. When I find a coupon for something I do use, I clip the coupons, but I’m careless about it. I forget to take coupons to the store with me. I let them expire, which annoys me with myself. I do manage to take advantage of some of them.

There are also coupons you can find on the Internet and print for your use when shopping. This morning I saw an ad for Boost on someone’s web site. Boost is my favorite of the convenient energy drinks available, so I clicked on the URL to see what it was about. On the Boost site, they had a coupon you could use towards the purchase of a Boost Multipack. The coupon was for $2.00. That is a good savings, so I’m going to be sure I don’t let it expire. I also plan to be on the lookout for other coupons that might be useful to me. Good luck with your shopping – and saving.

Seeding: A Follow Up

What I said about our parents allowing us to go to the church we chose to was true. My memories of this period are from when I was about five years old, and while we lived in the small town of Leadwood. Before five, I have just a few scraps of memory. A couple of years or so later, we moved a few miles west of Leadwood to a rural community. There were only two churches available: A Baptist Church and a Pentecostal Church. The Baptist Church did not yet have a building. That came later, and Dad was instrumental in getting it built. I’m not sure if the Pentecostal Church was there already, or built not long after we moved to the area.

At that time, we children mostly attended the Baptist service, but occasionally went to the Pentecostal Church also. After my parents became Christians, they united with the Baptist Church. My mother’s parents [mother and stepfather] were Baptist, as was Dad’s mother. Mother told me that Dad’s parents attended the Baptist Church when she knew them. Years later, Dad told me that his mother was a Baptist, but “Pa” was a Methodist. I found out in my genealogy searching that both Grandpa Bowen’s grandfathers were circuit-riding Methodist preachers. When my parents became members of the Baptist Church, we attended that church as a family. However, we were free to go to services at the other church if there was no service at the ‘home’ church. A revival might find us at either church.

I have no memories of my Grandmother Bowen because she was buried the day I was born. Grandpa Bowen left us when I had just turned seven. I have a few good memories of him, but he left us much too soon. He and Dad were at Grandma Bowen’s funeral when I was born, and they came home to find that I had arrived while they were gone. As a result, Grandpa Bowen and I had a very special bond. As a small child, I missed him terribly, when he died.

Mother’s stepfather was as exemplary a Christian as I have ever known, and he was a wonderful grandfather. He and Grandma were active in the small rural church they attended near St. James. I was told in later years, by some of the people I met in my genealogy research, that Grandpa Stricker was a lay preacher at the church, when no ordained minister was available. He was a man who lived his faith. If all we Christians put our faith into practice as he did, what would the world be like? Pardon me, if I sound like I'm preaching. I blame it on the genes passed down by those old Methodist preachers.

Benefits of Sleep

Want to Control Your Weight? What to do First?
Would you believe? See that you regularly get a good night's sleep!

Except for the occasional sleepless night, and the difficulties in sleeping caused by what I call "The Dratted Shingles," I usually sleep seven hours or so. I have some pounds in some places I'd like to shed, which I will get to another time.

We've long been told that a good night's sleep is essential to good health. Our bodies, minds and emotions need the rest 'from our labors' that provides the restoration we need to meet the next days challenges. I've recently heard an emphasis on the relationship of sleep to weight gain or loss. So, I set out to see what I could find. It is said that a continuous lack of sleep can throw the metabolism out of kilter, which can lead to difficulties in maintaining healthful weight, as well as other problems, and can lead to very serious consequences. Some of what I found is below. I am surprised that this is not a new study. It is dated 1999, but it seems someone has awakened and begun to emphasize the relationship of sleep and weight.

The following is one of the headings:
Lack Of Sleep Alters Hormones, Metabolism, Simulates Effects Of Aging

If you want further information, more of this article can be found at:

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/1999/10/99/99102507/5844.htm

The above URL is where I found the article I mentioned. I clicked on it to see if the URL took me there. I got the sciencedaily page, but it said the page I wanted was currently unavailable, even though I was able to go back to the page again. If you are interested in this specific article, and can't find it, I found it by typing in "metbolism, weight loss or gain."

Good luck, and good health!

Pillows for Our Heroes

I saw an appealing story on television this morning. A woman, who teaches young children at a craft school, heard that soldiers in Iraq had no pillows to sleep on. They folded their clothing to put under their heads. She decided to make a small pillow for them, each pillow having a different patterned fabric. The pillows had been sewed on three sides, leaving one end open. The children stuffed the pillows, and then stacked them, to wait for an adult to make the final seam. The pillows were sent to the soldiers, and the class had received a number of thank you letters from them. One Thank You letter, with a picture of the soldier, who had received a pillow, hung on the wall. As the teacher read from the plaque, towards the end, a male voice joined hers: the soldier who wrote the letter, walked up behind her. I tried to find this story on the web; I thought you might want to see it for yourself, but so far have not located it. Perhaps it will be posted later.

I don’t recall the teacher’s name; but what did she teach, in addition to crafting? How many expressions of love were displayed in the making and distribution of the gift pillows? How many people were, or will be, influenced by her act of kindness? I believe she is an exceptional person; someone who would be a delight to know. I also believe there are other exceptional people in our land, doing good things, that we just haven’t heard about yet.

Shingles

We have probably all heard the phrase, “What I got for Christmas.” In this instance, I’m referring to, “What I got for Thanksgiving.” In a word, Shingles. Why am I writing about this? Because I want you to know, if you don’t, what I didn’t learn, until too late. There IS a vaccine for Shingles. I usually pick up on things like that, which are beneficial to life and health, but somehow I missed out here. Now, I know it has been available for several years. I’ve been told that they can’t guarantee that you won’t get shingles, if you have the vaccine; but if you do, it shouldn’t be as severe.

I had a doctor’s appointment around the first of October; the next scheduled visit was in late December. Between these two appointments, I learned about the shingles vaccine. I intended to ask the doctor about it when I next saw her. Meanwhile, ‘up jumped the devil,’ that was shingles. If you haven’t heard that expression, neither have I for quite some time. I heard it fairly often in earlier years, which was meant to describe an unpleasant, or unwanted happening.

If you have had chicken pox, you could get shingles, and our vulnerability to them is said to increase as we get older. A bad thing about this, is that having shingles doesn’t give you immunity from them. You can have them again and again, I’m told. It seems they can range from mild to pretty awful. I had, an apparently quite severe bout of shingles, and am not free of them yet. I am now into the ninth month of this. Believe me, you don’t want that. From the way my back looked, at its worst, the pain could have been even worse; but it was bad enough as it was. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that it wasn’t worse!

Unfortunately, my shingles began on my back; at my right shoulder [a part of the body not frequently in your visual field, as a rule]. As I found out later, if they can treat you within 72 hours, they have a better chance of limiting the effects. By the time I knew about the rash, I was well into the 72 hours, and Thanksgiving Friday, the doctor’s office was closed, as is usual. The first indication of anything wrong, was a sore spot below my shoulder blade, the day before Thanksgiving. I thought I had pulled a muscle, or bumped into something that I paid no attention to at the time, and had perhaps left a bruise. Thanksgiving evening, while talking to my second daughter on the phone, I said, “Ouch,” as I moved in the chair, and felt a stab of pain. She asked what was wrong. I said, “Nothing, I suppose I’ve done something that has made a sore place on my back. I’ll check to see if I can see anything there, when I get ready for bed."

Later, I checked out my back, with the aid a hand mirror. I saw a rash marching down, and across the right side of my back, from my shoulder to within an inch or so from the bottom of the shoulder blade. And across from my spine to my arm. A couple of days later, rash appeared on my right chest. In another two days, a rash appeared on the back, and under side of my right arm, from my body down to the wrist. The rash may lead to blisters, then scabs as the blisters dry up. About a two to three inch wide area, angling from my spine over to my right side, had the worst part of the blister-scab part of it. The chest blistered, but the scabbing wasn’t as bad. The arm only had rash.

The intense, searing, stabbing, pulling/twisting pain in my chest was the worst, even though it didn’t look as bad as my back. At times, it felt as if something had hold of my chest and was trying to rip the skin off my body. The back pain was intense and constant, with some of the stabbing, but not the searing, pulling/twisting of the skin on my chest. The arm, even though it only had rash, rivaled the other two places for the intensity of pain. The skin on each of those places was extremely sensitive [still is], and my back had a special don’t-touch-me attitude. It still does, but the pain is not quite so intense. My clothes touching my body, at times, has been torture. It is still a problem, but not quite as bad.

The first three months were pretty bad. I felt awful in general, and thoroughly miserable in the areas affected. At the end of the three months, someone drove their car into my living room, and I can tell you, that didn’t help at all. The pain isn’t as bad now, but it is still here. There hasn’t been a day yet free from pain and/or discomfort The severity has lessened, but it has never stopped. Sometimes when I sit in a chair reading, and don’t move at all for a few minutes, I don’t feel it. But, it is there, just waiting for me to move, so it can let me know that it is still around.

Sleeping was difficult, with maybe 20 to 30 minutes at a time. An hour’s uninterrupted sleep was a good stretch. Being so uncomfortable, you didn’t always go back to sleep right away, so you might get 2 to 4 hours sleep in all. There were several nights when the sleep total was zero hours. After a couple of months, the time gradually increased; moving more toward the four hour level, and began working upwards, but was still in broken snatches. Or perhaps long periods of wakefulness, until your body finally surrendered to exhaustion, before sleeping.

I am describing what happened to me in detail, so you will know what shingles can be like. Some people have it worse than I have. How I feel for them!

I’ve heard people say that Medicare doesn’t pay for the vaccine, and that it is expensive. Some have mentioned $200. And others have said about $300. If it would have prevented the pain and discomfort, of these last months, which was extreme at times; I would gladly have paid that, whatever it took.

I’m not suggesting that you get the vaccine. It’s not my place to do that. That’s for you and your doctor to decide. I’m just letting you know the vaccine is available. How I wish I had known about it a couple of months earlier!