The granddaughter, Ella Becs, entered this world with a stern attitude but metamorphosed into a little girl who captivates with a quick smile or hug.  Her reserved attitude toward the world in general changes in a twinkle with family.  In no time at all, she learned the power of charm and a smile.  It was always mysterious to me how my husband could succumb totally to his daughter whenever she smiled at him.  Now, that mystery is solved; I understand.

After hearing about the need for clean water in Africa, Asher decided he wanted to raise money to help the children there.  With some direction from his Mom and Dad, he decided that rather than just ask for money, he is offering three ways to earn it.  He is selling hearts for one dollar, sweeping porches or steps for two dollars, and making note cards for five dollars. 

His parents provided the supplies and he provided the labor to make the cards using crayons and stamper.  The goal was to earn twenty dollars in donations to be turned in by March 18th.  So far, this six-year-old has raised approximately $137.00 since February 27th.  Already, he’s helping change the world.  I stand amazed and humbled at what he can accomplish.

Being older can at times seem cruel and unwanted until you look into the eyes of that grandchild.  Suddenly, the sun shines brighter, dark clouds fade away, and all is right with the world.  We become a willing slave to these sprites flitting through our life and that’s the way it has been forever.  Thank goodness for family and for life.

Today, each and every error made by personalities, be they famous or infamous, is examined, discussed, and bifurcated by the press, talk shows, and anyone within reach of the internet.  It is tweeted, Facebooked, and laid out for the world to see in a blink.  Nothing goes unnoticed or dissected.  If you are in the public eye, it is to be expected and, often, desired, but when you are an ordinary citizen who gets caught in this Oz-like tornado, it’s another.  That’s what happened to Marilyn Hagerty.

The eighty-five year old woman who lives in Grand Forks, ND writes a column five days a week the local Grand Forks Herald including restaurant reviews.  Over time, she has done reviews of chain restaurants without anything other than local notice, but one column, a review of the new Olive Garden, went viral.  When interviewed, Ms. Hagerty commented, “They told me that my column went viral and I didn’t even know what viral meant.”  There is much ballyhoo-ing about the column some with tongue-in-cheek and others with a definitely snarky taint.

We can all have our opinions about Olive Garden, but there is one thing on which we can agree.  Marilyn Hagerty is a woman to be admired and emulated; I hope to be so privileged as to be eating out, writing posts/columns, and just being active when I am that age.  She is what I want to be when I grow up.

The January thaw meant temperatures in the 70′s rather than the 50′s and February brought even warmer weather that felt more like early April.   The powerful winds that blow through each spring bringing tornadoes and flooding rains are here now while the calendar says it’s still winter.  Already, they course through bringing destruction and death with a strength that’s worrisome since there are months left when stronger storms are sure to come.

You know the weather is strange when Cleveland, OH has a fairly warm winter with their yards bare of snow for extended periods.  Meanwhile, Alaska had so much snow that towns were temporarily isolated and roofs caved in under the weight of this nearly all-time record snow.  Alaskan government officials have run out of places to put snow taken off the highways and are dumping it in the ocean.  The highway medians’ collection is so high that you can’t see oncoming traffic.  Alaskans are used to snow expect and want it, but this amount of snow has taken even them by surprise.

Over the years, various advertisements have advised us not to “mess with Mother Nature” or “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature”.   But the reverse is also true.  Really, Mother Nature, it’s not nice to fool us like this.

That isn’t a bad thing, but when carried too far, we all lose.  Even the chef’s demands can be eased to use foods that may not be pretty, but have so much flavor and so many uses. It was probably the most illuminating program that has been on the “boob tube” for years and, yet, repulsive showing that we have become a nation demanding only the best letting any imperfect item fall as trash.  This is all too true when it comes to food.

The statistics are grim with 40% of the food grown in America going to waste; 200 pounds of food per person in the United States is trashed equaling about 27 million tons of edible food disposed of each year.  This food isn’t rotten or contaminated, it is merely disfigured in some way or is near its sell-by date.  According to the Food and Drug Administration’s web site(http://www.fsis.usda.gov/Fact_Sheets/Food_Product_Dating/index.asp), “food product dating  is to help the store determine how long to display the product for sale. It can also help the purchaser to know the time limit to purchase or use the product at its best quality. It is not a safety date.”

Growers can expect to have forty to fifty percent waste for their crops if they are selling it to retail stores or public markets.  One farmer who had a u-pick fields of corn had one portion that was knocked flat by hurricane winds.  No one would pick that corn because obviously something was wrong with it which meant it would go to waste.  Five billion–yes, that is billion–eggs are trashed each year because they are the wrong size or color.  Contrary to popular opinion, chickens don’t always lay an egg that meets the criteria established by retailers.  Some are too small, others too big, some are blue, and if the yolk or white has broken down, it is trashed.  All eggs must pass inspection and fit in the cartons to make it to market.

In 1986 in Jackson, MS, a volunteer organization gleans food from as many resources as possible locally and gives the food to local food banks.  Other gleaner cells have been established in the United States, but, truthfully, there’s room for more.  Working together we can slow this waste of our good resources and we need to do it.

There it sat in all it’s unfeathered glory, the fryer extraordinaire, ready to become tonight’s dinner.   Alton’s was whole since, as he explained, a fryer stays fresh longer if it isn’t cut into pieces until ready for use.  Then, he proceeded to show a method for disassembling a fryer that, with a few tweaks, looked quicker.  First, he removed the wishbone which made it easier to remove the wings and later the breasts.  Truth to tell, his knife was really sharp which is a kind of nirvana which I never have attained.  Plus, it is difficult to tell how long it took Alton what with film editing and speeding up film and all their other tricks.

Before long, the chicken lay in pieces which he then covered with low-fat buttermilk to soak for four to twelve hours.  After the commercial, he put together the spices he wanted to use and put it directly on the chicken which was then dredged with flour allowing it to rest then for about ten minutes.  Using that method allows the spices to soak into the chicken while it’s cooking Alton said.  But then, Alton and I parted company.  He cooked his chicken in Crisco which I found terribly disturbing.  People follow him and his methods and while chicken fried in Crisco is wonderful, what it does to your insides is horrible.  He did make the point that frying it in three inches of oil allows for a crispy skin  and a moist meat.

His chicken looked, and I’ll bet it tasted, just like that my mother used to make with the sweet little brown spot where the chicken rested on the cast iron skillet.  Fried chicken is a treat to be had rarely like fudge and other “sinful” foods, but each bite becomes a moment to remember, a moment of ecstasy.  Thanks, Alton, for the lesson.

There were the reactions to the drugs, the trips to cardiac rehab, the restless nights, and even longer days.  There was everyone calling me to ensure that I was fine and the time needed to reassure them.  There was the time needed to take care of all those pesky little things done routinely which make the wheel of life roll on.  When it’s just you and you can’t function, nothing gets done, thus, the necessary catch-up.  Life rolled on and it felt as though I was about 20 steps behind everyone else.

Before I knew it weeks had passed and like a drowning person grasping for a handhold I was still trying to get my life back on track.  All those years of parenting were finally paying off since with children life is often in flux and is a constant game of one-step-forward-two-steps-back.  It’s easy to deal with health problems, but the loss of your lifestyle, one you have fought hard to gain, is much harder to handle.  It was time to get a game plan.  The first objective was to get out of rehab which was the biggest hog of my time and energy.

Accomplishing that goal was encouraging but the slump of relief almost made it feel like two steps back.  The next goal established was to lose ten to fifteen pounds by mid-April and exercise to get as toned as possible in that amount of time.  This dual-purposed goal is all part of the preparation for another procedure in April or May to complete the rotor rooting on my heart.  The fitter I am, the better everything will go and the sooner I will be ousted from the hospital and all that tasteless food.  An even bigger plus is that recuperation will be quicker as well.

Slowly, but surely, the goals are gained but there will be more days of one step forward, two steps back.  This is the journey they talk about which begins with one step and I’ve been on too many to stop putting one foot in front of the other each day.  A toast to surviving and to the survivors.

Most of them use puns to get their main idea across to the drivers and passengers as they drive by.  My all-time favorite so far read, “Board broken, message inside”.  It is simple, to the point and the message is well taken.  Another favorite  was “God answers all kneel mail” a timely message with a modern twist.   One week, one board said “We’re not Dairy Queen, but we have cool Sundays.”

These seemingly insignificant moments have made an impact on me and hopefully, on others.  They don’t make me want to join their church, but they do make you think about attending and the message inside.  However, they have additional messages at some of the churches including ones for turkey shoots which involve neither turkeys or shooting them.  It is target shooting which which provides a time of fellowship and good fun for the membership.  Another offers dinner and a movie while yet another offers yoga.

Churches have always provided a variety of social occasions to keep members busy with fellow parishoners for centuries.  I remember attending all types of events as soon as I was old enough all of which were totally fun.  It’s good to provide something for young people and adults to do in an environment that is healthy and in their best interest.  There are thousands of negative influences for people today all of which glitter and bedazzle which are for the benefit of those who provide the influences.  Why not have one that benefits the attendees.

Edward Harper, LCSW, with Senior Services for a local hospital, went on to explain that people born in the 1930′s and 1940′s learned patience as a part of growing up but today’s kids won’t learn the same thing since everything is readily available in seconds.  Instead of writing a letter as our generation once would with the reply coming in weeks, now, young people text and expect to get a reply seconds later.  A good analogy is the common potato.   My parents, children of the 1920′s and 1930′s, would grow their potatoes or get them at a local store expecting to wash, peel, dice or otherwise prepare those potatoes for the meal.  Their expectations were that within a half hour or longer the potatoes would be ready to eat.

Today, we buy the boxed or frozen potatoes which will be ready per the package’s promise in ten minutes.  If the ten minutes pass and those potatoes aren’t ready, our expectations aren’t met and impatience ensues.  If it takes another ten minutes, we become intolerant of the delay promising never to buy them again because of the extra time it takes.  In the big picture, this delay is minimal and total time is much less than dealing with a raw potato.  The difference is our expectations and our level of intolerance for the delay.

This attitude leads us today to situations like road rage as well as other rages that brings about harm to the family either directly or indirectly.  Our expectations need to be at a level that is not only realistic but also attainable.  undesirable expectations lead to anxiety and unhealthy attitudes when a little patience would get us a lot further.  In other posts, I have written that life is not about the destination but rather the journey.  The quality of our journey is determined by our self-imposed expectations.

If we practice patience and are attentive to the now, life can be a more pleasant journey.  It will never be perfect, but it can be good, it can be pleasant, it can be wonderful, it can be sad or scary.  We need to experience all that life offers and allow ourselves the time to experience everything as it comes our way.   Brian Adams, an author, wrote, “Learn the art of patience. Apply discipline to your thoughts when they become anxious over the outcome of a goal. Impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. Patience creates confidence, decisiveness, and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success.”

It is our individual decision as to how we lead our life.  Jokingly, during tough times, I have said that I just wanted to handle the situation with grace and beauty.  To me that meant giving the moment my attention and patiently working through the situation to reach a positive resolution.  Patience is a virtue worth developing.

I knew that I had felt overwhelmingly tired for a couple of days prior to the attack itself which turned out to be a sign.  Had I known, I wonder if I would have gone to the doctor only to tell him I was so very tired.  I wonder what the doctor would have done.  Possibly passed it over, as I did, as a sign of someone who was doing too much.   The weariness had been coming on for months, but I was too busy to notice.  Then, there were those times when for less than a minute I would have to pant to get my breath.  It’s a classic symptom of which I was unaware. 

In May, 2010, I went to my local doctor for stomach pains combined with nausea for which he gave me a prescription which resolved the problem.   My cardiologist and I speculated as to whether or not that was the first sign.  We’ll never know.   Most people associate chest pains along with pain down the left arm with heart attacks, but some, life me, have no pain at all.  Others will have pain in their neck, jaw or shoulders.  The symptoms of an actual heart attack vary between men and women and may be different for older people.  Knowing what the most common symptoms are can help.   Here is a site that can help acquaint you with the most common ones,  http://health.yahoo.net/articles/heart/photos/heart-attack-symptoms-you-are-most-likely-ignore#0.  Empower yourself with knowledge and live a long healthy life.

In this case, there were limited options and it soon became apparent that the only thing to do was call 911.  The operator quickly caught on that I was having a heart attack and contacted the local fire department and an ambulance service.  They arrived and quickly took matters into their own hands.  Before long I was strapped in an ambulance eating aspirin followed by nitroglycerin melting under my tongue.  The EKG electrodes and clips were attached to my torso with the machine itself wirelessly spitting information to the hospital as we clipped along the two lane country road with sirens wailing.

Before too long we pulled into the local hospital ER area and I saw in the hall a group of people who looked as though they were waiting on me.  This group of five or six were the cardiac team on call that night.  The hospital after seeing the readings on the EKG notified them and their response was quick.  The ER was calm and quiet until I was put in a room, then, as if by some silent signal, each and every person went into motion.  It was a blur of activity and with in a minute I was in the cath lab having three stints inserted in the blood vessels of my heart.  The doctor told me it was a night that once trouble started everything went right.

I called 911 instead of driving to the hospital, the ambulance was equipped for patients having heart attacks, the team was quick and efficient completing the three stints within 25 minutes of my arrival at the hospital.  It was a night meant for living not dying and I was very lucky that it all went so well. Four or five years ago I had a clean echocardiogram; this month, I had an acute myocardial infarction.  I have worked so hard to eat right and be healthy, but you can’t escape a family history or a history of smoking.  This medical “event” will forever be a part of my life, but it won’t rule my life, shape it maybe, but not rule it.