Last Saturday afternoon I decided to attend an event at the local library. It was put on by a pro author and it was very well done. She was famous and she was a teacher, a PhD in writing. In the seminar she talked about perfecting writing by using a system. She talked about the purpose of writing and some common mistakes people make. Questions like, are you writing for others or for yourself? What do you want your style to be etc. etc. I went back after the class and read a few of these blogs and was kind of sad to find that
I really am not able to identify any style. I am not sure I am doing these for myself or others. The next time I sat down to write I got kind of stuck thinking about all this stuff. Perhaps the only style I can identify is what I might call the "drip method". This is a style that was not even one she had on the page. What happens is that as thoughts come to mind, my fingers move and words kind of drip out on to the page. I will leave the pro writing to others but for now I want to tell you a little about Alden. At least let me get a little creative and reverse the order. Here it goes.......
Ever had an interesting night? One that you can immerse yourself in. A moment that makes you feel something that you are just not able to feel at any other time. We kinda had one of those nights last weekend. My son Alden had a big party "gathering" at his home in Grand Rapids. He had invited one of the more interesting groups of people. The kitchen was full of foreign languages. A pork was being roasted and a couple of turkeys. The food was plentiful and people just kept showing up. And oh yes he did have a few "milkshakes" on hand. People would come and go, they would flow in and out. I nice fall night that fit in between the raindrops and just kind of worked out. His buddy Todd had loaned to him a portable fire pit and his father in law, Walt, had brought down a few sticks of wood. As they burned and moldered in to the night air I sat there and watched them. For about ten minutes I watched the flames and it was during this time that I thought of our son Alden. Please permit me to relay a few moments of our experience and life with Alden.
It was just two weeks before that my son invited me to spend a day of fishing with him on the Pier Marquette River. Over the years he has adopted this hobby and now he really knows what he is doing. He has a good friend, Dave, that owns a boat and shares his passion for fishing. We started at 7 in the morning and quit at 8 at night and we hooked about 40 of the strongest fish (large Salmon) I have ever encountered. Watching these guys handle this river (and Alden's inexperienced fishing father) was one of the neater happenings I have been involved in.
It was not long before that that we attended a wedding. It was held in the small town of Leeland. My Dad performed the ceremony, my son Ross and daughter in law did the music and Alden and Mary had a wonderful wedding celebration. As I watched the fire last night I recalled these events and kind of saw them over again. Alden and Mary were now together and for us that was a dream. Her family put on a nice wedding. It was a cold day in August but the warmth of the wedding event overcame the cold day.
It was just 2 1/2 years before that. We had a bunch of young people came to our house for dinner. At that time Alden and 4 girls came over. It was on this night that I said to Alden. "There is one person at that table that is really special. I have two words for you, marry Mary". He did not listen all that much but it did work out this way after several year of them insisting that they were just friends. That night and still today Mary has the attribute of being one of the easiest people to be around that we have ever known.
It was not long before that Alden was competing for the Golf Title of the State. I had always planned to caddy for him some day in the US Open. I could kind of see he and I receiving the trophy. He would kind of hold it up and he would point out that his father told him about how to do his grip and stance. It did not work out this way but I still think it could have. I am not sure if he liked the game of golf all that much. I will tell you that when he wants, he can really play the game. But I think he did it more for me than for him. He now spreads his time out between many other endeavors.
It was not many years before that that we were picking out his name. We had a guy who went to our church and his name was Alden. I said to Deb, I really like that name and I like the guy. He ran a large bank and I wanted to choose this name for our new son. Alden is now known by some as Talden. He stands about 6'5". He looks a little like the man we named him after.
It was just shortly before that. We sat in an office and reviewed his ultrasound with a doctor. The doctor told us our new son would most likely be OK His birth took place on December 10, 1983. I came down to the nursery that night and there was one kid who was holding his head up above the bed and trying to look around. He looked like he was going to be quite a man. As I watched the fire in his back yard last night, I visited with our family and Mary's family. In think one of the reasons he went to all the work is so that his Mom and I could share this time with all the family and friends. A good time was had by all.
And allow me the next time to tell you about another move, another place, a few more stories and a little more about how there can be some humor in the storms of life.... Until then...............
Stan the Man
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
May I Paint a Picture?
The next time I write I want to detail our story of the birth of our second living son Alden. I must tell you that this time I feel a little down in the dumps. Deb had kind of a tough day today. She fell asleep watching the Tiger game. The score is tied 2-2 and for her to fall asleep when it is this close lets me know that she is hurting and tired. Please allow me to tell a few things that I recall from the early days of my life. I am sure we all have some stories. Here are a few of mine. I want to frame this by saying that some of the readers of these stories have commented on my vivid memories of these events. Let me describe it this way. I used to play a trombone. It was nothing more than a bunch of work for me. I had a hard time coming in at the right place. I played for a short time in a small orchestra with Ross. One time I looked over and observed how he handled this. He made it seem easy. I asked him one time how he did this and he told me that when they set a piece of music in front of him he sees it like a picture. I never saw music this way but somehow there are some things in my life that have kind of embedded a picture in my mind. They seem to never go away. This post is about several of those pictures.
My dad was awarded a scholarship to study at the Free University of Amsterdam and our young family packed our belongings in 55 gallon drums and set sail on a ship called the USS Amsterdam. In those days airplane travel was way more expensive and not all that safe. I remember the trip to be about 6 days. I vaguely remember the Statute of Liberty as we sailed out and then a reasonably pleasant trip of what seemed to a small kid, a pretty big ocean. The arrival in Rotterdam and the trip to Amsterdam are forgotten but the trip up to our sixth floor apartment in an old movie type elevator is still with me. Then the walking trip the next morning to a Dutch school about 6 blocks away. Standing outside with about 100 other kids with our dad holding the hand of 2 really scared American boys. In the Dutch language the name for a female teacher is Juffvrouw and the name for a bicycle is "fiets". (pronounced feets) The kids looked down the street and a few started to alert us. "Hier komt de Juff." (pronounced yuff) Most of the bikes had a little assist motor on the front wheel so they called them a "bromfiets." In other words a bike that went brom. (pronounced brum) De-Juff was smoking a cigarette and popped the front wheel of the bromviets over the curb. She jammed the thing in a bike rack and looked at my dad and asked "Ben jij de vader de Amerikannse yougens dat ik de leraar worden" (Are you the father of the American boys of which I am to be the teacher.) My dad said ya. Then he asked he asked de-juff "Ken je engles?" (Can you speak English) and she said ya. Now I want to tell you that the word "ya" was all she knew. The next thing I knew my brother and I were sitting in a room with about 30 kids in Kortabroek (short pants) and listening to de-juff teach the lessons.
It is amazing that when young people are exposed non-stop to a foriegn language. It only takes about 3 weeks to learn what is going on and about 6 weeks to be talking it in the house. I do recall that at the front of every desk was a "inktpot." A small pot of ink about 1/12" in diameter and 3"s deep. You would dip your pen in these things and write your assignment. Somehow one day I had a tooth come out and it found its way to the bottom of the inktpot and de-juff had to fish it out. She told me "you drop geen tanden meer in deze inkt pot en ze blijven op de bodem" (you drop any more teeth in here and they stay in the bottom.) I could go on and on but these are a few of the events. I can still see like a picture. I have a bunch more but I will not bore you with them.
We were there for about 2 years. By the time we were done we spoke in Dutch and thought in Dutch. On the way home on the USS Rotterdam we ran in to a large Atlantic storm. Seeing this from the eyes of a 9 year old I can recall the sea and the sky became one (all black) and I can see the bow of the boat totally being submersed in one Atlantic wave after another. My dad did not think we would make it home and he still talks about this up to this day. The crew of the boat was worried as well. It was on the inbound way to the New York harbor that I do recall sighting the Statute of Liberty. I now understand the feelings of people who immigrated to this country years ago on equipment even smaller than we sailed on. The November trip was 14 days and I have since never put my foot on a boat longer than what would go out for a one hour trip on Lake Michigan.
Harry Truman was once criticized for saying the word crap in some of his news conferences. He told the media that it had taken his wife 14 years to get him to use this word over the one he had used before. When we got back to the States I found myself in the classroom of the best teacher I have ever had. I think 50% of all my learning was done in this room. His name was Mr Browning. I think all of us get about three real good teachers in our lives and for me he was a the top of the list. I had to write a paper on geology one day and he handed it back the next with a big fat D on the top right hand corner. I looked at the grade and somehow used the original Harry Truman version of the word crap. I found myself at the blackboard about three hours after class writing 100 times these words. "I, Stanley Hoksbergen, a judicious young member of the species homo-sapiens have committed a grievous error in the area of social conduct. This error involves the slander and disregard of human emotion and proper human behavior and relates to the use of a four letter word that has never belonged in the dialect of intelligent human beings." I wrote that baby out 100 times.
I can still see it like a picture.....When I am in a better mood.....When Deb is feeling a little better let me write the next chapter.......Until then let the words you use be all good ones....
Stan the Man
My dad was awarded a scholarship to study at the Free University of Amsterdam and our young family packed our belongings in 55 gallon drums and set sail on a ship called the USS Amsterdam. In those days airplane travel was way more expensive and not all that safe. I remember the trip to be about 6 days. I vaguely remember the Statute of Liberty as we sailed out and then a reasonably pleasant trip of what seemed to a small kid, a pretty big ocean. The arrival in Rotterdam and the trip to Amsterdam are forgotten but the trip up to our sixth floor apartment in an old movie type elevator is still with me. Then the walking trip the next morning to a Dutch school about 6 blocks away. Standing outside with about 100 other kids with our dad holding the hand of 2 really scared American boys. In the Dutch language the name for a female teacher is Juffvrouw and the name for a bicycle is "fiets". (pronounced feets) The kids looked down the street and a few started to alert us. "Hier komt de Juff." (pronounced yuff) Most of the bikes had a little assist motor on the front wheel so they called them a "bromfiets." In other words a bike that went brom. (pronounced brum) De-Juff was smoking a cigarette and popped the front wheel of the bromviets over the curb. She jammed the thing in a bike rack and looked at my dad and asked "Ben jij de vader de Amerikannse yougens dat ik de leraar worden" (Are you the father of the American boys of which I am to be the teacher.) My dad said ya. Then he asked he asked de-juff "Ken je engles?" (Can you speak English) and she said ya. Now I want to tell you that the word "ya" was all she knew. The next thing I knew my brother and I were sitting in a room with about 30 kids in Kortabroek (short pants) and listening to de-juff teach the lessons.
It is amazing that when young people are exposed non-stop to a foriegn language. It only takes about 3 weeks to learn what is going on and about 6 weeks to be talking it in the house. I do recall that at the front of every desk was a "inktpot." A small pot of ink about 1/12" in diameter and 3"s deep. You would dip your pen in these things and write your assignment. Somehow one day I had a tooth come out and it found its way to the bottom of the inktpot and de-juff had to fish it out. She told me "you drop geen tanden meer in deze inkt pot en ze blijven op de bodem" (you drop any more teeth in here and they stay in the bottom.) I could go on and on but these are a few of the events. I can still see like a picture. I have a bunch more but I will not bore you with them.
We were there for about 2 years. By the time we were done we spoke in Dutch and thought in Dutch. On the way home on the USS Rotterdam we ran in to a large Atlantic storm. Seeing this from the eyes of a 9 year old I can recall the sea and the sky became one (all black) and I can see the bow of the boat totally being submersed in one Atlantic wave after another. My dad did not think we would make it home and he still talks about this up to this day. The crew of the boat was worried as well. It was on the inbound way to the New York harbor that I do recall sighting the Statute of Liberty. I now understand the feelings of people who immigrated to this country years ago on equipment even smaller than we sailed on. The November trip was 14 days and I have since never put my foot on a boat longer than what would go out for a one hour trip on Lake Michigan.
Harry Truman was once criticized for saying the word crap in some of his news conferences. He told the media that it had taken his wife 14 years to get him to use this word over the one he had used before. When we got back to the States I found myself in the classroom of the best teacher I have ever had. I think 50% of all my learning was done in this room. His name was Mr Browning. I think all of us get about three real good teachers in our lives and for me he was a the top of the list. I had to write a paper on geology one day and he handed it back the next with a big fat D on the top right hand corner. I looked at the grade and somehow used the original Harry Truman version of the word crap. I found myself at the blackboard about three hours after class writing 100 times these words. "I, Stanley Hoksbergen, a judicious young member of the species homo-sapiens have committed a grievous error in the area of social conduct. This error involves the slander and disregard of human emotion and proper human behavior and relates to the use of a four letter word that has never belonged in the dialect of intelligent human beings." I wrote that baby out 100 times.
I can still see it like a picture.....When I am in a better mood.....When Deb is feeling a little better let me write the next chapter.......Until then let the words you use be all good ones....
Stan the Man
Monday, September 19, 2011
Low notes and High notes
I am going to start this post with a low note and I am going to end on a high one. I am not sure that all of these qualify that much for the humor theme. Please let this one float someplace in the middle. It has some storm and some sun.
It seemed that is was not long before we had to go through another event of losing an infant. It was pretty much the same way it happened before. In those days they did not have the testing that they do now. Although Deb and I remained optimistic that the pregnancy of our second child had some good signs it was also true that there were some concerns. This time a little girl was born and we named her Megan Leigh. A life of about 3 ½ hours was all that we had. Somehow we were a little more prepared. We conducted a family service and buried the baby right next to Jason Brandon, our first. In a way the emotion of the event hit us even harder than the first time. In addition to the sadness of the loss was the fact that evidence brought forward the thought that we may not ever have children. Allow me to share an event that at the time of its occurrence did not seem comfortable to me. We had a small family funeral. The baby was prepared and displayed in a small casket. Deb’s father again helped us with this. Deb asked her dad if she could hold the baby. He expressed that this is a common occurrence and request from mothers who have experienced such a loss. Deb spent some time doing this. I mention this now for only one reason. In the event that any of the readers experience a similar loss either as a parent, grandparent or friend, please know that this is a common emotion and can assist in the grieving process for a mother. It meant a lot to Deb to be able to do this. Many years have gone by and it still hurts to relay the events but this is how it all took place.
Thereafter, we went through some pretty extensive genetic testing and the results indicated that 1out of 2 children we would have would have this condition. Given these odds and the history of our case it was decided to attempt one more time. We did find out about some test that could be performed in the earlier stages of pregnancy. We also found that U of M had a doctor who was experienced in this area. At around the 4 month point of the next pregnancy, and after many test, he consulted with us and I recall what he said. He told us that he could not insure that our next baby would be healthy but he could tell us that it did not have Potters Syndrome as did the 2 previous. It was with quiet and anxious anticipation that Deb went through the last 5 months of the pregnancy and the day finally arrived for the trip to Sparrow Hospital
We were anxious enough that even the slightest hint of a contraction sent us down the road to the hospital. (maybe more accurate to say I rather than we) The first time was a false alarm but the next night we had the real deal. I took my place in the chair as Deb by this time was used to me not being very effective in the baby bearing business. I remember her saying to me “you sit there and you watch while I have this baby”. She has always been a very strong person as she endures medical events of any kind. This remains true today. It was not very long and appeared what looked to be a strong baby. A few anxious seconds after birth came one of the most blood curdling cries I had ever heard. With it came what I think still today remains one of the most happy moments of our lives. Seconds later Ross Nathan was placed in Deb’s arms. Tears flowed down Deb’s cheeks and mine to the point that I suggested to her that we did not want to drown this baby before we got to take him home. I was struck by the joy of the event in contrast to the sadness from before. A few days later we were on our way home to the country house in Mason. We stopped on the way to see my dad in his church office and a few other people who had grieved with us over the past events. All in all a good day for a couple of parents who appreciated it at the very highest level that appreciation and thankfulness can go. That Sunday when the birth was announced, the River Terrace Congregation (who had supported us very nicely) broke in to a round of applause. I will never forget it.
I sat in the room with Ross and watched him in the crib that first night. I wanted to make sure the whole thing was real. Every hour or so I would wake and make sure he was OK. I do remember that first night he pretty much slept through the night. He seemed slightly annoyed when I would nudge him a little to make sure he was OK. I think he was a little tired from being shown around all day. For the most part he was a good baby. It was not long before Deb could get out with some of her friends and it was during those times that a transformation from being a good baby to one that was a little bit more of a pain would take place. About the only thing that would appease him was going for a ride in the car. I put him in the car seat and drove quite a few miles that first night when I had the full responsibility. Over the tenure of his infancy we had quite a few car rides. He did like his food source reasonably close by.
Fast forward a little to a couple of other Ross highlights. When he was two years old I found a little bike. I still have it hanging in our garage today. It had training wheels. It was not very long and those training wheels had vibrated a little higher and it was not very long after that they never touched the ground when he rode the thing. So it was pretty early that he had his “wheels” and he had to be watched pretty closely. It was not many years after that, about the 5th grade, that we borrowed a cornet from Deb’s brother Ken. We noticed that along with all of the other stuff that little kids do that this cornet was out of the case and being played in our living room quite a bit. We never had to ask him to practice. Some years later he would sit and play for hours in a wingback chair we had. We gave him that chair the other day to have at his home. It was just this past weekend that Deb and I sat in DeVos Hall and watched him perform with the GR Symphony. Some things just have a way of working out and this has been one of those things.
Allow me next time to share another highlight……It will involve another car seat and a move at last to the city…..Till then…..
Stan the Man
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The bird and the bees and the flowers and the trees
We started to get a used to living in the country in Mason, Michigan. It was a 5 acre property with a pond. The guy we bought it from was a forestry prof at MSU and the place had about every type of tree that Noah had remembered to throw in the back of the ark. As he showed us the place he had to give a little history on each one and after about 3 hours of this tour I was not sure I needed to know that much more about trees. Anyway, we did settle in and started to learn how to live out there. A popular TV show at that time was the show "Green Acres" and this place kind of had that feel right down to the pig Arnold Ziffle which I will tell you about in a moment. Some of the neighbors would raise a few animals and I was never sure if these things were pets or if they would once in a while be replaced as the original pets found their way to the dinner table. The guy from 2 doors down came over one day and asked I if I had seen one of his pigs that had escaped from his pen. I asked him for the description. Mostly black with a white spot on the side, about 200 lbs and a curly tail, was what he could remember.
That night Deb and I heard a huge commotion outside. A bunch of dogs barking (or coyotes), then a really loud screech and then silence. With no ideas what had happened we left the next morning for a 3 day trip someplace. Upon our return we noticed the most awful smell right when we got out of the car. I looked around a little but saw nothing. The next morning the smell was bad enough that you could notice it inside the house. I looked outside and there was something big floating in our pond. It did have a white spot and by this time had experienced the fate of all animals who reside deceased in water for several days. This thing was really big now.
I went down to get the neighbor and reported that I thought I had maybe found his pig. He came over to check it out and looked at the thing for a while and after some thought reported that he did not think this was his pig. I said "Terry that has got to be your pig. It has a white spot and everything. I could use a little help getting this thing out of the pond." He told me that he could tell it was not his pig because his had a tail that was more curly. After a short argument about how it might be possible that the tail could lose some curl after 3-4 days in the water, he left for home and I was left with the chore of digging a pretty good sized pig grave on the property. The act of using my lawn tractor to get this thing out of the pond and in that grave was not one of my finer moments. Deb watched the event from the house and I think might have started to formulate some thoughts about how long we might want to stay in the country.
Given the flowers and the trees that were on this place, plus a nice orchard, I somehow came up with the idea that having a bee hive might also be a good idea. I might suggest that if any of the readers are interested in this that some experience is needed. Working with another beekeeper would be a good thing. The way this works is that you get a white hive with all sorts of contraptions on the inside for the bees to store the honey. Then your order a few things to protect your hands and head and you order 2-3 pounds of bees. When they arrive you put your stuff on and dump the bees in the hive. Thinking and picturing bees from all around coming to join yours is what I sort of had in mind, but this is not how this works. Your bees start living in the hive and the queen lays a bunch of eggs. Some of the bees go get pollen, some build stuff in the hive to make things more comfortable. Some of them work on fertilizing the eggs and in my hive some must have been assigned to sting the guy that owns the hive. Every month or so you are supposed to open the hive and extract the things they put the honey on and do a few other housekeeping things to keep the bees happy. The method you use to make this possible is to introduce some smoke in the hive. They give you a bellow looking thing that you put some leaves in, light them, and blow a little smoke in the entrance. This somehow makes the bees docile and lets you work on the hive for about a half hour. I think the first time I did this I must have worked the bellows a little to much and along with the smoke were some flames. By the time I was done with this thing these bees were a little mad. I noticed that some of the bees had wings that were a little exposed to more than normal heat and a few of these things were walking around in the bottom of the hive. I had the only walking bee brigade in the county. I finally got better at it and over time got to the point of feeling somewhat experienced at the thing.
My Dad came over one day and wanted to see how this all worked. We put the bee stuff on him and he started to open and look at the hive. I was going to talk him through what to do. Some where along the way he jarred something that alarmed the bees. Of the 50,000 bees in the hive about 49,000 were soon swirling around his head. When dad put the bee suit on he had neglected to tie rubber bands around the pant cuffs. I saw a few low flying bees fly into this area. A certain amount of panic had set in but I told dad to stand still and I thought things would be OK. I soon heard a load OUCH and then about two more and soon he was running around the yard yelling and slapping his legs. I am not sure what he preached about the next morning but I do know it was preached with abut 12 big welts up and down his legs.
Deb was up at the house watching the whole thing and pretty soon I looked over and she was laying on the ground. I was worried that a few stray bees had made their way over there and she was hurt but when I arrived she was laughing so hard she could not stand up. When she did compose herself she asked if we were having fun yet and it took her a while to recover and wipe the laughter tears away. She did find some salve to help my dad recover from about 12 bee stings and the next time he was over she told him how glad she was to see him because we needed some more help working on the bee hive.
By the time the whole ordeal was done we got about 2 jars of honey. We put the jars up on the shelf and would often speculate as to the value of those jars. I do know that break even point was around $100 each. That is about what it cost to go see a big name comedian. And even the best pro comedian could not have made Deb laugh so hard, so maybe it was worth it. She walked around the house for a couple days humming "Let me tell you bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees---and a thing called love". I asked her to stop it, but the tune by now was in her head...she said.
We moved to the city where we belonged. By the way, moved there with three of us. I get to tell you abut that the next time....The birth of a son.... this time with good results.....and a few moments of laughter in the adventure....Until then.........................
That night Deb and I heard a huge commotion outside. A bunch of dogs barking (or coyotes), then a really loud screech and then silence. With no ideas what had happened we left the next morning for a 3 day trip someplace. Upon our return we noticed the most awful smell right when we got out of the car. I looked around a little but saw nothing. The next morning the smell was bad enough that you could notice it inside the house. I looked outside and there was something big floating in our pond. It did have a white spot and by this time had experienced the fate of all animals who reside deceased in water for several days. This thing was really big now.
I went down to get the neighbor and reported that I thought I had maybe found his pig. He came over to check it out and looked at the thing for a while and after some thought reported that he did not think this was his pig. I said "Terry that has got to be your pig. It has a white spot and everything. I could use a little help getting this thing out of the pond." He told me that he could tell it was not his pig because his had a tail that was more curly. After a short argument about how it might be possible that the tail could lose some curl after 3-4 days in the water, he left for home and I was left with the chore of digging a pretty good sized pig grave on the property. The act of using my lawn tractor to get this thing out of the pond and in that grave was not one of my finer moments. Deb watched the event from the house and I think might have started to formulate some thoughts about how long we might want to stay in the country.
Given the flowers and the trees that were on this place, plus a nice orchard, I somehow came up with the idea that having a bee hive might also be a good idea. I might suggest that if any of the readers are interested in this that some experience is needed. Working with another beekeeper would be a good thing. The way this works is that you get a white hive with all sorts of contraptions on the inside for the bees to store the honey. Then your order a few things to protect your hands and head and you order 2-3 pounds of bees. When they arrive you put your stuff on and dump the bees in the hive. Thinking and picturing bees from all around coming to join yours is what I sort of had in mind, but this is not how this works. Your bees start living in the hive and the queen lays a bunch of eggs. Some of the bees go get pollen, some build stuff in the hive to make things more comfortable. Some of them work on fertilizing the eggs and in my hive some must have been assigned to sting the guy that owns the hive. Every month or so you are supposed to open the hive and extract the things they put the honey on and do a few other housekeeping things to keep the bees happy. The method you use to make this possible is to introduce some smoke in the hive. They give you a bellow looking thing that you put some leaves in, light them, and blow a little smoke in the entrance. This somehow makes the bees docile and lets you work on the hive for about a half hour. I think the first time I did this I must have worked the bellows a little to much and along with the smoke were some flames. By the time I was done with this thing these bees were a little mad. I noticed that some of the bees had wings that were a little exposed to more than normal heat and a few of these things were walking around in the bottom of the hive. I had the only walking bee brigade in the county. I finally got better at it and over time got to the point of feeling somewhat experienced at the thing.
My Dad came over one day and wanted to see how this all worked. We put the bee stuff on him and he started to open and look at the hive. I was going to talk him through what to do. Some where along the way he jarred something that alarmed the bees. Of the 50,000 bees in the hive about 49,000 were soon swirling around his head. When dad put the bee suit on he had neglected to tie rubber bands around the pant cuffs. I saw a few low flying bees fly into this area. A certain amount of panic had set in but I told dad to stand still and I thought things would be OK. I soon heard a load OUCH and then about two more and soon he was running around the yard yelling and slapping his legs. I am not sure what he preached about the next morning but I do know it was preached with abut 12 big welts up and down his legs.
Deb was up at the house watching the whole thing and pretty soon I looked over and she was laying on the ground. I was worried that a few stray bees had made their way over there and she was hurt but when I arrived she was laughing so hard she could not stand up. When she did compose herself she asked if we were having fun yet and it took her a while to recover and wipe the laughter tears away. She did find some salve to help my dad recover from about 12 bee stings and the next time he was over she told him how glad she was to see him because we needed some more help working on the bee hive.
By the time the whole ordeal was done we got about 2 jars of honey. We put the jars up on the shelf and would often speculate as to the value of those jars. I do know that break even point was around $100 each. That is about what it cost to go see a big name comedian. And even the best pro comedian could not have made Deb laugh so hard, so maybe it was worth it. She walked around the house for a couple days humming "Let me tell you bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees---and a thing called love". I asked her to stop it, but the tune by now was in her head...she said.
We moved to the city where we belonged. By the way, moved there with three of us. I get to tell you abut that the next time....The birth of a son.... this time with good results.....and a few moments of laughter in the adventure....Until then.........................
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A moment of gratitude that has changed our attitude
Permit me to take a moment and explain just a few things in what will be a different type of post than I have done in the past. When I first started these I thought of about 30 events that might be worth reporting most of which had intertwined, along with the event itself, a note of humor within them. Although it might seem strange to use the dimension of humor right now, it is true that when anything like the present circumstances happen within a family, a sense of despair and sadness may be the only emotion that deserves mention. At the same time much of the history of our lives have brought laughter and I just thought it might be right to talk about some of that now as well. Deb says sometimes to visitors "let's not talk about cancer", so even though it is the main issue at hand I can first hand testify that the mind has to dwell in some other areas as well. That is the attempt here along with some recording of these stories so that our grandchildren can know that grandpa and grandma had some interesting stuff happen to them and that their grandma was kind of a neat person.
You may have wondered in my last title "twist and turns that have some burns and learns" what was meant? I think everyone can figure the twist part. The death of our newborn was for sure a twist of fate that we did not expect. The burn part is about a feeling that comes over you when something like this happens. You just feel kind of cheated or as though you have been burned. How about the "learn" part? Well, that is the part that I want to talk about in this post.
It seems to me that whenever a tough thing occurs, there comes with it a chance to learn some things and change some things. With the short term lives of our babies one learns firsthand the level of hurt that goes with that. The response to similar things that happen to other people are done in a more meaningful way. We have a nurse friend, Char Nash, who used to organize a service each year at Holland Hospital for parents who have experienced the loss of a newborn child. Each year about 30-40 gathered at this service and a time of memory and loss is shared. Deb is now a nurse on the Boven Birth Center and is able to care for people who have had this experience in a very different way than people who have not experienced it. When we know of someone in the community who goes through this we do what we can to offer to help them.
On a level we could never have imagined, let me relay one more element of learning that has taken place. It was about six weeks ago now that Deb started to feel some discomfort in her abdominal area. As this started to increase we worked at moving up some standard medical appointments she had. On August 1 she had a morning ultrasound and by 1:00 PM of that day she was informed that some real problems were present. 3 days later, more test and deeper problems. One week and one day later a surgery and a meeting with the surgeon that did not bring good news at all. Then some glimmers of hope and some stories of people in the same situations who have lived. But here is the real learning that has taken place. In a time that could be truly dire, our friends and family have surrounded us and helped us. As I write this, Karen is downstairs talking with Deb. She has attended some of the doctor meetings (she is a nurse) to help us discern what was said and help us determine the best course of action. I mention her name because she is downstairs now but so many have helped at a level that we could not have imagined before. The risk of mentioning everyone leaves the possibility of leaving out someone so I am not going to do that now. So what is the learning?
The learning has come by knowing how much it has meant to Deb and I as this has unfolded. Correspondingly, we hope if any one of our friends or family suffer tough times that we can in some way return the favor. We know now how much it means. A card, a prayer, a visit, a flower, a meal, a gift, a memento or just about anything and everything that lets you know that somebody has taken the time to think of you has a meaning beyond what we could only imagine before. For me this is the learning. In the future my response to people is going to change because of it. I must tell you a common emotion I previously had is that people need time to recover, leave them alone. Might be true in the early days of a problem but it does not stay true for very long.
3 weeks ago I was just learning what a blog is. I thank all of you who follow. I want to return to the more normal stuff next time but I want to use this time to thank you all......By the way, I do have one to tell next time about the birds and the bees..........but it is not what you might think......It was real birds and real bees.
Thanks again to everybody, even the readers of this that just want to read and hear a little bit about humor in a storm..............
Stan the Man
You may have wondered in my last title "twist and turns that have some burns and learns" what was meant? I think everyone can figure the twist part. The death of our newborn was for sure a twist of fate that we did not expect. The burn part is about a feeling that comes over you when something like this happens. You just feel kind of cheated or as though you have been burned. How about the "learn" part? Well, that is the part that I want to talk about in this post.
It seems to me that whenever a tough thing occurs, there comes with it a chance to learn some things and change some things. With the short term lives of our babies one learns firsthand the level of hurt that goes with that. The response to similar things that happen to other people are done in a more meaningful way. We have a nurse friend, Char Nash, who used to organize a service each year at Holland Hospital for parents who have experienced the loss of a newborn child. Each year about 30-40 gathered at this service and a time of memory and loss is shared. Deb is now a nurse on the Boven Birth Center and is able to care for people who have had this experience in a very different way than people who have not experienced it. When we know of someone in the community who goes through this we do what we can to offer to help them.
On a level we could never have imagined, let me relay one more element of learning that has taken place. It was about six weeks ago now that Deb started to feel some discomfort in her abdominal area. As this started to increase we worked at moving up some standard medical appointments she had. On August 1 she had a morning ultrasound and by 1:00 PM of that day she was informed that some real problems were present. 3 days later, more test and deeper problems. One week and one day later a surgery and a meeting with the surgeon that did not bring good news at all. Then some glimmers of hope and some stories of people in the same situations who have lived. But here is the real learning that has taken place. In a time that could be truly dire, our friends and family have surrounded us and helped us. As I write this, Karen is downstairs talking with Deb. She has attended some of the doctor meetings (she is a nurse) to help us discern what was said and help us determine the best course of action. I mention her name because she is downstairs now but so many have helped at a level that we could not have imagined before. The risk of mentioning everyone leaves the possibility of leaving out someone so I am not going to do that now. So what is the learning?
The learning has come by knowing how much it has meant to Deb and I as this has unfolded. Correspondingly, we hope if any one of our friends or family suffer tough times that we can in some way return the favor. We know now how much it means. A card, a prayer, a visit, a flower, a meal, a gift, a memento or just about anything and everything that lets you know that somebody has taken the time to think of you has a meaning beyond what we could only imagine before. For me this is the learning. In the future my response to people is going to change because of it. I must tell you a common emotion I previously had is that people need time to recover, leave them alone. Might be true in the early days of a problem but it does not stay true for very long.
3 weeks ago I was just learning what a blog is. I thank all of you who follow. I want to return to the more normal stuff next time but I want to use this time to thank you all......By the way, I do have one to tell next time about the birds and the bees..........but it is not what you might think......It was real birds and real bees.
Thanks again to everybody, even the readers of this that just want to read and hear a little bit about humor in a storm..............
Stan the Man
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Twist and turns that have some burns and learns.
I am going to share in this writing a few moments of deep emotion and pain. I might go back a little later and pick up another Jackson story or 2. My responsibilities at work had changed and found a need to move to Mason, Michigan. My primary responsibility for my company was to sell tools to Oldsmobile and living closer to Lansing was important.. For some reason we bought a place out in the country on 5 acres and I will tell about that later as well. Seems like Deb and I are more city people and we had a few interesting things happen out there that might have within them some smiles, but for now a different direction. Oh yes, and did I mention that sometime during this transition and or shortly thereafter evidence presented itself that there might be more than 2 of us in the house.
I think my job was going pretty well at that time and we had a little money in the till. We drove down to Kalamazoo and went to a place called the Emporium with some of the neater antiques I had ever seen. We spotted a black walnut baby bed with hand carved wooden spindles and bought that thing for $750. One of the largest splurge moves we had ever made. Deb had set up the baby room in a way that we thought that crib in there would be worth it. As I think about it today I wonder if it would have passed regulations for safety, but people just did not think about that so much back then. At that time there was something called Lamaze class. It was some kind of class that taught people who where pregnant to breath in a way that having a baby did not hurt as much. The husband would grab an ankle or something and create a pressure point and he would be the coach for the whole affair. I can recall being in a room with a bunch of other couples and practicing for this. I do recall thinking over and over that no matter how the breathing was done and how the husband held on to the ankles or wrist that this was a deal that was gong to hurt. It was lucky for me that Deb has a huge pain threshold and even when the big moment came she told me to go over and sit in the corner and let her have this baby. She has born 6 children, not had one drug, not let out one scream and has done the whole thing like it might be in a book someplace.
Those of us that do not know us that well can do the math. We have three children and 6 pregnancies. The sad part is that 2 of the babies died a short time after birth (about 3-4 hours) and the third pregnancy was taken at around the 5 month point due to the fact that test were available to determine that the outcome was assured. The condition is known as Potters Syndrome which is underdeveloped kidneys that are not able to sustain life. Turns out that genetically, 1 out of every 2 children we would have would have this condition and that is exactly how it has worked out. Needless to say we were crushed and not totally prepared for this. I can recall that shortly after the birth of, Jason Brandon, things not looking right at all. The baby did cry a little but the look on the faces in the room and the rush to bring the babe to a different area had the look of trouble all the way. It was just a short time that a doctor was in the hall with me telling me that we have a big problem here and it was a short time thereafter that a pediatrician informed me that there was no chance for life beyond a few hours. One of the more touching events I have ever witnessed is that Deb did have the chance to hold this infant for about 1/2 hour while he was still living. As breathing became more difficult I watched the baby pass away a short time later in an incubator. You know I do not really intend to pull on the heartstrings here but this is how it did happen. Life in this case was 4 hours. To make sure I have this right I am reading a typewritten (before computers) report and it is just interesting how they did things then compared to now. The result however remains the same. It is an infants kidneys that produce the amniotic fluid and the lack thereof caused some additional issues as it relates to the condition of the baby. As I read this report now, lots of problems.
I am not sure we really knew what to do. I do recall Deb's Dad being out of the country. I recall a scratchy voice from a distant country in the days of old phones, telling me to call Pete LeBetz who was a Polish funeral home director in Jackson and also a friend of his. The plan was to have Deb's Dad return and help us deal with all of the issues including a service of some sort. I went to Lansing that night to tell my Mom and Dad what had happened. Late that night I returned to Jackson and I rang the doorbell of that funeral home. It was late!
Pete answered the door and we sat down at his kitchen table. I think that with infants this small, before they are prepared for burial, they are placed in a solution that helps preserve the body for the choice the parents might choose for burial. He made a cup of instant coffee and eventually got around to asking me this question. He said, I have been waiting for my doorbell to ring because I thought you might come in here tonight. You want to see that baby, am I right? I told him that that is what I was there for. He told me this, and I will never forget it. He told me that I would be better off if I thought for the rest of life as my first son being a beautiful baby. But that it would be a mistake if I asked him to see the baby now. You know something? Deb and I never saw that baby after he died, we do not have a picture and she was not able to attend the event of the burial of that baby. We are thankful that Deb's Mom and Dad did tenderly and lovingly hold and dress that little guy for the casket. I will forever thank this man for handling this in this way. My memories of Jason Brandon are good ones. In his own way he put up a good fight
On the drive home I thought a little about life, it's upturns and downs. I wondered a little about the Catholic Nurse who told me that we needed to get a priest on the scene soon to help this babe pass to heaven. And then I thought of something strange. I thought about the odds of the scene repeating itself somewhere around the globe to a family that had not held to Christian background. All of the questions related to humans destiny in situations like this. Interesting questions. Every once in while a get them out again and think about them. My hope is that someday I will somehow be reunited with these children that never had the chance to live for more than a very short time.
Will you please allow me the next time to share a little more about this. It kind of has a little more. I know it is sad but it is somehow important to me to report it. Until then.............stay with me..... Thanks...
Stan the Man
I think my job was going pretty well at that time and we had a little money in the till. We drove down to Kalamazoo and went to a place called the Emporium with some of the neater antiques I had ever seen. We spotted a black walnut baby bed with hand carved wooden spindles and bought that thing for $750. One of the largest splurge moves we had ever made. Deb had set up the baby room in a way that we thought that crib in there would be worth it. As I think about it today I wonder if it would have passed regulations for safety, but people just did not think about that so much back then. At that time there was something called Lamaze class. It was some kind of class that taught people who where pregnant to breath in a way that having a baby did not hurt as much. The husband would grab an ankle or something and create a pressure point and he would be the coach for the whole affair. I can recall being in a room with a bunch of other couples and practicing for this. I do recall thinking over and over that no matter how the breathing was done and how the husband held on to the ankles or wrist that this was a deal that was gong to hurt. It was lucky for me that Deb has a huge pain threshold and even when the big moment came she told me to go over and sit in the corner and let her have this baby. She has born 6 children, not had one drug, not let out one scream and has done the whole thing like it might be in a book someplace.
Those of us that do not know us that well can do the math. We have three children and 6 pregnancies. The sad part is that 2 of the babies died a short time after birth (about 3-4 hours) and the third pregnancy was taken at around the 5 month point due to the fact that test were available to determine that the outcome was assured. The condition is known as Potters Syndrome which is underdeveloped kidneys that are not able to sustain life. Turns out that genetically, 1 out of every 2 children we would have would have this condition and that is exactly how it has worked out. Needless to say we were crushed and not totally prepared for this. I can recall that shortly after the birth of, Jason Brandon, things not looking right at all. The baby did cry a little but the look on the faces in the room and the rush to bring the babe to a different area had the look of trouble all the way. It was just a short time that a doctor was in the hall with me telling me that we have a big problem here and it was a short time thereafter that a pediatrician informed me that there was no chance for life beyond a few hours. One of the more touching events I have ever witnessed is that Deb did have the chance to hold this infant for about 1/2 hour while he was still living. As breathing became more difficult I watched the baby pass away a short time later in an incubator. You know I do not really intend to pull on the heartstrings here but this is how it did happen. Life in this case was 4 hours. To make sure I have this right I am reading a typewritten (before computers) report and it is just interesting how they did things then compared to now. The result however remains the same. It is an infants kidneys that produce the amniotic fluid and the lack thereof caused some additional issues as it relates to the condition of the baby. As I read this report now, lots of problems.
I am not sure we really knew what to do. I do recall Deb's Dad being out of the country. I recall a scratchy voice from a distant country in the days of old phones, telling me to call Pete LeBetz who was a Polish funeral home director in Jackson and also a friend of his. The plan was to have Deb's Dad return and help us deal with all of the issues including a service of some sort. I went to Lansing that night to tell my Mom and Dad what had happened. Late that night I returned to Jackson and I rang the doorbell of that funeral home. It was late!
Pete answered the door and we sat down at his kitchen table. I think that with infants this small, before they are prepared for burial, they are placed in a solution that helps preserve the body for the choice the parents might choose for burial. He made a cup of instant coffee and eventually got around to asking me this question. He said, I have been waiting for my doorbell to ring because I thought you might come in here tonight. You want to see that baby, am I right? I told him that that is what I was there for. He told me this, and I will never forget it. He told me that I would be better off if I thought for the rest of life as my first son being a beautiful baby. But that it would be a mistake if I asked him to see the baby now. You know something? Deb and I never saw that baby after he died, we do not have a picture and she was not able to attend the event of the burial of that baby. We are thankful that Deb's Mom and Dad did tenderly and lovingly hold and dress that little guy for the casket. I will forever thank this man for handling this in this way. My memories of Jason Brandon are good ones. In his own way he put up a good fight
On the drive home I thought a little about life, it's upturns and downs. I wondered a little about the Catholic Nurse who told me that we needed to get a priest on the scene soon to help this babe pass to heaven. And then I thought of something strange. I thought about the odds of the scene repeating itself somewhere around the globe to a family that had not held to Christian background. All of the questions related to humans destiny in situations like this. Interesting questions. Every once in while a get them out again and think about them. My hope is that someday I will somehow be reunited with these children that never had the chance to live for more than a very short time.
Will you please allow me the next time to share a little more about this. It kind of has a little more. I know it is sad but it is somehow important to me to report it. Until then.............stay with me..... Thanks...
Stan the Man
What to do with Mr. Blue
After a few years of selling construction equipment in the Detroit area a decision was made to change jobs. Deb and I purchased a nice little ranch home in Jackson, Michigan. The reason I am sharing a few prices in these blogs is that as I think about them now it is amazing to me at how prices now are so different. The house was $33,000 and the payment was $323 per month and that included the taxes. I am going to look for a picture of it and try to post it. It was a nice place and we were proud of it. I started to learn firsthand that along with some other nice talents Deb possessed was flair for decorating and some fun things she knew how to do in that area. We soon had kind of a cool place. She was finishing up a nursing school (in Detroit) so I lived in the house the first 3-4 months and she would drive to Jackson on the weekends. I can still recall listening for a Volkswagen tooling down the street. Could not wait for weekends.
We had gained some good experience over the past years in Detroit at learning how people from varied backgrounds talked and lived. Deb has never liked jokes that have ethnic flavor. She will once in a while laugh at one I (used to) tell but she soon catches herself and some type of reprimand will soon follow. Over the years I have diminished my inventory of humor that falls in this category. It is true that for some reason one of the picked on ethnic groups of that day were people of Polish descent. I do agree with Deb that if a large amount of jokes about any group of people are told to often it is easy to build up bad feelings.
But this guy that lived next door to me was hard to ignore. He was Polish but he had a huge list of jokes but they were all about Dutch people. I pointed out to him that I thought his ethnicity was supposed to be the chosen “picked on”. He said he knew this but just changed Polish to Dutch in all the jokes and thought they were funnier this way. We did have a nice relationship with them but I did feel at times he could do some stuff that I will put in the “incredibly stupid” category. He had to go to Chicago quite often for business. On his return one night he was telling me that he was in a large traffic jam and could not find a “comfort station” which he needed to find desperately. I asked how he solved this problem he told me that he had elected to pee in his shoe and pour it out the window. I asked him, what shoe? And he told me his left one. I said you mean the one you are wearing right now. And folks this was it. I walked with him out front to where his car was parked and pointed out various ashtrays and containers that could be removed from the vehicle. I am not saying in total desperation and all other options expired I would not do this. I am saying I would retire the shoes and not tell anybody about it.
Have you ever seen the show “Tool Time”? In that show Tim, the main character, has a backyard friend and they meet over the fence and solved life’s problems. I had a guy like that behind us in Jackson. His name was Mr. Blue Mr. Blue was about 70 and seemed a bit frustrated with life. He had owned a company for years and did not have enough to do now that he was retired. Plus his wife was a bit a nag. He was so used to being his own boss at work but he had one now at home. He taught me about wife school. He maintained that all women attended a secret school about 1 year after marriage and learned how not to like some things about men. He had a unique way of expressing himself and I think did not really know many people of my age. Some of the advice he gave was a little nuts but he always had kind of a twinkle in his eye and he did have some wisdom. He also would ask me how I would handle some things and was particularly interested if I had any thoughts on how he could make Mrs. Blue more subservient. Never really sure I was able to help him much on that one. He did have a nice lawn though.
The next time I am going to share with you a time of emotion and sadness that we experienced in our lives. All storm and no humor as they say………..but it would just not be right to not have some recording of those days…..Thanks for listening……..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)