And Now For Something Completely Different

Well, THOSE were some dark stories! And, now for something completely different.

TDW got a kitten from a friend, whom we named Max.

It developed that Max would laze away the afternoon, gazing out the window. After a while, he started to do this sort of “click-click-click” noise, and move from one window to the next, as if following something. Investigation revealed that this something was another cat, who eventually demonstrated that she had had kittens in our window wells. TDW eventually noted that the kittens were eating the dry cat food that she had been putting our for the new cat, who we dubbed Momma Kitty, and we soon retrieved the kittens: Momma Kitty escaped our clutches.

When we got the kittens inside, we locked them in the second bathroom, providing a crate where they could hide, water and food, and litter boxes. We would enter a couple of times a day to clean up the mess, refresh the water, refresh the food, and attempt to play with them, trying to socialize them into their new lives as house cats.

Took some doing. The one kitten would sit in a corner and snarl at us with all the gravitas a 6 ounce kitten could muster. She was named Henrietta, after the chickenhawk character in the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons.

Another kitten would gnaw at our fingers, then rush to lick and pat the same finger, reminiscent of the big blue “Sullie” character in the “Monsters Inc.” cartoon. A third kitten would lay, tranquilly, in our arms, allowing us to pet her and provide neck scritches, purring all the while. She was named Olivia (as in olive branch, the historic symbol of peace).

The final sister was named Dynamite, since she would nearly explode into a fury of claws and fangs upon any approach. She has since calmed down, although she is not altogether sure about the whole “hold still while Ipet you” thing, and would rather get going after a brief interval of tolerating our petting.

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DUTY: A RETROSPECTIVE

It is the eve of Christmas Eve as I sit here. The roads were TFA (Too Freaking Awful) today for me to drive the lebenty some miles in to work, so I had called off.

TDW-Mark II had commented that today would be a good day to NOT be taking road calls, and I agreed.

I remembered a Christmas at home, 2 years ago.

So, TINS©, I was lolling around the house on Christmas Day. TDW-Mark II and I were casually surfing the web. I had my handheld amateur radio on, monitoring our county’s fire dispatch. Because, well, I can.

In our county, emergency personnel are generally volunteers. The EMS is paid/full time (such as THAT pay is!), Sheriff and local PD are paid/full time (but often respond from home, off duty, so to speak), but the firefighters and rescue are volunteers, dispatched by pager. The tones dropped for a cardiac arrest, CPR in progress, in the outskirts of the county. Now my county is rural, primarily (by surface area) farmland. The ambulance was called out, as well as the County Seat Volunteer Fire Department (Hereinafter, CSFD).

I heard EMS acknowledge, and the duty fire chief as well. He (the chief) directed that the firefighters respond without him, as he was a couple of miles from the scene and would respond directly.

Dispatch then filled in the dispatch information, beyond the address. A 70-something male had collapsed. CPR was in progress. He was vomiting, and the family was clearing his mouth as best they could. A couple of minutes later (likely that seemed like days, to the folks on the scene, performing CPR on one of their family!), the fire chief called out on the scene “Chief on scene with one firefighter. Sheriff on scene. Dispatch, roll one engine for manpower.”

So, let’s “dolly back”, and consider this. With the possible exception of the deputy (who might also have responded, off duty, from home in his patrol car), all these folks were snug in their own homes, fat, dumb and happy, savoring the anniversary of The Birth of Our Saviour, as well as immersing themselves in the excitement of the children at All! The! Presents! they had received.

They carry pagers because, well, that’s what they do. More likely than not, they do not see themselves as heroic, or making sacrifices, because, after all, in most of America (hell, I suspect in most of the world), the men and women performing these jobs simply see themselves as doing what needs to be done, because they are able to do so.

And therefore, when the pager alerted them, they grabbed their coats, put on their boots, and left their warm and happy homes, heading to somebody else’s home, someplace where, as Chief Dennis Compton of Mesa, AZ Fire once described it, “We are responding to somebody’s worst day of their life”.

So, as I imagine it, the duty chief was enjoying a Christmas with his family, the tones dropped, and off he went. Before he could get out of the door, one of his sons, or maybe a son in law, (or daughter or daughter in law, here in the 21^st century) said something like, “Hey, Dad! Hold up a second! I’m taking that call with you!”

These folks voluntarily immersed themselves in another family’s tragedy. Strove to hold the line, to reverse the evident course. Went to work on Christmas.

When the firefighter came on the radio requesting the sheriff department’s (volunteer!) Victim Support Team, I could call that play. I do not know if I teared up at the family’s terror, at their loss, at the fact that forever more Christmas would not hold happy childhood memories, but, rather, would be “the day grandpa died”, or if I teared up thinking of the folks who, simply “doing their jobs”, had left their warm homes in response to some stranger’s plea for help.

But, I wept.

Please, give a thought to those who respond to those calls, today and every day of the year, all over the world.

And offer a prayer on behalf of those they go to rescue.

Everyday Folks, Everyday Gracefulness

Sometimes in my walkabout daily life, I encounter folks, simply being nice. So, TINS©, I Was NOT Fighting Disease And Saving Lives, rather, simply grocery shopping. I happened to get in line behind an elderly woman (Pot, meet kettle. You ought to talk amongst yourselves, since you have so much in common…) who appeared to not have altogether figured out the entire “One of these is a credit card, the other is your membership card.” thing, as she attempted to pay with her membership card.

The cashier was patient, and collected. She explained that, no, THAT is your card with which you get your discounts and points, and THAT is your bank card, with which you pay for your groceries. They are different cards, for different things.

It took a couple of attempts, but the customer got her points, and successfully paid for her groceries, and wheeled her way out of the store.

The cashier apologized to me for the hold up. I responded, “Ma’am, some things are problems, some things are inconveniences. If this wait is as bad as my inconveniences get, I am in pretty good shape. Oh, by the way: way to be patient and graceful with that elderly lady. Good on ya!”

WHY?

TDW-Mark II and I are amateur radio operators. A couple of weeks ago, we heard one of our small town’s EMS units dispatched to a “woman fell and injured her face” call.

We listen to Fire/EMS dispatch, because it provides an insight into the events of our town, and perhaps distant early warning of spicy times.

In any event, the crew called on the scene, and, very (VERY!) shortly later, got back on the radio, requesting police.

Dispatch inquired, “On the double?”, and the medic replied, “Yes, on the double”.

They next called for another ambulance, and the fire department for manpower. Soon, we heard fire crews negotiating an entry, and one of the medic units transporting one to The Local Trauma Center, as a priority.

That assemblage of folks, all volunteers except the police (the medics get paid so little, that they might as well be volunteers!) led me to contemplate Duty, and the mindset of those who run toward the sound of trouble.

May I present a rerun? Here is the original post from 2019, and a link to the website entry that inspired me.

http://counterjockey.blogspot.com/2019/09/weapons-wednesday-service-smiths.html#comment-form

Why do MEN (and, nowadays, more and frequently, WOMEN) willingly go in harm’s way?

Why do folks bunker up, suit up, gun up, whatever, and run toward the sounds of trouble?

Counter Jockey has gunned up, and sought out the source of those sounds. As have thousands and thousands of others.

Yesterday was The Eleventh of September in the Year of Our lord 2019. Eighteen years ago,  343 members of the FDNY died, doing their duty. 60 police officers lost their lives. 8 EMS personnel died, not employees of the City of New York.

They died attempting to save some of the 2977 people who would wind up dying that day.

“Duty” is the simple answer, and we all are, or ought to be, thankful for our neighbors who see their duty, accept their duty, and pursue their duty.

But what makes someone see such a thing as “My duty”?

What makes someone say, “So help me God.” ? Those who have so sworn, know. Someone has to stare down predators, and say, in effect, “You stop, right here, right now.” Someone has to stand, and hold that line. Otherwise, the dependents behind those stalwarts will lie vulnerable to the heartless. And, those who have selected Duty, will not allow that.

343 members of the FDNY died, that beautiful autumn day, doing their duty. What sort of folks run into a burning building, a building which had already been sized up be one of their own with the prediction, “Some of us are gonna die, today”?

Read the “Never Yet Melted” blog, about Rick Rescorla. Brit born, naturalized US citizen, Director of Security at Dean Witter/Morgan Stanley (https://neveryetmelted.com/2019/09/11/colonel-cyril-richard-rick-rescorla-may-27-1939-september-11-2001-3/) He is credited with saving 2794 of the 3000 employees working that day. He, his deputy, and three other of his security staff were among the exceptions.

So, here’s what I leave you all with. Look for your duty. Do your duty. try not to flinch, try not to step back. Because, you, and I, all of us, are standing in the shadows of Great People. Imagine, if you will, that they are cheering us on, looking over our shoulders, and expecting that we will not falter. Because, they have left us a legacy of honor, of Duty, of doing their jobs, that make it possible for all of us to be here, today, to have the opportunities that we enjoy. Let us not let them down.

Regarding that day an entire generation ago, let us tell of the Heroes who raced into a building, knowing it was to collapse. Let us tell our children of the Heroes, civilians all, who sacrificed their own lives, that others would not die at the hands of the heartless. Let us tell each other of the Heroes who dwell among us, unknown to us, perhaps unknown to themselves, who will rise up to the demands they face, and risk all to save another. Let us measure ourselves against them, and be grateful they dwell among us. Let us hope we can measure up, should our time come. God Bless those who stand in harm’s way, on our behalf.

Family Business

My daughter, let us call her Brenda, got married a couple of weeks ago. She has found a man who is made of righteous stuff, who complements her, and fathers (dad-s?) her children.

Since I am a step father, I respect men who step whole heartedly into the role of fatherhood, even if ready-made fatherhood. This man is such a man.

So, several insights occurred to me over the past couple of weeks.

First off, without The Plaintiff, I would not have this wonderful woman, who calls me “Dad”, in my life. For all The Plaintiff’s (and my, to be honest) imperfections and shortcomings, if she had not married me, there would be a Brenda sized hole in my life.

So, as the Father of the Bride, when asked, “Who gives this woman?”, I replied, “Her mother and I”.

Secondly, this amazing woman put herself through college, as well as grad school, working full time, and mothering what would turn out to be 4 children. Proud Poppa moment, right there.

I took the chance to tell her how proud I am of her, and in so many ways that she has earned that pride.

When she responded, “Thank you, Daddy”, well I nearly melted. I had told her how meaningful that Christmas powerpoint was to me, how, even now, it moves me to tears.

So, of course, the Father-Bride dance was to, “He Didn’t Have to Be”, by Brad Paisley.

Thirdly, The Darling Wife-Mark II is an unequivocal blessing to me, in my life. TDW labored to make the decorations, to make everything at this wedding Just Nice. Brenda nearly gushed over the wedding decorations, multiple guests made a point of approaching TDW, and complimenting her over how well her efforts had turned out.

Loss, helping me appreciate what I have.

Eaton Rapids Joe of the eponymous blog, had a link to, in effect, a video eulogy. The gentleman producing the video blog reported that, last weekend, he and his “Beautiful Wife” had gone to bed, just like a thousand other times, except that only he awakened.

In the course of his remembrances, he tears up, and APOLOGIZES! for doing so.

I commented: “Sir, please do NOT apologize for your tears. Be the genuine, grieving man that you are. And, thank you for the reminder of simply how important my own “Beautiful Wife” is, to me. The simple things are truly the most important.”

My own “Darling Wife-Mark II” (improved version!) did not change my life as dramatically as this gentleman credits his Beautiful Wife with doing, but she did teach me that I could love again, and that even my cynicism required some limits.

Presently she is toiling away, making decorations for my daughter’s wedding. She has devoted uncounted hours to this, creating place settings, hunting down this or that item, in an unstinting effort to make my daughter’s wedding beautiful.

And, to be plain, my daughter is my “step-daughter”. So, the woman she is losing sleep over, whose wedding she is working ever so hard to make just nice, is her step-step-daughter.

That is the sort of quality human being that has graced my life, has been my wife for ten years this autumn.

I will take the time, today, to try to be certain that she understands how she has affirmatively changed my life for the better.

An effort that, if I have a lick of sense, I will repeat daily until the end of time.

Sometimes, I am Humbled

Last week, I got back into my “groove”. I have had the reputation of sending folks to ED with greater frequency than my colleagues. So, this one gentleman arrived, in pretty remarkable abdominal pain. His exam was NOT reassuring, and I wondered if he had a hot gall bladder, or some other variety of intra-abdominal catastrophe-in-waiting.

Now, to be honest, I am not particularly young, nor am I particularly spry. Indeed, for the past several weeks I have been gimping about the clinic, as my one knee is undecided whether it will ache, give out, let my kneecap spin freely about my mid leg, or some unpleasant combination of the three. So, it is apparent to any observer who cares to notice, that my one leg is not making me happy.

Yeah, I know: STBM. (Sucks To Be Me), after a fashion.

So, this gentleman, in no small pain his own self, as a parting conversational gambit on his way to ED, and maybe surgery, wished, “I hope your leg feels better!”

Jeez! Some people! With all the setting good examples of compassion, and empathy!

Makes it difficult, sometimes, to be as cynical as I tend to be.

My “Problems”, Are Likely To Be Other Folks’ Blessings

My “Problems”, may well look like blessings to other folks

I was chatting with the physician with whom I was working last night, as we were working late due to a couple of late arriving folks. He observed that this sort of thing was one of the reasons we were paid pretty well.

Truth. I observed that, from one perspective, this sort of inconvenience, indeed, most of the sorts of things we generally thought of as “problems”, were, to other folks, blessings.

By way of example: “Waaah! It was so busy that I did not get the opportunity to write out and address payments for a couple of my bills at work today!”

Counterpoint: “So, Reltney, you are telling me that you have (insert non essential product/service, here), and indeed, have right this moment, the funds to pay that bill, in full, right now, but your EMPLOYMENT consumed so much of your WORKDAY, that you are now INCONVENIENCED by the need to pay that bill, on time and in full, at home, off duty, at your kitchen table? Rilly? Must suck to be you, amirite?”

Example the second: “Waah! I have a sink full of dirty dishes! Those food stains likely have set, and will be tedious to scrub off!”

Counterpoint: “So, Reltney, you have (a) a home, (b) intact, and (c) have a sink, in which your dishes from (d) your last several meals now rest, which you now have to clean with (e) hot running water, so that they are clean, once again, for when you prepare (f) your next meal, sometime, oh, gosh, TODAY? Did I miss any part of your tale of woe inconvenience? Must suck to be you!”

And so forth, with yardwork, laundry, shopping, fuel for the vehicle, etcetera, off into the distance.

Communication Breakdown

So, TINS©, TDW-Mark II had set out, because TSIL-Mark II (The Sister In Law-Mark II) had undergone surgery of some sort, and required assistance in the couple of weeks post operation. TDW does not work outside the home, and I flatter myself that I am sort of self sufficient. So, off she went.

Her journey to Another Fly Over State was unremarkable. She arrived, and notified me of this fact. I cooked up a batch of food, ensuring a supply of left overs for my work day repast. I laundered clothing and suchlike, and folded and hung same. I washed the dishes, and then put them away. I went to work, came home, played with the cats, and generally bummed around.

Just like I was a grown up, and had, oh, heck, maybe, done all this stuff before, right?

So, one evening I had changed into pajamas, hanging my pants and shirt up on the hook in the closet. My routine is that I will, the next morning, retrieve said pants and shirt, and transfer all my whatnot from old clothing, into the pockets of new clothing.

Well, when I do so, and leave my cellphone in my pants pocket, and retire to another room altogether to watch “Battleship New Jersey” videos (highly recommended, BTW!), or The History Guy videos (another enthusiastic Thumbs Up! Recommendation!), well, I cannot hear the ringer on my phone. Since I am not youthful, and do not have a pristine medical record, and, as well, TDW-Mark II is a bit of a worry wart, well, when I do not answer my phone, nor the texts, and this continues for something like a half an hour, well, she gets excited and calls a friend of ours, who also lives in town, requesting that he meander over and verify that I am not folded up on the floor, with the cats poking me and asking when I will arise, and feed them. Or something.

So, much to my surprise, our friend rang my doorbell at something like 2200 hours, and explained the preceding paragraph to me. I retrieved my phone, and promptly called TDW, and reassured her that I was NOT a crumpled heap of geezerhood at the bottom of the stairs.

The ringing in my ear, from the chastisement I subsequently received, has nearly resolved, as I write these words.

A DAY LATE….

Memorial Day: The most expensive holiday we have. People paid for it, with their lives. (stolen from comments of The History Guy)