HALFWAY BACK TO HOME

Where in the world would ANY of us be without the help of our family and friends?  Folks, you know how this goes--life's road takes some pretty crazy turns and you find yourself on the scariest roller coaster ride you've ever been on!  And just when you are sure to crash and burn, out of the blue, someone shows up to give you their hand, JUST WHEN YOU NEED THEM THE MOST.  And it has happened to all of us, in one way or another--at one time or another.  Only a fool would try to pretend that they have plodded along the pathway of life totally on their own.


It may have been the neighbor who saw how you were struggling in your quest to put in a new lawn on a 104 degree Kansas day and offered to lend a hand.  Or maybe it was the teacher who saw that you were having trouble staying awake in class, who then visited with you to learn if there was anything they could do to help you.  Was it your best friend in the whole wide world who called you and said "Let's go have lunch today"when they realized that you needed someone to talk to?  Oh, and here is my own personal favorite-how about that guy behind you in the Dillon's check out line...you know, the guy who saw you were $10.00 short of what you needed for your cart full of groceries and ended up paying it for you?  You couldn't believe that someone, dang a total stranger even, could be so kind!  And life's examples of the spirit of human kindness could go on and on and on.


For me, at 4 weeks out from my accident with another four weeks to go, I find myself at the  "halfway back to home" point.  Believe me when I say that for darn sure it was NOT a solo effort on my part. Many people have stood ready and more than willing to take on my load.


 My 3 kids have been my cheerleaders, encouraging their mom to not give up!  My middle-son, Grahame, has been my "left AND right" arm for the past 4 weeks without any hesitation.  My co-workers at school have performed all of the tasks of dressing that require two hands and if I had to count all the times that Lori Johnson tied my bows, well I'd have lost count a long time ago.  My sister has done the laundry, my friend Dustin washed my truck, and two of my youngest friends on FB came over one Saturday and cleaned house as if there was no tomorrow.  The list of very good friends and family who have come to the aid of this former "Evil Knieval wannabe" goes on forever.  But there is one friend I want to say something about....


Most of you know that I received a "donor bone" during surgery.  You may also remember that even though I don't know who gave the bone to me, just yet, that I have a strong feeling the name "Eleanor" has something to do with their identity.  I guess time will tell with that one.  But whoever they are, whether or not the name Eleanor has ANYTHING to do with them, I have not forgotten for one second what their "gift in death" has meant to me, SOMEONE WHO DESPERATELY NEEDED THEIR UNSELFISH OFFERING OF LIFE.  


As the last 4 weeks of "my sentence" wind down, I'm getting a little anxious, at times a little cranky, and just wishing this was the heck over and it was 6 a.m. and I was on the bike path riding along as if nothing had happened.  I continue to pray for God's guidance, for patience and healing in order that this 4-week trek wasn't for naught.  May peace be my journey and yours as well this night.  Pleasant and sweet dreams to all of you!

Me with "Eleanor"-whoever you were indeed!  We'll be heading down life's "bicycle paths" together from now on!  And guess what--we seem to be a perfect match~  :)

REMEMBERING KIMMIE

**note-this post was written in the very early morning hours of Thursday, August 4th, the day of my accident.  I had gotten up very early that day to work on my blog for a bit before heading out on the adventure known as "Peggy Miller's Stint as a Bicycle Stunt Woman" or "I Tried To Jump The Curb But The Curb Won." I located it earlier today and decided to publish it, albeit almost 4 weeks late.  I didn't have a clue on earth what would lie ahead of me just one hour later.  LOL  


I got the strangest message from "above" this morning about 4:30.  In fact, it was the first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes from sleep. "Why haven't you told them about Kimmy?"  Fact was, I had to hear that question twice before I realized what I needed to do.  And as I tell you, I think my load is going to be lightened even further.


Throughout our recent family reunion, we were always talking about 5 kids being left from 7.  The other 2 kids were very much loved too.  One of those kids was my older sister Janice, killed in a car accident when she was only 27 years old.  It's from that incident that Kimmy's story was born in 1969.


November 4, 1969 was a beautiful Indian summer day here in south central Kansas.  I was a 14-year old freshman in high school.  Richard Nixon was president and the Viet Nam War was raging on with already nearly 34,000 American lives lost. The draft was reinstated for the first time since 1942.  Max Yasgur's farm in Bethel,  NY had been the site for the Woodstock Music Festival with over 400,000 people converging on the site.  The "Eagle" had landed on the moon with Neil Armstrong making his famous "That's one small step......." statement.  And the first of John and Lois Scott's 7 children would die.  My life would never be the same again.


On that Tuesday afternoon, my sister, Janice, was heading home from Halstead, her little 9-month old baby girl, Kimmie, was tucked in her car seat beside her in the middle, up front.   They were only 2 miles from home when she neared the intersection of the Halstead Road and Highway 50.  It was 3 p.m. and the sun was in a "deadly" position in the sky.  If you've ever encountered the sun like that, you'll know exactly what I mean.


A "Navajo" semi truck that was actually pulling a second trailer behind was heading east on 50 Highway at precisely the same moment and heading straight for the path my sister was taking.  The driver of the semi said she stopped at the stop sign, looked up at him coming, and headed straight across in front of him.  Janice never really saw him--the sun blinded her as she traveled across.  The semi-driver was moving too fast to be able to stop in such a short distance.  It was too late-both vehicles collided and my sister died instantly.  Kimmy, still sitting in her car seat, was found a short distance away.  Miraculously, she was still alive.  Although still alive, she remained in extremely critical condition for months afterwards.  When she finally was released from the hospital to the care of my parents in the spring of 1970, Kimberly was an invalid, blinded from the accident and severely disabled for the rest of her life.  She would require constant "24/7" care long before that popular saying would become known.


Our folks would have it no other way--Kimmie would come home from the hospital to live with us and she became more like our baby sister who never grew up, rather than an invalid niece. We missed our sister terribly but were grateful that her infant child's life was spared.  We loved that cute little baby as if WE were her parents!   Oh, did our lives ever change from that point in time onward.  All of us learned how to take care of a severely handicapped child.  No one was exempt from that responsibility in our house--we all learned how to give baths, change diapers, and give baby bottles.  We quickly learned what made her happy and equally important, what made her upset.  My siblings and I learned the "hard way"that the sound of an empty baby bottle clanging on the bed meant that we had about 10 seconds to get our behinds in there and grab it before Kimmie hauled off and threw it out!  Guys this was back in "the day" when baby bottles were made of glass.  Man, when the plastic ones came out, Mom bought them up as if there was no tomorrow.  Wise decision on Mom's part--Kimmie may have been blind but when it came to throwing out baby bottles, she knew just where to aim!


For 13 years, that little girl lived with us until she became too big for our parents to take care of.  Mom and Dad were both advancing in years and Kimmie at age 13 had grown to be a fairly good size little girl.  It broke their hearts, for that matter, all of our hearts to see the day come when we couldn't keep her at home any longer.  In 1982, Kimmie went to live in the Winfield State Hospital until she passed on 10 years later at the age of 23. 


That message from "above" this morning, the one of "Why haven't you told them about Kimmie?" was an important one for me to hear.  I'm glad that I told you about her for it was Kimmie who made the Scott Family complete, the impact of her existence on our life was without measure.  


Ok, here's "my true confession" time-the part where Peggy Miller has to shed a "knapsack" of bad feelings, of anger and bitterness, of confusion and heart ache.  Time to work on that "Miller Bucket List" item that encourages me to be more forgiving of myself...ok. (drawing a deep breath), this is the honest truth.....


Although it saddens me to "own up" to it, the day my sister died was my first remembrance of being angry with God.  I can recall so vividly the feelings of being hurt beyond measure that He would have allowed my sister to die in such a manner.  What kind of a loving God could do that?  In my 14-year old mind, nothing about it made any sense.  In my hurt and anger, I may even have uttered  the phrase "I hate you God!"  In the months that would lie ahead, my heart began to soften in my feelings towards God and I realized just how much God loved His people, and especially a young teenage girl named Peggy Scott.  It was never His intention for His people to suffer and hurt.   


I was angry with God, with the driver of the semi for going too fast in the first place, upset with the sun for shining so brightly in my sister's eyes that day, and probably a thousand other things that mercifully, the ensuing years have now erased.  And I fess up to all of that now, August 4, 2011, nearly 42 years "after the fact" and once again recognize the fact that we are only human, capable of making mistakes, able to have our hearts broken, over and over and over again.  And to me, the most miraculous thing of all is this--God still loves me, hey friends, make that ALL of us.


That 42-year old knapsack is SO "history" now.  No one should carry around stuff that old and useless-makes about as much sense to do that as, hmm, say, try to jump a curb in your own front yard!  Have a great evening to the best group of people I know-my friends and family!

One of my favorite pictures of Kimmie-about 2 years old-always a smile on her face!  I can remember Mom saying once that in a way Kimmie was very blessed~~she would never know of the evils of the world...only about loving kindness.  Mom, you were right!

all things considered

I write this post with a grateful heart and truly, truly counting my blessings right now.  I have just returned from my first post-op visit to Dr. Chan's office.  After 2 very long weeks, I finally got a look at my "naked left arm".  


I've been concerned for the past few days about what today's dr. visit might reveal.  Dr. Chan was the first to tell me before surgery that the injuries my arm, hand and wrist had suffered were pretty traumatic.  The good doctor didn't "sugar coat" anything, rather he laid it all out on the table when he said,  "Peggy, your arm looks like a bomb exploded inside of it.  I'm not sure if I can save it."  So you see friends, I've been expecting the worst possible outcome.  And the Bible verse that comes to mind, "Oh ye, of little faith..."  (Matthew 8:26)


So this afternoon, the first "order of business was to remove the old cast and the multitude of stitches that accompanied the August 10th surgery.  I watched them being removed and not because I thought it would be a "cool" thing to see.  I watched because it was a part of the healing process for me.  I lost count after 40 of them were removed and I was told later by the office PA, Mark, that I had just as many on the inside.  

Here's "old lefty" prior to having the stitches out.  I'll be dealing with the swelling for several more weeks.  I was just glad to see it in one (kinda-sorta) piece again.  Friends, I chose to post this photo, NOT to see how many of you I could make go "Yikes that's gross." Rather, it is a statement to me, personally, of the many people who have tried, somewhat successfully to put Peggy Miller's "Humpty Dumpty" arm back together again.  The two shorter runs of stitches were from Dr. Goin's use of the external fixator device on the day of the accident.  He did everything he could to just hold me together long enough to make it to Wichita and Dr. Chan.  The long run of stitches, in the location where most healthy people have a radius bone, well that's where Eleanor (my donor bone) is.  I had some time to reflect on all that as I was getting new x-rays done today.  And it definitely put a huge lump in my throat to even think of all the folks, living or not, who have tried their very best to patch me up!


Well, Dr. Chan brought back the "verdict" after looking at the x-rays.  Friends, it was so good to see the smile on his face when he told me that it looked like everything was going well.  I could have hugged and kissed him right then and there, but he knew from the tears streaming down my face how wonderful the news sounded.


I am on the mend but I am definitely not out of the woods yet.  I did get a new cast, brilliant blue (my favorite color).  Unfortunately, it's a long cast still but at least it's a lightweight one.  Dr. Chan says my arm and wrist are not fully healed and won't be for at least another 2-3 weeks.  So I have to be careful and I'm going to follow the advice of my very dear friend who keeps telling me to "baby" that arm.  


I go back to see Dr. Chan in 2 weeks when more x-rays are taken and I can get into a shorter cast for an additional 2-3 weeks.  In the meantime, I'll be starting physical therapy on my fingers to get them moving and healthy once again.  I have weeks and weeks ahead of me in physical and occupational therapy.  I intend to do whatever it takes to make it "back" to being healthy.  Thanks family and friends for "picking up the slack" in my life right now.  I will always be remembering you   and the "human kindness" each of you have showered upon me and my family.


FROM A BOOK I HAVE AT HOME CALLED "LIVE AND LEARN AND PASS IT ON" 


A 57-YEAR OLD WOMAN COMMENTED..." I HAVE LEARNED THAT IF YOU ASK SOMEONE, 'I WONDER IF YOU COULD PLEASE HELP ME? YOU WILL NEARLY ALWAYS GET A POSITIVE RESPONSE!"  


MY FRIENDS, NEVER BE AFRAID TO ASK ANYONE FOR A HAND IF YOU NEED HELP.  ASKING IS NOT A SIGN OF WEAKNESS...RATHER A SIGN OF INNER STRENGTH.  
GOD'S BLESSINGS TO ALL OF YOU AND HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND OUT THERE!

all things in perspective

Can't believe I slept through the night--figured I'd be tossing and turning with anticipation of heading back to the "land of miracles" today.  Instead, I ended up sleeping "like a log" all night long.  Geesch, in fact it was just like that the night before, come to think about it.


For the past 3 weeks, I've had to sleep flat on my back, with "old lefty" propped up on a pillow.  I'm a "fitful" sleeper, even on a good day, so usually by the time I'd wake up a few hours later, everything on my bed (me and "old lefty" included) would be strewn to "Jones Corner" and back!    It was the weirdest thing- Wednesday night as I went to bed, I decided to lay on my right side for some goofy reason.  As I turned onto my right side, I tucked my left arm around a pillow next to me-as if I was hugging someone.  And I couldn't believe the feeling- can only liken it to a dozen angels being there and carrying the load for me.  For that brief moment in time, the cast felt "light as a feather" and it was great.  And for the "angel part", I do believe~just one more time they've rushed to my aid~and friends, thank the good Lord above for that and for a whole lot of other things we never even consider each day.


I have a few concerns as I wait to see the dr. this afternoon.  My fingers are still somewhat swollen, even 3 weeks later.  I have movement in all of them now, somewhat limited, but moving all the same.  The only finger that has complete feeling (the middle one) now goes by the name "Lucky".  The rest are in various states of "numbness" with the thumb seeming to be the worst of all.  So, just have to wait and see what the good doc says.


Looking forward to getting this yucky old cast off this afternoon and getting the stitches OUT!  Before leaving school today for this appointment, I'm gonna throw in my own personal staple remover and sharp scissors--just in case the dr. isn't moving quick enough for me!   And hopefully the news will be good--and if it's not, then I pray to be able to accept it and humbly move forward--and to know that it's just a part of His plan.


Friends and family--please have a great day today!  August 26th, 2011 is indeed a great day to be alive!  Rejoice in it! I love all of you dear friends and thanks for helping me get over  this "bump in the road".

The MOST beautiful sunrise I will EVER see-on Eales Road, south of Hutch-Saturday, July 16th, 2011~~

less than 48 hours

TGIF will have even more meaning for me this Friday, August 26th--the day of my 2-week post op check up in Wichita.  Hopefully the millions of stitches that Dr. Chan put in will come out--they'd better, 'cause they itch and pull like crazy and the cumbersome yucky old cast will come off to be replaced by a sleeker version, you know, one in which my elbow finally sees the "light of day" again.  I can only hope.


My accident happened 3 weeks ago tomorrow morning but it sure seems, at times, like it was 3 months ago!  "Peggy Miller's life" changed a "hundred-fold" that day and oh my word, the lessons I have learned!  Perhaps the most profound lesson was the one that taught me, DO NOT GIVE UP!


On the morning I wrecked the bike, I was fortunate in so many ways.  #1 was that I was at the end of 10 miles and actually hit the curb in my own driveway.  #2 was that my son Grahame was just coming out of the house at the very same time.  That wasn't a coincidence--I see it as God's perfect timing.  


I can remember most of it quite vividly, especially the part where I have to get my sorry carcass off the ground.  I knew I was in some pretty heavy-duty trouble when I had to reach down and "scoop" my left arm up so I could stumble to the pickup.  By the time I got to the truck, Grahame was already coming back with my keys for the trip to the ER.  


Right before we backed out of our drive I glanced back to see my brand-new bike laying "helter-skelter" in the drive.  For one brief moment in time, I could have cared less whether it was stolen or run over by the Stutzman Refuse truck.  Didn't matter to me...but before we pulled out I told Grahame to go get it and put it on the front porch....and the rest is history.


In the 3 weeks since, I have pretty much not even considered whether or not I would truly ever be able to return to the normal bike riding activity that I've known and loved for so many years now.  Oh, I've pursued a few ideas, among them setting up a trainer in the living room to finish my last 600 miles before the riding season ends.  And, thanks to my dear friends LeRoy and Anne that will happen.  Although I hate having to be indoors to ride (it's boring) at LEAST I will be pedaling once again.  It's my "new normal" friends.  And although I've been attempting to keep up my spirits--there has been one thing missing--my bike.


The day I wrecked, Grahame took the bike downstairs to the deep abyss we so fondly call our basement.  There tucked away in a dark corner, my new bike has been hanging for the past 21 days.  It was like I had banished that poor bike to its eternal "timeout" as if IT was the cause of my getting hurt.  Yesterday, I decided it was time for it to see "sunshine" once more and I asked Grahame to bring it back up for me.

Before you get worried about my riding it tonight, rest assured that will very likely NOT happen.  I just wanted to be able to see it, to touch the handlebars once again, and to remember the fun I had on it as I rode almost 1,500 miles this season.  What wonderful memories I have of riding half of the BAK, of my early morning rides down the bike path, as well as riding with some of my Lincoln students last spring.  Bike riding was fun-HEY, IT'S STILL GONNA BE FUN...I just have to be patient.  Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know.


I don't know what the verdict will be on Friday.  To be perfectly honest, I'm afraid.  What if I've gone through all of this and it didn't work?  Not sure how I will feel, and that's the truth.  The judgement will be rendered by this time come Friday-whatever it is, may I just always remember how much I am blessed, even in ALL of this.  There is NOTHING that ANY of us cannot get through-as long as we stick together,  God's richest blessings in this life be yours my dear friends.  Have a great night's rest and the sweetest of Dreams to all.  GOOD NIGHT! 

learning to forgive

One of the 3 "bucket list" goals that I plan to work on while waiting for "old lefty" to heal, is "to learn how to be more forgiving of myself".  Today seems like as good of a day as any to start working on that goal.

I don't know if any of you are like me, but let me ask you this....Do you often find that you are harder on yourself than you are on others?  Do you sometimes find that you are your own worst enemy?  If you said "yes" to either of those, well, then you and I have something in common.

It's an opportune time to "throw off another heavy backpack" that I have been carrying for some time now--and it's a backpack full of regrets from my time spent as a member of the "sandwich generation".  I am going to make a wild guess that at least a FEW of you reading this will see yourselves in my words.  And if that's the case, then feel free to shed your backpacks, filled with regrets, with mine.  I'm thinking we don't need them any longer.

By definition, the term "sandwich generation"gives reference to the generation of people who care for their aging parents while they support their own children.  Up until 2007, I belonged to that group of folks.  My membership "lapsed" on September 25, 2007--the day that my mom passed away and my siblings and I officially became orphans.

Mom lived in a long-term care facility for the last four years of her life.  Friends, I wish I could tell you that she loved every minute of it--the truth is, she hated nearly every minute of it.  Try as all of us might, we just couldn't seem to make life better for her.  The food was always rotten, the hallways were perpetually noisy, call lights took forever to be answered, and the days ALWAYS seemed to drag on and on and on.

If you are a member of the "sandwich generation" and have taken care of elderly parents, then perhaps you know all too well the feelings that I'm describing.  As an adult "child" trying to do not only what is best for your aging parents as well as for yourself and your family, life can get pretty stressful.  It's just like being the "plate spinner"--only sometimes it's not just a few plates that fall, but the entire "48-piece" setting that crashes to the ground!  And some days, well friends, you just cannot win, no matter how hard you try.

I was just taking a "look-see" inside that backpack of regrets I was telling you about.  I'm going to say right now, in front of everyone, that I'm a bit ashamed of what I must admit.  Right at the top are all the bad feelings I had of having to take care of my mom's needs.  For the times that I grumbled to myself about having to go up and check on why her medicine wasn't given properly or why she had to wait forever to get some help, I'm sorry.  On those occasions when mom would call to complain about things that I had no power over, why couldn't I have listened with a more caring heart?  At times, it seemed as though mom had nothing to say except negative things about life.  Why was she still here?  Why did she have to suffer?--both questions that weighed quite heavy on her heart, mind, and spirit.  And as her daughter, who loved her very much, well guys, it was just plain overwhelmingly depressing.

I have thrown my unneeded backpack of regret on the pyre, along with the ones you may have just now tossed over your shoulders.  I am going to accept the fact that we are all only human and that we do the best we can under some of the toughest of life's circumstances.  And we make mistakes each day, and THEN we just plain-old go on!  Whew, I should have tossed that crummy old backpack months ago.  Sure does feel good to let it go.

If I could send mom a message in Heaven, it would be this--

Dear Mom-
How are things today in Heaven?  No need to answer that one, for I already know the answer!  I think of you each day and miss the sound of your voice on the phone.  You know, Cindy and I often laugh about all the McDonald's hamburgers you ate.  Guess you finally figured out they were no longer 49 cents..(a private joke) lol, but we did it because we loved you.  We did a lot of things because we loved you and even though we miss you today, we'd never wish you back to be so very sick and tired again.  We are all doing well and trying our best to some day make it to where you and Daddy are.  Until then Mom, know that I love you and am glad for all of the things we were able to do for you here on earth.  Some wonderfully happy and beautiful memories mom that outweigh any of the regrets.  See you up there Mom,  Love~Peggy

LESSONS FROM MY ELDERS

 This post has no connection, really, to my "bucket list journey of 2011" but it has EVERYTHING to do with "Peggy Miller's life journey".  With the passing on Wednesday of this last week of my dear friend, Wanda Klaver, the time has come to tell of my "once other life."

In 2005, I took classes to become a CNA, partly because of the economic need to have a job to supplement my teaching salary as well as to help in caring for my mom.  It was not something I ever figured I'd be doing  but life is full of unexpected changes--lesson learned this summer by me.  Doesn't mean that you necessarily will like every change....but it IS what it is.

In 2006, I accepted a position as a CNA caregiver at the Wheaton House, located on the campus of Mennonite Manor in South Hutchinson.  The Wheaton House, a brand-new, million dollar + facility was opened in early 2007.   It was an innovative idea, a concept whereby an elderly person needing long-term care could be one of 10 residents able to live within the house.  The houses were part of a "Greenhouse" concept--the refreshingly wonderful idea that said that when an elderly person needed permanent long-term care it didn't mean that they were waiting to die--IT MEANT THAT THEY WERE CHOOSING TO LIVE!  And at the two houses, that's exactly what the residents did.  Each person had a beautiful room of their own with huge bathrooms as well.  The houses had enormous family and living room areas where everyone could sit and enjoy conversations and television, church activities, or visiting with company.  The kitchen/dining area was wide-open, and everyone (staff, residents and their families) could prepare and take their meals together. IT WAS LIKE HEAVEN ON EARTH FOR THE FOLKS LIVING AND WORKING THERE.

 The Wheaton, with its "sister" house, The Graber House, operated until 2010 when financially it was no longer a feasible concept.  It was a sad and disappointing time for all concerned as the residents were moved out, one by one, to other facilities.  As disappointed, angry, and sad as I was about the change, there are many reasons to rejoice of my time spent working there--and 10 of them follow....

This is my dear friend Vera Ray-she and I were best friends with something in common--we both loved to ride bikes!  Vera never drove a car but "motored" around the streets of her hometown of Nickerson on a cool looking 3-wheeled trike.  At her funeral in February of this year, the pastor lovingly referred to her as the  "crazy bicycle lady" and that would have made Vera grin from ear-to-ear.  From Vera, I learned how to slow down, just a bit.  Yeah, yeah, yeah....I know what you are thinking!  LOL  She loved to sing the words from Simon and Garfunkel's "59th Street Bridge Song" to me, 'slow down, you move too fast'.

At the Wheaton House I made the acquaintance of another best friend.  This is me with Katie Clothier--a person who grew to be a special friend rather quickly.  We "two kids" had lots in common and it was at that "common ground" that we shared many conversations. She was a teacher, just like me, for over 40 years in Wichita.  Katie was short, like me...in fact you'd have to say she was ultra-short, only reaching a height of 4'.  In Katie's world, Peggy Miller was a "giant" and we shared many giggles over that fact together.  From Katie, I learned not to take life so seriously, that it was ok to laugh and smile.  Her favorite thing to tell me was.... "Peggy, once when I was in the hospital, one of the nurses felt sorry for me and asked me if I had always been this short,  I said, 'Oh, no.  I was a baby once.'  lol. lol   Katie left us only 3 days before Vera Ray did this year.

 If I ever had someone I would have considered my "second" dad, this guy would have to be him.  Marion Barton Barnett was a farmer from Linn County, Kansas.  I grew to love him very much--He was a feisty old guy who, when feeling good, could talk your "leg off".  He was a navy veteran of WW II who still remembered all the stories of his time in service.  I could have listened to Marion talk for hours and never grown tired of listening to the very same stories.  He was like a "talking" history book and I loved that fact about him.  Marion had a different kind of blood than most of us do-his blood flowed "John-Deere green".  Since my own dad, a farmer from here in south central Kansas, ran only Massey-Ferguson equipment, Marion and I got into some spirited conversations as to what color was best, red or green.  I was blessed to be at Marion's bedside the day he passed on in 2008.  After he died, I dressed him in his comfy gray sweats and the John-Deere t-shirt I bought him for Father's Day.  And with that, I let him go.  From Marion, I learned that God sends others into our lives to help "cushion" the blow of losing a loved one, just like my dad.

This dear woman might look sweet and innocent, but let me tell you, Ruby Farthing could whip the pants off any of you when it comes to playing dominoes!  lol  Ruby was quiet and reserved, a stoic woman who seldom uttered any complaints. She preferred reading, doing word searches and snacking on her favorite, "cheese puffs".  On Sundays, her brother, sister, and niece would come to play dominoes in the family room of The Wheaton House.  It was always fun to watch the domino game unfold.  They were a very predictable group of 80-year olds....the first 15 minutes all would be well, then the REAL fun would begin.  "You cheated!"one would exclaim.  "Did not!" would be the return reply.  We all would laugh and call a "time-out" for coffee and cookies and then the game would go on! From Ruby, I learned the merit of reflection, of pausing before speaking, to think about choosing words carefully--so if you had to "eat them later", they wouldn't taste so bad.  Ruby left us in 2008.

I just have to smile whenever I see this dear woman's face!  Meet Gladys McIntosh, one fine and classy lady. She had a strange blood-type as well, "black coffee, type A".  That woman could put away more cups of java  in one morning than anyone else I ever knew, except for one of my sisters.  Gladys was a world-traveler and I loved to sit with her and listen to the tales she could so easily tell.  She had closets full of beautiful clothes and accessories but much preferred the handful of "feel good clothes" that she wore all the time.  She was one of the most "youthful" nearly 90-year olds that I ever knew!  She retained a keen interest in the world outside of Room #5 at the Wheaton House.  Towards the last days of her earthly life, she was no longer able to visit--but she had a constant stream of family and staff in and out of her room......just being with for what little time remained. From my dear friend Gladys, I learned to be good to myself, to pause once in a while to relax, to treat myself to something special once in awhile.   Gladys passed away in 2007.

This is Fran Yoder with her son, Dean.  Fran will always be remembered by me for her deep love of the Lord.  She hardly ever missed a church service and was always glad to lead a devotional or say a prayer for the group.  She loved flowers, often spending her free time outdoors on the patio of the Wheaton House.  Since I love plants and flowers too, we often shared conversation about gardeniung.  Fran taught me a lot of the tips she had learned over the years and I was glad to teach her what I knew.  Fran and I developed a good relationship over the months that we were together.  She passed away in 2009.

 One of my favorite photos, taken in 2008, of Floyd Yoder and his daughter Maribeth Morgan.  Floyd was someone I had known from my early years of growing up on a farm between Haven and Yoder.  I never expected, as a kid, that I would be taking care of Floyd in his later years.  But what a privilege it was!  Floyd wasn't able to say very much but his hands were still strong and his "butcher's grip" grabbed your attention rather quickly.  Taking care of Floyd taught me the invaluable lesson of remembering from whence you came. It was a blessing to be able to take care of someone from my past.  Floyd died in 2008.

Beryl Landers was "one of a kind".  Talk about your genuine kind of lady, that would be Beryl.  She much preferred to spend her days quietly in her room, either doing Cryptoquips from the Hutch News or watching her favorite pro-golfer, Tiger Woods. Thankfully, Beryl passed away before Tiger's unfortunate scandal broke out  She would have been heartbroken to hear that kind of news about "her Tiger." I was always so amazed at how quickly she could do the Cryptoquips. I had been trying them for years with no success so I asked her one day how she got to be so good. She said, "Peggy, it's like this. When you have nothing else to do all day long, like I do, you've got a lot of time to practice." One of the fun things I remember about Beryl was doing her laundry and bringing it in to fold in her room. She preferred that I just dump it all out on the bed and we'd fold it together. The saying, "many hands make the work go faster," was sure the case in Beryl's room. She died in 2007.

This is Wanda Klaver, the lone member of the "The Wheaton House-Last Man Standing Club." Of the original 10 charter members, Wanda lived the longest of all the other residents. She had a huge heart, full of love for anyone she knew and even those she didn't.  One of the happiest memories I have of Wanda was when 4th grade students from Avenue A were penpals with each of the 10 residents.  Wanda dutifully wrote a letter each week to the class, asking how they were doing at school, how things were at home.  She made Halloween, Christmas, and Easter treat favors for them.  When Wanda was there, EVERY kid knew they were loved.  From Wanda, I learned just how important that touch of human kindness could be in a kid's life. She passed away 4 days ago at the Hospice House.

And last, but NEVER LEAST, my dearest of friends, Winifred Peterson.  Winifred had a quiet spirit about her and she loved the Lord.  She rarely missed church and would listen intently as the sermon was preached,  She read her Bible and studied her devotionals with a fervor.  Winifred's family visited regularly and how she enjoyed their times together at the Wheaton.  As her days on earth began to dwindle down a few years back, Winifred wanted me to know something.  I stopped by her room a couple of days before her death, to visit.  That's when she said to me, "Peggy, I want you to know something.  I was listening to the radio this week and I heard someone say that everything we do in this life, just prepares us for the next."  You know, I never will forget that friends.

These 10 people, plus many others, had a profound impact on my life.  They taught me many valuable lessons that are important to me today.  Knowing them and taking care of them taught me the value of the "human touch", that a nice warm washcloth could feel good on a tired face, and that sometimes we all need a little help when our bodies are wearing out.

I was so blessed, so very fortunate to know them as they all entered into the final days of their life here on earth.  My hope for all of you, as you make your own "life journey", would be to stop, listen, and learn from your elders.  The time spent is priceless, the lessons learned, so very invaluable.

Oh, by the way, sooner or later ALL of us will make it to old age.....

Choose not to give up--

Early this morning, I sat on the end of my bed and for 15 minutes worked on the daunting task of trying to tie the belt of my capris into a decent, respectable bow-tie.  I've been practicing that skill the past few mornings with not much success.  Today was different--I stuck with it, used my teeth when I needed to, and refused to cry this time! And finally at 5:30, "magic, magic" it happened.  I couldn't believe it--


There have been a variety of times during the past 2 weeks that it took a heck of a long time to accomplish the most simple and mundane tasks.  These are "chores" of daily living that I have done without thinking for a very long time now.  Accidents and temporary handicaps have a way making you pause and reflect on the fact that sometimes we need to be humbled in this life.  


Yesterday, I only had to crack and throw away 3 eggs before I was able to make a 2-egg omelet.  Friends, for me THAT'S progress!  Remember the story of the peanut butter sandwich fiasco of about day #3?  Well, I like peanut butter sandwiches folks, so finally 12 days later, I bought a jar of the whipped peanut butter on the Dillon's store shelf.  Dang, I might be able to make peanut butter sandwiches with one good arm and both eyes closed before the weekend is over.  And today, as I head to work for the 5th day this week, I am positive that it will take me less time to get things accomplished--with about 90% of that confidence coming from the fact that my co-workers at Lincoln Elementary are going to be there for me.  I CONTINUE TO FEEL BLESSED, FAR BEYOND WHAT I DO DESERVE!


Now let's talk about you guys for a minute, ok?  I'd like you to think about what's going on in your life right now.  Chances are that many of you have health issues in your families that are much worse than one  busted arm.  Tired of fighting those problems, of going to the dr, of taking pill after pill after pill?  Does it seem like you are never going to feel good again?  If so, do not quit!  It will get better.


Maybe you are like me and sometimes you have to be pretty creative to make your paycheck stretch each month-I'm going to make a wild guess that most all of us, from time to time, have this issue in life.  The bills stack up and the money goes out way faster than it ever will come in--do not despair because you are not alone in this-Please do not lose heart friends and never give up!


It's "back to school" time and parents will be sitting in "empty nest" houses, either until the 3 0'clock bell rings or when the university lets out for the winter-break.  Some of you, living alone for one reason or another, are very lonely--and boy have I ever been there!  In your loneliness and sometimes heart-felt sadness, please friends remember all of the people who are still there for you each and every day!  In your despair, please hang in there.  There is a definite "light at the end of the tunnel because I have seen it.  CHOOSE NOT TO GIVE UP!


Well, it's time to do my occupational therapy for the morning, otherwise known as "one-handed dress yourself" time!  lol  Blessed as I am, what I cannot do here at home to get ready for the day, one of my co-workers at school will help me with.  See what I mean about "blessed beyond measure"? And you, my dear friends, may you be blessed as well.

 part of the kiddos that I worked with during before-school tutoring time last year-talk about having the best job on earth!

THE POWER OF THE HUMAN TOUCH

TODAY WAS SURE A LONG DAY AT SCHOOL AND IT SEEMED LIKE THIS CRAZY CAST WEIGHED 20 POUNDS INSTEAD OF 10!  TOWARDS THE END OF THE DAY, ONE OF MY CO-WORKERS REMARKED THAT I LOOKED PRETTY WORN OUT AND I SHOULD CALL IT "A DAY".  COULDN'T HAVE AGREED MORE AND I TOLD HER THAT THIS (HAVING A CAST) WOULD BE LIKE BEING "PREGNANT SIDEWAYS"! AND SHE LAUGHED AT ME, WITH A LOOK ON HER FACE THAT SAID SHE UNDERSTOOD THAT STATEMENT OF FACT COMPLETELY.


SO I GATHERED UP MY STUFF AND HEADED OUT THE DOOR.  I HADN'T EVEN MADE IT TO MY PICKUP YET WHEN I HEARD A LITTLE VOICE SCREAMING, "TEACHER, WAIT, WAIT!"  I LOOKED UP TO SEE A LITTLE GUY, ONE OF MY STUDENTS FROM LAST YEAR. HE WAS RACING TOWARDS ME WITH A TINY LITTLE 4-YEAR OLD GIRL WHO TURNED OUT TO BE HIS YOUNGER SISTER,


THEY STOPPED DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS WHEN THEY SAW MY INJURED ARM. THEY BOTH LOOKED SO AMAZED--  WHAT HAPPENED NEXT WILL BE A SWEET MEMORY THAT I WILL HOLD ON TO FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.


THE LITTLE GIRL, ANIYA, WAS INTRIGUED BY MY CAST AND MY DARK, STILL PUFFY FINGERS.  HER BIG BROWN EYES LOOKED UP AT ME AND IN THE MOST ANGELIC LITTLE VOICE SHE ASKED WHAT I DID TO MY ARM.  BEFORE I COULD EVEN ANSWER THAT I'D BEEN RIDING MY BIKE LIKE A 10-YEAR OLD RATHER THAN A 55-YEAR OLD, SHE DID THE MOST AMAZING THING--


SHE TOUCHED MY CROOKED AND BROKEN FINGERS AND MASSAGED THEM WITH HER OWN TINY LITTLE DIGITS!  SHE WAS NOT AFRAID TO TOUCH THEM, EVEN THOUGH THEY DON'T APPEAR NORMAL RIGHT NOW.  AND THE WARMTH AND SOFTNESS OF THAT LITTLE 4-YEAR OLD GIRL'S  HAND MADE MY LAME HAND FEEL BETTER--FRIENDS, I TELL YOU THIS--IT WAS THE POWER OF THE HUMAN TOUCH!  

WE ONLY SPOKE FOR A QUICK MOMENT AND ALL TOO SOON THOSE TWO LITTLE KIDS SCURRIED OFF TO THE NEXT STOP IN LIFE AND MY "MINI-MASSAGE" WAS THROUGH....BUT OH, WHILE IT LASTED...HOW WONDERFUL THAT DID FEEL.


EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US DESPERATELY NEEDS THE POWER OF THE "GOOD" HUMAN TOUCH.  I SEE THE NEED EVERY DAY IN THIS LIFE AS THE POWER OF TOUCH HELPS TO HEAL WOUNDS TO THE EXTERIOR OF OUR BODIES.  YET, EQUALLY IMPORTANT, IT CAN HEAL WOUNDS ON THE INSIDE OF US.  YOU KNOW, "THOSE" TYPES OF WOUNDS THAT HAPPEN THROUGH ABUSE OR NEGLECT, LONELINESS OR DESPAIR, DEPRESSION OR EXTREME GRIEF AND SADNESS.  


AS A TEACHER FOR THE PAST 34 YEARS, I'VE SEEN MANY LITTLE PEOPLE CRAVE THE "POWER OF A KIND HUMAN TOUCH" AND THOSE ARE THE CHILDREN GRATEFUL FOR A HUG WHEN THEY COME IN THE DOOR AND STILL PERHAPS EVEN MORE IMPORTANT, A HUG AT THE END OF THE DAY.  TODAY, THE TABLES WERE TURNED AS IT WAS I, THE ADULT, WHO CRAVED THE HUMAN TOUCH.  LITTLE RHIANNA WAS WISE BEYOND HER 4-YEARS AND SAW IT.


TONIGHT, BEFORE I CLOSE MY EYES TO SLEEP,  I'LL BE THANKING GOD FOR A VERY GOOD DAY.  THE FINGERS OF MY LEFT HAND ARE SLOWLY COMING BACK TO LIFE.  I AM ABLE TO PEEL OFF THE CELLOPHANE WRAPPER OF MY VELVEETA CHEESE SLICE A LITTLE EASIER AND I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO ZIP AND BUTTON MY SLACKS FOR SCHOOL NEXT WEEK!  REALLY, NOW, WHAT ELSE DO I  NEED TO KNOW?  SLOW BUT SURE, I AM COMING BACK.  GOOD NIGHT DEAR FRIENDS-PLEASANT DREAMS.....AND PEACE ALWAYS!

EXPLAINING ELEANOR

Just need to explain the picture from the previous post where it says, "Me and Eleanor" on the first day of school.

When I received the transplanted bone on the day of surgery last week, I immediately wondered who it came from. Absolutely, the first thought that came into my mind was the name  Eleanor. Keep in mind, I don't know if it came from a man or a woman, but I have the strong feeling that whomever it came from, there must be some significance to the name "Eleanor." You can probably call that goofy as you keep in mind that I had just came out from a lot of drugs from surgery, but I'm sticking with the name Eleanor.

When I really feel tired or worn out, like I can't carry the  "10 lb baby of a cast" anymore, I just remember that someone else is there with me and we can make it through just about anything. So, that's the
'me and Eleanor" story and I'm sticking to it!

LESSONS IN VANITY

TO LOOK AT MY TOWEL CLOSET THIS MORNING, YOU'D NEVER KNOW IT WAS ONCE ORGANIZED.  USED TO BE, BACK IN THE " GOOD OLD DAYS"  OF TWO WEEKS AGO, EVERY TOWEL AND WASHCLOTH WAS MATCHED BY COLOR, WHETHER IT WAS SOLID OR STRIPE, AND FOLDED WITH CREASES THAT WOULD MAKE MY SAINTED GRANDMOTHER BROWN SMILE.  IT WAS THE KIND OF TOWEL CLOSET TO BE PROUD OF, ONE THAT YOU HOPED A GUEST WOULD ACCIDENTALLY  OPEN AND SAY, "OH MY WORD, WISH MY TOWEL CLOSET LOOKED LIKE THAT!"  NOT ANYMORE....

I HAVE LEARNED A THOUSAND LESSONS SINCE MY ACCIDENT AND PERHAPS AMONG THE MOST IMPORTANT WAS HOW MUCH TIME I MUST HAVE SPENT ON STUPID LITTLE TASKS JUST LIKE THE TOWEL CLOSET.  AND FOR WHAT?  TALK ABOUT TIME WASTED...

 AND THERE'S MORE...

I'VE LEARNED THAT  WHEN YOU LOSE THE USE OF ONE BODY PART, YOU CAN USE ANY BODY PART LEFT THAT IS WILLING AND ABLE TO STEP UP AND DO THE JOB.  YOU MIGHT BE SURPRISED AT HOW MANY DIFFERENT WAYS YOU CAN USE YOUR TEETH, MOUTH, ELBOWS, KNEES, AND FEET.

  UNLOCKING THE DOOR TO MY PICKUP YESTERDAY INVOLVED USING MOST OF THOSE BODY PARTS HERETOFORE MENTIONED.  FOR A SPLIT SECOND, I WONDERED HOW RIDICULOUS IT MIGHT LOOK TO  MY NEIGHBORS BUT THAT SOON PASSED AS I SUCCESSFULLY TURNED THE KEY.

 ANY OF US OUT THERE CAN DO ANYTHING THAT WE NEED TO, ANYTIME!  I NOW UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF THE OLD-SAYING, "NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION."

I'VE LEARNED TO DRESS MYSELF ONE-HANDED...NOT MUCH FUN, BUT DO-ABLE.  WITH A SHOWER CHAIR, I CAN SAFELY BATHE, WHICH BEATS SPONGE BATHS ANY DAY!  AND JUST BECAUSE I USE A SHOWER CHAIR, DOESN'T MEAN I AM READY FOR A RETIREMENT HOME--IT ONLY MEANS THAT FOR RIGHT NOW, I DON'T WANT ANY MORE BROKEN BONES.  BEFORE TWO WEEKS AGO, I ASSOCIATED SHOWER CHAIRS WITH HOVEROUNDS (THEY LOOK FUN) AND DENTURE CREAMS.  I WAS VAIN ABOUT STUFF LIKE THAT AND IT WAS STUPID ON MY PART.  THANKING GOD FOR THE "WAKE-UP" CALL.

SOMETIMES  I HAVE LOOKED AT HOW CROOKED THE FINGERS OF MY LEFT HAND ARE NOW, REMORSEFUL THAT THEY MIGHT NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN.  ONE MORE LESSON IN HOW VAIN I HAD BECOME--AT LEAST I STILL HAVE ALL 5 OF THEM ATTACHED TO A HAND.  ASK ANYONE WHO HAS LOST A HAND FOR ANY NUMBER OF REASONS AND I'M GUESSING THEY'D BE THINKING THAT CROOKED FINGERS WOULD BE JUST FINE FOR THEM.  I HAVE A LOT YET TO LEARN IN THIS LIFE,

I SURVIVED MY FIRST DAY BACK AT SCHOOL-EVERYONE WAS KIND AND HELPFUL TO ME.  I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO WORRY ABOUT.  WHEN THIS IS FINALLY OVER, I'LL BE HAPPILY PAYING FORWARD ON THE BEHALF OF A LOT OF GOOD FOLKS THAT I KNOW...AND EVEN SOME THAT I DON'T KNOW.

OH AND ONE  LAST THING, THAT WHOLE DEBATE ABOUT WHICH WAY THE TOILET PAPER SHOULD GO ON THE HOLDER?  THAT ARGUMENT IS TERRIBLY OVER-RATED!  HAVE A GREAT WEEK FRIENDS AND DO SOMETHING GOOD FOR YOURSELF-YOU DESERVE IT!

ME WITH "ELEANOR" ON THE FIRST DAY OF WORK-AUGUST 15, 2011

TIME TO TALK

IT'S LATE AND I WILL TELL YOU RIGHT NOW THAT I FINALLY GAVE IN ABOUT AN HOUR AGO AND TOOK A PAIN PILL....SO IF THERE'S AN ERROR OR TWO IN SPELLING OR GRAMMAR, CAN WE JUST CHALK IT UP TO MY NEW FRIEND PERCOCET?  THANKS FRIENDS, LOL


TODAY HAS BEEN A ROUGH DAY AND UNLESS I SIT AND WRITE THIS DOWN, I'M AFRAID I'LL BE IN FOR A ROUGHER ONE TOMORROW.  REMEMBER THAT I TOLD YOU THAT I SUFFER FROM TIME TO TIME WITH DEPRESSION?  WELL, GUESS IT CAUGHT UP WITH ME TODAY.  AND ONE OF THE QUICKEST "FIXES" FOR DEPRESSION I KNOW OF IS NOT POURED OUT OF A BOTTLE OR INJECTED INTO A VEIN.  THE BEST MEDICINE FOR ME IS SITTING DOWN AND HAMMERING AWAY, ONE STINKING (LOL) KEY AT A TIME.  OH MY GOSH, THERE'S ACTUALLY HALF OF A SMILE ON MY FACE ALREADY.  :)


PHYSICALLY, I THINK THE ARM IS HANGING IN THERE OK.  10 DAYS AGO SEEMS FOREVER-BEEN LOOKING AT PHOTOS OF THE REUNION JUST 2 WEEKS AGO, TRYING TO SEE WHAT IT USED TO BE LIKE.  SHOCKER OF ALL SHOCKERS, I ACTUALLY STILL HAVE THAT APPENDAGE AND FOR ITS RIPE OLD AGE OF 55, IT WAS DOING PRETTY GOOD...AND IN TIME, IF I DON'T GIVE UP, IT WILL BE GOOD ONCE MORE.  THE STITCHES ARE PULLING AND I WONDER IF THAT MEANS SOME HEALING IS GOING ON?  I SWEAR, I BELIEVE THERE MUST BE 1,000,000 OF THEM IN THERE.....EITHER THAT OR THE SURGEON WAS AWFUL SLOW AT PUTTING THEM IN. THE FINGERS, MINUS "MR. THUMBKIN" ARE TRYING TO COME ALIVE.  MY CAREER IN GIVING THE "CALIFORNIA HELLO" IS NOW OVER, AT LEAST FOR OLD LEFTY.  LIKE I EVER DID THAT ANYWAYS, BUT HEY, I ACTUALLY LAUGHED WHILE I TYPED THAT.  IN TWO WEEKS, THE STITCHES WILL COME OUT AND I HOPE TO GET A SHORTER CAST AND NEWS THAT THINGS ARE LOOKING BETTER.  AND IF I DON'T I PRAY TO NOT BE TOO DISAPPOINTED.


I'VE THOUGHT A LOT TODAY ABOUT MY BUCKET LIST-AND OF GIVING UP ON IT FOREVER.  MOST OF THE THINGS I HAD LEFT REQUIRE 2 GOOD HANDS AND A WAY BETTER ATTITUDE THAN I'VE HAD TODAY.  AFTER MUCH THINKING, PRAYING, ARGUING WITH MYSELF (NOW THAT WAS A SIGHT, GLAD NO ONE HAD TO BE A WITNESS TO THAT), I DECIDED TO KEEP PLODDING ON, IN OTHER WORDS, NO WAY WILL I GIVE UP!


FROM NOW UNTIL MY ARM HEALS FULLY, I'M GOING TO CONCENTRATE ON THE FOLLOWING THREE BUCKET LIST ITEMS. HEY, I THINK I CAN MANAGE THEM.


1. TO CONTINUE MEETING ALL OF MY FACEBOOK FRIENDS IN PERSON AND BUYING THEM SOMETHING TO DRINK AND TALKING ABOUT LIFE.


2. TO LEARN HOW TO BE MORE FORGIVING OF MYSELF (NOW, THAT'S NOT GOING TO BE FUN).


3. TO RIDE 600 MORE MILES THIS YEAR ON MY BIKE SET UP IN A STATIONERY TRAINER IN MY OWN FRONT ROOM. I HAD THE "SECRET" GOAL OF MAKING 2000 MILES THIS RIDING SEASON. THE ODOMETER SITS AT 1400, AND I JUST CAN'T LET IT STAND THAT WAY. THANKS TO MY GOOD FRIENDS LE ROY AND ANNE FOR HELPING ME PICK UP A TRAINER IN COLORADO SPRINGS. I PROMISE, AND I MEAN I PROMISE, TO DISCUSS IT WITH MY DOCTOR FIRST AND NOT DO IT IF HE ADVISES AGAINST IT. 


I'M REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO RETURNING TO MY JOB AS A TEACHER ON MONDAY OF THIS WEEK. THINGS WILL BE DIFFERENT, I KNOW, BUT I'M SURE THAT THERE'LL BE A COUPLE HUNDRED KIDS WHO WILL GLADLY BE MY ASSISTANTS. THOSE TWO HUNDRED KIDS ARE THE BEST MEDICINE AN AILING TEACHER CAN HAVE. THEY ARE THE REASON I GET UP EVERY MORNING AND HEAD OUT THE DOOR. 


HEY, THANKS FOR LISTENING. YOU GUYS  ARE THE BEST UH...THERAPISTS I THINK I'VE EVER HAD. I FEEL BETTER ALREADY JUST TALKING TO SOMEBODY. A SMILE IS ON MY FACE AND I THINK I JUST THREW OFF ANOTHER PIECE OF HEAVY BAGGAGE THAT I'VE BEEN CARRYING AROUND TODAY. GOOD THING FOR ME, BECAUSE THIS CAST WEIGHS A LOT ON ITS OWN!


GOODNIGHT.

"learning to hurry up and wait"

Got to tell you friends, Peggy Miller has never lived by the motto, "All good things come to he who waits."  But as of the last 7 days, that'd be exactly what I am learning to have to do and I can say honestly, it stinks.  LOL  But I'm pretty sure that my "cause of death" will never be listed as, "she died while trying to be patient."  And so, wait I must.


I am, of necessity, learning to do things with only one arm/hand and once again I offer thanks to our God above that the effected hand was NOT the one that I write with.  I am slow, painstakingly slow at times--and yet I see a benefit arising from that.  It has caused me to slow down and think about what in the heck it is that I am trying to do in the first place.  Believe me, after I have taken four times the normal time to type a blog entry, the LAST thing I want to do is carelessly delete it.  Most of the time, I normally like to spend my life moving at about 30 mph ABOVE the speed limit.  For now, that has changed, and although it seems weird to me, I am making those adjustments.


I have been blessed beyond measure with a host of friends and family who have stepped in to pick up the slack in my life right now.  I WANT FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING-I AM BEING WELL CARED FOR.  THANK YOU ALL....Although, and I must be honest, I hate for people to go to trouble on my behalf right now, I realize how very important it is to graciously be the receiver of the 
"gifts of human kindness" in times such as these.  It is a most humbling experience.


As I close this blog entry today, I want to do so with the following note of thanks to the person whose death allowed me to receive the gift of a transplanted radius.  I will forward this blog entry on to an office in Connecticut that is a liason between donor families and recipients.  They will pass along this message to my donor's family.  Much obliged to them for doing so.


To my dear friend:


My name is Peggy and last week I had the unfortunate experience of wrecking my bicycle in front of my own home here in Hutchinson, Ks.  I am a 55-year old school teacher who ought to have been more careful but I guess accidents happen.  I needed to have reconstructive surgery this week because of the extensive damage I had done.  The dr. told me that among other things, my radius had shattered.  That's where YOU come in dear friend.


When you died, you saw to it that your death would NOT be in vain.  You chose to be a DONOR so that people, just like me, would have the chance to receive a very blessed DO OVER in this life.  Bone material from YOUR radius was "gifted" to me and the surgeon was able to use your bone to make my arm over again.  It will take many months for me to learn if my arm/hand will even return to partial normalcy.  Without your gift I would have stood no chance.


As soon as I learned that I had received your donation, I realized that my life would be forever changed.  Sometimes I hold onto my cast where the transplant occurred and it's as if I am giving you a big hug and saying "God bless you for caring about me, a total stranger." Talk about an overwhelming and bittersweet experience, well this is it!


I don't know if you were a man or a woman.  Maybe you were a teacher just like me?  Perhaps you lived far away from my home here in Kansas.  None of that even matters--Now, a part of you shall live on inside of me.  I surely do promise to take good care of "you".  By the way, I decided long ago to be a donor too.


Someday, I'd wish to know who you were and if your family chooses to tell me, then I'd be grateful. I just want you to know that a common, ordinary schoolteacher named Peggy believes that your life did matter...and that in death, you continue to matter as well.  I give thanks and count my blessings to be a recipient of your precious gift.


Sincerely,


Peggy

Home

This is Cindy, Peggy's YOUNGER sister!  I am helping her type this update, as she is not going to be typing on her own for a long while. 


My surgery today went about as well as could be expected, which was all I was asking for anyways.  We left for the land of miracles at 5:30 a.m., and how nice it was to have to wrap a Dillons bag around my cast so it wouldn't get wet.  Hutchinson was one of the areas in south central Kansas that received the gift of moisture, and I couldn't have been given a better send off than to leave in a downpour of rain.


The folks at the Kansas Orthopedic Center are among the best as far as I am concerned.  From the moment I walked in until the moment I left, I was given the best patient care I have ever received.  They definitely know their stuff.


As was expected, when they opened up my arm it did look like a bomb had gone off inside.  Everything was a mess and it took over an hour to insert the plates and screws that would help my arm remain in place while the healing begins.  They spent a great deal of time cleaning out debris from the original accident.


When I saw Dr. Chan on Monday, he didn't promise that he could fix it, but did promise that he would do his best.  I am more than confident that he did just that.  Now we have to wait and see what happens next.  It will take months to determine the final outcome as to whether or not I receive ANY mobility back in my wrist.


When I got to the recovery room, I received the most bittersweet news that I believe I have ever received in my 55 years of living.  The nurse was going through my paperwork with me, and she showed me a piece of paper on the top that I will never forget.  It turns out that one of the things they had to do as they tried to fix my arm was to transplant a bone segment that was harvested from a donor's body.  It was that piece of bone that helped to lengthen and repair all the damage that I did last week when I wrecked my bike.


To imagine that somewhere on this earth someone cared for others more than them self to sign a donor card, was pretty overwhelming to me.  When the nurse told me, I got a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.  I didn't realize that receiving a transplanted bone was even a possibility in surgery today. What a bittersweet feeling to know that someone had to die in order that my arm could be repaired.  I may never know who gave that bone segment to me, but who ever they might have been, they will now live within me forever.


You wouldn't think that a small section of human bone would have the significance that it did today. But for me it will determine how much use I will get back in my wrist in the future.


No matter what the results of today's surgery are in the years ahead, I will always remember and hold close to my heart that special gift of a donated bone segment.  Without it, my chances of getting better were slim to none. 


Now's here's my question to all of you...Have any of you already decided to be a donor upon your death?  By the way, there IS no right or wrong answer.  The decision has to be made by you and you alone.  


I've always been a strong supporter of organ donation.  For me, it makes absolutely no sense at all to bury my body with all of the organs still intact.  Why not let the doctors harvest my liver, kidneys, heart, lungs, or the corneas of my eyes to someone on this earth who really needs them?


 Only recently have I learned of the great demand for bone and skin donations. My three children know very well of my desire to give what ever in the world is needed from my body when I die.  And as of today, I realize the importance of paying it forward in such a manner.


I'll be spending the next few days recuperating here at home and anticipating returning to school on August 15th.  Thank you everyone for your kindness, prayers, and good thoughts.  I am not giving up hope that this will work out, but I realize that my chances don't look so good at this time.  Several of us spoke last night of the chance of a miracle taking place.  I have come to realize that perhaps the miracle had already happened last Thursday.  And that would be that I am alive in the first place.  And you know, I think I can live with that.   

T MINUS 12 HOURS AND COUNTING

IT'S BEEN NEARLY A WEEK NOW SINCE MY UNFORTUNATE "RENDEZVOUS" WITH THE CURB.  I HAVE RUN THE GAMUT OF EMOTIONS, ALL THE WAY FROM "OH MAN THAT HURTS LIKE THE DICKENS" TO "WHY ME, GOD?"

  I HAVE WORRIED, SECOND-GUESSED MYSELF, RUED MY DECISION TO RIDE IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND FINALLY JUST SAID "WHATEVER GOD HAS IN THE PLAN FOR ME."

  I HAVE SAID ENOUGH CUSS WORDS TO MAKE A SAILOR BLUSH, AND IT ISN'T SOMETHING I AM PROUD OF...BUT IT HAPPENS.  NOT MY NORMAL VOCABULARY AND IF ONE OF MY ELDERS DECIDED I NEEDED MY MOUTH WASHED OUT WITH DIAL, WELL I WOULD DESERVE IT.  I PROMISE TO TRY HARDER.

GRAHAME AND I HAVE JUST COME UP FROM THE BASEMENT WHERE I TOOK A LOOK AT MY BIKE FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE ACCIDENT.  COULD NOT BELIEVE IT-EXCEPT FOR THE MIRROR SNAPPING OFF, IT LOOKED GOOD AS NEW!  HE HELPED ME CHECK MY ODOMETER READINGS FROM THE LAST RIDE-MY TOTAL RIDE WAS 8.1 MILES, AVG. SPEED WAS 11.3, MAXIMUM SPEED WAS 16.7 AND I HAD BEEN OUT 43 MIN. FROM START TO CRASH.  AS I SAID BEFORE, IF THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN MY FINAL RIDE, I COULD NOT HAVE ASKED FOR A BETTER ONE.  IT WAS TEXTBOOK PERFECT, WELL EXCEPT FOR THE END.  

FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS, I HAVE BEEN GOING BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THE IDEA OF PUTTING THAT BIKE ON THE CURB WITH A "FREE" SIGN ON IT OR GETTING HEALED UP AGAIN AND STARTING OVER.  TODAY, I WENT BY HARLEY'S HERE IN HUTCH AND LOOKED AT A WIND TRAINER WITH THE IDEA OF FINISHING THE RIDING SEASON INDOORS.  I TALKED TO ONE OF THE GUYS IN THERE WHO SHOWED ME HOW RELATIVELY EASY IT WOULD BE TO SET IT UP IN MY LIVING ROOM.  I DO NOT KNOW WHAT MY DECISION WILL BE-BUT AT THIS POINT IN TIME, I'M LEANING TOWARDS NOT GIVING UP.  IT WOULD BE $300 WELL-SPENT.

TOMORROW, DR. CHAN IS GOING TO DO WHAT HE CAN TOWARDS REBUILDING MY ARM AND HAND.  I KNOW GOING INTO IT THAT HE MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO MAKE IT WORK.  YESTERDAY'S REMARK OF, "PEGGY, IT LOOKS LIKE BOMB WENT OFF INSIDE OF YOUR ARM" DOESN'T REALLY LEND ITSELF TO A LOT OF HOPE.  BUT MIRACLES HAPPEN, AND THEY HAPPEN EVERY DAY.  SOMETIMES IT'S WHEN WE LEAST EXPECT IT.  I KNOW THAT GOD WILL BE WITH ME-MY POOR GUARDIAN ANGEL HAS DONE COMBAT DUTY WITH ME THIS YEAR...OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, TO BE HONEST, SHE'S BEEN DOING HAZARDOUS DUTY WITH ME NOW FOR A LONG, LONG TIME.  

I SURE WOULD BE THANKFUL FOR YOUR PRAYERS AND GOOD VIBES TOMORROW ABOUT 7:30 IN THE A.M. I AM A LITTLE BIT AFRAID BUT NOT SO MUCH THAT I WOULD ACCEPT THE STATUS QUO AND FOREGO SURGERY.  I HAVE TO TAKE THIS CHANCE IF I WISH TO HAVE EVEN A FOURTH OF THE MOBILITY THAT I USED TO,

AFTER TOMORROW, I'LL HAVE A BETTER IDEA OF WHERE LIFE WILL TAKE ME. WHEREVER THAT JOURNEY GOES...I STILL INTEND TO LIVE MY LIFE TO THE FULLEST EACH DAY--AND DEAR FRIENDS, MAY ALL OF YOU LIVE YOUR LIVES THAT WAY AS WELL,  AND DON'T FORGET, OUR HARD TIMES WILL NEVER LAST FOREVER-MAY ALL OF US HANG IN THERE TOGETHER AS FRIENDS-WHEN EVERYTHING ELSE CRUMBLES AND DISAPPEARS, MAY WE ALL AT LEAST HAVE ONE ANOTHER.

:

gotta laugh because crying hasn't gotten me too far

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY IT TOOK MORE THAN 1 SEASON TO CATCH THIS GUY....

KEEP LIFE IN ITS PROPER PERSPECTIVE--DON'T WORRY ABOUT WHAT WILL HAPPEN TOMORROW-ENJOY THE "PRESENT"-TODAY

GOOD NIGHT ALL-GOOD SLEEP/SWEETEST OF DREAMS
for you young whippersnappers-he's the one-armed man from the tv show the fugitive!

I AM MORE DETERMINED THAN I AM AFRAID

BEFORE I START OFF, LET ME SAY THAT I'M SO GRATEFUL THAT THE ONLY HEALTH ISSUE THAT I HAVE IS A BADLY BUSTED UP ARM/WRIST.  MY LIFE COULD BE SO MUCH WORSE AND WHAT A FOOL I WOULD BE TO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE THAT!  THE "OLD TICKER" KEEPS PRETTY DECENT TIME, MY LUNGS BREATHE IN AND OUT WITH LITTLE EFFORT (THANKFUL THAT MY ENTIRE CIGARETTE SMOKING CAREER CONSISTED OF 1 AND A HALF PUFFS), AND TO THIS DATE I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT CANCER ANYWHERE.  NO ROOM IN MY LIFE TO BELLYACHE ABOUT ANYTHING.....


SO TODAY WHEN I WENT TO SEE DR. CHAN IN HIS WICHITA OFFICE, I TRIED TO REMEMBER THAT NO MATTER WHAT THE "VERDICT" WAS, I WAS GOING TO ASK GOD TO HELP ME BE GRACIOUS ENOUGH TO JUST ACCEPT WHATEVER HAD TO BE DONE.


The first thing I asked was, "Have you ever seen anything this bad?" His delayed response made me feel a bit uneasy, and he finally said, "I've seen worse but I've seen a whole lot better." The next thing I asked was, "I'm not your first patient ever, am I?" We both just about died laughing. 


He's an excellent doctor and I knew that from the time I shook his hand. My dad always told me that you could tell what kind of a person someone was by the very first handshake you had with them. I'm glad to say that he's a great doctor who definitely knows what he's doing and has been doing it for many years.  


After looking at my x-rays, it was obvious that I'm in big trouble, and how one woman riding a bicycle could do that much damage to herself in one short time, only the good Lord above knows. The x-rays show that the damage is "worse than extensive," and the only hope that I have to even regain even partial use of my wrist is to have more surgery. 


So on Wednesday of this week, I am going to have further surgery that will hopefully allow me to regain at least half-use of my wrist's mobility. Dr. Chan is going to insert plates, rods and screws that will hopefully give my bones something to hold onto as they grow back into place. It's only one of a couple of fixes that need to be done to make things "right" again, whatever "right" used to be. 


I should only be there for a few hours and then they'll send me home. I told him that I am a teacher and that I really need to be back to work by August 15, and he told me that there's a good chance I can be. He doesn't guarantee what he's going to will fix all, but he does guarantee me that he'll do his very best. Since the name Peggy Miller doesn't have "MD" behind it, then I have to trust someone who does have those initials. 


While I was there today, they took off all of my wrappings of my left arm so I could see what it looked like. It was a very weird experience for me and the only way I know how to describe it was that it was like what a wounded animal would look like. I didn't even see at is as a part of my body anymore, rather an external fixture attached to my arm. And, you know, I felt sorry for that thing, but I didn't feel sorry for me. I spent a lot of time looking at and rubbing my hand and arm just to become reacquainted with it. The look is not the same. 


I hope you understand what I'm saying here, and Dennis and Craig, before you start worrying about the drugs I'm on, it's only Lortab. LOL. But, it does put things into perspective. All of you, just think right now what you've used your arms and hands to do this day. We use them without even thinking and when we can't, for one reason or another, then we start whining and complaining. So I guess what I'm telling you is: be thankful for the healthy bodies that we all have and stop taking all this for granted. 


I have to admit that the little "10-year old girl" in me misses not having a mom around to take care of me.  When I was sick, my mom always knew just what to do.  Even when I grew up with kids of my own, she often had me to come over and rest and recuperate on her couch.  She loved to fix my favorite "comfort" food-an oven-baked potato with lots of butter and salt and pepper on it!  Mom would be happy to know that her grandson, Grahame, has been the best helper imaginable--her "little girl" is being well cared for 24/7. 


FOR THE SQUEAMISH, STOP READING NOW! I am posting the picture at the very bottom as to what it looks like now. I wanted to see it as a reminder to me how very fragile life is and how ridiculously stupid I have been for the past 55 years in thinking that nothing will ever happen to Peggy Miller. August 4, 2011, God gave me one more whack upside the head.  I'm sure a slow learner. 

don't be afraid--please remember that it's only me!  

WHAT I HAVE LEARNED

IT'S 3:00 IN THE MORNING AND HERE I AM, WIDE AWAKE!  SO, WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW WHAT I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICHES?  REMEMBER, THAT IT TAKES SO LITTLE TO AMUSE ME THESE DAYS FOLKS.....






I HAVE LEARNED THAT IT'S JUST ABOUT IMPOSSIBLE TO MAKE A PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH WITH ONE-ARM-MY ATTEMPT AT DOING SO YESTERDAY PRODUCED AN UGLY SCENE, FULL JAR OF P.B. FLYING THROUGH AIR, HALF-LOAF OF GOOD BREAD ALL OVER KITCHEN FLOOR....DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO JUSTIFY THE "5 SECOND RULE" AND JUST TOSSED THE WHOLE MESS IN THE TRASH. AND THEN I CRIED...AND CURSED MY STUPID ARM...AND CRIED SOME MORE.  AND THEN IT WAS DONE!


AFTER I HAD THROWN THAT LITTLE TEMPER TANTRUM, YOU KNOW I KIND OF FELT BETTER, A SENSE OF RELIEF CAME OVER ME-I WAS TAKING LIFE TOO SERIOUSLY AND SURELY GIVING WAY TOO MUCH WORTH TO THE VALUE OF BEING ABLE TO MAKE THE "LOWLY" PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH.  


I HAVE SO MUCH ON MY MIND NOW-WAITING TO SEE THE HAND RECONSTRUCTION SPECIALIST IN WICHITA TOMORROW TO SEE IF HE CAN SOMEHOW PUT MY "HUMPTY-DUMPTY" ARM TOGETHER AGAIN.  BIKE IS SAFELY 
(YEAH, YEAH, YEAH) HUNG UP IN BASEMENT.  AND I STILL FEEL BLESSED BEYOND MEASURE.  


I WANT TO THANK ALL OF YOU FOR YOUR KIND GET WELL GREETINGS-BEST MEDICINES I CAN THINK OF...AND TO MY VERY DEAR FRIEND IN PENNSYLVANIA, THANKS FOR YOUR ADVICE TO NOT GIVE UP SOMETHING JUST BECAUSE OF FEAR-TEARS IN MY EYES AS I TYPE THIS...I PROMISE TO REMEMBER THAT!


WOW-IT ONLY TOOK ME 30 MIN. TO TYPE THIS-AND JUST KNOWING I COULD DO THIS IS LIKE "A SHOT IN THE (BAD) ARM".  HAVE A GOOD DAY FRIENDS AND FAMILY.

(NOT) ABLE TO JUMP CURBS AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT-MARCH 2011

you just never know

Grahame here again. Otherwise this post may not make it until next week to be online.


I didn't wake up yesterday on August 4th expecting things to go the way they did. But, life happens and you just have to take whatever comes your way.  I'm putting this post online today because I'm feeling really sad and right now things seem kind of hopeless. I bet that by the time I post this online, I'll have a better outlook on life.


My day started off really good yesterday. It was a beautiful morning here in south central Kansas. I knew by the early morning forecast that the temperatures would be in the low 70s by the time I rode so at 6:30 I headed out for my usual 10 mile ride. When I went past the Medical Center "time and temperature," it read 74 degrees. NOW THAT IS A BICYCLIST'S DREAM RIDE.


It was a lot of fun riding to the south on Main Street. I passed a lot of the usual people that I see every morning as I ride. It was interesting to notice that everybody seemed to be in a much better mood yesterday. Must've been those cooler temperatures that helped make people feel "human" again. Whatever it was, it was nice.


About halfway through my ride down Main,  I saw my good friend, Mike Fazio,  working on putting up banners on Main for the city. I yelled "hello" and kept on riding. Because the north breeze was pushing me I found it easy to keep a steady pace at 12 mph and it felt good.


Halfway through the ride, I decided it was time to come back home because some storm clouds were appearing in the northwest. As much as I miss the moisture, I still don't really want to take a bath in it on a bicycle. I came back on Main, stopping to visit with Mike about maybe riding bikes sometime in the future and then headed home. 


For some strange reason, instead of turning on 14th for home, I went on to 17th Street. There is a family on 17th that has been working really hard all summer on making a patio/fenced in garden area by their house. All summer, I kept thinking that it would be good to stop and tell them someday how nice everything was looking. So when I went past their house and saw them there on the porch, I decided that today was the day. 


There I was, a total stranger on a bicycle standing there talking to people I'd never met. But after five minutes of conversation,  we were strangers no more. They really acted like they appreciated the fact that ANYONE would've noticed what they were doing, especially someone they didn't know. How many times have I blown opportunities, just like THAT one, to let someone know that I appreciated their hard work and effort in doing something? 


I headed on home from there at a pretty steady pace. As I rounded the corner at 14th and Elm, I remember seeing by my odometer that I was close to ten miles for the trip. Without even thinking, I started riding faster. No special reason to do so, it just felt good. By the time I made it to my house,  my speedometer read about 10 mph and that's when it happened.


As I got to the point where I turn into my driveway, I realized that I was late in making my turn. Rather than go ahead to the next driveway, for some asinine reason I decided to try to jump the curb! To my friends Craig, Dennis and LeRoy, I already know what you're thinking! LOL But I did it anyway. 

I knew better, but at age 55, I guess you just have to chalk it up to being an old person. It didn't work out so good and the results were catastrophic for me. The picture below shows the indentation of my handlebars and mirror in the ground. It's a wonder that I wasn't hurt any worse. 

Except for popping the mirror off, the bike was in decent shape. No issues with the rim or tires, just the mirror. I didn't fare so well. 


During surgery yesterday, the doctor found that my entire radius was shattered. Bones were twisted around and a few even fell out to never be found again somehow. But he did the best he could under some very dire conditions, attached an external fixator on my arm and got everything relocated. For the next 4 weeks I'll have the pins and then another 4 after that with an actual cast. My wrist will never be the same possibly as this was nearly a worst-case scenario, but all-in-all, I got off pretty easily. 


I have to admit that I broke two of the cardinal rules for bicycle riding yesterday. I wasn't wearing a helmet and I was going too fast for the conditions. I was a total idiot for not wearing my helmet and I know it. So to anyone reading this who rides a bike, please take my advice and always put your helmet on. I was blessed to not have any head injuries and for that, I give thanks. I will never ride my bike again without a helmet on. And on the issue of going too fast, hopefully I will never feel this need for speed again. It's fun to go fast on a bike, but only when it's safe to do so. 


I want to thank everybody for their kind wishes to get better and prayers for recovery. I have more good friends and family than I can even imagine. I'll be spending the next few days reevaluating the remaining items on my bucket list and trying to decide which one to tackle one-armed. I have been blessed even in this accident and I know it. I can at least walk and laugh and do most things normally including writing and driving as I'm right-handed. Things could have been so much worse and I know it. I've been told that I chose the best possible limb for this to happen to, so what else could I ask for?

Me-- At the scene of the crime. 

No trading them! Ever....

After sitting around the house with all 5 of the remaining Scott kids, reminiscing about the past, I've come to this conclusion:  I should always be thanking God above for growing up in the times that I did......We shared a whole lot of priceless memories of a time so very, very long ago....


~Long before the days of "paper or plastic?" there was just one choice-- and that'd be PAPER.  That paper bag was very multi-use.  It could be the liner of a waste basket or what held the fresh produce that was picked from the garden.  A paper bag that was cut in half could provide my little sister Cindy and I hours of fun while we drew on it or practiced our math facts.  The other half of it, never to be wasted of course, could be used by mom as a dust pan when she swept the hard wood floors.


~When we ate toast for breakfast, Mom just put the slices of bread in the broiler of the oven.   She didn't need no "stinkin" toaster to make her family breakfast.  You just had to be sure you were there to flip the bread over so the other side could brown.  And that toast, most agreed, was by far the more superior in taste.


~All those Saturday noon times when Mom fixed hot buttered popcorn by the bucket full  for our lunch?  We thought it was because we were special-we never knew until years later that it was because that was all the food we had in the house until Daddy got home.  Imagine that, we were poor and didn't even realize it!  We just figured every family was like us!  :)


~Each kid had a job on the farm to do.  No one really got excused from that responsibility.  Some of the kids milked cows, some were on "poop scooping" detail, others gathered eggs and everyone had to help get in animals that had strayed out of their pens.  


~We made mud pies, drank out of the garden hose, lived without drinking pop, had no cell phones or internet access, and had only ONE TV that had been bought when I was 6 years old.  It was black and white and sat over in the corner of the living room.  From there, my older sisters Janice and Kaye sat and watched the tv screen to see the Beatles performing for the first time on the Ed Sullivan show.  


~It was a time when you knew your cousins and aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas.  You would be guaranteed to join that same group on special holidays and birthdays.  And you showed respect to your elders, everyone of them, every time!  By the way, it was perfectly acceptable for your aunt or uncle to give you a swat across your backside if you ever forgot to be respectful.  


~You wrote letters--NOT emails--that needed a 5 cent stamp to mail them.  You called people on a rotary dial phone and there wasn't anything called "caller ID" or "call waiting" either.  You actually talked to real people NOT a pre-recorded message.  


~Everyone in our house remembered the cold winter night that a dozen baby pigs were brought in to live in our bathtub.  Hey, you haven't lived until that happens people!  The old sow that was their mother needed to be separated from them before she ate them, one by one.  That momma sow lacked the maternal instict needed to be awarded "Mother of the Year".  For the next few nights, it got a little crowded and noisy in that bathroom.


~And miracle of all miracles, once in a while on a hot summer Kansas evening, Daddy would pile all 7 kids in the family sedan and head to Newton to go to the "picture show".  (you might have heard it referred to as a drive-in movie).  I'm thinking there were NO seatbelts and at least two of us kids must have ridden over there on the floor.  For a dollar a carload, you could be entertained for quite some time.  Oh for the good old days once more!


As I worked on Item #9 of the Miller Bucket List, "to connect with my family members living all over the United States" I couldn't help but be astounded by the difference of the lives we led as young children growing up in the 50's and 60's in comparison to the lives of families today in 2011.


You know what?  I think I'm pretty much "ok" with having grown up in the times that I did...As a matter of fact, wouldn't trade them for anything!